Spirits of the Noh (2 page)

At first Kara had encouraged it. Miss Aritomo taught art at Monju-no-Chie school and was the faculty advisor to the Noh theater club. While Kara and Sakura had been working on their manga, she had been a huge help.

Pretty and petite, with gorgeous eyes, Miss Aritomo had seemed to take to Rob Harper immediately. Kara had wanted her father to be happy, to smile more, and she had seen him
noticing
Miss Aritomo. She’d smiled and teased her dad to let him know it was all okay with her, had told him that her mother would never have wanted him to be alone.

Those sentiments had felt true at the time. But now that her father and Miss Aritomo were getting closer—maybe a
lot
closer—Kara was having a difficult time with it, and she refused to let her father see that it bothered her. He didn’t deserve that.

So she sat on the fence across from the house and looked out over Miyazu Bay below and played her guitar. It didn’t hurt that the view was considered one of the two or three most beautiful in all of Japan. A spit of land thrust out from the shore, a three-mile sandbar that had been there long enough for eight thousand pine trees to grow along its length. Ama-no-Hashidate—this finger of land—was a major tourist attraction, and Kara always smiled to see people coming to view it in the traditional way. From various vantage points, they would turn their backs to Ama-no-Hashidate and bend over, looking at it upside down through their open legs. It looked ridiculous, but she had tried it, and from that angle, the spit did indeed look like a bridge in the heavens, which was a rough English translation of its name.

Her fingers lost their way on the strings, moving almost of their own accord, jumping from song to song before finally falling still.

With a sigh, Kara stood up, holding her guitar close, and stepped over the low fence. Off to her left, in the distance, she could see Monju-no-Chie school and the welcome arch at the edge of its grounds. As she started across the street, her father opened the door of their squat little house and blinked in surprise when he spotted her.

“Perfect timing,” he said with a smile.

“My stomach is psychically attuned to the precise moment of dinner’s readiness,” she said in English.

Her father arched an eyebrow as he stepped aside to let her in. “Hey. I thought we were supposed to stick to Japanese.”

Kara laughed. “You think I can say ‘psychically attuned’ in Japanese? You aren’t
that
good a teacher.”

He gaped in false astonishment and then glared with equally invented anger. “My dear,” he said in Japanese, “I am an exceptional teacher.”

“And modest, too.”

As they walked into the dining area, Miss Aritomo was pouring ice water into glasses from a pitcher. She smiled.

“You have a very pretty singing voice,” she said.

Kara bowed her head in thanks. “I didn’t realize I was singing so loud.”

“Not very loud,” Miss Aritomo replied. “But the window in the kitchen is open, and we could hear you while your father cooked the pork.”

Kara stared at her, forgetting for a moment to put on a smile for her father’s benefit. Miss Aritomo had sounded, for a moment, so much like a parent that it freaked her out. Part of her wanted to act out, to vanish into her bedroom and not come out, but that would be juvenile and it would be unfair to her father.

Instead she smiled. “Everything smells delicious.”

Miss Aritomo blinked, a moment of doubt shading her eyes. She’d sensed Kara’s hesitation, though Kara’s father seemed clueless. Before the situation could become awkward, Kara hurried to sit down. Dinner had already been served. There was a shiitake-mushroom rice and orange-simmered pork that really did smell wonderful.

“How was your day, Kara?” her father asked.

She smiled. “Hot.”

That set the three of them off on a conversation about the terrible heat of the week, combining misery with the relief that the forecast brought. It had cooled off significantly in the past few hours, and a thunderstorm was due to sweep through overnight, pushing the last of the heat wave out to sea. They talked and ate, and her father and Miss Aritomo had some plum wine, and soon any awkwardness Kara had felt dissipated. She was glad, for her father’s sake. But she couldn’t stop the little twinge it gave her heart to see the two of them smiling intimately at each other, talking sweetly, and just generally behaving like a couple-in-the-making.

Get over it
, she told herself, time and again.
It’s what Mom would want
. And maybe that was true—she thought so—but for some reason, for once, what her mother would have wanted didn’t seem to be having much influence over her. Getting over it would be easier said than done.

“Tell me about your day,” her father said. “Did anything interesting happen?”

“Not really,” Kara replied.

“Good,” her father said, momentarily serious before his smile returned.

Swallowing a bite of pork—it was truly delicious, lean and infused with orange flavor—she gestured to both him and Miss Aritomo.

“Actually, at the calligraphy club meeting, Ren asked me and Sakura what our next manga was going to be.”

“Next?” her father said. “You just finished the first one.”

Kara nodded. “I know. Sakura’s been drawing like crazy for months. I’m sure she’s not in a rush to get started on another.”

“I don’t know about that,” Miss Aritomo said, taking a sip of plum wine. “She’s such a talented artist, and the manga has given her focus. I’m sure Sakura is already wondering the same thing. What is next for you two?”

Kara shrugged. “I have no idea. I’ve barely thought about it. Another Noh play, maybe. Something else creepy.”

A thin smile appeared on Miss Aritomo’s face and she raised an eyebrow, studying Kara over the rim of her glass. “I know just the thing.”

“Really?” Kara’s father said.

Miss Aritomo nodded. “I haven’t told the Noh club yet, but I’ve decided that this term, we’re going to perform an actual Noh play.”

“Seriously?” Kara asked, intrigued. “Miho will love that!”

“I think they all will,” Miss Aritomo said. “And it really would be perfect as a manga for you and Sakura as well. The story is gruesome and full of evil, just the way you seem to like them.”

Kara forced a smile, trying to hide the way she shuddered. Such tales did make for excellent manga, but she thought
like
might be too strong a word.

2

A
fter a Saturday filled with classes and homework, Sunday morning began with a knock on her door. Kara sat at the dining table drinking a glass of juice, barely awake. She’d pulled on a pair of threadbare denim shorts and still wore the oversize T-shirt she’d slept in, and she rubbed sleep out of her eyes as she went to answer the door. Pulling it open, she found Miho and Sakura waiting on the stoop, smiling conspiratorially.

“Good morning, Kara!” Miho said brightly.

Kara leaned against the jamb, still half-asleep. “You guys aren’t supposed to be here for another hour.”

Sakura replied with an unusually open grin. “Change of plans. Get dressed. The guys will be here soon!”

Guys. Soon.
That woke her up. Kara didn’t think of herself as especially vain, and Hachiro might even think the just-rolled-out-of-bed look was cute, but if they were going out, she wanted to pull herself together, and better to do it before the guys arrived.

More focused now, she studied the girls. Sakura had added a streak of red into her hair, though she’d have to take it out by the time school started tomorrow. Miho had her hair back in a ponytail, and both girls wore loose dresses. Under Sakura’s, she glimpsed the straps of a bikini. They had talked about going into Miyazu City today, having lunch with Hachiro and Ren, maybe doing a little shopping if the guys could be convinced to endure it.

“Wait, when you said change of plans …?”

Miho laughed and switched to English. “Now you’re awake. Yes, we’re going to the beach.”

It took a second for Kara to translate. She’d been speaking Japanese so much that half the time she thought in that language instead of her native tongue, and when Miho switched in the middle of a conversation, sometimes she had to catch up.

“Are we going with English today, then?” she asked.

“Of course!” Miho replied. “You promised.”

Sakura made a face. Speaking English helped them both to become more fluent in the language, just as speaking Japanese helped Kara. To Miho, it was fun, almost a game, and she hoped to live in America someday, at least for a year or two, to pursue both her career and American boys, who fascinated her endlessly. But Sakura had made it plain that spending hours speaking English felt too much like homework to her.

“All right,” Kara relented, still speaking English. “For a while at least.”

She stepped back to let the girls in. “Have some juice or something. I need to take a quick shower and get dressed. I’ll go fast. Try to be quiet, though. My dad’s sleeping late.”

At that, she heard a rustle of fabric from behind her and turned to find her father standing in his bedroom doorway in pajamas and a Boston Celtics shirt.

“Not anymore,” he said, smiling, his face dark with weekend chin stubble. “Good morning.”

Embarrassed, Miho glanced away. “Good morning, Harper-sensei,” they chorused.

Sakura seemed to find the moment just as awkward as Miho, even blushing slightly. Kara smiled to herself. Sakura wanted to be different, to break the mold that society expected her to follow, and she did that, to an extent. But she wasn’t the bad girl as she tried to portray herself.

Kara’s father chuckled softly. “I’ll stay out of your way, don’t worry.”

When he shuffled back into his bedroom and closed the door, Kara gestured for the girls to sit and made a beeline for the bathroom.

Less than twenty minutes later, she had showered, shaved her legs, and pulled on a black-and-white striped bikini, fretting over the way she looked in it. Living in Japan and eating Japanese food had made her thinner, which hadn’t necessarily been a goal—she’d liked the way she had looked before—and from the way her top fit, it seemed like her breasts had gotten smaller. She poked and tucked and retied the top and finally gave up worrying about her appearance at all, tying her wet hair back with a rubber band. Then she pulled on a V-neck white shirt and a black cotton skirt and slipped her feet into brown leather sandals.

“Ready!” she announced, stepping into the dining room.

Sakura and Miho were sprawled in their chairs, pretending to have fallen asleep waiting for her. Kara laughed, whopped Sakura in the head, and got them moving. They went out onto the front step, leaving Kara’s father to putter happily around, not worrying about who might see him in his pajamas.

“I’m surprised the guys haven’t arrived yet,” Miho said, still working the English, and doing a fine job of it.

As if summoned, Hachiro and Ren appeared down the street from the grounds of Monju-no-Chie school. The boys ambled along the street, Hachiro carrying a faded beach umbrella over one shoulder, and Ren burdened with what appeared to be a very full picnic basket. They were an odd pair, Hachiro tall and barrel-chested, and Ren short and thin, with almost elfin features and that stylishly ragged bronze-hued hair. Kara assumed it was dyed, despite his claims to the contrary, but apparently the school had different rules if you dyed all of your hair, versus a single streak as Sakura had.

“Good morning!” Ren called in Japanese.

“No, no,” Miho corrected. “Speak English.”

Ren rolled his eyes as he and Hachiro walked up to the house. “Again? Do we have to?”

“We won’t answer you otherwise,” Miho assured him in English, smiling.

Hachiro reached out with his free hand and clasped Kara’s fingers in his. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

“Was this your idea?” he whispered—in Japanese—into her ear.

“Not at all,” she replied in the same language. “But I indulge Miho. It makes her happy.”

Hachiro pulled back, gazing into her eyes, and Kara shivered with how good that gaze made her feel. The connection between her and Hachiro had been growing stronger, but it troubled her that they had stopped putting words to it. Mostly, their rapport went unspoken. She believed he felt what she did, but he didn’t talk about it much.

You’re going back to America
, she reminded herself.
He doesn’t want to make more of it than it can be.
The trouble with that thought was that Kara couldn’t turn her heart off, and she didn’t think Hachiro could, either. He seemed to be trying, though, and it hurt her that he’d become so silent about what he was really thinking.

Maybe it’s for the best
, she thought.

But it didn’t feel that way.

“All right,” Hachiro said in English, turning to Miho, Sakura, and Ren. “English until lunch. That’s a good compromise, okay?”

Everyone agreed, and moments later, they set off on the trek to Ama-no-Hashidate.

Though young people covered the shores in summertime, Japan wasn’t really known for its beaches. Kara had been to Hawaii with her parents when she was ten years old, and Japan had nothing on the Hawaiian islands. One of the better-known beaches in the country actually imported its sand from Australia. In many other places, the sand was more like fine gravel than the soft stuff Kara was used to from home, and she had heard that a lot of beaches were quite dirty.

But Ama-no-Hashidate was an exception. The spit of land that jutted like a finger out into Miyazu Bay boasted a variety of beauties and uses, not least of which came from the miles of white sand that lined its shore. It was known as one of the most beautiful spots in the country, and that included the beach.

Walking out along the spit, they came in sight of one of the busiest stretches of beach. Couples and some families relaxed under sun tents—the Japanese were far more wary of sun exposure than Kara was used to in America—while teenagers and twentysomethings performed the usual summertime mating rituals. They threw one another into the water, played music too loud, tossed balls back and forth in the surf, and generally lounged around trying to look as cool and toned as possible.

Kara’s friends, on the other hand, paid little attention to such things. Hachiro and Ren were just about the least self-conscious guys she had ever encountered, either at home or in Japan. They wore the big, baggy bathing shorts that most guys their age wore, but there was no evident effort to make their clothes look good. Hachiro stood out among Japanese guys due to his size—a gentle giant—and though Ren was fit enough, that seemed like a natural gift rather than an effort.

The girls, on the other hand, were totally self-aware, and going to the beach with them amused Kara greatly. The world tilted on its axis every time they got into their bathing suits. The normally demure Miho had a stunning body, and a tiny, expensive bikini that she wore because it was the only one that fit her. Still, she seemed marvelously oblivious to the looks she earned. Sakura, on the other hand, lacked Miho’s natural curves, and fidgeted awkwardly any time a guy went by who might be checking them out.

The five friends relaxed on sandy mats, the guys chivalrously giving the shade of the umbrella to Miho and Sakura. Kara put on plenty of sunscreen and lay out, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her skin.

They all talked—it seemed to be what they did best—chattering about classes, about movies, about everything and nothing, and all in English. At one point, Kara felt Hachiro’s fingers brush hers and she smiled, eyes still closed, as he took her hand. They lay that way on the beach for quite some time.

“Where did you get the umbrella, anyway?” she asked in Japanese. “You live in the dorm.”

Miho admonished her to stick to English.

Hachiro rolled his eyes at Miho, then smiled at Kara. “I have my secrets. I am a mysterious guy.”

She laughed, meaning no harm, and then laughed harder at the hurt look in his eyes. She soothed him by dragging herself over to his side and kissing him, twining together with him on the sand.

The gibes of the others finally drove them apart, but afterward, Kara relished the feeling of where his skin had pressed against hers. After a few minutes, she glanced up and found Hachiro watching her, eyes full of emotion, but he said nothing.

“Time for a swim, I think!” Sakura said, jumping up and kicking sand at Ren and Hachiro.

She tore off down the sand, shrieking happily as they gave chase. Miho and Kara exchanged a smile and rose to follow. Kara had been to the beach half a dozen times this summer, but swimming in the Sea of Japan had not lost its novelty.

Later, as they sat beneath the umbrella eating a picnic lunch of sushi and seaweed-wrapped rice balls called
onigiri
, Kara found herself in a moment of such pure bliss that she had to catch her breath. The shadows of the spring had truly been dispelled. She still had nightmares, but only of the sort that vanished upon waking.

She hadn’t been so happy in a very long time.

Late Monday afternoon, after their calligraphy club meeting, Kara and Sakura went around the back of the school to the large field that separated the main building from the dormitory. On the far side of the field, toward the dorm, the girls of the soccer club were having a practice, but Kara and Sakura were there to watch Hachiro and the other boys of the baseball club. The soccer girls always seemed so much more serious, whereas the baseball club boys grinned from ear to ear. Nothing made Hachiro smile like playing baseball—not even Kara. He had his Boston Red Sox cap pulled down snugly to shade his eyes, and he waited patiently at second base for anyone to dare hit one past him.

Kara had never been a huge baseball fan, but she was a Hachiro fan, and she loved the smile he wore while playing.

“Wow,” Sakura said quietly beside her. The two girls were leaning against the back wall of the school. Sakura wanted a cigarette, but agreed to forestall her nicotine craving for a few minutes.

Kara glanced at her. “What makes you say ‘wow’? Nothing interesting happened.”

Sakura smiled. “That’s why I said ‘wow.’ This is actually quite boring, but you’re watching with such fascination. You’re falling in love with Hachiro. Or have you already fallen?”

Kara sighed and turned her attention back to the baseball game. “We’re not talking about it. I can’t afford to fall in love with him. I’m leaving in the spring, remember?”

“I remember,” Sakura said. But she did not sound at all convinced.

Before the conversation could continue, Miho came rushing across the grass toward them, an enormous grin on her face, obviously bearing some news she could not wait to share. Kara was glad to have the interruption.

“Sakura, listen to this!” Miho cried, loud enough to draw attention. It made her blush and she turned her back to the other baseball spectators and lowered her voice. “This is going to be the most amazing few months I’ve ever had.”

Kara noticed that Miho had barely included her, even with a glance, so the news seemed exclusively for Sakura. The two girls were her best friends now, but they had been friends, and roommates, long before Kara had come to Japan. There would naturally be things that the two of them shared that did not involve her. Still, it stung a bit.

“What is it?” Sakura asked. “Wait, don’t tell me. An American high school baseball team is coming to visit and all the boys are staying in our room while they’re here?”

Miho blinked, perhaps a bit startled by the impropriety of the suggestion. Then she arched an eyebrow, face alight with mischief.

“No,” she said, pushing a strand of her long hair away from her face, “but if you know a way to arrange it, I’m in.”

Kara gave a low laugh of surprise. Miho didn’t really mean it, in spite of her fascination with American boys, but there’d been a time when she wouldn’t even have joked about it.

“All right, so what’s your big news?” Kara asked.

Miho shot her a dark look, and for a second, Kara thought the girl might truly be angry with her. But then Miho’s expression lightened and she reached out and gave Kara a light punch on the shoulder.

“Like you don’t know. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

Sakura glanced at Kara, who only gave a confused shrug. For a second, she wondered if this had to do with Ren, if somehow Miho had her wires crossed and had gotten the impression Ren wanted to go out with her or something, even though Miho hadn’t talked much about her interest in him for months. But that didn’t make any sense.