A Winter of Ghosts Read online

  The train slowed a bit as itrattled onto older tracks, and so he knew they were not far from Miyazu City. Theride would not be as smooth from here on in, but still he rested his headagainst the window, skull juddering against the glass. Sleepy as he was, Hachirocould not fall into a full slumber because he knew that once he arrived inMiyazu he would have to change to the local train that would take him out alongthe bay to the station just down the street from Monju-no-Chie school.

  The little girl let out a mischievoussqueal, forcing her grandmother to snap at her. Drifting, Hachiro listened, andfelt badly for both the girl, who only wanted to play, and the old woman, whocould not help being embarrassed by what she would see as improper behavior.

  Eyes closed, head jouncingagainst the window, he listened. The too-cool university guy whispered thingsto his female companions that were doubtless far more improper than anythingthe little girl's grandmother could even imagine. There were giggles and morewhispers, and Hachiro began to drift off again.

  A cold draft caressed his faceand slipped like a scarf of silk and snow around his neck. He opened his eyes,wondering where the breeze had come from. Had someone opened a door that letthe winter in?

  He glanced around at thewindows, then at the doors at either end of the car, but saw nothing that couldhave been the source of the draft. Only when he lowered his gaze, shifting inhis seat, did his mind process what he had just seen. A familiar face, spikyblack hair, bright eyes. A face he knew very well.

  Hachiro's heart raced and atentative smile touched his lips. Impossible. He was sleepy, half in a dream. Therewere plenty of teenaged boys with spiky hair, and the kid was half-turned awayfrom him anyway. He could be anyone.

  Curiosity driving him, thatchill caress running up the back of his neck, he turned again and looked towardthe back of the car. The kid had his chin down, almost as if he were dozing offas well, but his eyes were open and he stared at the floor. The lights in thetrain car flickered and in each lightless moment it almost seemed that thedarkness outside the windows was trying to get in.

  Jiro.

  But it couldn't be Jiro, ofcourse. Jiro had been murdered on the shore of Miyazu Bay, his body founddrained of blood, his shoes missing. Hachiro had been there when they hauledhis corpse out of the water. He could still feel the hollow place inside wherehis friendship with Jiro had once been.

  The resemblance was uncanny. Hachirowanted to look away but he couldn't stop staring. The train rumbled over arough section of track and outside the windows he saw the lights of shops andoffices — they would be arriving at Miyazu station in moments.

  The wan, yellow luminescenceinside the train car flickered again, off and on, off and on, off for severallong seconds, and then on again. The kid had not moved.

  Hachiro leaned forward to get afuller view of the kid, slid almost off his seat so that he could see pastbriefcases and small suitcases and outstretched legs. Then he froze, ice racingthrough his veins. His breath came in tiny, hitching gasps and he slowly shookhis head.

  The kid had no shoes on. Hisfeet were so pale.

  He turned to look at Hachiro,not in some random fashion but in a slow, sad glance that said he had beenaware all along of being watched. And when he smiled wistfully and gave a tinynod of acknowledgement, Hachiro could not lie to himself anymore.

  Jiro.

  The train began to slow. Hachirocould not breathe. He locked eyes with the ghost — for what else could itbe? — and felt all of the sadness of his friend's death return. He wantedto speak, to ask questions, to say that Jiro had been missed. He wanted to run,to hide, to nurture the fear that rose in him. The lights flickered again andnow, for the first time, he realized that Jiro had faded, his presence thin asdelicate parchment, the shapes and shadows of the floor and the seat and eventhe window visible through him.

  The conductor's voice filled theair. The train lurched three times in quick succession, but the third was theworst, rocking Hachiro forward, breaking his eye contact with Jiro. He had toput a hand out to keep from being thrown from his seat as they came to anabrupt halt.

  As he turned, the doors shushedopen and people began to rise, grabbing their bags, chatter erupting as theybegan to herd out.

  "No," Hachiro said,grabbing his bag and standing.

  He thrust himself into the flowof disembarking passengers, searching the crowd for that spiky hair, thatfamiliar face. He caught a glimpse of a silhouette he thought might be that ofthe ghost.

  "Jiro!" he called.

  Several people gave himdisapproving looks, but most simply pretended not to hear him. Hachiro calledout again, fear and confusion warring within him, and he pushed through thecrowd and stepped off the train.

  On the station platform hestopped and looked around. Hachiro was tall and broad-shouldered, so he stoodhis ground and peered over the heads of the other passengers. He called Jiro'sname again, but already his hopes were fading. Someone bumped him from behindand he staggered two steps forward.

  People streamed away, reunitingwith family and friends and lovers and then vanishing from the platform. Onlystragglers were left when the train hissed loudly and the doors closed and itbegan to glide away.

  Jiro stood just inside thedoors, staring out at Hachiro as the train pulled away. He hadn't been there amoment before. The ghost watched him with sad eyes, and as the train rattledout of the station he faded from view.

  Gone again.

  Hachiro stared along the tracksfor a long time after the train had gone, frightened and glad all at the sametime, and he wondered if, perhaps, he should never have come back to MiyazuCity. To Monju-no-Chie school.

  To Kara.

  Chapter Two

  Kara knew there had to have beena time in her life when she had been more bored, but she couldn't think of one.Her father had gone into school to make final preparations in his classroom andoffice for the new term, which started tomorrow. His lesson plans were done,but the principal, Mr. Yamato, wanted all of the teachers to organize their ownmaterials so that all was in order when classes began. They were also takingturns overseeing the return of the boarding students to the dormitory behindthe school. Kara had wanted to go along — she couldn't wait to see herfriends — but her father had discouraged it. Mr. Yamato would havefrowned upon it.

  So she waited, and the wait wastorture. She fiddled with her guitar for a little while, but found it impossibleto focus long enough to play any song all the way through. Television in Japanusually bored or appalled her, depending on what was on, and she didn't havetime for a movie. . she hoped.

  Finally, she logged on to hercomputer and started to upload her favorites among the most recent batch ofphotos she had taken in and around Miyazu City. Her friends back home inMedford loved when she posted them on her Facebook page.

  As she studied the pictures onher computer screen, she shivered. December had been chilly, but now thatJanuary had arrived, it really felt like winter. The shirt she had on had beenfine this morning, yet for some reason she felt colder now. A glance at herwindow showed her that the day had turned gray, as though threatening snow. Theforecast hadn't called for any of the white stuff, but with the sun gone, itcertainly was cold enough.

  Kara jumped up from her chairand pulled a green, V-neck sweater from a drawer, tugging it on over her head.

  Tea, she thought. Niceand hot.

  The photos temporarilyforgotten, she went out into the kitchen, and as she reached for the teapot, asoft knock came upon the door. She glanced up, smiling, and hurried to answerit.

  Kara opened the door to discoverSakura and Miho on the stoop wearing matching grins. For once the two girls,polar opposites in so many ways, looked almost exactly the same in their graywool coats and winter hats.

  The three girls let out a chorusof squees and threw themselves into each other's arms as though they had beenseparated for months instead of weeks. They all began speaking at once, talkinginstead of listening, and then laughing at the absurdity of it. Somehow in themidst of this Kara managed to usher
them inside and close the door, and thenthey were taking off their boots and jackets and hats, and suddenly they werethe Miho and Sakura she knew. Sakura was tall, with eyes the color of brass andspiky hair. Miho was a couple of inches shorter and had a shy, bookish demeanorthat was punctuated by her glasses and her long hair, clipped up on one side tokeep it from hiding her pretty face. The two girls had become her closestfriends in the nine months since school had begun.

  "Okay, okay, let's allbreathe," Kara said. "Come in and sit down. I was about to make tea. Doesanyone else want some?"

  Miho raised her handimmediately, tucking a lock of hair behind one ear.

  "Me, too," Sakuraagreed. "It's cold out there. I think winter should be over on New Year'sDay."

  "It's just starting,"Miho said, frowning at the impracticality of the statement.

  "I know. I'd just like itto end now."

  "No way," Kara said asshe put water in the teapot. "I look forward to snowball fights andsnowmen. And there will be tubing."

  Miho and Sakura shared a dubiousglance. Kara pointed at them with the teapot, water sloshing inside.

  "There will betubing!"

  The girls laughed, raising theirhands in surrender, and another giddy wave went through Kara. She was sograteful to have them back. As the girls chatted to her about their New Year'sEve activities — they had all updated each other about Christmas already — she put on the teapot and then joined them at the table.

  "My father and I got up tosee the sunrise on New Year's Day," Sakura said. "It's good luck."

  Kara blinked in surprise. "Youdidn't tell me that. Was it your idea or his?"

  Sakura gave her a tiny, sheepishshrug. "His. I know. It is strange."

  "Not strange at all. It'samazing that he actually noticed you were there," Kara said.

  "Actually, Sakura had agood time with them," Miho said.

  Kara looked at her, then atSakura. Her hair had been freshly cut but she had not altered the style. Shortin the back, but longer in the front, it framed her face in two slashes ofblack hair, highlighted by dyed streaks of bright red. Yet she wore a black andwhite checked sweater, and her face had an uncharacteristic softness about it,a lightness that took some of the edge away from her rebellious image.

  "That's huge," Karasaid. "That's great!"

  Sakura nodded. "I suppose. Idon't want to make too much of it. I'm back, now, and it will be easy for themto forget me again."

  Even before her sister, Akane,had been murdered, Sakura's parents had not paid their children much attention.And with Akane's death it had only become worse. Kara had spoken to her fatherabout it once and he had suggested that their grief might have made theMurakamis afraid to love Sakura. But Kara refused to let them off the hook. Theyhad lost a daughter, but they had one still alive and they barely acknowledgedher existence, traveling on business or on holiday, leaving her at boardingschool even when she was on break, hardly ever coming to visit. Their neglecthad reached a level where Kara had been genuinely surprised when Sakura hadtold her she was going home for the holidays. And now to hear that her fatherhad made an effort to spend time with his daughter came as an even greatersurprise, but a welcome one.

  "I don't think they'llforget you again," Kara said. "If they're trying to. ." Shecouldn't think of the Japanese words for 'amends.'

  "It's a start, at least,"Miho said.

  "It's great," Karasaid, but she could see that the conversation had begun to make Sakurauncomfortable, so she changed the subject. "Anyway, I have something Iwanted to talk to you both about."

  Flashes of worry flickered inthe girls' eyes and Kara realized they had misunderstood her.

  "No, no," she saidquickly. "No demons, no curses. Nothing bad. Something good, I hope."

  "Don't scare us like that,"Sakura said, her tough-girl core resurfacing.

  "Sorry."

  Miho smiled. "It's not yourfault. We're all trying not to think about the curse, but it is always in theback of our minds. I guess it always will be, even if nothing happens foryears."

  An awkward, dreadful quietdescended upon the house. It lasted only a few, nervous seconds before Kararose and went to get them tea cups.

  "A new year, a newbeginning," she said. "We can't live with that shadow over us all thetime. And nothing's happened for months."

  "I know," Mihoreplied. "It is just difficult to put it out of my mind."

  Miho was right. Kara had to workat forgetting. It took an effort not to be afraid of the dark, to be able to goout at night or feel safe being home alone. It helped that they weren't theonly ones who knew about the events of the spring and fall. Her father and MissAritomo had been involved, and Mr. Yamato, the principal, knew. So did theMiyazu City police, who had instructed them all to report anything unusualimmediately, but otherwise not to discuss it with anyone. Officially, those thingsthey had experienced had never happened. The deaths of the students andteachers who had been killed in both instances were attributed to human causes.Human killers.

  Last spring, they had stopped anancient demon called Kyuketsuki from entering into the modern world. In theprocess they had learned that some of the spirits and gods and demons that hadonce been worshipped in Japan still existed, weak and nearly extinguishedbecause most people did not believe in them anymore. They were kept from vanishingentirely by legends and songs and plays, but most did not have the strength tomanifest in the real world anymore.

  The combination of Akane'smurder and Sakura's grief over her death, and an act of pure happenstance — or fate, if such a thing was to be believed — had been enough to stir thedemon Kyuketsuki. Kara and her friends had stopped the demon and driven it fromthe world, but not before it had cursed them.

  Little remains in the worldnow of the darkness of ancient days. . but what there is will come to you,and to this place. All the evil of the ages will plague you, until my thirstfor vengeance is sated.

  Kara shuddered at the memory,the words burned into her mind. There might not be many supernatural evils lefton Earth, but Kyuketsuki had marked them all for death. For months, nothing hadgone wrong. Nothing strange had occurred. And then students had begun todisappear. A new demon, the Hannya, had possessed Miss Aritomo and nearlykilled them all.

  They had destroyed the Hannya,but not before it had confirmed that the curse had drawn it to them. If therewere other ancient evils still strong enough to manifest in Japan, they mightappear at any time.

  Kara and her friends knew this,but they still had lives to lead.

  "So what was it that youwanted to talk to us about?" Sakura asked as Kara set their cups in frontof them and went to get the teapot.

  "Well," Kara said,excitement dispelling the shadows from her mind. "My dad and I areplanning to go home for a visit at the end of winter term, before the newschool year starts."

  "You're going to be gonethe whole time?" Miho asked, her disappointment obvious.

  Sakura rolled her eyes. "You'renot listening. It's great news! That means they're coming back for next year!"

  Miho's mouth dropped open andthen she clapped her hands like a little girl. "I wasn't thinking. That isgreat. That's wonderful!"

  "Hey, I couldn't pass upthe chance to be seniors with you two," Kara said as she poured their tea."But there's more. I talked to my father about it, and he agreed. If youcan get your families to pay for plane tickets, you can come with us."

  This resulted in an eruption ofbabble, some of it so fast that Kara could not translate, as the girlsspeculated on whether or not their parents would let them go, and if they wouldbe willing to pay for airfare. Sakura felt fairly certain she would be able togo, but Miho seemed less sure. Still, they started making plans about all ofthe things they would do and see if their parents could be persuaded.

  The shadows had been driven backfor all of them, at least for a while.

  The house Kara shared with herfather was just up the street from Monju-no-Chie school. There were times whenit still felt awkward to her, being the only gaijin girl — the onlywestern
student, period — at the school, but she loved the foreignness ofthe whole experience, the challenge and constant stream of new culturalinformation that came with each day. Like any school, there were teachers thatshe liked better than others, there were mean girls and jocks and cliques, andthere was gossip galore. But she enjoyed her classes and her calligraphy club,and she had made the best friends of her life.

  Kara would not have wanted tostay in Japan forever but, as much as she missed her friends back home, when ithad come time to discuss staying another year she had not hesitated a moment. Shewanted to graduate with Sakura and Miho. Her father wanted to see where hisrelationship with Miss Aritomo would lead, and Kara wondered as well.

  And then there was Hachiro.

  Growing up, she had had crusheson any number of boys, and once or twice she had thought she had fallen inlove. Now, though, something was growing inside of her that made her think thatthose other times had been just her wishing to be in love. Maybe thereal thing was something entirely different, not just the space between akitten and a cat but between a cat and a Bengal tiger.

  She tried not to think about it.Over the past few months, the idea of love had started to frighten her almostas much as Kyuketsuki's curse. All she knew was that, just as her father wantedto see where things would go with Miss Aritomo, she was curious to discoverwhat the future had in store for her and Hachiro. And she couldn't wait to tellhim she would be back for her senior year.

  For a long time, they had done akind of dance, hesitant to open their hearts fully when they knew that shemight be returning to America in the spring. After their encounter with theHannya, knowing that life was too short for such hesitations, they had becomecloser than ever, but the question of the future remained.