The Night Parade (13 page)

“There, that should do it.”

As soon as the words were spoken, a troop of grasshopper guards filed into the courtyard and swarmed toward Saki and the gleaming shell.

“She's retrieved the lady's shell from the monster.”

“Take her to the lieutenant at once.”

The grasshoppers picked Saki and the shell up with their bristled legs. As they passed the threshold back into the compound, the glass masks on her face and the tengu's beak fell away. The soldiers deposited them in the frog's audience chamber as all of the court attendants fell to their knees and bowed low, their clothes brushing the floor. Saki did the same, leaving an outline of dirt on the clean tatami mats.

The slug lady received her shell with a titter of glee.

“So you have vanquished the horrid beast,” said the frog. “We owe you a great debt.”

Saki cleared her throat and sneaked a glance at the frog lieutenant. “I was able to find the shell, sir, but the spirit is still there in the outhouse.”

“Pardon me?” The frog's eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me that the monster remains to torment my poor wife?”

“Not at all.” Saki looked up properly. She'd been putting together a speech in her head to explain the compromise she'd reached with the Filth Licker. “The spirit agreed not to bother any of the court spirits as long as it can be left alone. It just wants a place to live, like anyone else. Even though it looks terrible and smells even worse, I think—”

“Silence!” the frog demanded. “I do not care about what you think. My poor lady wife will continue to be tortured by that monster. Your failure has kept us from our peace!”

The slug began to cry into her shell. The frog's throat inflated to three times its original size as he let out a thundering croak.

Saki scrambled to her feet. After all the work she'd done, they were still ungrateful. None of them had risked their noses to go in and fix the problem, yet they saw no fault in criticizing her. She hadn't even been allowed to finish explaining. Disgusting as the spirit was, at least the Filth Licker had listened to her and treated her like an equal. The anger bubbled over until Saki could no longer contain herself. “I found your shell. Isn't that what you wanted? You stupid frogs never bother to think about where you're going! Why don't you just ooze around someplace else and leave that courtyard alone?”

A scandalized gasp from the courtiers shook the audience chamber. The slug lady froze in shock, and the frog drew his sword. Saki's toes curled as the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She shut her mouth as fast as she could, but the damage to the spirit's pride was beyond repair.

“How dare you insult your lord and master!” the frog croaked.

Saki slipped a hand into the pouch in her pocket and pulled a marble free. “You're not my master. You're just some warty old toad.”

The flat marble hit the tatami and unfurled every straw in the mat. The fibers wrapped around the frog and his sword and immobilized the grasshopper guards reaching for the hilts of their spears. Quick as a whip, Saki turned to the gilded doors and heaved them open.

Her feet pounded on the hard wood of the corridor. Behind her, the sound of the guards slicing through the binding straw carried through the complex.

“What do I do?” she asked the tengu between gasps for breath.

The bird spirit looked down the hall behind her and ruffled his feathers. “This is your battle plan. You must be three steps ahead in your strategy.”

The shadow-strapped slippers gave her feet a gentle tug at an intersection, guiding her down the left path. Saki followed the tugs left, then left again, then right. After a while, she lost track of how many turns they'd taken. The halls grew bigger and darker. No sound of the grasshopper guards came from behind them, but Saki didn't stop to make sure. The ceiling vaulted upward, letting beams of moonlight stream across the top of the corridors. She took a sharp turn, and they came to an area where all of the branched corridors converged.

“Stop!” the tengu cried.

Saki halted on the first beam of the floor. A loud birdcall sounded through the complex.

“What just happened?” Saki asked in a whisper.

The tengu pulled himself out from under her cloak. “This is the last path before the gates to the palace. The way is guarded by the nightingale floor. Its cries will alert the entire complex to your presence here.”

“But there's nowhere else to run!” Saki snapped her head back to check the halls behind them.

“A true soldier remains calm in the face of danger,” said the tengu. “Because of the Night Parade and the fox's intrusion, the soldiers are spread out all through the complex. One call from the floor isn't likely to alert too much suspicion, but we must ensure that we make no more sound.”

Saki took a breath of relief, but they weren't safe yet. In the world of the spirits, she was discovering that no place was ever truly safe.

“Of course, the lieutenant's guards are still in pursuit,” the tengu continued. “And I doubt they would forgive an insult so easily. We must be cautious but hasty.”

Saki gulped and shook her head to clear it. “So how do I get across a floor that cries out every time I touch it? We could fly. Or
you
could. Last time we tried going together, it didn't work out so well. Maybe if…” She pulled out her pouch of marbles.

“Be careful with those,” the tengu warned. “You may end up hurting more than helping.”

“I'm just going to try something out.” Saki held a single marble in the palm of her hand. “I need some seeds, please.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the surface of the marble began to tremble. The glass stretched out, drooping below Saki's palm. The form inflated and sagged with a newfound weight and the clear object turned opaque. Saki held a melon-sized sack between her hands. She reached inside and pulled out a handful of tiny seeds.

“Perfect!” She grinned at the tengu, then looked to the floor. “I hope these work.”

“What is your strategy, humanchild?” the tengu asked.

Saki dropped a pinch of seeds on the floorboard before her feet. The seeds wedged their way in between the boards, where they were soon snapped up by a creature just out of sight.

“Ah, a clever tactical maneuver!” said the tengu. “You shall defeat the nightingale floor by keeping its mouths full.”

Saki's grin grew wider as she threw a handful of seeds in a line straight ahead. While the nightingale floor feasted, she tiptoed along, throwing more handfuls as she kept on walking.

The corridor stretched on as far as her eyes could see, but thankfully the bag of seeds replenished itself with every step. Saki kept tossing the seeds and following her tracks. The only sounds in the corridor were from her muffled footsteps and the greedy munching of the spirits beneath. Though the work wasn't hard, she couldn't advance until the floor ahead was covered, keeping her pace to a painfully slow walk.

In the distance, Saki caught sight of a towering gate.

“I think I see the end of the hall,” she told the tengu. “Maybe that way leads to the palace?”

He held up his head and flew farther down the corridor. After a short turn, he landed back on her shoulder.

“Affirmative. That marks the entrance to the Path of the Gods.”

She was almost there. She'd ask the Midlight Prince to lift her curse and then she could go home.

The thought was bittersweet. The Night Parade had been strange, terrifying, and completely unpredictable, but she'd seen more wonderful things in the past two nights than she'd seen in all of her thirteen years. Saki couldn't live with the weight of a death curse looming over her, but there would be no reason for a guide to take her through the Night Parade when the curse was gone. This was the end.

With a sharp snap, the tengu swiveled his head back the way they'd come. “Our enemies may intercept us earlier than I predicted. Quickly, spread the seeds!”

The buzz of the grasshopper guards filled the air, edging closer and closer. Picking up her pace, Saki threw the seeds on the floor and jammed her hand back into the bag for more. Her legs were restless. The adrenaline in her body told her to run, but a fistful of seeds would only let her move so far.

“Stop looking behind you, humanchild! You're wasting time!” the tengu screeched. He launched himself from her shoulder. His wings beat around her as she pulled seeds from the bag. The gates were so close.

A glint of armor and the blur of wings appeared down the corridor behind her.

“Faster!” called the tengu.

Perhaps she wouldn't make it. What if she was caught? There had always been a way out before, both in the shrine and on the Pilgrim's Road with the fox. But with every small step she took, Saki's time was running out.

The grasshopper guards had been joined by the black insect soldiers from the air patrols. In a din of buzzing wings, they glided over the floor as their dark shadows sped toward her.

Saki dropped the bag and ran.

Without the seeds, the nightingale floor shrieked and trilled with each of her footfalls. A cacophony of birdcalls echoed through the corridor, but there was no reason for caution now. The entire compound was after her, and the gate towered just ahead. She leaned all of her weight into her steps.

The tengu was shouting at her for breaking formation, but his orders faded into the sea of sounds.

In another instant, black shapes swarmed around the entrance of the gate. The insect soldiers glared out at her from both sides. Their multifaceted eyes burned. Their pincers flexed.

Saki couldn't stop running. The momentum carried her forward, straight for the gate. Her chest burned with the fluttering of her heart.

Claws pulled at her back. Her straw cloak split in two and scattered its fibers across the floor. The tengu hovered above her in his true form, the midnight-colored feathers of his massive wings wrapped around her body. He held his bright red nose high in the air.

“Who dares to interfere with my sacred office? Let us pass, at once!”

A ripple went through the soldier's lines. They paused for only a moment, then continued to advance. There were too many to flee from and too many to fight off with the marbles. Saki thrust one hand into her pocket and clenched her shaking fingers around her grandfather's charm. Tears in her eyes blurred her vision. It was the end, but not at all the end she'd hoped for.

A bright spot shone between the gates. The piercing light forced the insects to halt and shield themselves. Their armor and weapons clattered on the floor as they shrank back to make way for the figure that approached. Saki lifted her head.

At first she thought another human had wandered into the Night Parade, but her face was far too beautiful to belong to any living being. The woman wore a silver kimono, and her long obi sash was tied simply in the back. Her hair was pale white and her eyes as dark as steel. She held up her hand and halted the insects at Saki's back.

Her voice was sharp but calm. The soldiers gnashed their jaws as she addressed them.

“Have you all been upset by such a small human girl? This disturbance ends at once.”

The frog lieutenant battled his way to the front of the group.

“My lady,” he croaked, “This wretched servant insulted the honor of my dear wife. Please have her punished severely!” There were dark spots squirming on his skin, like the stains Saki had seen on the begging ogre's hands.

By the gate, the silver spirit shook her head. “This girl is not a servant. Even if she were, your grievance must be addressed through the tribunals. Have we devolved so far in these years that we have forgotten our traditions?”

“The New Lord would have her executed at once!” the frog exclaimed. The dark stains grew to cover his face.

A chorus of grating voices from the insect soldiers answered in agreement as they took up their weapons once more.

The silver spirit threw out her arm. The soldiers around her recoiled. Her eyes were bright and terrible.

“I am the commander of this army. As long as the Midlight Prince reigns, I am honor-bound to protect the pilgrims of the Night Parade.”

“She is a human,” called the grasshoppers. “Take out her heart to feed us!”

“The New Lord commands her death! Slay her!” called another.

“Silence!” The silver spirit illuminated the room with a pale fire that gave no heat, only an intense, throbbing light. The fire flared throughout the room and gathered at her feet, encircling Saki and the tengu in a protective barrier. The silver spirit stepped toward them and spoke in quiet tones. “These creatures are past reason. Darkness has twisted their spirits. You must flee at once.”

“But I need to speak with the prince!”

“I am very sorry, but the night is nearly through and you will find no quarter here. You must seek another way. One night still remains before the Parade is done. Now go! I will hold them here.”

The tengu nodded his head. Through the open rafters of the corridor, hundreds of blackbirds dove into the fray. They circled Saki and the tengu until she saw nothing but a hurricane of black feathers.

Only the voice of the silver spirit cut through the darkness.

“You must hold close to courage. Do not fear the night.”

Morning came. The sunlight behind the paper doors shone between Saki's eyelids, and she woke sprawled across her futon, the cries of the nightingale floor still echoing in her ears.

In the other room, her father called her name. “Come out and eat your breakfast! We're all waiting on you.”

Only Grandma looked up when Saki entered. Her father read the newspaper as her mother scribbled down a list of chores for the day. Her brother was picking at his rice in between levels on his video game.

“I've finished the list,” said her mother. “We'll start in the inner rooms and work out, then finish on the walkways and the yard work.”

“How long is that gonna take?” Jun paused his game and shoved another bite of food into his mouth.

“That depends,” their father said from behind his newspaper. “If you spend every minute complaining, I'm sure it'll take longer.”

Saki sat down and began to tune out the breakfast conversation. There was only one night left before the spirit world was closed off for good. Before that she had to…

Saki's mother snapped her out of her reverie by passing a pair of cleaning gloves across the table. “You'll be in charge of the washing. You'll need rags and a brush. I'm sure I saw a bucket outside somewhere…”

“Washing?” Saki straightened, her eyes wide. Her thoughts strayed to the Filth Licker the night before. “No way. Anything but that.”

Her brother snickered. “Why not? Looks like you could use a good scrub yourself.” His gaze flitted down to her hands.

Crescents of dirt were caked under her fingernails. Saki made a face and snapped her hands under the table, but her mother was already giving her a frown of impatience.

“Saki, you have to do something,” her mother said. “If you don't want to wash, then go help Grandma sort out the storage room. But wash your hands before you start touching anything. What were you doing, digging in the dirt?”

Saki's cheeks flushed red, and she excused herself to the bathroom. The dirt hid underneath her nails, but she scrubbed until her skin turned pink. Her clothes, when she went to inspect them a second time, suffered from nothing more than a few wrinkles.

“Weird…”

“You're weird.” Her brother barged in and dropped his game in a pile with his dirty laundry. “They told me to come get you. Ugh. Since when did the word
vacation
mean more work? This is the worst.”

In the main room, Saki struggled to roll up the pants of an old set of work clothes over her shorts. The clothes were spotted and snagged from years of use cleaning the temple, but at least they'd keep her own clothes from ending up in the same sorry state.

Wielding rags and dustpans, Grandma led her to a little room piled high with old apple boxes. They overflowed with old records, odd knickknacks, and souvenirs, even a few moth-bitten pennants from the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. One box was filled entirely with broken straw sandals.

“Grandpa always wanted to mend those, but he never had the time,” Grandma sighed. “I'd mend them myself, but I wouldn't have any use for them afterward.”

Saki placed the box firmly in the trash section with a broken radio. For all the hidden treasures, there was three times as much trash. Saki threw out books of coupons that had expired before she was born, dozens of gardening supply catalogues, and three boxes full of Grandpa's lifetime subscription to
Fish Frenzy
magazine.

Saki would have bet money that she'd hauled at least a hundred boxes off the shelves, but by noon, more than half the storage room was still piled high. She collapsed near a box of special occasion dishes that hadn't been used since her brother was born and wiped the sweat off her face with the back of her hand. She loosened the straps of her work clothes to let more air flow through, fanning her face with a rag.

Grandma chuckled as she stepped out to get rid of a bag full of burnable trash. She came back with two cups of cold barley tea and a broad smile.

“We need to get something in you before you shrivel up and start looking like me!” she said. Yet in spite of the hard work, Grandma seemed to have no trouble keeping up with Saki.

At the Bon dance the night before, Saki had been worried, but Grandma was in fine spirits now. When Saki had found a shoebox full of letters and old photos tucked away behind a jumble of sports equipment, Grandma's cheeks had gone rosy as she showed some of the old letters that Grandpa had written her when they were young.

“You're not shriveled, Grandma. You're just…experienced.” Saki sipped her tea. The barley tasted earthy and smooth, and the flavor brought the energy back to her movements.

Grandma chuckled and took a sip from her own cup. “You're right. I could have it a lot worse. The mountain air is good for your blood, they say. What do you think?”

“Well, it certainly gets the blood moving.”

Saki drained the rest of her tea and set the cup on the floor by her feet. With all that had happened, she'd forgotten all about showing Grandma the pouch of marbles and the answer that had never come. Now they were alone, without her parents or brother to overhear. Saki cleared her throat.

“Did you used to walk around the mountain a lot when you were younger?”

“Oh yes,” Grandma said. “I was up and down every day as a girl. I would go with my sisters to collect mushrooms. Back then, no one ever got mushrooms from the supermarket. Even if we had a supermarket—which we didn't—our family didn't have a lot of money. My father died in the war, you know.”

“Oh. I…I didn't, actually.” Whenever her father or her grandmother started telling stories from the good old days, Saki had always tuned them out. She used to think that the past had nothing to do with her. Though she'd been born in Tokyo, her father's family had been living in this village for as long as the family had existed. Her family name was written on the torii gates over and over, from a time stretching back hundreds of years, in both this world and on the Night Parade. Now that she had finally started paying attention, she realized the stories had everything to do with her. Saki dragged her fingers along the edge of another box. Her grandmother must have endured a lot of pain over the years. She'd lost so many people in her life: her father to the war, her husband to illness, and her son to the city.

“You must miss him a lot.”

“I did, for a while. But it was such a long time ago. Anyway, I don't have to go far to find him if I get lonely. The same goes for your grandfather,” she said.

“You mean they're always with you in your heart?”

Grandma tilted her head and chuckled. “I mean their graves are in the cemetery across the road, dear. But I suppose you could say, in some way, they're with us. That's why every year we invite them to come back. That's what this time of year is all about, our past being the road to our future.”

Saki's fingers played with the metal charm hanging from her pocket. Somehow, the charm and the bell in the temple were connected. Everything led back to the beginning of Obon. Grandma bent down to collect their cups. She paused for a moment to look at Saki.

“Are you feeling well?”

Saki shook her head. “Yeah, I'm okay. Just thinking. I've been thinking a lot the last few days.”

“Yes, I hear that your exams are coming up. Young people today have so much more pressure on them than when I was a girl.”

“You didn't have to worry about any of that?”

“No, not the tests. I also didn't have the same opportunities that you do now. Though I do understand a few of the troubles.”

Grandma glanced toward the door. She held the dirty cups in her hand, half turned toward the kitchen. With one more look outside, she slid the door closed, put the cups back down on the floor, and took a seat on the box next to Saki.

“Were those children from the village bothering you last night?”

Saki fidgeted. Guilt gnawed at her conscience. She'd been careful to keep the details of the graveyard game a secret. Her family knew she'd been messing around in the temple, but they didn't know about Yuko and the village kids. As far as she knew, Maeda had also kept her word and said nothing.

“I guess we had a disagreement,” Saki answered neutrally.

“I see.” Grandma folded her hands in her lap. “Although it's nice to have friends, you don't seem like you'd fit in well with those kids. I know all of their grandmothers, so I've heard what kind of trouble they get into.”

Despite having just drunk her tea, Saki's mouth ran dry. Grandma kept talking.

“You're a smart girl, so I know you don't want to be around those kinds of people. But I did see you talking to the Maeda girl, Tomo. Now, she's a nice friend for you.”

“Grandma, I need to tell you something.” The weight on Saki's chest kept down the words, but Grandma didn't press her for more. They sat together in the storage room for a long moment until Saki spoke again.

“I met them on the first night we were here, those kids… I told Mom that I was going to get my jacket from the car, but I really went to the convenience store. I saw them there, and they told me they wanted to hang out. That girl, Maeda, was there too. She told me not to go. I knew they were just trying to get a laugh out of me, but I agreed anyway.”

Saki tucked her chin into her chest. She couldn't meet Grandma's eyes. The weight bore down until it was a throbbing pain in her chest.

“I'm really sorry.”

Grandma put a hand over hers and smiled. Like a dam had given way, the pain in her chest lightened.

“I forgive you. Even if you made a mistake, you had the good sense not to repeat it. Is that what you were fighting about at the dance?”

“Yeah. They asked if we could meet again at the graveyard. They just wanted to see if they could scare me again. But I told them that I'd tell the truth and get them all in trouble. That's really what I should have done from the start.”

“You should have told them I was a witch and that I'd punish them with my magic,” Grandma said with a cackle.

“You're definitely not a witch,” Saki said with certainty.

“But I can use a little magic. I'll call their parents this afternoon.”

Saki cracked a smile and shook her head. “I don't think they'll come again.”

“You're probably right. And I wouldn't want to get you into any trouble with them, even though you'll be leaving tomorrow. I know you didn't have much fun here, but you might decide to come back one day.”

“I haven't had a bad time,” Saki confessed. Despite the fact that she still hadn't lifted her curse, she'd had more adventures this week than in all of her years in Tokyo combined.

Saki flipped a stray bit of hair out of her eyes. The only part she really regretted was messing up with Maeda. Maeda was probably the only person in the village who had tried to be a real friend to her. But even if Saki wanted to, there was nothing she could do now. Tomorrow her family would leave, and she wouldn't see the other girl for at least two more years. Two whole years was much too long to wait for an apology.

The storage room door rattled open, and Saki's mother wandered in with a fist full of old shoji paper from the windows and doors. “Oh, there you are. I tried calling, but these walls must be thicker than I thought.”

“All the boxes keep the sound out,” Grandma said. She braced one hand on the shelf behind her and slowly rose to her feet. “Do you need help with the screens?”

“If you could spare Saki for a little while, I just need someone to smooth out the wrinkles as I glue.”

Saki stood but stayed put. “Grandma can't move these boxes by herself. What if something falls?”

“Don't worry,” Grandma said. “This room is clean enough for now. I should really start fixing lunch.”

“But…”

“No buts. Go and help your poor mother.”

As Grandma cooked lunch, Saki glued shoji paper screens outside in the burning hot sun. After lunch came even more chores. By dinnertime, no one wanted to do anything but take a bath and collapse on the tatami in the front room. However, there was one last thing Saki needed to do.

The talk about Yuko had her thinking about Hana, and thoughts of Hana reminded her of the horrible trick Hana had planned for Kaori at the karaoke parlor. Saki fished her phone out of her bag. Reception hovered at next to nothing, but she held her breath and forwarded all the messages that Hana had sent her about the plan to Kaori. When the screen flashed that the message had gotten through, Saki breathed in deep, turned the phone off, and shoved it under her pillow.

After all she had survived on the Night Parade, Hana no longer seemed so frightening.

While Saki and her family drank tea after dinner, Grandma went back to the storage room for the shoebox full of photos to show the others. Her father took his time sorting through the pile, and her mother smiled fondly as her father talked about his life before he'd left home. Saki also sat to listen, but her brother retreated into their room to amuse himself while their father and grandmother took turns telling the tale of an old fox that used to sneak into the kitchen and steal eggs.

Grandma handed Saki a photograph. “He chased it out with incense from the temple while the boys banged on pots and pans. It never came back, poor ragged thing.”

“This is Grandpa?”

“Can you believe it? He still has his hair,” she said.

Saki ran her fingers over the edges of the photo. Grandpa was standing next to one of the torii gates on the path up the mountain. He wasn't smiling, but she recognized the welcoming curves of his face and the softness in his eyes. She wondered if, in all of the years he'd taken care of the shrine on the mountain, he'd ever seen the phantom path through the woods that appeared for the Night Parade. A pang of sadness closed up her throat when she realized that she could never ask him.