The Night Parade (9 page)

She cleared her throat. The ogre's drooping eyes swiveled to meet hers. “Um, excuse me. Do you know where this path leads? I'm trying to go back to the human world…”

The ogre shook his matted hair sadly. He held out his clawed hands. Dark stains, like the ones that had crawled all over the dead log, wriggled on his hands and burrowed along his skin. Saki lowered her eyes.

“Ah, so that's why you're not joining the rest. You're not pure either, huh?” A little beggar's bowl sat at his feet, chipped and empty. “Are you just going to wait here? What if you never get in?”

The old ogre looked out toward the crowd. None of the passing spirits paid him any heed. His smell was somewhere between a wet dog and an old shoe, but Saki scrunched up her face and patted his wrinkled arm. Then, after a moment staring at the spirit procession, she took one of the flat marbles from her pouch and held it out.

“Here,” she said. “I don't know if you can use this, but I think it's valuable, so you might be able to trade it for something.”

The ogre blinked and sniffed at the glass piece. He gave her a sidelong glance, as if she were tricking him.

“I've got lots. You can have this one, I promise.”

The ogre held out his two calloused hands. His eyes followed Saki's fingers as she dropped the marble into his palms. The glass liquefied the instant it touched the ogre's red skin. Instead of absorbing him, as it had the mountain witch, the little beads of glass-water sped across his hand and sucked out bits of the wiggling stains. When each bit of darkness had been sucked clean up, the glass hardened until it shattered, leaving the dust to blow away into the night. The ogre's hands were still wrinkled and worn, but perfectly clean.

His rubbery lips twisted up in a smile. His eyes danced, and he held Saki's hand to shake it. The force of the handshake rattled up her arm and shook her all the way to the brain. The ringing in her ears slowly quieted, only to be replaced by a low, sinister buzz. Up in the sky, the swarm blotted out the stars above the Pilgrim's Road. Spirits stopped in their tracks to glance up, and Saki froze, unable to breathe, until the old ogre shook her from her fear. Their eyes met for only half a moment.

The ogre hoisted Saki over his head and set her on the road downhill. He bowed once in a gesture of farewell, then took up his battered club to face the swarm with a mighty battle roar.

Saki summoned all her strength to make her legs move again. The road was smooth, but the curves were tight, and half a dozen smaller paths branched out along the way. There was no way to tell which way would lead her home, if any of them would. Tears gushed from her eyes, but there was no time to stop and feel sorry for herself.

Just before she passed another turnoff, her shadow-strapped geta gave a lurch and ran her off the main road. The little dirt path was narrower than she remembered, but the daruma lanterns in the trees shone brighter.

In the time it took to blink, Saki found herself thundering down the hill toward her grandmother's house. The door to her room was ajar by only a few inches. For a moment, she thought she could make out her pillow. The buzzing behind her grew louder. The fear rose like bile in her throat, and Saki turned her head. A set of thrashing pincers tore the tree spirit's flowers from her hair and dashed them against the path.

A horde of bug soldiers the size of humans pressed down on her. With every flick of their wings, they moved closer. Their noses stretched out in long, pointed daggers, their limbs sharper than the spider spirit's legs, and their compound eyes burned with a singular flame. Saki tried to scream, but terror took her voice.

No time to think. No time to cry. She ran headlong into the wooden walkway around the house. The force knocked the wind out of her lungs and the wooden geta right off her feet. Saki clawed at the polished wood of the walkway. She pulled herself into the room and slammed her weight against the sliding paper door. It stuck in its frame, and the shadows of the swarm fell across the paper. With all of her strength, she leaned. The door gave a shudder, then snapped shut. The paper on the frame shook with a sound like hundreds of wet leaves slapping against the side of the house, but nothing got through. No sound filtered inside except for the buzz of cicadas.

Saki fell back into the covers strewn around her futon. Her brother let out a long snore. Her head was buzzing with exhaustion, and her heart was thundering with fear. In a dizzy instant, her eyes drooped, and she sank her head into the musty depths of Grandma's guest pillow.

Saki's brother shook her awake to the smell of a hot breakfast.

“Get out of bed, lazy!” he called, already halfway through the door. A grin spread across his face. “You're in so much trouble. They're still trying to figure out what to do with you.”

Saki tried to kick off her covers, but the muscles in her legs stung like they'd been set on fire. She picked herself up slowly, bracing against the wall for support. Now that she was home, she couldn't accept the night as anything more than a dream. But she felt as though she'd climbed a mountain, and the skin between her toes was rough and raw where the strap of her geta had rubbed. She could feel a thin layer of grime coating her face and legs. She scrubbed herself with soap and water in Grandma's bathroom yet couldn't quite rid herself of the dirt.

As she moved her old clothes off the futon, tiny pieces of glass clicked together beneath her nightshirt. Saki held the pouch of marbles in her hands for a moment, her heartbeat in her ears, and then stuffed the pouch into the pile of clothes beneath her underwear, where Jun would never find it.

If the night wasn't a dream, then neither was the curse.

Saki hesitated by the main room door, slid it open, and poked her nose inside. Her father, mother, and brother sat around a table of half-empty dishes, skillfully ignoring one another as usual. Grandma was nowhere to be found.

Her father spotted her over his newspaper. “Ah, you're up. Get in and have something to eat.”

Saki slunk in, her shoulders hunched. As she lowered herself to the table, Jun kicked her from underneath. She opened her mouth to snap at him, but one glance at her mother's drawn lips made her close it again. Saki swished around the lukewarm soup in her bowl and picked at the floating leeks with her chopsticks.

“If she's in trouble, can I have her spending money?”

“No one's getting any spending money,” their mother said. “We're driving Grandma to the valley supermarket this afternoon. Then we're taking her to lunch in Ota.”

“Can we get ice cream?”

“The shopping is for Grandma, not for you. I don't want you two arguing either. Especially you.” Saki's mother didn't have to point. The sharp look said everything. “And before we leave, you're going out to scrub those gravestones one more time.”

“But—” Saki snapped her mouth shut the moment Grandma opened the door, a piece of paper crumpled in her hands.

“Oh, I don't see why they can't have a little treat for helping.”

“After last night, they don't need any more coddling.” Saki's father eyed her warily. “I still don't think we should have let her keep that blasted phone.”

“Hush, both of you.” Grandma tucked the slip of paper into her obi belt and bent to pick up a tray of picked-over breakfast dishes. “She's shown she's very sorry. I don't doubt she's learned her lesson. Let's spend our time on better things.”

As she leaned forward, the slip of paper fell out. Saki plucked it off the tatami, but before she could summon the courage to speak up, Grandma had taken the tray of dishes back to the kitchen.

Saki's father turned the page of his newspaper. Her brother had dragged their mother into another room to argue his case for a new video game. Saki stuffed the slip of paper into her pants pocket and took her own tray off the table. She took it to the kitchen and set it by the sink as Grandma piled the dishes into different pools of soapy water. Saki took the piece of paper from her pocket. “Here, you dropped this.”

Her grandmother looked up from her washing. “Ah, that's my shopping list. I'll just…” Grandma puzzled at her wet hands. “Oh, dear. Could you put it somewhere dry, dear? I'll finish it when I'm through with these dishes.”

“Maybe I could help you? Just tell me what else you need to write down.”

“That's very sweet of you, dear, but the trouble is I've forgotten most of what I have in the house already…”

Saki found a pencil and tried to hold in a sigh. This would take a while.

True to her words, Grandma couldn't recall much off the top of her head, and some of what she did remember turned out to be wrong or too far out of date to be fit for human consumption. One bag of wakame seaweed crumbled into a dusty powder as soon as Saki picked it up to check the expiration date.

With grim determination, Saki bent to inspect each package label in the cabinets and strained on her tiptoes to check the recesses of the top cupboards. By the time they'd compiled a thorough shopping list, she wanted nothing more than to collapse in front of a fan, but one last question weighed on her mind. She set the list down on her way out and stopped halfway through door.

“Grandma, are you mad at me?”

Her grandmother stopped the water and turned from the sink, where the breakfast dishes gleamed on the drying rack. “I was sad for a little while, but I believe you're very sorry and your apology is enough. Like I told your father, I don't want to dwell on what's past. Now, do you need any of your laundry done? I want to put out some washing to dry before we go out this afternoon.”

Saki shook her head. Grandma gave a wobbly nod and turned the faucet on again. Saki lingered by the door frame, then she remembered the marbles.

“Wait. There's something I need to show you.”

Saki hurried back to the room she shared with her brother. Jun was slumped on the floor, pouting. She rummaged through her pile of laundry under the ruse of folding it, setting the pouch of flat marbles by her feet. When she tried to smuggle them out to the kitchen, the glass clicked together, and Jun turned.

“What're those?” he asked, craning his neck for a better view.

“Nothing,” Saki said. “Girl stuff.”

Jun flopped back down on the floor. “Ew…”

When Saki returned, Grandma wiped off her hands on her apron and took the bag with care. She opened the top and squeezed a piece of glass between her fingers. Her brow furrowed.

“Wherever did you find these? I used to play with toys like these when I was a little girl.” She spread half a dozen marbles out on her hand.

Saki shrugged. “I just found them around.”

Grandma looked her in the eye. The warm mist of nostalgia turned into sharp and urgent words. “Were you playing in the woods?”

“I wasn't playing,” Saki said, averting her eyes. “I was just taking a walk.”

“You must be very careful in the woods. Do you understand me?” Saki's grandmother held her shoulder with an iron grip. “The mountain can be very dangerous, especially at night. If you see something strange, you should run away as fast as you can.”

“Grandma…have you seen things on the mountain at night?”

Before she could get an answer, Saki's father poked his head into the kitchen. “Mom, Saki, are you ready? We'll need to get going if we want to be back in time for the dance tonight.”

Grandma handed the marbles back to Saki. “Keep these in a safe place,” she said as she closed Saki's fingers over the pouch.

Saki hurried back to her room for her purse. With a glance over her shoulder at Jun, she stashed the marbles in the folds of her futon. Her mother called from the front door, and her brother dragged himself up with a groan. Before Saki closed the door behind them, she cast one last glance at the doors that opened to the mountain. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, but no outline of a path appeared.

• • •

During the hour it took to reach the town in the valley, Grandma sat in the passenger seat talking to Saki's father. Saki never got a proper answer to the question she'd asked in the kitchen. By the time they reached the bottom of the hill, Grandma seemed to have forgotten the conversation entirely.

As soon as she was close enough for a phone signal, Saki delved into her messages. As expected, Hana was angry with her for taking too long between replies. Saki scanned the messages she'd been accused of snubbing, but they were no different than the last dozen. Hana was still mad at Kaori, though the boy who'd started the mess didn't seem to matter anymore, and her new purpose in life was to make Kaori miserable.

There were a bunch of messages about a trip to the karaoke parlor. Hana wanted another girl to tell Kaori about the party, so it would seem like they were inviting her back into the group. After a few hours in the karaoke parlor, some of the girls would leave for the bathroom and the rest would go out to get a “surprise” for Kaori, as an apology for the way they'd treated her. Of course, Hana made it clear that no one was to come back. The real surprise would be when Kaori had to pay for everyone's time at the karaoke parlor out of her own pocket. Part of Hana's scheme was to have Saki message Kaori about how jealous she was to be missing all the fun. The plan was set for tomorrow night.

Saki closed the messages without another thought. She would blame the bad reception for her silence. She'd spent years playing Hana's games, and now it was time for a break. It was disturbing how much pleasure Hana took in trying to break another person's spirit.

The more she thought, the angrier she felt. She was angry at Hana for being a bully, she was angry at Yuko for being the same, and she was angry at Maeda for being right about everything. But more than all of them, Saki was angry at herself.

When they returned to Grandma's house, Saki and her brother carried packs of toilet paper from the car while their mother and father handled the heavier groceries. As Saki and her brother stuffed the rolls of toilet paper into every square centimeter of Grandma's bathroom cabinets, their mother called out from the main room.

“When you kids are finished in there, come out so that Grandma can help you put on your yukata for the dance!”

Jun made a face, and Saki bit back a groan. Grandma had set all of her dressing tools out on the floor and laid out each of the stiff cotton yukata on the tatami.

“Out of those clothes,” Saki's mother ordered, thrusting a set of plain white underclothes into Saki's hands. “Jun, your shirt and shorts are in the bedroom.”

Jun wasted no time disappearing, covering his snicker as he ducked past his sister. Saki was stuck, nothing else to do but wait patiently as Grandma wrapped her with the yukata and tied sash after sash to adjust the fit. Grandma was diligent but worked so slowly that Saki's legs ached from standing in one place so long.

Grandma finished the knot in the obi, then moved to the front to inspect the fit. Saki struggled to breathe through the tight knot around her waist. She hadn't tried to take any steps yet, but she suspected her knees would have their own troubles.

“How lovely. You remind me of myself when I was a little girl.”

“Show us a little smile.” Her father came out from the front porch and aimed his camera at her face.

The light from the flash left little spots in Saki's vision. They drifted in front of her like fireflies as she tried to escape to her room, but her mother caught her by the shoulders and turned her around.

“Not so fast. We'll fix up your brother, and then we're all going down to the dance. Stay out here until we leave.”

“Aren't you going to wear a yukata too?” Saki asked, eyes narrowing to inspect the flowery blouse and the khaki pants her mother wore.

Her mother pushed her toward the door. “Your father and I are going to trade off with the camera.”

“How convenient.”

“I'll go get your brother.” Her mother's frown was as humorless as her tone. To Saki's delight, her brother had to be dragged out by the scruff of his neck before Grandma could fit him.

The discomfort of the yukata grew tenfold when they were stuffed into the backseat of the car. If Saki leaned back too far, the bow of her obi dug into her spine, so she spent the whole trip down the winding road tilted forward like a queasy teapot. She usually handled motion sickness well, but by the time they reached the foot of the hill, she was blue with nausea.

Everyone at the community center had dressed up for the Bon dance. The dance was part of the Obon Festival celebrations, another way to welcome the spirits of the dead, though each region had its unique songs and steps. The Bon dance popular in the area around the village was a lively performance with lots of movement, though it was easy enough once the dancer had memorized the steps.

A platform for the musicians was raised in the middle of the space, surrounded by strings of lanterns. The order of the food stalls had shuffled, but their menus of fried, battered, and grease-laden snacks remained the same. A few dancers were already circling the platform, moving to the beat of the taiko drums.

Saki's father set up the camera tripod as her mother herded the rest of the family over to pose for a shot.

“Right there. Hold it. Hold it,” her father said. The camera stalled and beeped out an error message. “What? Wait right there. I know exactly what's wrong. This blasted thing…”

“Why couldn't we have done this before we left Grandma's house?” Saki shrank from the attention and glared back pointedly at the villagers who'd looked over to size up the out-of-towners. “They're staring like we're zoo animals…”

“She's right, you know,” Grandma said before Saki's parents could object. “Tonight is for dancing, not standing around.”

“Actually, Grandma, I wanted to watch for a while…” Saki tried to cushion the words as best she could, but the only thing worse than being gawked at while posing for photos was being gawked at while doing a stupid dance. Everyone dancing around the platform was either very young or very old, not a single person even close to her age.

“You two go with your grandmother.” Saki's mother turned her attention to the camera. “Did you take the other photos off the memory card before we came? Here, let me take a look…”

Saki would have given just about anything to dissolve into the ground. All out of excuses, Saki and Jun exchanged pained glances as Grandma led them toward the dancers.