Koyasan (2 page)

Koyasan stared miserably after the three children, then at the bridge, then down at her feet. She told them to move. A toe twitched, but otherwise her feet ignored her. She looked up at the bridge again, remembering what she’d said that morning.

“I have to do it,” she muttered. “They’ll make fun of me all my life if I don’t.”

Summoning all of her courage, Koyasan forced her right foot to rise, then move forward. It hovered in the air a moment, then came down... on the bridge.

A shock of cold air swept through her. The boys and girls in the graveyard were still shouting, howling and cheering, but Koyasan no longer heard them. She couldn’t see them either. The world had become a wide grey void. She could hear deep, rasping, breathing sounds, the breath of creatures which had been human once, but weren’t any more.

Slowly, painfully, fearfully, she dragged her left leg forward. She had both feet on the bridge now, the first time ever. She stood, suspended above the stream, caught between worlds, petrified at the thought of going forward, desperate not to lose her nerve and go back. She felt sick and her head pounded, the way it had when she’d been struck by fever some years ago.

She realised she wasn’t breathing and could feel her face turning red, then blue. The sounds of the dead changed. They were excited now. If she died here, she’d become one of them, and they would have something new to play with and torment. She sensed them reaching out to her, long, misty tendrils which were only vaguely like fingers.

With a scream that shocked the other children and stopped them in their games, Koyasan broke the spell holding her in place. She paused only long enough to suck in a quick, shallow breath. Then she turned and fled, back to the village, leaving Maiko in the care of her friends, sobbing as fear sped her further and further away from the plain, stony,               unremarkable bridge.

Itako

K
OYASAN
SPENT THE
rest of the day working hard. She helped her mother wash clothes, then fixed a hole in the roof of their house with her father. That wasn’t a girl’s job, but since he had no son, Koyasan’s father often treated his eldest daughter like a boy, letting her work with him, teaching her how to wrestle and whistle.

After that, she went through her clothes, searching for loose buttons or little rips which needed stitching. Koyasan liked to look her best at all times. If she was playing and tore her skirt or stained her shirt, she’d rush home instantly to mend the hole or wash out the stain.

That took her up to lunch. Most of the children ate a quick lunch, then gathered at the old graveyard while the adults sheltered from the harsh noon sun and slept. Koyasan would usually eat quickly too, and go and watch her friends play. She didn’t enjoy being cut off from the games by the stream, but by watching, at least she felt like she was part of the fun. And occasionally, some of her friends would play with her on the safer, more boring side of the bridge.

But today Koyasan ate slowly and stayed in the village. She was still shaking from her experience on the bridge that morning and had no wish to go anywhere near it for at least a couple of days.

It was the quietest time of the day, the air heavy with snores. Koyasan tried to sleep but couldn’t. So she went walking instead, pretending that the houses were giant tombs and that she was in a graveyard of her own, a secret place, far more exciting than the dull old graveyard across the stream. She fought imaginary spirits, jabbing at them with a stick which passed for a sword, chopping off heads, running them through, laughing as they—

“What are you doing?”

Koyasan gasped and dropped the stick. She hadn’t expected anyone to see her at play. Glancing around, she saw Itako sitting on the doorstep of her cottage, regarding Koyasan with a curious but not unfriendly expression. Itako was one of the oldest people in the village. She was a woman of many talents — a teacher, doctor, storyteller, law-maker. There were also rumours that she could see into the future and speak with the dead, but Koyasan wasn’t sure if they were true or not.

“I was playing,” Koyasan said, bowing and smiling sheepishly.

“You should play more quietly,” Itako said. “If I’d been sleeping, you would have disturbed me.”

“Sorry.”

Itako waved the apology away. “Who were you fighting?” she asked.

“Spirits,” said Koyasan.

“With a sword?” Itako tutted. “You won’t kill spirits like that. In fact, you can’t kill them at all — they’re dead already.”

“I know.” Koyasan lowered her head to hide her shame. “I was only playing.”

“You should always deal with spirits correctly, even when playing,” Itako said. She patted the space on the step beside her. Koyasan didn’t want to sit down, but it would be impolite not to.

“Why aren’t you playing with the others?” Itako asked.

Koyasan didn’t answer.

“Do they tease you? Bully you? Are you a loner?”

“No.”

“Then...?”

“I don’t like the graveyard,” Koyasan muttered. “Hurm.” Itako studied the girl for a few seconds. “Or maybe it’s spirits that bother you more?” Koyasan nodded quickly.

“They can’t come out in the day,” Itako said.

“I know. But they scare me anyway. I can still feel them, even if I can’t see them.”

“Oh?” Itako leant forward for a closer look — her eyes were no longer as sharp as they’d once been. “You’re Koyasan, aren’t you? I remember when you cut your arm. Let me see the scar.”

Koyasan held her arm out. Itako rubbed a finger over the thin line and grunted. “Not bad, even if I do compliment myself.” She ran her fingers down to the end of Koyasan’s arm and gripped the girl’s hand. She tickled Koyasan’s palm with her thumb and Koyasan smiled.

“You will need help soon,” Itako said softly. Koyasan squinted at her uncertainly. “Don’t be afraid to come to me, even if you feel like you can speak to no one. If I have the power, I will do what I can to make your task easier.”

“I... I don’t understand,” Koyasan stuttered. “Am I in trouble?”

“Not yet,” Itako said. “But you soon will be.”

“What sort of trouble?” Koyasan’s heart was fluttering like a bird’s and she found it hard to speak.

“I don’t know,” Itako said and released Koyasan’s hand. She waved to show that Koyasan could go.

As Koyasan stood shakily and stepped away, Itako called after her. “Most people feel fear at some time in their life. That doesn’t make them cowardly. Cowards are those who do nothing when their fear threatens to destroy them. You must face your fear when you have to. If you do, you might not survive, but if you die, you won’t die a coward.”

While Koyasan was trying to think of something to say in response to that, Itako rose — slowly, because she was an old, tired woman - and went inside, where it was cooler, to rest from the hot midday sun. She did not say goodbye to Koyasan. She knew they would be meeting again soon.

GRAVY

IT
WAS
A
Holy Day. Nobody in the village worked on a Holy Day except those who had to milk goats or herd sheep, but even they took time off to pray and relax. It was the day when, by tradition, all of the children went to the graveyard to play and chase each other. They had to return at certain times to pray, and for meals, but most of the day was usually spent among the tombs, headstones and trees of the hill. Their parents often came to watch them at play, sitting on the banks of the stream, snacking, meditating or simply relaxing.

Koyasan usually spent a lot of time with her mother and father on Holy Days. They’d sit together on the village side of the bridge. Her parents would chat with other adults, while Koyasan would play with the babies and younger children who were not old enough to play in the graveyard.

Today though, she didn’t want to be anywhere near the place. It was only three days since her run-in with Itako and she’d barely slept. She kept thinking of all the terrible things that might happen, preparing herself for the worst. She wasn’t sure what that worst might be, but she guessed it would have something to do with the graveyard and the spirits, since Itako had mentioned Koyasan having to face her fears, and the graveyard was what she was most afraid of.

“Wanna go gravy!” Maiko cried, waving her short arms at the bridge. She couldn’t say ‘graveyard’ yet.

Koyasan’s mother smiled at Maiko, then at Koyasan. “Do you want to take her to play with the others?” she asked.

Koyasan shook her head wordlessly.

“Still afraid of the spirits?” her father chuckled, giving her a hug. “That’s fine. You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to.”

Her parents had tried many times to convince her to cross the bridge, but when they finally realised she was genuinely terrified of the graveyard, they stopped trying to force her.

Koyasan eyed the bridge and graveyard with growing unease. She didn’t even want to be this close to the home of the dead, regardless of the protective stream.

“Can I go?” she asked her mother.

“Go where?” came the reply.

Koyasan shrugged. “It’s too hot,” she lied. “I want to play somewhere else. I’ll take Maiko.” Her parents expected Koyasan to babysit her younger sister on Holy Days. She knew they’d be more likely to let her leave if she took Maiko with her.

“Are you sure?” her mother asked. She put a hand to Koyasan’s forehead, “You’re not sick?”

“No,” Koyasan said. “I want to play with Maiko, but it’s too hot here. I might take her to the waterfall.”

“Very well. Do you have food?”

“Some garlic.”

Koyasan’s mother rolled her eyes. “You and your garlic! Here, take some bread for Maiko. I’ll cook a few extra dishes for supper — you’ll both be hungry after such a long walk.”

The waterfall was a two-hour walk away, a bit shorter coming back since most of it was downhill. Koyasan hadn’t intended to go there today, but now that the thought had popped into her head, she was delighted. It was the perfect place if you wanted to get away from graveyards and dark feelings.

“Come on,” Koyasan said, grabbing one of her sister’s pudgy hands.

“No!” Maiko protested. “Wanna go gravy!”

“No gravy today,” Koyasan smiled. “Not unless we have some for supper.”

Maiko scowled at the weak joke and wrenched her hand away. “Go gravy!” she snorted and raced towards the bridge, knowing Koyasan wouldn’t dare come after her if she got to the other side.

Koyasan laughed. Her legs were much longer than Maiko’s and she could run a lot faster. She gave her little sister a lengthy head start, enough to let her think that she might make it to the bridge. Then, with a wild cat’s shriek, she pursued Maiko and swept down on her like a gust of wind from a mountain.

Maiko squealed with pretend terror as Koyasan whirled her off her feet and carried her away from the bridge. But when she realised she was trapped, and that Koyasan wouldn’t set her down again, she began to slap her sister and cry.

“Wanna go gravy!” she wailed.

“No,” Koyasan said, hurrying away from the bridge, as much to get out of earshot of her parents as to escape from the graveyard. “We’re going to the waterfall. That’s much nicer than the graveyard.”

“Wanna play!” Maiko shouted.

“You can play. With me. At the waterfall.”

“No! In gravy!”

Koyasan ignored her struggling sister’s protests and pushed on doggedly. She was soon on the path to the waterfall, walking beneath leafy, shady trees. She felt much better now, the lightest she’d felt in three days. After a while, she set her sister down.

“Hate you!” Maiko roared, kicking Koyasan’s shin.

Koyasan sniffed and walked on, sure that Maiko would follow.

“Gravy!” Maiko yelled. “Gravy! Gravy! Gravy!”

Koyasan sensed the younger girl turn and march back towards the village. She smiled to herself and didn’t slow or look back. A few moments later she heard Maiko stop. Koyasan began counting inside her head. When she got to six, there was a rush of footsteps and Maiko popped up beside her.

“Gravy,” Maiko said miserably, but it was no longer a demand.