The next morning, the streets were alive again. Women in a line did an elaborate dance, sweeping their arms up into the air and spinning around as a crowd watched. Colorful lanterns decorated the buildings on the square. As Kubo walked through the festival, he spotted his good friend Kameyo sitting on a nearby curb.

“Paper Boy!” She smiled, revealing her missing front teeth. “Come sit next to me. I got us a good spot here.”

Kubo sat beside his friend, and together they watched the women spin and dance, the music swelling around them. “I do so love the festival,” Kameyo said. “A time to celebrate. You know, it’s a shame you never stay past sundown. There are fireworks and singing and dancing and feasting, of course. But the best part of all…”

She pointed to the lanterns that hung outside each doorway. “Do you see those lamps and altars? We use those to speak to the loved ones that left us behind. We listen to their tales and guide their safe return to the blissful pure land.”

Kubo had heard this all before, but somehow today it felt different. Was he old enough now, wise enough, to contact his father? If he lit a lantern in his honor, maybe he’d come back for him.

“Really?” Kubo asked in surprise. “Did you speak to someone?”

“Yes, I did. My husband. His voice was as clear and loud as the one you use for your stories. In seventy-two years he never had a thing to say. Now that he’s gone, I can’t shut him up!”

Kubo couldn’t help but smile.

“You have someone you’d like to talk to, huh?” Kameyo said, noticing his expression. “Well, what’s stopping you?”

“Do I need a lamp?” Kubo asked, looking at the ornate altars that lined the square.

“I bet you could make a really nice one with that paper-folding thing you do.” She gave him a friendly nudge, pointing to the cemetery. “Now hurry along, go! There’s still time before dark!”

Kubo stood, taking off through the square just as the dance ended. He turned back one last time, waving good-bye to his friend.

Kubo kept walking, finally seeing a break in the forest ahead. The road opened up into a beautiful, lush cemetery, the sun low in the sky above it. Flowers bloomed. Tree branches twisted above him. On the grassy hills, dozens of families knelt with their unlit lanterns, waiting for their loved ones to visit.

He found a clearing and dropped his bag and supplies. Using a big rock as an altar, he set to work on his lantern. He folded the ivory paper several times, creating an elaborate lantern with windows in its sides. He watched a family nearby, listening to the conversation to try to figure out what to do next. Asking the dead to visit didn’t come naturally to him.

A man, Hosato, was just a few yards away. He directed his daughter to place the lamp on the altar. As the little girl did that, Kubo set his lantern on his altar, too. Then Hosato told his daughter to pray to their loved one, a grandmother. Kubo wasn’t quite sure what to say to his father, but he began anyway.

“Hello, Father,” he said. “I hope you’re well. Uh… I mean, I know you’re dead, but I hope everything is… okay.”

Kubo cringed, thinking of the spirit of his father somewhere listening to him bungle the prayer. He could do better. He’d start over—pretend as if it never even happened. Maybe his father hadn’t heard.…

“Look, it’s your robe!” he said brightly, holding up the cloth covering his shoulders. “Mother says I’ll grow into it. She says you were a great leader who died protecting me. Saving one of my eyes. Two would’ve been ideal, but… thanks anyway.”

Kubo let out a small laugh, hoping his dad got the joke. He waited, listening to the wind, but he couldn’t hear anything. He wondered if his dad even knew he was there.

“Father…” he went on. “I’m worried about Mother. With every day that goes by, she drifts further away. She talks a lot about you, but… I just don’t know. I don’t think she remembers what’s real anymore. I don’t know what’s real anymore.…”

Kubo took a deep breath, tears welling in his eye. “I just wish you were here. So I could talk to you, see you… find out what I should do.”

He was about to say more, but a small voice interrupted him. “Daddy! Daddy! Grandma is here!”

He turned and saw the family beside him peering into their lamp. The wick had burst magically into flames, lighting the lantern. Hosato smiled as he and his daughter walked down to the river, setting their lantern on the water to help their grandmother return to the spirit world. The little girl chatted happily to her grandmother as they went.

Kubo stared into his lantern. It was still dark, the wick just the same as when he had made it. Why hadn’t his father come? Where was he? Had he listened to even a word Kubo had said?

“Father? Hellooooooo?” Kubo called, staring into the orange sky. The sun was starting to fall behind the mountains. He would have to return to the cave soon.

Kubo folded his arms across his chest. “Any time…”

But still, his father didn’t come. He watched the families in the cemetery smile and laugh as their lanterns lit. A young couple clutched each other as they walked their lantern down to the river and watched it float out to sea. Kubo sat in front of his altar, wishing the lantern would light, but minutes passed and nothing happened.

Soon he was alone in the cemetery. He looked to the sky, waiting again for a sign, but there was nothing.

“Fine!” he said, snatching the lantern off the altar. “I don’t need you anyway!”

He crumpled the paper lantern and threw it into the grass. He’d never felt so alone. Why had all the other spirits visited but not his father’s? Why wasn’t his prayer answered?

He sat down in the grass, staring at the balled-up paper. He picked it up and smoothed it out, not noticing the sound in the distance: the village bell marking the sunset. He looked down at the broken lantern in his hands. “I’m… I’m sorry.…”

He wasn’t sure to whom he was talking, but he felt better apologizing for his foolishness. He had been wrong to get so angry with his father. If he hadn’t visited, Kubo would return next year to find him, and then he would say something different—the right thing that would make him come back.

The wind whipped through the cemetery. Kubo turned, suddenly noticing how dark it had become. The hills were silent. The sky had turned a deep blue.

All along the river, the lit lanterns were extinguished one by one. Wisps of smoke curled from their charred wicks, joined by a thick fog rolling in off the bank. Through the trees, he swore he heard something: a strange, melodic voice whispering his name.

He spun around, trying to see where the voice was coming from. It was calling to him. His heart was thumping fast in his chest, and he immediately started to worry. What had he done? How had he not noticed how late it had gotten?

Then he saw her. There, across the river, was a woman dressed in long, billowing robes made of crow feathers. Her hair was the color of squid ink, just like his mother’s. Her wide-brimmed hat was pulled down, the front of it so low he could not see her face. She held a long wooden pipe in one hand.

“Little boy,” she said, coming toward him, “what happened to your eye?”

Kubo took a step backward, but she only came closer, laughing a horrible, high-pitched laugh. He heard more laughter and another woman stepped out from the first woman’s shadow. She looked the same as the first one, with the same black hair and wide-brimmed hat. They both had a silver medallion covering their hearts.

“Who are you?” Kubo called out. He tried to sound brave, but his voice was shaky. “How do you know my name?”

“We’re your family, Kubo,” the women said. “Your mother’s sisters. And we’ve been looking for you for so long. It’s so lovely to meet you… face-to-face.”

As they said it, they both raised their chins, showing themselves to him. But their faces were hidden behind ghostly white masks. Their lips were fixed in permanent smiles, and their black eyes stared at him blankly. Kubo had seen the Noh masks before—they were part of Japanese culture—but he’d never seen ones as terrifying as these. All the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

“Come, Kubo, come to your aunties.…”

As they glided over the river toward him, he watched in horror, too scared to even move. “No reason to be afraid, Kubo.…” they said. “We just need your other eye. Your grandfather admires it so.…”

They started up the bank toward him. He turned, running in the opposite direction, back toward the village. He glanced over his shoulder and saw one of the sisters take a puff on her wooden pipe. Smoke blew out of the pipe and curled up above her, taking on a terrifying shape. Smoke demons filled the sky, descending upon him, ready to strike.

“Help!” he screamed, running as fast as he could. “Somebody, help! Look out! Run!”