The Waking (23 page)

The teacher said this with a tiny smile, but the girls did not smile in return.

Kara looked at her. “So, the Kyuketsuki legend is older than this play, right?”

“Yes, very old. Most Noh plays are just retellings of older stories.”

“Is it always someone sacrificing the cat? Are there other ways to call the demon? To create a ketsuki?”

Miss Aritomo cocked her head, studying them more closely now, her prior suspicions obviously returning. “There are different versions of the story. Most of them begin with a cat walking over the grave of a murder victim and Kyuketsuki taking the cat that way. But it’s so coincidental, it would never work in the play.”

Kara nodded slowly, mind racing.

“Unless it’s not coincidental,” Miho said quietly. She turned to Kara. “If Kyuketsuki has a bond with cats, maybe she can summon them. Maybe they come when she calls them, and she fills them with all that hate and makes them monsters.”

Kara’s pulse throbbed in her temples. Her chest ached with the pounding of her heart and she took a deep breath.

Then she noticed the way Miss Aritomo was staring at them, and she knew they’d gone too far.

“Perfect,” she said, faking a smile. “That’s just the twist we need for a manga version.”

A look of utter disapproval replaced the confusion on the teacher’s face. “You just told me you were going to be faithful to the original. If you are going to adapt a Noh play, you should respect the material enough to tell the story the way it is meant to be told.”

Miho bowed. “Thank you, sensei. You’re right. We will discuss it.”

Kara bowed her head as well. “Of course. But one more thing, sensei. The play? How does it end?”

“In tragedy,” Miss Aritomo said. “The ketsuki kills Riko’s husband and his new lover, but its bloodlust and need for vengeance are not sated. It decides that the woman’s parents and children could have prevented her murder and so kills them as well. Only the youngest daughter, a little girl, survives. She lights candles and kneels on her mother’s grave and prays for mercy. The sun rises, and the ketsuki vanishes.

“It’s all very dramatic, if you like that sort of thing.”

13

K
ara and Miho hurried back across the field toward the dorm. For the moment, at least, adrenaline had overridden Kara’s exhaustion. Her eyes still burned from lack of sleep, but her racing heart kept her moving.

“Is your father going to be angry?” Miho asked.

“I’m sure he’s not going to be able to leave school anytime soon,” Kara said. “I’ll still make it home before him.”

Her skin prickled with foreboding. The whole world seemed to have changed around her, the slant of light somehow ominous, the air itself heavier. How had her perceptions been altered so completely that she could believe, even for a moment, that the demon out of some Noh play might really exist? The girl she’d been when she’d left the United States would never have believed such a thing.

But she had changed since then. Japan had changed her. The dark events unfolding at Monju-no-Chie School had forced her eyes to perceive things she had never imagined.

She and Miho had left Miss Aritomo’s room in silence, not daring to share their thoughts about what she’d said until they were on their own. Even now, walking alone across the field toward the dorm, they avoided the subject, and Kara knew why. She and Miho were both struggling with their fear.

Kara looked up at the sky, tried to gauge how much of the day had already passed. It must still be morning, but how many hours did that give them until nightfall? And were they really safe during the day? That was a presumption they’d made based on too many vampire stories, but did it apply to demons?

Her heart beat so fiercely that it hurt her chest.
Calm down
, she thought to herself,
or you’ll be no good to anyone
. And Kara couldn’t afford to let that happen. For whatever reason, the ketsuki had inflicted its nightmares upon her just as it had upon Akane’s killers.

“Why . . . ,” she began, then faltered.

“What?” Miho asked.

Kara swallowed, her throat dry. “Why do you think it’s after me, too? I didn’t do anything.”

“I thought about that while Miss Aritomo told the story,” Miho said, as they walked across the grassy field. In the dorm parking lot ahead, more students were packing their things into their parents’ cars. “You were there. You saw the cat disturb Akane’s shrine.”

“But I didn’t sacrifice it!” Kara said.

Miho shushed her. “Let’s talk about it inside.”

Now that she’d begun the conversation, it was hard for Kara to hold her tongue. But they were coming up to the dorm where there were students and parents about, and she knew Miho was right. She took a deep breath and forced herself to wait.

“Look who it is,” Miho whispered, nodding toward the parking lot.

A small SUV sat at the edge of the parking lot. A father closed the tailgate while his wife looked on. But Miho had been drawing Kara’s attention to the other two people near the vehicle. Maiko, the sleepless, frayed, brittle girl who was in Mr. Matsui’s class with them, stood near her parents’ SUV, talking quietly with Ume. The two girls’ faces were pictures of worry and regret. Maiko held Ume’s hands, nodding some kind of assurance they could not hear from that distance. Ume nodded, but more slowly, and then the girls hugged.

Maiko’s father snapped at her to get into the car. With a last look at Ume, she obeyed her father. Ume waved and turned away, hurrying back to the front steps of the dormitory. If she’d looked up, she would have seen Miho and Kara coming toward her, but her thoughts were obviously elsewhere.

They entered the dormitory twenty seconds after her, just as Maiko and her parents drove away.

“Do you think the ketsuki knows they’re leaving?” Kara whispered.

Miho looked around the foyer of the dorm to make sure they weren’t overheard. She tucked her hair behind her ears.

“If it does, it’s going to want to hurry to get as many as it can before they’re all gone.”

Kara turned the words over in her mind and found she didn’t like them at all. whatever they were going to do about this, if there was anything at all they really
could
do about it, had to be tonight. Otherwise there would be more blood, more death—and it might be her own. They had to find a way to stop the ketsuki, so she could finally rest. She badly wanted sleep, but the nightmares had to stop.

On the stairs between the second and third floor, they encountered Ren, who was on his way down.

“Miho, hey!” he said, smiling. “I was just looking for you.”

“Really?” Miho asked, lowering her eyes and seeming almost to shrink into her own shyness, hiding behind her glasses. “Why?”

Despite her tension, Kara smiled. Miho had such a curiosity about and fascination with boys, but talking to a boy she obviously liked made her squirm. Kara hadn’t had the heart to tell her Ren was gay.

Ren shrugged. “Just wanted to say good-bye.”

Miho’s disappointment was plain. “You’re going home, too?”

“My parents are coming this afternoon. It’s all so weird, isn’t it? And a little scary. To be honest with you, I’m kind of glad to be going, at least until they catch whoever killed Chouku.”

Miho seemed to be searching for something to say.

“Hopefully it won’t be long,” Kara said, to fill the silence.

Ren smiled. “I don’t mind missing school. Anyway, I went up to say good-bye to you and Sakura, but nobody was there. I’m glad I got to see you before I left.”

“Me too,” Miho said.

“Are you going to be okay? When are your parents coming?”

“Not for a few days. But I won’t be alone. Sakura will still be here, and Kara too. And we’re going to have some teachers with us, I think, until we’re all gone.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you soon,” he said, hurrying past them down the stairs.

Miho watched him go, and then the girls continued up the stairs.

“So Sakura’s still out,” Kara said as they reached the third floor and moved toward Miho’s room.

“She has to come back eventually,” Miho replied. “I hoped we both could talk to her, but I can do it myself. Hopefully she’ll listen.”

Kara shushed her. They were passing by Ume’s room and slowed to a stop. In the otherwise silent dormitory, they could hear Ume’s voice very clearly.

“You don’t understand,” came the slightly frantic voice from the other side of the door. “I’m afraid. I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. I need to come home today. You’ve got to come and get me. I’ll meet you in the city if I have to. I could leave my things here until I . . . No, please listen . . .”

Miho tapped Kara on the arm and gestured for them to continue walking. Kara was reluctant to go, but she didn’t want anyone to see her eavesdropping, so she continued down the corridor.

Though it had occurred to her that Sakura might simply not have answered Ren’s knock, Miho’s dorm room was empty. They entered and Miho locked the door behind them and turned on some music. Given how clearly they’d been able to hear Ume, this seemed a very good idea.

“She must have been talking to her parents,” Kara said.

Miho nodded, brow furrowed in contemplation. “Yes. And she seems much more frightened than the other students we’ve seen.”

“You don’t think she knows about the ketsuki?”

“I can’t imagine it. But Ume knows what really happened to Akane. She had to have been there. She knows the connection between the people having the nightmares—”

“Except for me.”

Miho nodded, leaning against her desk. “Yes. Except for you. Anyway, she knows Akane is the link between Jiro and Hana and Chouku, too. She’s afraid she’s going to be killed.”

“She’s a bitch,” Kara said, “but she’s not stupid.”

“Agreed,” Miho said. “All right, back to you. What I was saying outside is that Kyuketsuki . . . I mean, let’s just not bother talking about whether Kyuketsuki is real, okay? I think we have to believe right now, and if it turns out we’re crazy, at least we’ll be crazy and you and Sakura will be alive.”

“I’m with you,” Kara told her. The room felt awfully cold and she rubbed her hands together, then slid them into her pockets. The light, hooded blue sweater she wore under her jacket was not thick enough to warm her, but right now, it was possible nothing would do the job.

“If the folktales about Kyuketsuki come from something real, let’s think about the story. Maybe Kyuketsuki could be summoned in those days by sacrificing a cat, but she doesn’t just prey on the killer or abuser, she also kills the ones who summoned her. In the story, they share the blame, but maybe that’s part of the price of calling her up. Part of the sacrifice.”

“But I didn’t call her up!” Kara protested.

Even as she said the words, though, she could picture the cat slinking through the photos and flowers that comprised the shrine for Akane.

“You were there,” Miho said. “I guess that was enough.”

Kara saw it all unfold again in her mind, the red and copper fur of the cat emerging from the shadows and the flowers. She went to the window and gazed out.

“The shrine’s the key,” she said. “Think about it. Kyuketsuki gathers up the grief and anger of people who are mourning a murder victim and creates a ketsuki out of it. All of those notes and pictures and flowers, the stuffed animals, what are they except grief? Add Sakura’s grief and her rage . . . I mean, that’s the spot where Akane died. The shrine drew Kyuketsuki there.”

“Yes. It all makes sense,” Miho said, in a way that made it clear that she wished it didn’t.

“But what about the cat? I mean, I didn’t sacrifice it. The thing just walked across the shrine and dropped dead. Okay, maybe Kyuketsuki has the power to reach through and kill it, but the cat just happened to be nosing around the shrine while someone was standing there?”

“It could be coincidence,” Miho said. “Or maybe not. Most people don’t believe in demons anymore. Not really. Not even in Japan. They don’t even perform this Noh play anymore. Maybe Kyuketsuki has to find other ways to fulfill her purpose. Maybe she influenced the cat, drew it to her so she could create a ketsuki.”

Kara was about to argue, but then she thought of the other cats she’d seen, of the dreams she’d had in which so many gathered around the dead one, the ketsuki.

“Maybe,” she allowed.

The two girls were lost in thought for a few moments. Then Kara pulled her hands from her pockets and turned to Miho.

“How do we make it go away?”

Miho took a breath and then shrugged. “Take away its power? If grief and anger drive it, we’ve got to make those things go away to weaken it.”

Kara stared at her. “Meaning we have to get Sakura to let go of those feelings? That’s not going to work.”

“If we can’t figure something out—”

“You don’t have to convince
me
,” Kara interrupted.

“We could start by destroying the shrine,” Miho said. “Sakura would be so hurt, but if it means her life and yours, I’ll risk it. That might weaken it a little.”

Kara nodded. “Maybe enough for us to hurt it.”

“We have to do it just after dark. Hopefully no one will see us.”