A Whisper of Leaves

by Ashley Capes

  “I was afraid. I drove straight here.”

  He shook his head, then gave her a stern look. “If this is a lie...” He pulled a phone and dialled, launching into an explanation as soon as he received an answer. “Yes, Sergeant, get a car over to Ikeda Textile.” He strode from the room.

  Riko took a long drink of water.

  “Is that true?” Daisuke asked. His eyes were wide.

  She nodded, rubbing her eyes. If only she could get into bed already. After a good soak in the bath, just sneak beneath the covers and sleep.

  The journal slapped down on the coffee table. Kiyomi stood and left without a word.

  *

  After dumping the journal in its usual place – she groaned, it had a ‘usual place’ – Riko showered. She filled the tub but didn’t stay long, calling to let Kiyomi know the water was free. Her friend didn’t answer and so Riko checked her bed then crawled beneath the covers. The detective hadn’t called back and Daisuke left; mumbling his goodbye.

  She’d already pulled a shisa from her closet. Her mother sent it along with her that first plane ride, and she’d left it in a cupboard. The little lion-like dog was cute enough, she called him Ozzy, but she didn’t go for the warding off evil spirits aspect back then.

  How things change.

  She put the red figurine on the dresser, facing her bed, his open mouth a frozen roar. Get lost, evil spirits. Would the shisa keep Saburou away? Maybe another omamori would have been good. If it saved her from a death-spirit, surely a yurei was not stronger? Ozzy would have to do.

  “I hope this works, Mum.”

  She clicked the lamp off, her head sinking into the pillow. Dark and warm. She exhaled, stretching her toes. Would sleep even come? Doors were locked. Ozzy was out and Kiyomi home.

  She regulated her breathing until her limbs grew heavy.

  Her dream was awash with pink mist.

  Hiroshi stepped from the mist. He held a hand fan, which he reached out to slap her with. She swatted at him with a white paw – she was the actual Hello Kitty – but he was too fast, no matter how many times she swung her paws, he always ducked and wove, slapping her face.

  He giggled as he danced, the slaps getting harder. Something pressed on her chest, slowing her.

  “That’s enough,” she hissed as she lunged for him, sinking her claws into his neck.

  Riko woke to Kiyomi sitting astride her chest in the grey dark of dawn. “Awake at last?”

  “Huh? Kiyomi?”

  Kiyomi slapped her cheek. “I’m waking you.”

  Riko struggled but her wrists were pinned, Kiyomi’s knees digging in. “Get off me.”

  “Not until you tell me where it is.”

  Wisps of white light leaked from her eyes. On the dresser, beyond Kiyomi’s possessed form, Ozzy faced the wall.

  She drove her knee into Kiyomi’s back but her friend didn’t even blink. Riko hesitated. No, this was just hurting Kiyomi’s body. Saburou himself was untouchable.

  “Given up already?” He grinned with Kiyomi’s face. “If you really want to hurt your friend, try something more fitting, like this.” He leapt from the bed and slammed her head into the dresser, collapsing.

  Riko screamed, shooting upright to a half-sitting position when he woozed back up. Blood streamed down her face from a split in her scalp. “How about another one?” He produced Kiyomi’s pink nail file. “Or maybe if I jam this into her eye?”

  “No! I’ll tell you. Just leave her alone.”

  Kiyomi’s eyes had rolled back beneath the glow. Her head was loose on her neck for a moment, then it straightened and her body moved with purpose, coming around to stand by the bed. “That’s better. I’d hate to waste this one after your trickery in the factory.” He put a hand on her own and squeezed. “It took time to find a way into her, Riko. Longer than Ikeda. She was strong too, but there was a chink. Her fury. She is awfully angry with you.” Again, the smile that wasn’t Kiyomi’s.

  Riko gritted her teeth. “And you’ll leave her too, when I show you the journal?”

  A short nod. “I want only the journal.”

  She slipped from the bed, pulling her loose shirt down as far over her bare legs as it would reach. The burning eyes traced her every move. Riko slid the wardrobe open and moved the basket, pulling the journal free.

  He snatched it from her grasp, flicking through the pages. “Finally.” A frown grew, the deeper he went into the book. He glared up at her. “Some of the pages are stuck together.”

  “It was lying beneath the forest floor.” Riko stepped forward. “Now you can leave her.”

  The journal snapped shut. “No.”

  “I’ll stop you.”

  “How?” He strode to the door.

  Riko leapt after him, pulling Kiyomi’s shoulders back. Saburou spun, dropping the journal to catch her hands. He flung her onto the bed with barely a flick of his wrists. “I think I’ll take her with me.” Then he retrieved the journal and ran for the door. Riko tossed the blankets aside, leapt into her crumpled jeans and stumbled outside.

  Saburou strode toward Kiyomi’s car.

  Riko dashed back inside and grabbed her shoes and bag, then stopped. Kiyomi would have found her keys yesterday. She ran to the kitchen. There. Snatching them from the bench, she sprinted after the ghost, spilling onto the front lawn in time to see Saburou back into her car, smashing in the rear passenger door before roaring onto the quiet road.

  “Bastard.” Riko ran around her car and jumped in, screeching after her hostage friend.

  The road was near to empty this early, Kiyomi’s taillights easy to follow. The ghost sped along the freeway, slipping round the few other vehicles on the road. Before he turned, Riko knew which path he would take.

  Lake Saiko.

  Several times he tried to lose her, by slamming the brakes on and faking turns, but she kept her distance and matched his pace. Light grew in the sky, and by the time she closed in it was full light. He’d pulled up in the car park, running for the hiking trail. Riko squeezed her shoes on and charged after him.

  Did he know how to find Hiroshi’s tree? Of course he would.

  Kiyomi ran on. Riko breathed hard, pumping her arms. The trees closed in around them. She leapt over a fallen branch, slipping as she landed, but keeping her feet somehow. Saburou was putting more distance between them. At every turn, up every slope, he charged ahead, driving Kiyomi’s body with his unnatural strength. With his jealousy.

  She was too slow. Before each turn, Saburou would slip from sight. By the time she reached the familiar clearing, her legs buckled. She fell to her hands and knees, swearing between gasps.

  He wasn’t even visible anymore.

  Shouting voices forced their way into her ears. She looked up. A group of school kids, girls with high socks and boys with their ties loosened, stood around her. Was she all right? Did she want water? She could use his National Soccer Team bottle if she wanted. A teacher knelt beside her.

  “Ma’am, are you feeling okay?” He surveyed her through his glasses.

  “Yes, I just need to rest.”

  He handed her a water bottle. “Here.”

  She gulped it down and sat back a moment. “I’m sorry to cause a scene. I’m just out of shape.”

  The girls giggled and the teacher shooed them away. “Are you racing the other woman or something?”

  “Is she here?”

  “No. She went off onto one of the trails. She was running quite fast.”

  “She’s pretty strong.” Riko said, taking another drink. “Thank you.”

  He nodded. “I can’t help but notice you don’t have any gear. Have you hiked here before?”

  Her bag was back in the car. She stood. “Yeah, a few times.”

  “All right.” He said the words slowly. “Well, good luck with your friend.
”

  “Thanks.” Riko crossed the picnic area, letting the students’ chatter wash over her. She’d barely taken half a dozen steps when she stopped.

  Hiroshi stood by the water’s edge.

  14.

  White hair caught in the breeze and his shoulders were slumped beneath a green coat. He held no rake and she saw, moving around to stand beside him, that his eyes were misted. He stared across the lake. Did he even notice he was no longer alone?

  “Hiroshi?”

  He turned at her voice and frowned. “You again?” He shook his head. “Don’t know why you’re following me, young lady. If you’re a reporter, well, you’d better stop, and no more lies.”

  “No. I tried to tell you before. I found Makiko’s journal.”

  His face went slack.

  “It was in the woods nearby. Buried.”

  “Makiko?”

  “Yes. She talks about your life together.”

  He took her shoulders. “You have it here?”

  “No. It was stolen –”

  “What?”

  Riko broke his grip. “I tried to give it to you at your house but you didn’t let me. You just lost control.”

  Hiroshi opened his mouth to retort but turned back to the water. “I am sorry about that.” After a moment, he continued, voice quiet. “But I’m finished now anyway.”

  She moved closer. “Hiroshi, we can get it back. I know where it is.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know if you’ll believe me.”

  “Young lady, whoever you are, you’d be surprised what I believe. If you’re serious, I want to know.”

  “My name is Riko.”

  “Very well, Riko. Tell me.”

  She took a breath. “All right. A ghost has it. He took control of my friend Kiyomi and now he’s run off into the forest. I was trying to catch him. But he’s superhuman or something.”

  “Just now?”

  “I think he’s heading for your oak.”

  Recognition flashed in his eyes. “Follow me.” Hiroshi strode off toward the trees, coat flapping. Riko hurried after him, ducking into the chill beneath the twisted branches. Hiroshi took them along a path she’d never used before. Where was Saburou? Behind each tree, beyond every weird hump in the ground, each black opening, was he waiting? Ready to leap out and throttle them? Club her to death with a log?

  Sunlight flickered down to speckle the loam. Her feet stirred earthy scents. Without hiking shoes it was hard work, but she managed to keep up with Hiroshi. And thankfully, there was probably no chance of meeting the death-spirit again, not in the morning, in the light of day. “What did you mean, before, about being finished?”

  He stopped. “I’ve been searching for her journal for years. I think she hid it from me. In shame.”

  “She wrote about you with a lot of love.”

  Hiroshi pressed his lips together. “This ghost. It is Makiko’s first husband, isn’t it? Saburou?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bastard.”

  “What’s he going to do with the journal?”

  “Keep it from me.” Hiroshi looked into the trees and his voice softened. “She felt guilty but there was no betrayal, I told her so many times. He died in the war; it was years before we met. She was too hard on herself.”

  Riko nearly reached for his hand. Her suicide had obviously gutted him. What was left for Hiroshi now? His whole life had changed. Was there only obsession? The gathering and burning of her possessions? Didn’t it hurt, to do that to things she’d once touched? “Surely she loved you more? The love of an adult, not the whimsy of a teenager?”

  He glanced at her before starting off again. “Perhaps.”

  A small fire burned clear beneath his tree. No sign of Saburou. Damn him, what had he done with Kiyomi? Hiroshi deserved the journal and Riko needed her friend alive and well; who knew what taint the ghost would leave?

  “Not here,” Hiroshi said. “But he’ll be close.”

  “Did he leave a trail?” Riko turned a slow circle. The taste of ash lay heavy on the air. Leaves fluttered to the floor.

  “Not that I see, but I’m watching.” He strode to the trunk and took up his rake.

  Riko met his gaze. “He’s using my friend’s body.”

  Hiroshi nodded but said nothing.

  Squawking broke the hush. Two birds bickered above her then burst from the foliage in a mess of leaves and feathers. Riko sidestepped to track them, but stopped. Something large rested in the higher branches.

  An odd shape. Dark, darker than the bark around it and resting...no, attached to the tree. A growth? Some massive bunch of fruit? She squinted. Saburou hiding up there in some sort of cloak? No. Something else.

  Riko reached for the lowest branch.

  “Don’t.” Hiroshi strode over to her. “It’s not safe for Makiko.”

  “What?”

  He gestured to the tree and the raked grass. “Do you know what I do here?”

  “The rangers said you were burning her possessions.”

  “It’s more than that.” He chuckled. “I must sound like a crazy man.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ve been coming here for thirty years. First with Makiko and later...only to visit. Just to see the tree and sit and remember. We used to hike Saiko and once, we left the trail. I didn’t care to, truly, but Makiko was curious. You know about Aokigahara.”

  She nodded.

  “Well, we didn’t find anything but this beautiful old oak.” He rested a hand against the bark. “Makiko loved it and so we came back every anniversary. But once she was gone...”

  Riko looked to a pile of ash. “You started burning her things?”

  “That was later.” He said. “Her blue headscarf first. I was going to tie it to a branch. But I had a vision of burning it beneath the tree. So I set the scarf aflame and when it was burnt, I covered what little ash was left in leaves and returned home. Makiko sent the vision, I realised later.”

  Riko kept her voice gentle. “You burnt a lot.” In a way, Hiroshi had become a deer. A sudden movement or loud noise might break the spell, might chase his memories away. Even the frown lines in his face had eased.

  “Clothes, books, jewellery, furniture. Even a television.” He smiled. “That took some doing. But I burnt everything I could find, anything she’d owned. Each time I went home, I had a vision of something else she wanted me to burn.”

  “So she was erasing herself?”

  He shook his head, and his eyes burned. “No, girl. The opposite. She was collecting herself for me. For the future.”

  “Collecting?”

  “In this place. Everything about her.” Hiroshi gripped the rake. “Everything but the journal. I searched and searched and after everything it was buried in the forest – it was this close for so long!”

  “You couldn’t know.”

  “But I should have.”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  “For the last couple of years her messages have been cloudy. I’ve been guessing.”

  “Oh.” Riko glanced around the clearing. Still no sign of Kiyomi. “How does it work?”

  He smiled now. “Easy. Our tree catches the smoke. Absorbs it right into the leaves and the bark. Still believe me?”

  “Ah –”

  “I didn’t notice with the scarf, but later I saw. And when the leaves fell that autumn, I raked them up and burnt them too. Every year I do it. I have to make sure each part of her stays in the tree until the right time.”

  Riko looked to the oak. It did sound crazy. But then, no crazier than a ghost with flaming eyes or a journal that stalked her or anything else that had happened. Somehow, it made sense, what Hiroshi said. But what she really wanted to know was why Makiko chose her? “The first time I saw this place, it
was smoke I followed. It led me here.”

  “It must have been Makiko. Not all the smoke feeds in anymore. It’s nearly full. Look.” He moved over to point up to the large shape high in the branches. Riko felt her eyes widen. It did have the vague shape of a woman. Not unlike the carvings Hiroshi had made, only now curled, long hair flowing. And it was growing from one of the branches, like a giant piece of fruit. A human fruit.

  Makiko.

  Waiting to be reborn.

  “But...”

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

  Riko could only nod.

  “It’s taken years and years to get this close. If I could just burn the journal, she’d finally come back. It’s the last piece, I know it. It has her heart, her soul within – her writing. Her most private thoughts. The missing piece.”

  “She’ll be resurrected, whole?”

  He nodded. “For now her spirit is trapped. Saburou must have some hold on her or she would have returned already. Or maybe it’s me, tying her to the earth?” He thumped the rake on the grass. “But it’s nearly over now. With the journal I can finish it.”

  “But how do we stop Saburou?”

  “There’ll be an opportunity. He wants to gloat.”

  “I don’t want Kiyomi to get hurt.”

  Hiroshi’s face hardened. “I’m not making promises, girl. If your friend is possessed, who knows what’s been done to her? Might never be the same.”

  She caught his arm. “Well she’s alive now.”

  A figure stepped into the clearing. “Yes, for now she is alive.” Saburou stood with the journal in hand, wisps of light still seeping from Kiyomi’s eyes.

  15.

  Hiroshi pointed with his rake. “Give me her journal, Saburou. You had your time.”

  “And you yours. I’ve watched you for years, old man, waiting for my chance. Doing whatever I could to disrupt this sick ritual.” He paced the edge of the clearing. “But you will keep her from me no more.”

  Riko moved closer to Hiroshi. “She’s rejected you, hasn’t she, Saburou?”

  “That has yet to be decided.” He raised the journal. “But I have the last piece of her. I’ve made certain of that. It is a precious, glorious gift, to see her words.”