A Whisper of Leaves
Page 11
A fox sat beside Riko, licking its paws. It, too, was white with red tufts around its paws and striped down its head and back. Jaws snapped. “No, Saburou. Look at yourself. At what you’ve become.”
“Please. I never forgot.” His voice rose to a whine. “Please, what of our time together, does it mean nothing?”
Makiko growled. “You tainted those memories with your childish behaviour.”
He fell to his knees. “But for decades I waited for you. Watched you, tried to protect you from Hiroshi – that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? That’s why you took your life, to be reunited with me?”
“No!” The Fox’s fur turned black and it stood first on hind legs then two feet, as it morphed into Makiko’s human form. “My shame was my own, Saburou. And in your madness, you betrayed me. Our love.”
“Beloved.”
“No longer. And for what you have done, I am cursing you, Saburou.” She gestured for Riko to come closer then locked her hand in her own grip. “For it is here you shall stay, alone with naught but the lap of water on stone, for eternity. Never to see, to hear or speak with me or another again.”
Riko cried out, pitching forward. Something sharp cut into the very essence of her, white hot. It sapped her strength, sending it coursing down her arm, through her hand and into Makiko, leaving behind aching emptiness.
“Stand your ground, young lady,” Makiko whispered, holding tight. “Remember what he did to you, to your friend. To me.”
Riko clenched her teeth, dragging herself upright. “I will.”
She fed all her rage, hurt and fear into the woman holding her. It followed her strength, passing from skin to skin before it shot forth from Makiko’s free hand, making a crystalline wall that shimmered once then disappeared.
Saburou shot to his feet with a screech but he could step no closer. He beat against the unseen wall with his ragged hands and even his head. With each strike his face distorted yet further. It blackened and steamed and Riko flinched when he gurgled.
Finally he fell back with a long groan, shrinking into the corner.
Makiko released her hand. “There. Now your friend is safe. And thank you, Riko, for answering my call. Without you there would only be pain for us.”
Riko heaved a breath. “You’re welcome.”
Makiko smiled as her face elongated, becoming fox-like, and she beckoned with one paw as the lithe creature leapt into the water.
How, she didn’t know, but Riko followed.
Heading home.
17.
A deep quiet filled the sunny clearing.
Not a single bird sang, no breeze moved even a blade of grass. The oak tree was still. The forest beyond was no longer dark, but a hazy green and yellow light cloaked it – as if in a fairy tale.
Maybe not so unlikely.
Riko sat up. The fire was no more than a pile of ash and char and Hiroshi’s body no-where to be seen. The shinigami was gone too. All that remained were tiny piles of dirt by the edge of the clearing.
A cool breath of air stirred the hairs on her arm.
“Oh.”
Kiyomi lay nearby, face bruised, rivulets of dried blood running from forehead to cheek. Her leg lay twisted and blood from cuts and scrapes on her arms and body stained her clothes. Her lips were cracked and dry. Blessedly, her chest rose and fell in a thin rhythm.
Riko took Kiyomi’s hand. A frown crossed her brow but she did not wake. Carrying her friend from the forest would be impossible, Riko herself was still weak after helping Makiko. Night would fall soon enough and then who knew what would happen?
Trees parted and Akio the ranger appeared, a shocked expression on his face. He was almost like a cartoon, scratching his head. He blinked when he saw them.
Akio dashed over. “Are you all right? What happened?”
“Akio, thank god you’re here.”
“Excuse me?” Recognition dawned. “Again? What happened to your friend?”
“She fell from the oak.”
“Did she?” He checked her pulse, then stood, clicking on a radio. “Tetsu, I’ll be late back, just helping someone out of the forest.”
Tetsu’s voice crackled back. “Idiots. All right.”
“Why was she climbing Hiroshi’s tree?” Akio removed a piece of white cloth and bottled water from his pack, dabbing at some of the blood on Kiyomi’s face.
“I think she was on something,” Riko said. How easy the lies came, even now. No more of that when Kiyomi was better. But Saburou was trapped, so she wouldn’t need to lie anyway. And wouldn’t Kiyomi believe her now? “How did you find us?”
Akio paused. “I was following a white fox...or so I thought.” He smiled. “Doesn’t matter now.”
Thank you, Makiko. Riko nodded, letting him finish cleaning up Kiyomi. “All right. Let’s get your friend out of here.” He gestured. “Grab her legs, will you? Just be careful.”
She lifted and together, with some difficulty, carried Kiyomi out of the forest and into the picnic area. There Akio called for emergency services but it still took a couple of hours for a group of paramedics to emerge from the trees and begin setting up a stretcher.
Akio spoke with one of the men. Riko studied the ground at her feet. Ants made tiny pilgrimages across the leaves and twigs.
“Come along.” One of the servicemen touched her shoulder.
She stood, glancing at Akio. “Thank you.”
He smiled. “Forgive me, but I hope you don’t visit Saiko for a while. For your own health, that is.”
Riko grinned. “No promises.”
But she wouldn’t. The last few days and everything that went with them needed time to fade into memory. For now, they were too real. Too bright in her mind. The feel of Hiroshi’s chest beneath her palms, the chill calm of the death-spirit, the wonder of Makiko’s spirit flying her into the lake.
Saburou’s blackened face.
The long walk back to the car park was done in a blink, though her legs were lead weights as she slumped into the car seat.
“Do you want one of us to drive?” It was the same paramedic.
She shook her head. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”
“All right. We’re taking her to Fuji-Yoshida City Hospital, okay?”
She turned the key and followed the ambulance along the highway, into the city and to the hospital, followed the stretcher on its wheels to the waiting room and stood on her tiptoes as Kiyomi was wheeled into an emergency room.
A nurse took her to a waiting room. “You’ll have to wait here.”
Riko nodded as she slumped into a chair, folded her legs up and leaned her head back.
Closed her eyes.
Someone touched her shoulder. Riko groaned as she straightened. The hospital waiting room – winningly white – was broken by a nurse in green surgical gear. How long had she slept? Riko swallowed, throat dry. “Yes?”
“Your friend is awake. Would you like to speak with her?”
“Yes. Is she all right?”
“She’s recovering well enough but there’s a lot of hard work ahead.”
Riko followed the woman down quiet corridors, stalked by the beeping and the laser blue of medical machines. Rushing in with Kiyomi earlier, old fears had taken a backseat to new ones. What if Kiyomi died? What if she was horribly changed somehow and the doctors couldn’t fix her?
But the old fears returned now, sneaking through the sterile smell of the place and hitting her hard. Her shoulders twitched with every beep.
Dad, tubes and bandages. Drips looming; vampiric. Or so it seemed to her wide, five-year-old eyes. Even the rasp of his voice, as he called for a nurse, the way Mum shook as she tried to lift him back onto the bed and the whole time the scream of emergency alarms from somewhere else in the hospital, until she crept forward, reached out to help, only to flinch w
hen her small hands encountered clammy skin.
The way his eyes didn’t see her, through the pain.
And when Mum finally got him back into bed he laid back with eyes screwed shut and jammed a thumb into the button of what looked like a small TV remote – a light flashing above the bed with every press.
“In here.” The nurse said. “Just not long, all right? She needs rest.”
Riko blinked. Kiyomi. “I understand.”
The room was bare but for bed and television mounted on the ceiling. A powder blue curtain ringed the bed, creating a cocoon of screen-glow. Kiyomi would be inside, maybe dozing, maybe weak from the medication. Maybe hurt forever. Just like Dad.
Riko hesitated.
Bullshit, go in there. She needs a friend, not a coward.
She took a few steps and by the time she drew the curtain back her hand was steady. Kiyomi lay propped up by pillows, connected to a drip. Her face was clean, her arm bandaged and her leg covered in a cast. Cuts on her face and hands had been cleaned and dressed too, and her hair fanned the pillow. Cleaned. Everything, cleaned.
Except Riko’s conscience.
“Kiyomi?”
Her eyes fluttered open. She smiled. “Riko.”
Riko smiled back as she eased herself into a chair and took Kiyomi’s hand. “Are you in a lot of pain?”
“Not really. The drugs must be good.”
A weak laugh.
Kiyomi patted her hand. “Come on, it’s all right. I know, Riko.”
“Huh?”
“I saw enough through Saburou’s eyes. I thought what he thought.” She shuddered, squeezing Riko’s hand. “He kind of...pushed me...off to the side. But I understood more than enough.”
“Oh.”
“I wish you’d been able to tell me the truth.”
“Me too.”
She frowned and it didn’t seem to be from discomfort. “I could have been there for you.”
Tears built. “I know this doesn’t make it right, but, do you think you would have believed the whole story, if I tried to tell you?”
Kiyomi sighed. “I guess not. But it still hurt.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Kiyomi sighed. “Well, are you okay?”
“I suppose I am now.” She paused. “And we’re okay?”
“We are.”
“I’m so sorry I lied. I hated it.”
She gave a small smile. “I probably would have kept it secret too. Just promise me we won’t keep anything from each other again, all right?”
“Deal.” She smiled back. “So what now?”
“Now I do what it takes to get out of here – I’ll hardly see you if I stay too long. I know how much you love hospitals.”
“I’ll visit,” Riko said, keeping her voice firm. “I mean it.”
“Good.”
“Did they tell you anything?”
“Not much. Or maybe I just don’t remember what they said.” She scratched at her wrist, near the IV. “The break is serious so I’ll have physio for recovery and they’re monitoring the knock to the head...I’m not sure.”
“It’s fine. You should rest,” Riko said, standing.
Kiyomi pointed with a grin. “No, you should get some rest – proper rest. You’ve got fabric creases on your cheek. Go home, I’m fine. Mum and Dad will be here later.”
Riko put a hand to her cheek. Grooves. “Good idea.”
Kiyomi’s own eyelids were getting heavy. Riko stroked her friend’s hair back from her face and slipped from the room. She drove home with the window down, cold air blasting her face. Even so, she blinked half a dozen streets into oblivion, pulling up before her building with a jolt, stopping inches from the car in front.
Detective Watanabe stepped from the vehicle.
18.
“Shall we talk inside?”
Riko nodded, leading the way to the kitchen. Was Watanabe here to arrest her? He didn’t seem like he was about to break out the handcuffs – he wasn’t even in uniform, just a shirt and slacks.
“Coffee, Detective?”
“Please.”
She filled the kettle and took out two mugs. The soft clunk when they hit the benchtop was loud. Maybe he was just following up on Ikeda. “Sugar?”
“Three please.”
She complied, and the other cup she made strong enough to animate a statue. “Wow, that’s very sweet.”
“What can I say? My dentist is a magnificent man.”
She sat across from him, blowing on her coffee. “Did you find Konda and Ikeda?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“It appears that Ikeda-san did fire the gun that killed Konda.”
“He admitted as much?”
“The evidence was clear.”
Riko took a long sip. Her secret remained secret for now. “And are there charges against me?”
“That I will reconsider, if you can tell me more about why you thought he abducted you. It seems a rash act for a man such as Ikeda-san.”
“I thought it rash myself.”
Did he fight off a smile? “Go on.”
“Well, he already had me. He could have found a way to cancel my visa easily enough. And he’s friends with my ex-sponsor.”
“Yes, so why bother taking you?” He took a drink. “And yet he did. Do you think, perhaps, that he was attracted to you?”
She frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Perhaps.” He stared at her, then looked away and cleared his throat. He stood. “Well, I should be leaving.”
That was all? Riko joined him. What if there was a trial? It wouldn’t look good for someone on a visa to be involved in a murder. “Will I have to testify or go to court?”
“No.”
“Won’t there be a trial?”
“I found Ikeda-san’s body in his home. He had committed suicide.”
“Oh.” Riko put her cup down. How would Yuuki be handling his father’s death? Poor kid. But it might be good news too. “And my working visa?”
“I cannot make promises but I will ask.”
“Thank you, Detective.”
“Goodbye, Riko-san.”
“Goodbye.” She walked Watanabe to the door and leant against the frame as he replaced his shoes and left, climbing into his car to drive away. First the car itself and then its light was lost in the glow of the streets. She locked the door and dragged her feet back to the kitchen. The blessing of sleep called but there was something she had to do first.
Riko picked up the phone and dialled. It wouldn’t be too late back home and Mum always kept the phone near –
“Hello?”
“Mum, it’s me.” She paused. “Can I speak to Dad?”
Acknowledgements & Author’s Note
Thanks first to my wife Brooke, who always sees the things I miss and who makes every story I write better, including A Whisper of Leaves.
Special thanks also to Eri Shinagawa, Na Gu and Elise Malberg for their endless patience with my questions about Japan and Japanese culture. Any faults in my research are my own in that regard, and I must credit them with the accuracies. Again to the Alchemists (CJ, Tess & Rebekah) whose input remains top notch and to the many readers and writers who also helped me: Nez, Gary, Allison, Jack, Chris and Erena, thank you each!
And gratitude also goes to the wonderful Amanda J Spedding for pushing me again to make the story stronger and David Schembri for most welcome assistance with formatting the ebook. Finally to the brilliant Rebekah for coming up with another amazing cover!
Ashley
Note: For readers familiar with the 5-7-5 haiku tradition, I have used the EL approach which is broader, owing to the differences between English syllables and the Japanese on or ‘morae’ which are more dynamic t
han syllables. For instance, in English the word “haiku” has two syllables—”hai-ku”, but in Japanese it’s made up of three on and so it becomes “ha-i-ku”. This usually results in EL haiku appearing ‘shorter.’
About Ashley
Ashley is a poet, novelist and teacher living in Australia. Aside from reading and writing, Ashley loves volleyball, Studio Ghibli and Magnum PI, easily one of the greatest television shows ever made.
You can find him online at Twitter or on his fiction blog, City of Masks and at ashleycapes for poetry. As if that’s not enough, he now has a newsletter too!
Also by Ashley Capes
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The Fairy Wren
The Bone Mask Trilogy
1. City of Masks
2. The Lost Mask (forthcoming)
3. Greatmask (forthcoming)
Poetry
7 Years
old stone: haiku, senryu & haibun
between giants
orion tips the saucepan
stepping over seasons
pollen and the storm