Chapter 10

Outside, the ground-level mist had thinned, but the thick, pale clouds that filled the sky seemed almost close enough to touch. The air smelled dry and cold, redolent with the spice of smoke and pine.

But for that scent of smoke, Hiro might have believed the village long-deserted. No one moved in the street or around the houses. Even the scattered stubble in the rice field next to Otomuro’s mansion looked abandoned and forlorn.

The teahouse door swung open as they approached.

As Hanako bowed from the entry, Hiro wondered if the woman spent all her time staring into the street or if her eerie punctuality was merely coincidental.

She straightened and clasped her hands to her chest. “Noboru-san, I am so sorry. . .

Noboru returned the bow. “I know you do not customarily open the teahouse until afternoon, but I hoped. . .”

Hanako looked past him, at Hiro and Father Mateo. “Your guests require a morning meal before they leave?”

“Indeed.” Noboru sounded relieved. “That is, they need a meal. . .”

“Surely they do not intend to stay?” Hanako looked at Father Mateo. “Did you not hear what happened?”

“We have offered to investigate the crime,” the Jesuit replied. “To prove an angry spirit did not kill Ishiko-san.”

Hanako covered her mouth with her hand. “Do you not understand the danger? Even to speak of her—of it—is dangerous.” She turned back to Noboru. “You cannot let them stay.”

“They wish to help.” Noboru gestured to Father Mateo. “Also, his faith has rituals to exorcise—”

“The rituals of a foreign god might make it even angrier.”

“I will also send for the priest from Hakone Shrine.” Noboru’s voice grew soft. He raised his hands in supplication. “Besides, Kane believes their presence may have angered the spirit. If so, it is important for them to remain until after the ceremony.”

“I suppose they are your lives to risk.” Hanako bowed and gestured for the men to come inside.

After they removed their shoes, she led them through the entry to the room where they had eaten the night before. As they seated themselves around the table, Hanako said, “Forgive me, but your meal will take some time to prepare. I have no help today. I sent Masako-san to bed—she was hysterical from shock.”

“Please take your time,” Noboru said, “we understand.”

“And we apologize for the inconvenience,” Father Mateo added. Hanako bowed and slid the shoji closed.

Noboru folded his hands in his lap.

Hiro rested his own hands on his thighs and waited silently, hoping Father Mateo would do the same. Eventually, the silence would grow too heavy for the innkeeper to bear.

Unfortunately, the Jesuit spoke first. “Please tell us more about the village ghost.”

“You truly have no yūrei in your country?” Noboru asked.

Hiro began to remind the man that they had covered this ground already, but before he could do so Father Mateo said, “We do not, but I would like to learn more about them.”

“No man should wish to learn this thing,” Noboru said, “and I am not qualified to teach.”

“A man of samurai rank has asked you a question,” Hiro interrupted. “You will tell him what he wants to know.”

Noboru dipped his head in silent apology and began.

“My grandmother used to say that the human soul is barbed, like a thorny plant.” He raised his hand, his fingers bent like claws. “During life, these barbs secure the soul to the body. But when a person dies, they can also catch on the fabric of this world. If that happens, the soul is trapped like a fish in a net. It cannot pass to paradise, or judgment, or rebirth, until the barbs are smoothed by resolution of whatever issue trapped it here. In the case of a yūrei, the issue is. . .revenge.”

“So the village ghost once lived here?” Father Mateo asked. “Who do you believe the spirit was, in life?”

“She was my sister,” Noboru whispered.

Hiro spoke to avoid the apology he saw forming on Father Mateo’s lips. “How did your sister die?”

“It is dangerous to speak of,” Noboru said.

“Surely not in daylight,” Hiro countered. “In every legend I have heard, the yūrei only manifests at night.”

“We cannot risk it.” Noboru clasped his hands more tightly. “If we see her, we will die, as Mother did.”

“A yūrei did not kill your mother,” Hiro said. “Her injuries were made by human hands.”

“A yūrei’s ghostly hands can strangle just as surely as a living man’s,” Noboru countered.

Hiro found the comparison interesting, but before he could ask another question Hanako returned to the room.

The teahouse owner carried a lacquered tray that held a teapot, cups, and several covered bowls.

“I have prepared you soup, rice, and tsukemono, along with tea.” She set two covered bowls and a dish of pickled vegetables in front of each man. “I apologize for the simple fare, but I had nothing else prepared.”

“This will more than suffice,” Noboru said.

“I am pleased to help in your time of need.” Hanako bowed her head. As she raised it and began to pour the tea she asked, “Shall I bring a shamisen and play?”

“Thank you for the offer,” Noboru said, “but today we prefer to eat alone.”

The smile froze on Hanako’s face.

“If we require anything more, we will call you.” When the woman did not leave, Noboru added, “We need nothing more, Hanako-san.”

Her lips turned down, but she quickly forced a smile. “As you wish.”

She bowed more formally and left the room.