The Suffering

by Rin Chupeco

  “…and you stormed off in a huff.”

  Okiku works herself into a sitting position. The color returns to her cheeks, if you count pale white as a color.

  “I do not like her.”

  I blink. “Her? The ghost, Mineko Kunai? I don’t like her either.”

  “No. The human girl.”

  “Callie? I know she’s still a little wary when it comes to you, but I don’t think she means anything by—”

  “No. The girl.”

  “The… Kendele? You don’t like Kendele?” It feels a little ridiculous to hear her make this confession when I haven’t thought much about Kendele since arriving in Japan.

  “Yes.”

  I wait for her to explain, but she’s not forthcoming. She just looks at me expectantly.

  “Uh, okay. Why don’t you like her?”

  Now it’s her turn to frown. “I do not know. I only know that I do not wish to see you with her. It…upsets me.”

  I have never seen Okiku jealous. I am aware of the heat climbing up my face. Okiku is watching me again with that puzzled look on her face, and I realize that she doesn’t even know why. So it doesn’t seem fair that I’m the one feeling embarrassed.

  “Kendele is just…a friend, okay? Like Callie, except we’re not related.”

  “Callie does not kiss you the way she does.”

  My face feels like it is on fire. “It’s nothing! Don’t think about it too much.” Maybe I’m overthinking this, but… “Ki, you’re not jealous, are you?”

  “Jealous of what?”

  I am definitely overthinking this. “Never mind. I’m just saying that it’s normal for me to, um, have…friendships with other people. It doesn’t mean that anything about us has to be different. Okay?” I catch the look on her face. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

  “I am sorry.”

  Mood swings aren’t usually her thing, but now her voice is so very, very soft, the way she often gets when her own odd sense of depression sets in.

  “Sorry for what?”

  “For depriving you of a normal childhood when you should be at…parties. To find other people who do not ask you to hunt for strange prey.”

  I can’t help myself. I start to laugh.

  She eyes me like I’m losing my mind.

  “Okiku. First, I’m not a fan of parties, so it’s highly unlikely I’d be going off to one even if you weren’t around.” I pause before making my next point, because I’m not sure how to explain it.

  “And secondly—I really don’t know how I feel about Kendele. I mean, I like her. She’s the only one I talk to on a regular basis at school, and that’s kind of pathetic. But regardless of what I think about her, I promise you that nothing will ever change between us. Hunting bad guys might churn my insides every now and then, but that doesn’t mean I regret it. It’s not just because you saved my life either. I want you to be happy, Ki, because I feel happier with you.

  “Now, come on. The sooner you step in, the sooner you get to recuperate.”

  The smile on her face grows with every word I say, and when I finish, she leans over to touch my face with her fingers in her usual display of affection. Then the smile recedes, her mouth twisting into a look of determination. She takes a step forward—

  “I have done nothing wrong,” she says, her voice unsteady despite this assertion.

  The young lord does not listen to her, and even if he did, he would not believe her. He looks back once more at his prized collection of plates. Where there had once been ten, only nine remain, but she is not to blame.

  “Count them, Okiku,” he commands angrily.

  Helpless, knowing what the outcome will be, she counts again. The lord’s retainer stands to the side and watches her, smiling.

  “Nine,” she whispers. “I have done nothing wrong.”

  “Do not lie to me, Okiku!” her lord roars.

  Tears prick at her eyes. He softens his tone almost immediately and places a hand on her shoulder. “Okiku,” he begins again, gentler this time, “if you confess now, then I promise you I will treat you fairly and you will not be punished.”

  For a moment, she is tempted to take the easy way out, to say she stole the plate and be done with it.

  But she cannot not lie. Not even for him. He trusted her once, and it had saved his life. Surely he will believe her.

  “I swear on my mother’s grave, my lord,” she says, weeping, “that I have done nothing wrong.”

  She watches his face change, feels his hand leave her shoulder, watches as he turns away toward his retainer.

  “You are right,” he says. “Do with her as you will—”

  “You bastard,” I hiss, getting back my bearings, salt stinging my own eyes. “You stupid, fucking asshole.”

  I hate that man whom Okiku loved so dearly, sometimes almost as much as I hate his goddamn retainer. Okiku tends to shield me from her harsher memories, but when she’s weak, the filter isn’t there. Seeing for myself how he’d betrayed Ki sends my blood boiling, and I have to remind myself that dwelling on the urge to strangle long-dead Japanese nobility is not my priority at the moment.

  My foot feels better by the time I stand, the hurt reduced to mild discomfort. I pry the wooden stakes from the wall—not only was the tree that crafted these things sacred, but the stakes are surprisingly sharp and durable—and stash all but one and the bridal doll inside my knapsack. That done, I splay the flashlight along the walls of the tunnel once more. I don’t sense any more malingering presences in this part of the cave, and I’m hoping it stays that way until I find the next doll.

  Which is why it comes as a surprise when the beam of light illuminates a figure up ahead, clad in robes. I backtrack quickly, not sure if I should risk trying to run past the specter or if I should hide and wait for a better opportunity to pass. I’m pawing behind me in my pack for an extra doll for additional protection when the figure turns his head and watches me sadly. It’s the same old man from before, the one I first met at the Oimikado household.

  He holds out his hands. I interpret it as a sign that he holds me no ill intent. He gestures down the passage and starts walking in that direction without waiting for my response. I follow because I don’t have a better choice.

  The old man does not seem to mind my flashlight trained on his half-transparent figure and keeps moving at a steady pace until stopping at a nearly hidden path that I might have missed on my own. The passageway ends at a small staircase carved into the ground, which looks like a dead end. I’m puzzled until the old man traces a pattern on the wall, and the large stone edifice gives way, rolling to one side. Cold, misty air greets me. It’s a way out!

  I would hug that old man, but I’m afraid he’d misinterpret things. He’s already fading out, the barest silhouette of him lingering a couple of seconds before he vanishes.

  Just to be sure I’m alone and no other ghosts are wandering nearby, I stick out my hand with the tape recorder. Finding none, I emerge cautiously and assess my surroundings. I see only more rubble and rot. I’m in a completely different house.

  After a quick look at my map, I determine I must be in or near the Kajiwaras. How many underground passages connect these houses, and what purpose have they served? The more answers I pick up, the more questions they seem to pose.

  The stone edifice the old man had moved turns out to be the back of a small Jizo shrine that I would have sworn was carved right into the rock. I can feel Okiku, who isn’t completely resting within me despite my insistence, tugging me toward the opposite side of the village. I comply, picking my way past the wood and debris and still keeping an eye out for anything untoward.

  I’m beginning to sense a pattern among these odd girl-ghosts. If the previous two were any indication, these girls tend to stay close to their shrine dolls and don’t wander, in the same way Okiku isn’t able to go a long distance before being drawn back to me. I’m like Okiku’s doll in a lot of ways, I realize with some consternation.
>
  And like the girls in this village, she’d been sacrificed too, in a fashion. It’s hard not to compare her to them, given their similarities—unavenged spirits betrayed by the people they trusted and made to suffer—so a part of me feels sorry for these ghosts, even when I know they’re trying their best to rip out my throat.

  I debate about returning to the village elder’s house to check up on the Ghost Haunts crew member I left behind or foraging for more ghosts. There’s still no sign of Kagura anywhere, and my spirits sink again as I entertain the possibilities of her—or anyone else—surviving for this long.

  One more doll, I decide. I remember the diary entries of that unfortunate girl, the way she talked about a Yukiko-san. I remember the first ghost I’d spotted, the aggressive little bugger that chased me nearly all the way into the house, barred temporarily only by the ofuda I’d placed in her way.

  On a sudden flash of insight, I peruse the list of girls’ names. Sure enough, I recognize one of the kanjis on the list as being the same as the kanji on the girl’s diary and remember her describing with perfect accuracy the kimono the other girl had worn before she was sacrificed.

  Yukiko Uchiyama. The second to the last name on the list. But that would mean that the writer of the diary must be…

  I glance down at the last name on the page. Oimikado Hotoke. The ghostly old man trying to help me must have been her father, Lord Oimikado, since he was in the Oimikado house. It all fits together.

  “Thank you,” I murmur. I’ve been able to piece together what scant information I have because of her diary, and I feel like the only way I can repay her is to find out if she managed to escape the village…or if she was sacrificed like her predecessors.

  The fastest way to do that, I figure, is to find the ghost of Yukiko Uchiyama, the only girl Hotoke referred to by name. I let Okiku tug me to the right house. The Uchiyama residence is near the village entrance, confirming my theory that these ghosts tend to wander near the houses they grew up in. Unless they are chasing someone, I think, remembering Alan with a wince.

  Still, I can’t help but feel wary as I slide the shoji screen open and peer inside. This particular ghost is more upfront about being antagonistic than the rest, and with Okiku occupied, I’m not sure how well I’ll fare.

  “Here goes,” I mutter.

  I barely have a foot through the doorway when I freeze at a sudden, frightened cry from inside. It’s followed shortly by a litany of familiar sutras and chants, and my eyes widen. I recognize that voice.

  “Kagura!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  A Reunion

  She’s still got her hakama and her haori, though the former’s been ripped around the hem and the latter’s become a makeshift bandage around her upper arm, now stained red. A canvas bag is strapped to her good shoulder, and her hair’s loose instead of in the ponytail she usually wears. There are scratches and dirt on her face, like she had to force her way through some man-eating thornbushes. Given the circumstances, I think Kagura looks perfectly composed—for someone who’s been lost inside a haunted village for days.

  Her eyes widen when she catches sight of me, and her voice wavers. Her chanting stops, and Yukiko Uchiyama takes advantage of it, springing forward and all but bowling the miko over with one timed leap. I run to Kagura’s aid, my recording picking up where her chant left off, and take a well-aimed kick at the ghost’s head before her teeth can close on the miko’s face. She rears back, and I thrust the stake at her. Yukiko’s quicker than I expect, dodging it, but she backs away from Kagura, who’s sprawled on the ground and trying to catch her breath.

  The apparition tries to approach once more, but the recorder makes her wary enough that she never quite closes the distance between us. I make sure to keep myself between her and the miko until finally, with one last baleful look at us, she backs into a wall, disappearing from view.

  “Well,” Kagura gasps, pulling herself to a sitting position, “I’m glad to see you’ve been taking your training seriously.”

  “I’m glad to see you!” I fold her into a quick hug, making sure not to put pressure on her injured shoulder. “What happened? Where’s the rest of the crew? How the hell are we going to get out of here?”

  “All questions that are rather difficult to answer at the moment.” She smiles wanly at me. “Where’s Okiku?”

  I point toward my chest, and her smile fades. “I knew it,” she says, sighing. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be here. These are creatures of earth, and the strain on Okiku might be too much to bear. What are you doing here?”

  I put forward a quick summary of events, starting from our search in Aokigahara, and she shakes her head. “Oh, Tark.”

  “You and Callie both,” I retort. “You’re here and I’m here, so there’s no use dwelling on that. But I’d really like to know what’s going on.” I scan the room, just in case the ghost bride wishes to return. “I found the camcorder one of the crew was using. I watched the video when you guys first arrived. How did you even escape the…whatever it was chasing you?”

  “I’m not quite sure myself.” Kagura winces. “I think we would have been doomed almost as soon as that first ghost attacked if not for her.”

  “Her?”

  “There was another ghost. As odd as it sounds, she…defended us from the first aragami.” Kagura exhales noisily. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. Except Okiku, of course. I don’t know who this ghost is, and I don’t know why she came to my aid, but I didn’t have time to ask—not with the others scattered and injured.”

  “Was there anything unusual about the ghost?”

  “Yes. She had blue eyes.” At my sharp intake, she glances in my direction. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve seen her before. She was lurking inside the shrine, and I think she may have helped repel an attack by another ghost too.

  It looks like we have an ally in Aitou, at the very least. But one thing is clear—we need to find the dolls, Tark, and use them to exorcise these spirits. There is a chance that the curse might lift the moment they are all contained, and we can leave.”

  “I’m way ahead of you.” I produce the two hanayome ningyō, not without some smugness. Kagura looks surprised and pleased. I quickly relay all that happened—from Callie and me finding the notes Kagura had left behind to my adventures inside Aitou.

  She frowns when I tell her about the old woman and the tate ebōshi wearing scholar, and she insists on a more detailed description of the latter. “He could be one of the ceremonial assistants of the kannushi,” she concedes.

  “Whoever he is, he seems like he wants to help.”

  “I hope so. I have exorcised two of the ghost brides myself.” She opens her bag and shows me two more dolls not unlike the ones I have, their beady eyes dark. “Nariko Konno’s and Kita Morimoto’s.” She holds up another. “I have found the doll belonging to Yukiko Uchiyama, but as you could see, she’s been a little harder to catch. Counting Yukiko, that leaves only three more.” She pauses. “How long have I been missing?”

  “Two weeks, give or take. Auntie’s worried sick, and there are all sorts of television reporters and searchers out looking for you.”

  “Looking for the Ghost Haunts crew,” Kagura corrects me with a rueful smile. “I should have trusted my instincts and refused to allow them access to my father’s work.”

  “I think they would have found another way, regardless of whether or not you helped them. They’re not…dead or anything, right?”

  “I do not know. We were all supposed to head for the shrine, but it’s been boarded up. I brought them to a house beside the Konno residence and told them all not to step outside until I said so. It was the most structurally sound of all the remaining houses. I warded the room as much as I was able to, but when I returned, they were all gone.” She rakes a hand through her hair. “This is all my fault. I was responsible for their safety—”

  “You were responsible for providing them with information about Ai
tou,” I interrupt. “They’re grown men who chase ghosts. They knew what they were getting themselves into. At any rate, I found one of them—Alan George. I got his map and left him in one of the houses, having ofuda’d what I could. He’s pretty banged up.”

  “That is some consolation, at least, to know he is alive. I have not had much luck in finding the others. Oh, Tark—I wish you weren’t here!”

  “Don’t worry about that, Kagura,” I tell her with as much confidence as I can. “I chose to come here. I gotta say that it’s been a crappy vacation so far though. I think I’ve had enough of the sights Aokigahara has to offer. What do we do next?”

  “I need to tell you the rest of what I know about Aitou. My father disappeared in Aokigahara, Tark. I fear he knew more than what he let on and that Aitou holds his grave. But he also knew more than I thought about the ritual. It was very much like him to keep secrets, especially if he thought they might worry me or Mother.”

  “I saw some old photos of him, back in your room. You look a lot alike.”

  “Thank you. He did not like having his picture taken, and those are all I have of him.” She smiles faintly. “He always wore a small magatama around his neck. Someone very special gave it to him when he was young, and he believed it afforded him protection against spirits. Did you read the old parchment I had in my trunk?”

  “I remember reading something from an old red one, but it was more like a riddle than anything.”

  “It was his proof, I think. Proof that he had been inside Aitou before and had survived. He was never clear on how he found the village in the first place, but I have no doubt that on his last trip, he wished to find more evidence. But”—a flash of pain crossed her face—“toward the end, he was so obsessed with finding Aitou and proving himself right that he didn’t always make the best decisions, and I fear he paid the price for that.

  “I do not intend to do the same. The only recourse open to us is to find the other ghost brides and see that they are laid to rest. And to do that, we must gain access to the shrine.”