In my cold dream I was standing in front of a sign at the western edge of Kusaka.
ようこそ佐川へ
WELCOME TO SAKAWA TOWN
On top of the sign perched a brood of crows, black and shiny as ink. The air that filled the gaps between them was as cold and still as space.
Shimizu-sensei walked up from behind me. He wasn’t alone.
Fathers. Mothers. Sisters. Grandparents. Aunts. Uncles. Brothers. Children. A crowd of Shimizus surrounded my homeroom teacher on every side. Some were dressed in suits and fine clothing. Some wore kimono; others wore samurai armor.
It will never work, the crowd said. Best to turn back and go home. It’s our curse.
“But if I can leave, then so can you,” Shimizu-sensei answered them. “Isn’t that what you want?”
One man in the crowd started to laugh. The others looked at him and joined in. Soon the border between Kusaka and Sakawa rang with coarse laughter.
Go, my son, a man in a business suit said. We have all tried. We have all failed.
Shimizu-sensei walked away from the crowd. He lifted his foot and set it next to the sign. Easy enough, he thought. He took another step along the road. No problem.
The next step pushed the wind out of his lungs. Shimizu-sensei stopped and took a deep breath. A woman behind him smiled.
Another step and another step. It was difficult to keep breathing. Every time he set his foot down on the asphalt, his lungs locked up like he’d just run a race. He began to feel light-headed. His movements were slow and groggy. He felt like he was pushing his way through a torrent of water.
How much more can he take? a man from the crowd asked.
I bet he makes it to the other side, a woman said.
Muri da, grumbled the rōnin.
The world around Shimizu-sensei was moving fast. Cars on Route 33 shot by. Birds darted in and out of trees. Insects zipped around like machine-gun fire. I just need to get across, he thought. I’ll be safe there. I just need to touch the other side.
He leaned against the swirling dizziness and fought to keep his body moving. He felt heavy, like invisible arms were yanking his shoulders, pulling him back. His head dropped forward and he looked at his shirt. That must be it, he thought. My shirt. I’m wearing a shirt made of pure steel. How did I not notice that before I left the house? Who would make a steel shirt? Why would I ever buy something like that?
Shimizu-sensei struggled to undo the buttons.
Oh, he won’t make it, a boy from the crowd said.
Shimizu-sensei shrugged his shoulders and the shirt slipped off, fluttering to the ground. There, he thought. Now I’ll be fine. The weight is gone. I feel lighter already.
Shimizu-sensei pressed on for the same reason a rock climber reaches up for the next ledge. Backing down is not an option. Staying still is not a choice. If I don’t take the next step, I will fall and die.
His shoes felt like two massive stones around his feet. He stepped down on the back of one and pulled. With a little jerking, he was able to step up and out of his rocky footwear. Now the next one. There. But I still feel so heavy. Is it my skin? Oh gods, yes, that’s it. My skin is holding me back.
Maybe we should do something, a woman said.
Do what? a teenager answered. We can’t hold him down.
This is sad, another woman said. He won’t listen.
By the time Shimizu-sensei forced his way to the bordering line of Sakawa Town, he had no shirt and no shoes, and his breath came in shallow bursts.
A truck pulled over to the side of the road. A man in a straw hat opened his door and asked Shimizu-sensei if he was all right.
“Ehhhhhhhhtoooooo,” was the only word that came out of Shimizu-sensei’s mouth.
“Do you need help?” the farmer asked.
Shimizu-sensei closed his mouth and tried to picture the words. They were in his brain, all scattered and floating around. He pretended his eyes had arms and they were grabbing at the words, trying to collect them and hold them down into proper sentences, but every time a word was caught, another wriggled away.
“You’re the schoolteacher, right? Shimizu-sensei? Do you need a ride somewhere?”
Hai. One word. Two little syllables: ha and i. Easy to make. Where did the letters go? There they are. Up in the corner. Grab them. Okay. Hold on. Move them both down to my mouth. Yes. I need a ride. I need to leave this place. Please. Hai.
But as Shimizu-sensei opened his mouth to let those two tiny letters out, his jaw came unhinged. The left side popped like a warm carrot snapping. He stood there in front of the farmer, half naked, half jawed, the word Hai hanging out of his mouth like a string of drool.
Well, he almost made it, someone from the crowd said.
I wouldn’t call that almost.
He made it farther than I ever did.
Me too.
The farmer stepped out of the cab and took Shimizu-sensei by the arm. He helped him into the truck and ran back to scoop up the clothes that were scattered like a trail of bread crumbs. The unseen crowd waited behind, some smiling, others shaking their ghostly heads.
“Why would you do this to me?” Shimizu-sensei mumbled. “Why won’t you let me go?”
It isn’t us, my son, the man in the business suit said. It is the demon. He’s the one keeping us here. There is no escape without appeasing the tengu.
As the truck pulled away and drove into Kusaka Town, the flock of crows lifted off the sign and disappeared.
* * *
I jumped to my feet. Shimizu-sensei was lying faceup in the Lawson’s parking lot.
“Moya?” I yelled. “Did you hit him with that chunk of cement? I was trying to steal his memory. I had it under control!”
Moya rolled Shimizu-sensei over with her foot. “Take a look,” she said.
My homeroom teacher was still clutching a kitchen knife in his fist.
“What is going on here?”
“I’d say Shimizu-sensei made a deal with someone else,” Moya said.
“He was going to stab me?”
“Or make you a home-cooked meal,” Moya said. “But considering that his grip on this knife is more aggressive and less teriyaki, I’m gonna go with the first one.”
I stepped back. “Gods, Moya, that was cutting it a bit close, don’t you think?”
“I’d say my timing was right on. I had to hang back so I could be sure, but I think Kōtenbō promised to release your teacher from Kusaka Town.”
“If he murdered me? He’d be arrested! How did he think that was going to end for him?”
“Kōtenbō was inside his mind,” Moya said. “Your teacher only cared about getting off the Road. How he got off it didn’t matter at all.”
“Gods, Moya, did you have to kill him?”
“What?” she said. “He’s not dead. He’ll wish he was dead without some kampō herbs for his headache, though.” Moya rolled him back over with her foot.
“Shouldn’t we call someone?” I said. “Or at least not be kicking people who have obvious head injuries?”
“He’ll live,” Moya said, picking up the knife and tossing it into the grass. “The bigger problem is your teacher waking up. The tengu had his claws so deep into Shimizu-sensei’s mind that he barely knew what he was doing. Kōtenbō will not be happy about this failure.”
“So we’re just going to leave him here?” I said.
“The best thing we can do for him is find and stop Kōtenbō.” She turned and walked toward the exit of the parking lot. “We don’t have a lot of time. Let’s go get your gym teacher and feed him to a kappa.”
I looked around for Shibaten and then ran to catch up with my totally-not-scary girlfriend.