As Hotaka and Sakura pull on their coats and beanies, they see Osamu waiting by the gate out of the Shaman Lady’s place. Hotaka calls and they head towards him. But the cottage door creaks open and the old woman emerges.
‘Wakaino,’ she calls, and scurries across to him like a gnarled gnome. ‘Wait.’
‘You go ahead,’ Hotaka says to Sakura. ‘I’ll catch up. And be nice to Osamu, eh?’
She frowns. ‘What did you say?’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ he replies and turns to the Shaman Lady.
‘What is it, obaba? If our friend has offended you, gomen nasai, I am truly sorry! He meant no offence. He was unwell and needed fresh air.’
‘It is for you I worry,’ the woman insists. ‘I must see for myself.’ She latches onto his arm, her sharp eyes scanning his body. ‘When you arrived I thought I saw something on your back. When I looked again it was not there. Perhaps I was imagining things, but I must be sure.’
‘Silence!’
He knows exactly what the old woman is looking for, but doesn’t want her prying. He begins to pull away and she tightens her grip.
‘There is something,’ she whispers. ‘I cannot see it, but I can sense it. It is well hidden, almost part of you.’ Her eyes sear into him. ‘A presence without form.’
‘You must be imagining things,’ Hotaka stammers.
‘Stay still,’ she snaps. ‘A spirit, yes! A ghost of sorts.’
‘An evil spirit?’ Hotaka asks. But he already knows the answer.
‘Certainly not! This one is gentle. And it was happy once.’ She concentrates. ‘But it is lost, untethered. Yes, an unclaimed spirit searching for peace.’
Hotaka doesn’t want this, but the woman won’t let go. She points a bony finger at him.
‘I think you know what I’m talking about.’ She raises her eyebrows. ‘You and this spirit have been together for some time. Mmmm?’
Hotaka shakes his head. ‘I’ve no idea what you mean.’
‘Yes, you do.’ She brings her face right up to his. ‘Understand this. There comes a time when we must let go of those who have been precious to us in life. It does none of us any good to hold on for too long. We only imprison each other that way.’ The old woman’s eyes reach right into him.
‘I understand, obaba.’
‘I hope so. For as hard as it might be to let go, it is for the best.’ She relaxes her grip and pats his arm gently. ‘Off with you now. I’ll see you at the concert.’
‘Oh yes, of course.’ Hotaka had completely forgotten about that, his reason for visiting the old woman. ‘Abe-sensei will be pleased.’ He bows. ‘Arigatō gozaimasu.’
‘You take care, wakaino. Take special care.’
The Shaman Lady shuffles back to the cottage. Hotaka breathes a huge sigh of relief and pedals off.
When Hotaka catches up to his friends, he’s glad to see that Osamu seems fine. They’re arguing, as expected, but there’s no anger in Osamu’s tone. In fact Sakura sounds like the angry bird. They’re too engrossed to notice Hotaka, so he coasts quietly behind them, listening in.
‘You’re wrong,’ Osamu declares. ‘She was spewing up mumbo jumbo.’
‘Maybe, but she had her audience captivated.’
‘Those old peasants? Get real. How hard could that be? They were as crazy as her.’
‘I thought she was awesome.’
‘Awesome? Awful, you mean. She was peddling lies.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘News flash: the 3/11 disaster was not caused by Namazu, or by any other creature, demon or denizen of the freakin’ deep.’
‘Dude! We all know that.’
‘No, dude, those old people don’t. That witch was pumping them full of lies.’
‘Come on!’ Sakura shouts. ‘It’s an explanation to help them make sense of—’
‘Oh, great explanation.’ Osamu sniggers. ‘It’s a fairytale, a total con. And that got me really angry in there, because far from making sense of anything, it makes nonsense of everything and explains nothing. Hear me? Zilch, zip, zero, nix, not a single thing!’
‘Of course it’s nonsense. But it’s part of our culture.’
‘So that makes it all right, does it? Sorry, but calling something part of our culture doesn’t mean we have to accept it, or that it’s even any good.’
‘I know that. But all those myths and legends are kind of what makes us who we are.’
‘Speak for yourself. That stuff is not part of who I am. No way!’
‘I don’t mean personally. It’s part of our heritage, our national makeup, and it works for those people.’
‘More fool them, then. That stuff might’ve been cool hundreds of years ago, but the world has moved on. We know what caused the tsunami. It’s called an earthquake! That’s spelt—’
‘Shut it!’ Sakura flares. ‘You’re missing the point, you idiot!’ She spins around to face Osamu, and sees Hotaka. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? He’s just being a dumb-arse, isn’t he?’
Hotaka laughs. ‘He’s actually just winding you up.’
‘Me?’ Osamu plays innocent. ‘Wind her up? Never.’
Sakura glares at Osamu, then spins round and marches off.
Osamu frowns at Hotaka. ‘I was having fun.’
‘I could see that, you idiot. Come on, we can’t let her go off in a huff.’
They soon reach the edge of the hill that overlooks Omori-wan from the west. The fog has lifted enough to see the town. Sakura is waiting, hands on hips.
‘Now that is what you should be angry about,’ she tells Osamu. ‘Forget the shaman. That should make your blood boil.’
‘What?’ Osamu screws up his face.
‘That!’ Sakura snaps, sweeping her arms over the view of the town. ‘Down there.’
‘Sorry, you’ve lost me.’
Osamu is doing it again – winding up Sakura. It annoys Hotaka this time; his friend is being silly when he shouldn’t be. That’s the trouble with Osamu: he never knows when to pull back, when a joke is no longer a joke. He doesn’t have an off-switch.
He knows how important Omori-wan is to Sakura. She may not be from the town, but she’s taken it on as her own. Hotaka once showed her some photographs of how beautiful the place was before the tsunami, and she wept. Ever since then she’s been passionate about what’s happening to Omori-wan in the name of so-called reconstruction; what’s being done and what isn’t.
‘Just open your eyes, will you?’ she shouts at Osamu. ‘See the nightmare down there. That’s not a town – it’s a lot of concrete, dirt, gravel and bitumen smattered with tiny temporary dwellings. People don’t live there, they exist at best. And the powers that be call it a reconstruction program? Ha! I call it a big lie, a huge con, loads of money for Mayor Nakano and Co, and nothing for anyone else. In the three years since the tsunami, nothing has been spent on housing for people. But what’s the mayor’s next big project? A seawall! – a monstrous structure that will cost a fortune. That’s criminal!’
‘Dude,’ Osamu says, ‘that’s big business.’ He holds up both hands, rubbing his thumbs and fingers together. ‘That’s how things are done. Part of our culture, if you like.’
‘But no one says anything. No one even makes a noise. We’re being ripped off, but we take it lying down, like frightened mice.’
‘That’s part of our culture too. We bow to authority in Japan. We do as we’re told. Always have. Always will.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Sakura has a glint in her eye. She steps right up to Osamu. ‘So that makes it okay, does it? Sorry, kid, but a little way back, you told me that – and I quote – calling something part of our culture doesn’t mean we have to accept it, or that it’s even good!’
Osamu’s face reddens. ‘Aw now, that’s different,’ he blusters.
‘It sure is different. Back there was just you being your usual silly self. This is serious.’ Sakura points to Omori-wan. ‘You only have to look down there to see how serious.’
Hotaka howls with laughter. ‘Checkmate, bud. She got you. Admit it.’
Sakura grins up at Osamu. ‘Well?’
He shrugs. ‘Yeah, okay, you win, I guess. One all… for today.’
Sakura laughs, then springs forward and snatches Osamu’s bike from under his nose. Before he can do anything, she leaps on and pedals off down the hill to Omori-wan.
‘Thanks, loser,’ she shouts. ‘See you at school.’
Osamu runs after her, but she’s too fast. When he turns around, Hotaka is still laughing.
‘Very funny!’ Osamu mutters. ‘Now I’ll be late for my Advanced Programming workshop.’ He kicks at the ground. ‘And that is serious.’
He does look genuinely upset, so Hotaka takes pity on him. ‘Don’t cry,’ he replies. ‘You can have my bike.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah. I’ve got a free period first up. I’ll be reporting to Abe-sensei about out visit to the Shaman Lady.’ Hotaka doesn’t add that he feels like being alone for a bit.
‘Thanks, bud,’ Osamu says as he takes the bike. ‘I owe you one.’
‘You do indeed.’