A block from the train station,Kara stumbled to a halt, feet painfully cold and raw. She looked around, panicsurging, but did not see the ghost. Up ahead, an old man with a white beardrode a bicycle toward her. Truly peculiar at going on three o'clock in the morning,but he was no ghost. Just strange.
No, she thought. And thenshe said it aloud.
"No. I can't not know,"she whispered into the winter night, each word a wisp of icy breath. And nowher trembling had nothing to do with the cold. She'd tried to make her heartturn to ice but her breath began to hitch and her lower lip quivered and shehated to cry, hated how weak and foolish it made her feel.
"Kara!"
She turned.
The old man's bicycle squeakedas it approached, but she had her back to him now, looking back the way she'dcome. Her father must have heard her, for he had come out after her. He woreslippers, a white t-shirt, and sweatpants, and a giddy, frazzled part of hermind realized that the two of them must seem just as peculiar to the old man onhis bicycle as he did to her, that anything might happen in the small hours ofthe night, and every street, and every night, was a quietly bizarre midnightcircus.
"Kara!" her fathercalled again, concern in his voice. Even fear. And why not, given all they hadbeen through.
But she could not focus on herfather.
The ghost stood between them. Somehowshe had passed right by it without noticing. Moonlight and shadow made it seembarely there and even as she watched it faded further, slipping into nothing,vanishing. But she had seen its face and it was not Hachiro.
Tears did come, then, but theywere tears of exhaustion and relief in equal measure.
And then her father was thereand he pulled her into his arms.
"Sweetie, what are youdoing?" he asked. "You scared me, running out like that. Are youokay?"
They both jumped, startled bythe sound of a bicycle bell as the old man rode by. The tension inside Karabroke like a wave on the sand and she laughed, heart still pounding. But thatrespite lasted only a moment, the presence of the ghost so fresh in her mind.
"Did you see him?" sheasked, staring into her father's eyes.
She expected a look ofconfusion. Instead, his concern turned to uneasiness.
"I think I did," hesaid. "Just for a second, when I was running after you, I thought youweren't alone, that there was someone in the street with you."
He's been touched by thesupernatural, too, she thought. The Hannya had nearly killed him.
"A ghost," she said.
"But it wasn't. .?"
"No," she saidquickly. "It wasn't Hachiro."
Her father took that in, thenlooked at her more closely. "God, you don't even have shoes on. You'regoing to get frostbite. Come on, let me carry you back."
Kara frowned. "I'll befine. Let's just hurry. It's freezing out here."
Knowing how cold Hachiro must beup on that mountain, she would not let this brief exposure get to her. Or soshe thought. By the time they were halfway back to the house, her feet were sonumb that they felt like blocks of wood. Kara's father insisted that she lethim carry her, and she went along with it gladly. Thin as he was, Rob Harperwas still strong enough to lift his daughter in his arms.
For the first time in days, shefelt safe.
All through Wednesday morning,Kara felt as though she was holding her breath. School felt surreal. Why werethey here? Books and pencils, notes and quizzes. How could they all go on withthis ridiculous pantomime of normality? Miho kept glancing back at her with sadeyes, and Kara knew she was worried. Kara loved her for it, but Miho could notcomfort her.
Outside the windows, snowflakesdanced on gusts of January wind. She had woken this morning to a light coat ofnew fallen snow across Miyazu City. The white swirl looked beautiful over theturgid surface of the bay, but the sight of it had made her feel like throwingup.
She should be on the mountainwith Hachiro. Searching for him. Just sitting here, all she wanted to do wasscream.
It had taken her no time at allto get used to the Japanese system, in which the students remained in theirhomerooms all day and the teachers moved from class to class. Ordinarily shethought it a much more sensible way of doing things, but today she would havegiven anything to be able to get up out of her seat. Her eyes burned from lackof sleep and her head felt stuffed with cotton. Teacher after teacher enteredthe room and droned on, but to her they sounded like the adults in old CharlieBrown cartoons, their voices an unintelligible drone.
The seat in front of her wasempty. Sora's seat. She wondered what would happen to it. No one would want tosit there and the empty seat seemed forbidding, a constant reminder of hisdeath. Hours ticked by. At lunchtime, Kara turned away so she would not evenhave to look at it. She decided to talk to Mr. Sato at the end of the day andask if he could just have the desk removed.
The afternoon crept by even moreslowly than the morning. Several times she found herself nodding off. When herfather came in to teach his American Studies course, she tried her best to stayalert, but kept rubbing her eyes. He couldn't help but notice. Several times itseemed he was about to say something, but then he stopped himself. Kara knewthat he would be worried that it would be improper for him to interrupt classjust to ask her if she was all right, and she was glad. The conversation shewanted to have with him — needed to have with him — would have towait until school was over.
As she drifted between sleep andwakefulness, feeling a bit sick to her stomach from struggling to stay conscious,she thought of ghosts. Hachiro had seen Jiro, shoeless, on the train intoMiyazu City back at the beginning of this horror. Kara studied the back of Miho'shead and from time to time she glanced over at Mai, who sat in the front of theroom by the window, and she wondered.
The ghosts had to be connected.
Her father and Miss Aritomo wereworrying like mad, trying to figure out how to hide the girls from Yuki-Onna. Yesterdaythat quest had been a useful diversion, helping her keep her mind off of Hachiroat least part of the time. But today, she couldn't care less about the curse ofKyuketsuki. What the winter witch might do to her meant nothing — notwith Hachiro still missing.
No, she had to solve this. Figureout the mystery. They still didn't know for sure that it was even Yuki-Onnathey were dealing with. But with the woman who'd frozen to death on themountain and the way her haka had been disturbed, her ashes removed, it sureseemed to match the legend.
So why had Sora been killed, butRen still lived? Why was Hachiro still missing? What did the Woman in White doto them? And what did the ghosts have to do with anything? Studying the back ofMai's head, thinking of Wakana seeing the ghost of Daisuke, she fell asleep.
The bell woke her with a start. Shesat up, sucking in a ragged breath, her heart slamming in her chest. None ofher tension had eased. She still felt like she could not exhale. Kids weremoving all around her, rising from their desks, some of them muttering abouthow Mr. Yamato should not have resumed classes so quickly after Sora's death,and with Hachiro still missing. Kara agreed, though some of those she heardseemed to be complaining more because they wanted additional days off thanbecause they hadn't felt ready to focus on school again.
Another major adjustment in themove to Japanese education had been the tradition of o soji. Monju-no-Chieschool employed maintenance staff to do repairs and things, but the basiccleaning of the premises was conducted every day by the students themselves. Afterthe final class and before club meetings began, they swept the floors, took outthe garbage, cleaned the boards, washed windows in need of attention, andperformed many other tasks. While it had taken some getting used to, Kara nowprided herself on the results of o soji, pleased to leave the school as cleanas they had found it.
She caught up to Mr. Sato in thecorridor, a trash bag in each hand.
"Sato-sensei," shesaid, "could I speak with you for a moment?"
He gave a tiny bow of his head."Of course."
Kara asked him about moving Sora'schair and the teacher agreed that it should be removed, but expressed concernthat
it not be done so quickly that some of Sora's friends might take offenseand think they were attempting to erase the boy's memory. Mr. Sato decided hewould move the desk himself while the school was closed over the weekend. Twomore days with it in the classroom would not be intolerable.
"Sensei, there is somethingelse."
Mr. Sato frowned, his eyebrowslike furry gray caterpillars above his eyes. His glasses seemed too small forhim, suddenly.
"What is it, Kara?"
"When you found Ren, hereally didn't remember anything?"
The teacher stood up stiffly,what little expression he had shown vanishing. "I'm sorry, Kara. It is notproper for me to speak with you about this. I know you are concerned for — "
"Sensei, please. Did he sayanything? Anything at all?"
Mr. Sato seemed to deflate alittle. He glanced around to be sure they were not overheard.
"He said 'thank you,' manytimes. Nothing more than that until long after we had come down from themountain," Mr. Sato said. Then he lowered his gaze, hesitating.
"What?" Kara prodded.
"Nothing," Mr. Satosaid. "He barely seemed to realize I was there at first."
"But he thanked you."
"It was almost as if hewere talking to someone else," the teacher said. "That is what I amtrying to explain to you, Kara. He was delirious. If Ren knows anything aboutwhere we might find Hachiro, he cannot yet remember it. We must hope that hismemory will return."
Kara dropped her gaze, lost inthought. If Ren hadn't been thanking Mr. Sato, who had he been thanking?
"Is there something else?" the teacher asked.
"No, sensei," shesaid. "Thank you."
And she hurried away, trash bagsin hand, wishing that she could confront Ren at that very moment. According toKara's father, Mr. Yamato had offered to let the boy's parents take him homefor the rest of the week, but Ren insisted that he would be all right andwanted to stay at school. He had not come to class today, but perhaps tomorrow,according to Sakura.
Kara needed to talk to him. Somehow,she had to make him remember.
As she hurried down thecorridor, she spotted Mai and Wakana coming out of the girls' bathroom withcleaning supplies. Mai carried herself with an air of superiority that madeWakana seem to fade into the background, though in many ways she was prettierthan her roommate. She had kinder eyes, her hair lighter and more suited to thewarmth of her features. Mai had once been quiet like Wakana, and had smiledmore, then. But now that she was Queen of the Soccer Bitches, her arrogancemade her striking, if not pretty.
The two girls were whispering toone another about something when Kara walked up.
"Can I talk to you two fora minute?"
Mai and Wakana looked up at her,both troubled, but then Mai turned chilly, almost sneering at her.
"Bonsai," she said."What do you want?"
Kara bristled. "Not thatattitude, that's for sure. I thought we were past this. You don't have to likeme, Mai, but we have shared interests. We had a truce. What is your problem?"
As she spoke, Mai grew more andmore rigid and obviously uncomfortable.
"I thank you, bonsai, forgiving me permission not to like you," Mai said, even more haughtily.
Kara threw up her hands. "Youknow what? Sora's dead and Hachiro's still missing. You might hate me, but Ithought you might actually care, but I guess I was — "
Mai narrowed her gaze, loweringher voice. "We do care, you stupid girl."
Wakana squirmed withawkwardness, glancing past Kara, who turned to see what she was looking at andsaw Emi and Kaori sweeping the corridor three doors down from them. The girlswere unmistakable, Emi with her square glasses and Kaori with her perfectathlete's build.
Kara felt like throwing up. Shespun on Mai and Wakana.
"Are you kidding me?" she said, her whispered voice practically a hiss. "You're seriouslyworried about those girls seeing you talking to me? We all suspect that theytook part in Sakura's sister's murder, or at least stood by and watched and didnothing, and it's their approval you care about? What is wrong with you?"
Mai exhaled, seeming to deflate.Wakana had the sense, at least, to look ashamed.
"Kara," Mai said, "justas I do not have to like you, you do not have to like me. Wakana and I havemanaged a certain status at this school and it has value to us, both now and aspart of the foundation for our futures. You are a gaijin. You cannot possiblyunderstand — "
"Please, don't," Karasaid, holding up a hand to stop her. "Trust me, we've got shallow bitchesback home in America, too."
"It isn't like that,"Wakana protested weakly.
Kara glanced back and saw thatEmi and Kaori had vanished from the corridor, probably to dump what they'dswept up or already headed off to their after school soccer club meeting. Maiand Wakana would see them there.
Sadly, Kara gave a small shakeof her head and looked at Wakana. "Keep telling yourself that. Look, Ijust wanted to ask you a question, test a theory, and then I'll stay far awayfrom both of you, okay?"
"Have you heard anythingabout Hachiro?" Mai asked.
Now that the other soccer girlsweren't there to see, Mai's mask had dropped, and she seemed genuinelyconcerned. But Kara could not forget that mask. At heart, Mai might be a goodperson, but the word 'shallow' fit her all too well, and by her behavior sheforfeited any right she had to sympathy.
"None," Kara said,putting ice in her words.
"Have you learned somethingabout the ghosts?" Wakana asked quickly.
Kara studied her. The girlseemed nervous and frightened.
"No," she replied, "butI think the ghosts we've seen are connected somehow to what's happening onTakigami Mountain."
Mai asked what she meant. Karareminded herself that the girls had not been privy to the conversations aboutYuki-Onna, so she quickly filled them in on all that had transpired and aboutthe ghost she had seen the night before. She knew that they would not darebreathe a word of it to anyone for fear of incurring the wrath of PrincipalYamato or the police, who wanted anything supernatural kept quiet to avoidpublic panic. But more than that, no one would likely believe them, and girlslike Mai and Wakana would never run the risk of being mocked and ostracized.
"This is all guessing,"Kara warned them. "But as far as I know, only those of us who haveencountered other supernatural things have seen ghosts. My father and me,Hachiro, Miho, and you, Wakana."
Kara looked at Mai. "Whatabout you? Have you seen anything?"
Mai shook her head. "No. Notyet. And I hope I don't."
"They're so. . sad,"Wakana said.
Kara frowned. "You've seenmore than one?"
Wakana nodded. "Yes."
Mai shot her a dark look. "Youdidn't tell me you had seen another."
"Last night," Wakanaexplained, her gaze falling. "I got up to go to the bathroom and saw ithad started to snow again. When I looked out the window, Daisuke's ghost wasstanding by the trees, looking up at me. And he wasn't alone. Yasu was withhim."
Kara and Mai both stared at her.Yasu had been the first to be killed by the Hannya last year.
"I'm really scared,"Wakana said, her voice small.
"Don't be," Kara said."If we're right about what this is, it's not the ghosts you need to beafraid of."
Sakura hurried along thehallway, the duties of o soji forgotten. She kept her eyes forward, focused onKara, Wakana, and Mai. All through the school day she had tried her best toavoid looking out the classroom windows. Just the sight of the falling snowkept her nerves on edge and made her shiver. She didn't want to think aboutHachiro out there on the mountain. Even worse were the dark places her mindwandered when she allowed it to do so. The snow itself held menace. Even theoccasional gust of wind that rattled the windows made her jump and suck in herbreath.
It had been her grief and ragethat had first woken the ancient evil of Kyuketsuki and led to this curse. Sakuraknew that she had done nothing wrong, that fate had played a role and that itwas natural for her to feel sorrow and fury, but so many had died and they allweighed on h
er. It had begun with Akane's murder and her mourning, and nowMiyazu City and Monju-no-Chie school were being haunted by ghosts. And yetSakura had not seen one. Many of these spirits had died horrible, grisly deathsbecause of a chain of events she had helped to begin, but the ghosts did notappear to her. She knew she ought to consider it a blessing, but somehow itfelt like yet another curse, like some kind of punishment.
Stupid, she told herself.Who wants to be haunted?
Whatever conversation Kara hadbeen having with Mai and Wakana, it ended. As Sakura strode quickly toward her,Kara turned away from the other girls, a desperate look in her eyes. Normallythe blond American girl looked cute, almost perfect in her sailor fuku schooluniform. Today she looked like some kind of impostor, like she belongedanywhere but in the halls of this school.
"Hey. What's the hurry?" Kara said in English as Sakura approached.
And that said a great deal initself, that she had forgotten to speak Japanese.
Sakura gestured after the departingMai and Wakana. "What was that about?"
"Ghosts," Kara said,reverting to Japanese, blinking in surprise at her own lapse. "I'llexplain later. What's up? You look like you're rushing somewhere."
"Here, actually,"Sakura said. "Your father sent me to find you. Mr. Yamato wants us in hisoffice right now."
Kara frowned. "Who's 'us'?"
"You, me, and Miho, Ithink."
Sakura watched hope ignite inKara's eyes.
"Is it about — "
"I don't think so,"Sakura said quickly. "As far as I know there's been no change in Ren, andno word on Hachiro, but you know it's got something to do with that. He's notcalling us to his office to talk about our grades."
The two girls fell into stepside by side, headed for the stairs at the middle of the second floor hallway.
"As soon as this is over,can you and Miho take me back to the dorm?" Kara asked.
A Winter of Ghosts Page 10