Reiko

by James Avonleigh

  ‘Do you hear any stories? I mean, that’s if you don’t mind talking about it. Back in Osaka I tried asking a couple of Japanese students and they completely freaked. They were broad-minded, educated, chilled-out, but still had these superstitious hang-ups. They said that the dead can hear you talk about them.’

  Sarah sat back and finished her beer. ‘That’s pretty weird. I’ve never really paid much attention to the stories and I’ve not asked anyone specifically. I know a few people round the village and of course the teachers at the schools, but they’re not generally from around here. I guess I’ve heard the high school students talk about ghosts. That’s probably the age you’re most interested in that stuff.’

  ‘What do they say?’

  ‘Well, there’s the thing that happened a few years back. I don’t know if you know about it. Five of the students at the school died within a short space of time.’ She glanced round at the other two people in the bar, as though aware she was broaching a taboo subject.

  ‘Are there hauntings?’

  She leaned forward. ‘A couple of the girls claim to have seen the ghosts of two of the students. These two were seeing one another without their parents’ consent, so they used to meet in the school grounds late at night and sneak into the school. They didn’t return home one night and were found dead the next morning, just as all the students were arriving for school.’

  She was thoughtful for a moment, clearly affected by the story of these young lovers.

  ‘Does anyone have any theories?’

  ‘It was two weeks after the first girl disappeared. Reiko, I think her name was…’

  ‘Reiko Shimura.’

  She looked at me in surprise. ‘So you know all about it?’

  ‘I’ve read some stuff.’

  ‘You probably know more than me then. Anyway, some people seemed to think it was a suicide pact, that they’d had enough of their parents’ disapproval and were unbalanced after the disappearance of their friend Reiko. But that doesn’t make sense. The body of the girl was found at the bottom of a steep flight of steps leading to the classrooms, which suggests she’d fallen or been pushed. But if you were going to kill yourself, would you throw yourself down a set of steps on the off-chance you sustain a head injury serious enough to kill you? I certainly wouldn’t. Now, the boy’s case is even stranger. He fell or was thrown from the third floor classroom window, straight through the glass. But a lot of the chairs and desks in the classroom were scattered about, so it looks like there was a pursuit of some kind.’ Sarah broke off and, seeing her glass was finished, took a sip from mine. ‘And how many suicide lovers decide to die in different places?’

  I wasn’t surprised Sarah knew all about the affair, given she was teaching in the school where it had happened. But hearing her talking about it and recalling Charlie’s copious notes on the subject, I felt myself getting drawn into the unsolved mystery. I thought about the portraits of the two students, Jun Takada and Kanae Kubota, and it was clear to me that their deaths weren’t self-inflicted. They may have been grieving for their friend, but I could tell they were happy, confident students, and they had surely come to the school that night for no other purpose than to meet one another.

  ‘There was something strange about every one of those deaths,’ Sarah said solemnly.

  ‘What about the ghosts? What have the students seen?’

  ‘They’ve seen the two lovers at the window of their classroom looking out. They’ve seen them walking past the classroom during lessons. And they’ve seen bloodstains appear on the ground where the girl fell. Of course, it’s not something you’re meant to talk about. It’s a small community so everyone knows someone connected to the victims. And a lot of the teachers at the school actually taught the students.’

  ‘None of the teachers have said anything then?’

  ‘Actually, I’m on pretty good terms with a couple of the English teachers. They’ve talked a bit about it, but only outside school. I think they’d feel uncomfortable talking at school.’

  ‘Because of the ghosts?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s that. I think it’s because no one knows what really happened. Five students die in the space of a month, but no one knows how or why. Some vagrant is convicted for the murder of the first girl, on the basis of finding something of hers on him. But that doesn’t explain what happened to the others. He denies it, but he doesn’t have a defence and gets the death penalty. Lethal injection. Which is all very well, you have yourself a scapegoat for one student – but what about the other four?’

  ‘What did happen to the others? Could they have been suicides too?’

  ‘Who knows? One boy either threw himself or was pushed into the path of a lorry in the middle of the night. And the other girl was impaled on broken glass in her bedroom. No one knows what happened. If there had been an explanation people could forget about it and move on. And of course Reiko was never found and that’s probably the worst part of the whole thing.’ Sarah shook her head and sipped slowly from my drink, caught up in the story of the five tragic students.

  I had originally only wanted to ask about the sightings of ghosts, but it seemed like a trivial question now. I sat there wondering what else I could ask.

  She sighed heavily. ‘Actually, apart from the teachers, my host family when I arrived might be able to tell you a thing or two. I’ll introduce you.’

  She looked at her watch and yawned. It was time to go.

  As we headed back down the quiet country road, I was struck by how dark it was. There was no light from the moon, no street lamps, not even the headlights of a car to alleviate the darkness. With an effort I could just discern the outline of the hills against the sky. A sprinkling of houselights offered the only sign of human habitation.

  Sarah was quiet as we walked, still wrapped up in the fate of the high school students. Suddenly she turned and spoke, a little hesitantly. ‘There was someone else, wasn’t there?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There was another supernatural researcher from your university.’

  ‘You heard about him?

  ‘People told me about him. He came here and talked to a lot of people, asked a lot of questions. They know what happened to him. And when your professor rang me up to tell me you were coming, he mentioned it too.’

  I didn’t know what to say about Charlie. I only knew that I had to distance myself from him. ‘I know about it.’

  ‘Doesn’t it freak you out, coming here after what happened to him?’

  ‘It doesn’t bother me. I’ve actually read his research notes and I can tell you he was a sick man when he came here.’

  We turned into Sarah’s apartment block and up the stairs to the second floor. She stopped at the door. ‘There’s something about this place. I’m the third teacher to come here in as many years. Neither of the last two saw out their contracts. In fact, both of them left suddenly, without a moment’s notice. I think people are expecting the same of me.’

  I was glad that my bed was already prepared and waiting as sleep couldn’t come soon enough. I lay down with a sigh of relief and turned out the light. Sarah was on the other side of the sliding screen partition and I could see the light through the crack in the door. I realized how much I’d needed her company after arriving in Izumi. If I’d been stuck in some fleapit guesthouse I would have sat in all night agonizing over Yoshi’s death and planning a quick return to Osaka. Even if we’d spent the evening talking about dark subjects, at least that was what I’d come to Izumi to do. And I really did enjoy her company.

  I burrowed under the duvet and felt my lids grow heavy. Sleep came swiftly and for the second time that day, I had unquiet dreams.

  In my dream I awoke in the night to the sound of hushed voices from Sarah’s room and light coming from the crack between the sliding screen doors.

  I glanced at the clock and saw it was half past two. It seemed strange to be receiving visitors at this time, so I crawled over to the do
or and peered through the crack. It was too narrow to see anything much, so very carefully I pulled back the screen to reveal a room filled with candles.

  Sarah sat at the table, talking to a young man with fair hair and a roll-neck jumper. They were deep in discussion, but my arrival prompted them to look up.

  ‘Hello, sleepy head,’ Sarah said with a smile.

  ‘Sorry, to disturb you,’ I said, squinting in the light from the candles.

  ‘Would you like to join us?’ she asked. ‘Have some green tea.’

  As I stepped towards the table, I saw that the fair-haired man was looking at me with interest. I looked down at the table and froze. Charlie’s file lay on the table in front of him, open at the photograph of Reiko Shimura. And at that moment, I realized who he was.

  I looked at Sarah in horror, but she simply beckoned me to join them. ‘Sit down.’

  Then the man spoke to me, his voice hollow like one unused to speech. ‘Sit down. I’ve got something to show you.’

  I shook my head.

  He patted the floor next to him. ‘Come on, there’s so much you don’t know. I can help you. I can be your mentor.’

  I looked to Sarah for help, but there was none forthcoming.

  The man spoke again, his tone firmer, and I took a step backwards. ‘James, you’d do well to listen to me. If you sit down, I can explain.’

  I recoiled from him. ‘I know who you are. I know everything about you. I’ve read your file.’

  ‘Not all of it.’

  ‘I’ve read all I want.’ I turned to leave.

  I saw that Sarah had lost her friendly air and was staring at me with icy detachment.

  The young man continued. ‘Don’t turn your back. I’m the only one who can save you, James. I’m the only one who knows what to do.’

  I stepped back into the shadows. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t need your help.’ I fumbled for the sliding screen to pull it across.

  The young man laughed. ‘You don’t know, James. You have no idea. You’ll make exactly the same mistake I did. And, just like me, you’ll die.’

  He raised his hands and slowly began to peel away the jumper from his neck. My heart turned to ice at the sight of his blue and bloody neck, the lacerations from the rope as fresh as on the night he hung himself.

  ‘Do you want to die, James? Do you want to die?’

  I pulled the screen door across with a crash.

  10. IZUMI HIGH

  I awoke to the sound of Gregorian chant from the room next door. I opened my eyes and looked about the small tatami mat room, at the bare walls, the sliding screen door and the small paper lantern above my head. My travel bag was propped in the corner, but otherwise the room was empty.

  I could hear Sarah pottering about in the kitchen and the memory of my dream returned to me. I had been wondering what Charlie looked like and now my mind had concocted a photo-fit. What did the dream mean? Was it my subconscious encouraging me to make better use of his file? Glancing over at my bag, I could see it poking out provocatively. No, I would leave it for the time-being. I would form my own impressions of Izumi, draw my own conclusions. I wouldn’t rely on the scribblings of a dead scholar. And in Sarah I had the best possible guide and mentor.

  ‘What would you like to do today?’

  We were sitting on the balcony in the sun, looking out over the apartment block car park and to the hills beyond. Sarah had prepared some fresh coffee and toast.

  ‘I don’t have a particular plan. I was just going to wander about. Do you have any suggestions?’

  ‘I could give you a guided tour. Not that it’ll last very long.’

  ‘You sure about that? You don’t have stuff you want to do?’

  She grinned at me over her mug. ‘You should know me better by now. I have absolutely nothing to do. It’s a lovely place as you can see, but it’s the holidays and I’m bored shitless. So if you don’t mind I’ll show you around.’

  ‘Are you planning to do much travelling in Japan?’

  She put her mug down on the rail with a sigh. ‘I came here with a bit of debt. I haven’t always been a very sensible girl so now I’m saving all I can. Basically I’m stuck here.’

  I’d hoped that Sarah would accompany me, but I hadn’t wanted to be presumptuous. With the memory of Yoshi still fresh in my mind I was grateful for the company.

  ‘I’ll take you to the school. It’s out of term time, but the teachers come in anyway. I can introduce you to some of the English teachers.’ She stopped, then seemed to have an afterthought. ‘And later on I’ll introduce you to someone who might be able to give you some real insight.’

  She stood up, stretched, and disappeared into the flat. The more time I spent with her, the more I admired her. She had a freshness and honesty about her and didn’t try to play it cool and pretend she had her life sorted. I, who had always strained to hide my deficiencies, had a lot to learn from her.

  Izumi in the sun was a whole new prospect. It sparkled on the paddy fields, glinted on the tiled roofs of houses and brought people out into the fresh air. The village children were out in force, hailing the car as it passed with loud cries of ‘Seeraa-sensei’. Even the younger children, who Sarah didn’t teach, seemed to know her name. One of the perks of being the only foreigner in a rural Japanese village, she told me, was instant celebrity status. It wasn’t just the kids either. The old men and women, shuffling along by the sides of the roads, bowed cordially in our direction, all gold teeth and wizened faces. During a week in Osaka I couldn’t recall a single stare or wave or look of surprise. Here, I suddenly felt like a foreigner. I felt different.

  ‘So now you know what it’s like to be a star,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, and it definitely isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.’ Sarah broke off and pointed to a building up ahead. ‘That’s it. That’s the school.’

  Izumi High was built according to the Ministry of Education standard-issue model. Impressive steel gates led to a large, well-tended forecourt enclosed on three sides by the school buildings. The main entrance was straight ahead, but the eyes were drawn upwards to an improbably large clock and the name of the school in ornate Japanese characters which Sarah spelled out for me: Izumi Koutou Gakkou. To either side of the forecourt were faceless grey blocks of classrooms. The whole thing was ugly and functional in equal measures.

  I approached the building with a sense of trepidation, knowing that terrible things had happened within its walls and aware that unquiet spirits might walk its corridors.

  Sarah showed me in and pointed to a series of pigeon holes where visitors’ slippers were kept. I watched her remove her shoes and slip into a pink fluffy pair, a revolt against the grey standard-issue number I was trying to squeeze my feet into.

  ‘Do all the pupils have to wear these things?’

  ‘Absolutely. You don’t bring your outdoor shoes into the school.’

  I followed her into the main foyer, tripping on my slippers as I went. It was the first time I’d stepped inside a school building since leaving my own school many years before and, as the click-clack of my slippers echoed round the Spartan corridor, memories of my own unhappy schooldays besieged me. There had been some effort at prettifying the grey breeze-block walls with pictures and student project work, but not enough to expunge the oppressive feeling of melancholy.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked, sensing my unease.

  ‘I feel the same way about schools as I do about hospitals.’

  ‘And how’s that?’

  ‘Petrified.’

  She laughed and started down the corridor. I began to follow then stopped abruptly. A flight of steps rose steeply to my left and I looked up with a faint feeling of nausea. Was this really the place?

  Sarah stopped and looked round. ‘What?’

  ‘Are these the steps?’

  She came and stood beside me, following my gaze upwards. ‘I think they probably are.’

  I wasn’t sure how
to feel, standing in the exact spot where Kanae Kubota had fallen to her death. Perhaps the memory of Yoshi’s twisted corpse was still too fresh in my mind.

  ‘Come on.’ Sarah pulled on my arm and we continued down the corridor.

  The staffroom was more like a corporate office than the one I remembered from my own school days. The desks were ranged in orderly rows and piled high with files and paper, while grey filing cabinets lined the walls. Most of the teachers seemed to be present and correct, hunched over their desks or sat in a communal area chatting. A few raised their heads at our entrance and greeted Sarah with polite bows of the head. Following her lead, I returned as many bows as I could.

  ‘My sanctuary,’ she said, pointing to the only desk not weighed under with piles of paper. A row of soft toys and a stack of novels indicated an absence of any administrative responsibility. She drew up a chair and invited me to sit.

  ‘What do you do when you’re in here?’ I asked.

  She shrugged. ‘Not much. Chat to the teachers, read books, write e-mails.’

  ‘Do they all talk to you?’

  ‘I’ve chatted to them all at one time or another, but I have most to do with the English teachers. There’s Aya over there. With Numata-san.’ Sarah pointed to a young female teacher by the window chatting to a severe-looking older man in a dapper green suit. ‘Aya is probably my best friend here. Similar age, similar outlook, doesn’t have the hang-ups the older generation have.’

  Aya looked over and noticed us sitting there. Making her excuses to Numata-san, she threaded her way across the room with a broad smile.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, more to me than to Sarah. ‘Sarah told me she had a visitor.’

  ‘This is James. The ghost-hunter.’

  Aya held her hand over her mouth and giggled and I flashed Sarah a look of disapproval. It was obviously a joke they’d enjoyed earlier.