Koyasan (4 page)

The thing stopped at the opposite end of the bridge. Light from the lantern struck its face. And relief flooded through Koyasan like a tidal wave.

It was Maiko!

Koyasan called out joyously to her sister and hurried to the bridge, beckoning Maiko forward. But Maiko didn’t react. She stood on the far side of the stream, separated from Koyasan by the bridge, her face blank, not moving a muscle.

Koyasan’s throat tightened. Was this really Maiko? It certainly looked like her, but Maiko had never stood so stiffly. She was always wriggling and smiling, waving her hands or twitching her toes. This looked more like a statue than a living, breathing girl. Koyasan couldn’t even see her chest rising or falling.

“Maiko?” Koyasan asked quietly.

No answer.

Then Maiko - if it
was
Maiko - stepped on to the bridge and advanced, taking slow, stiff, sinister steps. Koyasan gripped the handle of the lantern tightly and lowered it, so the light was shining directly at Maiko. Her sister’s eyes didn’t flicker. Her pupils didn’t narrow. She walked on, oblivious, unaware of light or darkness.

Koyasan wanted to run, and she would have, except she could hear people coming behind her. It was too late to flee. Seconds later, her father was lifting her off the ground and laughing, hugging her hard to his chest. Her mother raced past them to grab Maiko. She was smiling.

Koyasan turned her head to watch her mother. She saw her slow before reaching the bridge. A few cautious, hesitant steps... then she stopped. Maiko was still crossing the stream, and their mother had noted the same strangeness in the girl as Koyasan had.

“Maiko?” she called. The tremble in her voice made Koyasan’s father squint at his younger daughter with suspicion.

“Maiko?” Koyasan’s mother called again as the girl — the
thing
— came to the end of the bridge. She waited there a moment, as though deciding whether or not she could leave the bridge and enter the world of the living.

Then she took the final step, off the bridge, on to the human side of the stream.

Koyasan’s mother reached out to the Maiko- shaped thing, but didn’t actually touch her. Her hands were shaking. She sunk to her knees and stared into the tiny girl’s lifeless eyes. This close, Koyasan could see a sort of mist in the pair of globes, like a thin veil covering Maiko’s eyes.

Koyasan’s father put her down and went to kneel beside his wife. He called Maiko’s name, without response, then laid a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently, fearfully.

Nothing happened.

Behind them, the other villagers were muttering uneasily. They couldn’t see what Koyasan and her parents could, but they knew something was wrong. A few started praying aloud, to ward off evil spirits. A burly man - Terani, one of the village elders - stepped forward and told Koyasan’s parents to take their daughters home.

“There’s something foul in the air,” Terani said. “We should not be out here this late. The world belongs to the dead at night.”

Koyasan’s father glanced at her mother. A silent question passed between them. Koyasan’s mother hesitated, then nodded shortly. Together, they picked Maiko up. She didn’t move or display any emotion. The pair held her between them, staring at her as if she was some weird animal they’d captured. Then Koyasan’s mother wrapped both arms around the girl and marched back to the village, trying hard not to let her fear and uncertainty show.

Koyasan’s father watched his wife depart, a troubled look twisting his features. Then he glanced down at his eldest daughter, who was pale-faced and shivering. He gulped, then hugged her quickly and gently prodded her ahead of him. Reluctantly, knowing she was to blame for whatever had happened to Maiko, Koyasan set off after her mother and the Maiko-shaped thing that had taken the place of her little sister.

EMPTY VESSEL

K
OYASAN
’
S
PARENTS
SPENT
an hour trying to provoke a reaction from Maiko. They hoped she might be frozen or in shock, so they wrapped her in warm clothes and sat her next to the fire. They rubbed her flesh hard, slapped her face lightly, pinched and poked her, all to no effect. Maiko remained stony-faced, never moving, staring ahead sightlessly, eyelids never dropping a fraction.

Outside the hut, other villagers mingled, discussing what had happened, fearing the worst. Some were afraid of Maiko. They thought she was one of the dead come to life. If Koyasan listened closely, she could hear them talking about burning or drowning the girl-shaped spirit.

Eventually, Koyasan’s mother sat back and wiped tears from her face. “We must ask Itako to examine her,” she said. “She will know what to do.”

“Not yet,” Koyasan’s father protested, fearing the worst and not wanting to admit it. “Let’s give her more time. If we wait, she might...”

“No,” Koyasan’s mother interrupted sharply. “We’ve waited too long already. I want to know what happened to our daughter and if it’s possible to help her.”

Koyasan’s father sighed, then looked across. “Get Itako,” he said roughly, the first indication that he was angry at his eldest daughter.

Koyasan didn't want to leave — she was afraid of the villagers — but she knew better than to argue with her father when he was in a mood like this. Silently she rose and stepped outside.

When the villagers saw her, all talk ceased. They stared at her, expecting an explanation. But Koyasan said nothing, only walked through them — they parted before her as if she was diseased — head held low, meeting nobody’s gaze, shuffling towards Itako’s hut as fast as she could without actually running.

Itako was waiting for her, sitting by her fire, staring into the flames, a shawl clutched round her throat.

“I’ve heard the rumours,” the old woman said, before Koyasan had a chance to speak. “Tell me what you know. Quick.”

The way Itako spoke — like a teacher asking a student to provide her with the answer to a problem — calmed Koyasan. She found herself telling Itako about the trip to and from the waterfall, letting Maiko cross the bridge, the laugh, Maiko running into the forest, waiting, the voice which had called her name, and finally the not-Maiko coming back. She felt like crying when she finished, but didn’t want to weep in front of Itako. So, with a great effort, she held the tears back.

Itako said nothing for a while, just stared into the flames. Then, with a grunt that might have been a curse, she stood, picked up several small bags and hobbled out of the hut, signalling for Koyasan to follow.

The oddly matched pair marched through the ranks of villagers. Koyasan kept her head low again, but Itako regarded the crowd with a dark, contemptuous expression. She’d heard the talk of burning and drowning, and it had disgusted her.

In Koyasan’s hut, Itako pushed the girl’s parents aside and picked Maiko up, displaying no fear. She sat a little bit away from the fire, then examined Maiko closely, whispering to her, chuckling, stroking the girl’s hair back from her face, gazing deep into her eyes, opening her mouth to study her tongue. Koyasan and her parents were silent during the examination, awaiting Itako’s verdict.

After five minutes, Itako opened one of the bags and poured a small amount of pink powder on to Maiko’s tongue. When nothing happened, she opened another bag, mixed a greenish powder into a paste by spitting on it, then rubbed the paste into Maiko’s eyes. She waited a few minutes, observing the girl’s eyes like an owl watching a mouse hole. When Maiko’s eyelids remained as they were, and the mist failed to lift, Itako sighed and cradled the girl’s head to her chest.

“She’s not a spirit,” Itako said. “This is your daughter.”

Koyasan and her parents gasped with relief. Fresh tears sprang to their eyes, tears of hope this time. But before they could get too excited, Itako spoke quickly to make them aware of all the facts.

“Her soul has been stolen by spirits in the graveyard. They separated it from her body. This is your daughter’s form, but there’s nothing inside. She’s as empty as a dry well.”

There was a long, tense silence.

“What does this mean?” Koyasan’s father finally asked.

Itako shrugged. “She will die. Without her soul, she is nothing. She will not eat or drink. You can force her, but it’s better if you don’t. She will linger for several days, then her body will pass. As for her soul...” Itako shrugged again. “The spirits can keep it alive tonight, but if they don’t destroy it by morning, it will dissolve with the rising of the sun.”

As Koyasan and her parents stared in shock at the elderly lady and the doomed Maiko, Itako stood and set the young girl down. “There is nothing
we
can do about this,” she said softly but sternly, looking from Koyasan’s mother to her father. “You must accept it and pray for help. Under no circumstances must you go to the graveyard to try and rescue Maiko’s soul.” Itako’s gaze settled on Koyasan and her cold eyes held Koyasan’s in a tight, unbreakable grip.
“We
are helpless in this matter.”

Itako stared at Koyasan for maybe another two seconds. Then she looked away and sighed. “I will tell the others what has happened. You should spend this night with your daughter, praying — maybe the spirits will take pity if they hear your prayers. But let Koyasan come to me if she wishes. Don’t stand in her way.”

With that, she slipped out. Koyasan’s parents immediately rushed to Maiko’s side, wailing and clutching at her. But Koyasan didn’t move. Instead of sorrow, she was filled with fear. Because when Itako said that “we are helpless”, there was “nothing we can do”, Koyasan knew that what the old woman had left out at the end was, “but Koyasan can.”

THE MISSION

 K
OYASAN
STAYED
WITH
her parents and Maiko for maybe thirty minutes, trying to convince herself that she’d imagined the hidden message in Itako’s gaze and words. All she wanted was to stay by her sister’s side and mourn with her mother and father. But she couldn’t. Because part of her knew this wasn’t over. Her parents and Itako could do nothing to save Maiko — but Itako had hinted that perhaps Koyasan could.

Finally, knowing she couldn’t live with herself if she stood by and did nothing when there was a chance to set this terrible situation right, Koyasan told her parents that she was going to see Itako. They only nodded miserably and waved her away, too concerned with the dreadful fate which had befallen their youngest daughter to worry about how it might be affecting their eldest.

The crowd had dispersed around their hut. Everyone had gone home to pray for Maiko and prepare themselves for the hard days to come. Koyasan passed unnoticed by anyone from her hut to Itako’s, slipping through the quiet darkness like a spirit of the night.

Itako was waiting for her, sitting by the fire again, but this time studying the smoke patterns above it. “I wasn’t sure you would come,” she said, without looking at Koyasan. “I knew you understood what I meant, but I thought you might not respond.”

“You told me three days ago that something bad was going to happen,” Koyasan noted miserably.

“Yes. But I didn’t think it would be this bad. And I didn’t think the fear would be as strong inside you as it is. Coming here was the hardest thing you have ever done, wasn’t it?”

Koyasan nodded, tears trickling down her cheeks, unable to hold them back.

Itako turned. Her face was red from the heat and lined sternly — she had something difficult to say. “If you want to save your sister, you’ll have to do much harder things than come to my hut tonight. Your trials have only begun.”

“I can save her?” Koyasan cried.

“Possibly,” Itako grunted.

“How?”

Itako didn’t answer immediately. Instead she scratched her chin and picked at a mole. “I’d go myself if I could,” she mumbled. “Or send one of the men. This is a job for an adult, someone who knows much about the world and the workings of spirits. But you let Maiko go into the graveyard. You were the one the spirits tricked her away from. And you were the one they called to. They singled you out when they hissed your name. It can only be you. That’s the way it is.”