(Art: “The Rescue,” by Mai-sensei)
I couldn’t just let Shiomi sleep on our kotatsu, so after a while, I got her up and steered her to our bedroom. She’d had a rough night and dumping her on the living room futon didn’t seem right. Besides, I needed to talk with Tomo without her being there.
Over her protests, I got her into bed. She wasn’t making much sense. Something about shadows and wanting to leave. I didn’t know where she thought she would go. Out into the night, I suppose, looking for Mikawa. Shiomi calmed down after I gave her another smoke and sat by her bedside.
Like before, she dozed off, leaving her smoke unfinished. I took what was left from her limp fingers and put it out in the ashtray on the nightstand. No secondary kiss this time.
I grabbed my e-reader and a change of clothes for the morning as I left the room. It didn’t bother me that I would need to sleep in the living room; I hoped Tomo wouldn’t mind. He did it enough, so he probably wouldn’t.
Tomo, now in trousers, was at the kitchen door looking at me. I could see the concern written on his face, but he said nothing, no joke or quip. He must really think I was out of the fort this time.
“Don’t suppose the car is running?” I asked. “I have something I need to do.”
“No, I’m waiting for a part,” he answered, then continued, “Where are you going at this hour?”
“I have to get someone.”
“You’ve already gotten one stray. Isn’t she enough?” The quip fell flat. His tone was too serious.
“Come on, Tomo, I couldn’t just leave her. Besides, this is a goldmine of material. Maybe this will kick my writing into high gear. Real-life experience with the supernatural, a beautiful girl, and a forbidden love. This is just what I need.”
“Yabai! First, I’m finding the ghost stuff hard to credit. Second, she isn’t beautiful. Last, it’s not forbidden love. If you want this girl, be my guest. But I wonder about your sanity. — But you didn’t answer my question. Who are you getting?”
“Yabai yourself! First, there was a ghost. Second, wait till I get her cleaned up. As for your question, I’m going to the temple and get Kawanami-sama. He owes me a favor. I moved his stuff for next to nothing. ‘Shinto discount’, he called it. Well, payback is a bitch. He can do some of that Shinto magic and cleanse her.”
Tomo wasn’t fond of Kawanami-sama. They had fought about the proper roles for men and women, and the thought of discomforting Kawanami brought a smile to Tomo’s lips. Then I heard a small chuckle. When he stopped, he said, “Kawanami-sama will love you getting him up at this hour of the night. The joke will be on him.”
Without missing a beat, he continued, “I’ll get you a thermos of tea. It’s cold out. While I’m at it, you can tuck your girlfriend in.”
I checked on Shiomi and found her tossing and turning. When I touched her forehead, it was burning up. That worried me.
On the way out, I grabbed my thermos and said, “Could you put a cold compress on Shiomi’s forehead? I’m worried she’s boiling. I’ll stop and get some meds while I’m out. You make sure she doesn’t leave.”
Behind me, I heard, “Sure.”
God, I loved that guy. Even though he thought I was crazy, he was going along with it.
I set out for the 8 PM at a brisk clip, even though it was the opposite direction from the temple. The next closest place was a Lawson, but it was even further out of the way. I should be the only one shopping at ten o’clock at night, so it shouldn’t take over 15 minutes to get the meds and be back on the route to the temple.
Within a minute, I was walking by the turnoff to Enpukuji Cemetery. I eyed it warily and wondered if I should have gone to the Lawson even if it was further out of my way. Too late now; I was a big girl. I wouldn’t let a cemetery freak me out.
As I passed the turnoff to the cemetery, I glanced down the alley. Fog from the Koma River was rolling up it. I hoped it was just my imagination, but I thought I saw a figure moving in the fog. Frigid fingers seeped down my neck and pulling up my jacket collar didn’t help. Even big girls are afraid of things that go bump in the night.
Another minute passed, and I was on the bridge, moving away from the alley. I should have felt relieved, but the sense of dread refused to depart. I would reach the streetlight at the other end of the bridge momentarily, but it seemed so far away. My rapid footsteps echoed oddly off the water, and I inadvertently glanced to see why. Shapes seemed to swirl just above the river. I had definitely made a mistake coming this way.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I was off the bridge and under the streetlight. From there, I hurried on to the 8 PM. Once inside, under the bright lights, I felt better. I was debating internally if my imagination was in overdrive. Had there really been shapes in the river? And what about the figure in the fog? My encounter with Mikawa’s ghost was the winning trump card, and I couldn’t convince myself it was my imagination.
I gathered some meds and went to the counter. “Pack of Pianissimo Peche, and if you know it, a pack of Shiomi-san’s brand. You know, Shiomi Shiori, the cleric who works here.”
I was looking down at my stuff when a wave of putrid air washed over me. I retched. In horror, I watched a hand appear, placing the Pianissimo pack with my other things. The hand was blotchy with withered, discolored fingers and cracked yellow nails. I made the mistake of looking up and saw the rotting face of Mikawa behind the counter. Her 8 PM uniform was stained with dirt. For a moment, my eyes locked with hers, blank white filmed orbs. I pulled my eyes away, following the advice, “Never look them in the eyes,” that seemed to be whispered in my ear.
I retched again, and thought, “Shit, I’m going to die. She’s going to drag me off to hell.” Instead, a hollow voice that rattled like dry reeds said, “Leave her alone. She’s mine!”
I had to place both hands on the counter to steady myself. My legs were threatening to buckle and my vision blurred. “This is it,” I thought when I was startled by the prosaic sound of a man speaking with a thick South Korean accent. “Mama, mama? Are you alright?”
I looked up and saw a clean 8 PM uniform. Raising my eyes further instead of Mikawa’s horrific visage, I saw a tired, middle-aged man behind the counter. He had backed away and eyed me uneasily. I guess that would be a normal reaction when faced with someone who looks like they are going to throw up on you any minute.
“Sorry, sorry,” I replied. “I’m okay now. Something I ate.” “How was that reassuring?” I wondered. But he looked relieved.
He handed me a pack of cheap, unfiltered smokes, Golden Bats. “This is what she usually buys. Unless it’s for her roommate, then it’s Marlboros. I hope Shiomi-san is okay?”
“She’s not feeling good,” I said as I touched the meds for emphasis. What else could I say? “Her dead girlfriend is trying to kill her?” I didn’t think so. So I left it that.
I bought the Golden Bats even though it felt cheap, but the only other unfiltered brand I knew was Short Peace and I had no idea if it was any better.
As I walked toward the door, the clerk called after me, “Tell her Ju-won hopes she feels better soon.”
From what I’d seen of Shiomi’s state, that didn’t look likely, but it was a nice thought.
Once outside, I stood in the light and thought about the best way to go home. I didn’t want to go by the cemetery road again. My only other option was to take the river road. That would add kilometers to my trip and I would be on a narrow, dark road. The entire time I would have the river to my left and weren’t ghosts supposed to be stronger near water?
“Where had that bit of knowledge come from?” I wondered.
The river road was out, so what other options were there?
The bus didn’t run this late, and who knew how long it would take to get a taxi?
There didn’t seem to be any better options, so I headed back the way I had come. I regretted not going to the Lawson. On the way, I tried to remember some mantras the priests had tried to teach us as kids, but none came to me.
I walked as far as the bridge and stood under the streetlight, thinking.
There were no lights on the bridge and the fog off the river was sending tendrils over the railing. All I had to do was cross the bridge and walk two blocks past the roads leading to Enpukuji. Mikawa wouldn’t bother me again, would she? That had been a warning.
These thoughts gave me no comfort. The distance seemed huge in the dark, and I didn’t place much trust in the forbearance of an apparition. I had her girlfriend at my house, after all. Taking a deep breath, I stepped onto the bridge and hurried forward.
I staggered for a moment as the world seemed to tilt and then right itself. The water under me muttered, and the fog writhed in almost recognizable shapes. I fumbled in my pocket, felt the pack of Golden Bats there, and imagined the crinkling noise the cellophane would make if I opened it. It was better than what I imagined the sounds in the fog might signify.
Stopping to unwrap the cigarettes was out of the question. I felt utterly exposed out there on the bridge. So I hurried on, clutching the cigarettes like a talisman.
As I neared the center of the bridge, the sounds of the river resolved into words, “Jump. Join us. Jump. It’s cool down here. No worries. No worries. Why suffer? Why worry? Jump.”
The worst thing was the words sounded convincing. A sane part of my brain knew that jumping was a stupid idea. My life wasn’t bad. Tomo was a wonderful partner. My work didn’t interfere with my writing. I had been lucky and could live as my true self. But the voices still tugged at my mind and the tendrils of fog seemed to wrap themselves around me and pull at me.
The voices buzzed around in my head, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what they were saying.
Maybe the voices were right. Who was I kidding? I was a shame to my family. Someone who had set their own needs above their family’s name and honor. I was a failed writer and my partner was a cold fish in bed. I loaded and unloaded trucks for a living, smoked too much, and dreamed of being a famous writer like Enchi Fumiko. But what was I? Ume Fumiko the hack. A blot on the name Fumiko.
I leaned against the railing and looked down. The fog capered across the surface of the water, revealing twisted faces normally veiled from human eyes. They beckoned me, welcoming me. It’s where I belonged among the damned.
“Don’t,” I heard a woman’s voice like wind whispering through the branches of a tree behind me. The voice was compelling, and I looked toward her, away from the spirits that tempted me with death.
A woman stood wreathed in fog, so I had a hard time making her out. She was tall, far taller than a human should be, and wore a long, old-fashioned white kimono with a pink sakura pattern on it. The Kimono was so white it blended in with the fog, leaving only pink petal-like dots drifting in the air.
(Art: “Hanayome-shin,” by Mai-Sense)
“Smoke them,” came the wind-lilting voice.
My finger hadn’t left the Golden Bats in my pocket, so I knew instantly what she was referring to.
“They hate unclean things,” she said, answering my unspoken question.
I took the Bats from my pocket. How appropriate, cheap unfiltered cigarettes. I opened the packet and noticed the crinkling noise. The sound helped remind me of how I had felt only a few moments ago before the thoughts of death had wormed their way into my mind.
I took out one slender white cylinder and lit it, breathing the smoke into my lungs. I was used to the milder flavor of my brand and coughed at the harshness of the tobacco. The next lungful was easier, and I let the familiar feel of smoke and the calming effect of the nicotine reminded me that life wasn’t so bad. My partner was an excellent cook and funny. He had encouraged me to find someone who would enjoy my sexual advances. I was living as my true self, a woman, and if that shamed my family, that wasn’t my fault. And I wasn’t so much a hack as a beginning author still learning their craft. I’d sold a few shorter pieces to magazines, which was a good start.
I blew the smoke out and the fog seemed to retreat from it, both in my head and on the bridge.
Turning from the railing, I began moving toward the far side again. I was careful not to look at the water, and the voices grew quieter as I got closer to the shore. All the time I puffed on the cigarette and wondered what would have happened if I’d been a non-smoker.
The tall woman kept pace with me, shrouded by the fog, so that I never got a clear view of her. When a car swept by and its headlights passed over her location, she had vanished, leaving only an empty bridge.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I got off the bridge and walked as quickly as I could past the first street leading to the cemetery. As I passed the second one, I saw out of the corner of my eye a figure in white. I didn’t think it was my savior. Even the glancing sight of her made my skin crawl. I was careful not to continue looking in her direction.
Once beyond the street, I felt safer, but I kept the Golden Bats handy in case I needed them.
By the time I reached where I lived, I had relaxed enough to consider who my savior was. I had an idea as my thoughts drifted back to an incident in high school. Until now, I had thought it was just an odd encounter with my grandfather, still mired in the superstitions of the past. With what had just happened, I began to re-evaluate it. I let my mind wander back to my second year in high school and imagined how I would tell that story.
*** The Bride (Ume POV) ***
(Art: “Ume Fumiko,” by Mai-sensei)
“Come in,” the gruff voice said. I hesitantly entered the room, bowed, and faced my grandfather. He was like the building: old with a faded grander. His clothes were as out of date as the building’s early Showa architecture.
My parents had dressed me in my best clothes; over my protests. Despite that, he looked at me with evident disdain in his eyes.
I had no idea why I was there. My grandfather had little time for me. I wasn’t the masculine grandson he had dreamed of. Outside of family gatherings or ceremonies, the last time I had been with him was on a hunting trip in the fifth grade. It had ended with my crying over a bear he had killed. The trip had been to help me “grow up,” instead it had proved I was a hopeless case.
“Sit,” he commanded, and I sat across from him at a low table. I silently watched as he formally made tea and presented me with a small cup. I took it and sipped, waiting for him to tell me why I was there. Instead, he took out a pack of Golden Bats and handed them to me. I took one and lit it. The purpose of this was unclear until he said, “Well, at least you’re man enough for that.”
I said nothing and just waited for him to continue. The tobacco was harsh, but I was able to take a drag without coughing. My head buzzed slightly. I didn’t have much opportunity to smoke even though I had started.
He took a hit off his smoke and stubbed it out before continuing. “I had hoped not to call you here, but my son has failed to produce a more fitting son. One must make do with what one has. If you don’t have wood, bamboo will do.”
He stopped and looked at me. I remained silent. There was nothing I could say. I already knew I was a failure as a son. My family had made that clear to me.
“Very well. You will have to bear this burden even if you’re not suited for it. One male in our family must carry on this duty, and you are the only candidate.”
“Lucky me,” I thought. “You couldn’t have found a worse candidate.” I kept my thoughts to myself and waited. The one time I had mentioned my dislike of being a male, my mother had made it clear that thinking like that was unacceptable. The comments and humor of my friends made this doubly clear. People like me had no right to exist.
I was elected to be the male heir of my family, whether or not I wanted it. “Lucky me,” I thought again.
My grandfather continued, ignorant of my thoughts. “Our family has a guardian spirit, a kami, that has protected us for generations, Hanayome-shin. You have never heard of her, of course, only the chosen one knows of her. Come with me.”
He arose, and said over his shoulder, “Keep the cigarettes. They must be hard for someone your age to get. Besides, the doctor says they’ll kill me.”
I followed, thinking, “This is crazy. Candidate? Kami? We had a family god?” I knew he lived in the past, but this was insane, but I had to humor him. He was the elder in our family.
We walked to the back of the building, where he slid open the door to a small shrine room. Before entering, he warned me, “Whatever you think or feel, be silent. We’ll talk about it later.” Then he led me inside a room decorated with hand-painted silk scrolls of a woman under blooming sakura trees. A large shrine dominated the far end of the room. The scent of incense lingered in the air.
“Come here,” my grandfather said as he opened a door to an enclosure in the shrine. Inside, I saw something wrapped in white silk, embroidered with sakura sprays. He unwrapped the object and reverently showed me a polished wooden box. The lid was inlaid with pink coral sakura blossoms.
“Hanayome-shin, this is your intended. Will you accept him?”
“Intended,” I thought, “this is ridiculous. Does he think I’ll marry a box?” But I kept silent like he had instructed me. I just needed to hang on till after high school. One way or another, I would figure out a way of escaping my family after I graduated.
We stood in silence with just the sound of the wind in the trees outside, and then he wrapped the box and replaced it in the shrine. With a deep bow, he closed the doors.
“Come,” he said as he led the way back to where we first met.
After we were seated, he continued, “Let me explain. I need you to be Hanayome-shin’s husband. When I die, you would take care of her shrine or set up your own and honor her properly. In return, she will protect you and continue to grant our family her blessings. If you’re worried about marrying, she will tolerate your having a wife. She accepts the need for heirs. But otherwise, she doesn’t like women.”
I almost said, “But I’m a woman,” but swallowed the retort. No one could know my awful secret, especially my grandfather.
I could refuse to go along with this nonsense and was about to when he continued, “I can see you’re about to decline my offer. I’m not surprised. You probably don’t even believe me. So this is what I am offering. I hear you want to go to college. But your parents don’t want to pay for it. I’ll pay for you to go to university. Four years, all expenses paid: books, tuition, housing, and a small allowance. In return, when I die, you take over the responsibility of Hanayome-shin. I’ll leave directions for the ceremony to perform.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. If I agreed to marry his box, he would pay for my schooling.
“Then it’s agreed,” he said and stuck out his hand. I reached out and shook it.
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Note:
Surprise, you’re married. Oh yes, and your new girlfriend has a jealous lover who is out to kill you. But you’re poly, so no problem. Please join me to see how Ume-san deals with the direction her life has taken.
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Story by Nara Moore
Twitter/X:@nara_moore
Mastodon: sakurajima.moe
WordPress: Josei Yuri and Paranormal Romance.
Art by Mai-sensei
Twitter: @Maiisheree