The Night Parade (4 page)

“Looks like she's a little shy, Yuko,” a boy said to the loud girl. “Come on, just a step or two? Be a good sport, Maeda.”

That name…Maeda was the name of the girl at the grave cleaning. In a town so small, it must have been the same girl.

A plastic bag crinkled, and another boy said something about potato chips, but Saki wasn't listening anymore. Instead, she was squinting to see if she could make out a clear reflection in the window glass.

“I'm sorry. I told you, I have to get back to the fireworks.” Maeda's voice was so small, Saki wasn't sure she'd heard half the sentence.

“But we're all going to a concert in Ota tomorrow, so we'll miss all the dancing. You should show us what it looks like now,” the girl called Yuko continued. She seemed to be the leader of the group. She had the same sneer in her voice as Hana when she'd locked on to a target.

“Oh, please. We won't tell anyone,” the second girl added. She was less noisy than Yuko, but her voice was twice as shrill.

The two boys in the group shifted and started talking in low tones. They were snickering. In the watery reflection of the store window, Saki could see the hem of the same gray dress Maeda had worn that morning. She'd been right; it was the same girl.

“Jeez, I give up,” said the second girl. “She's never gonna do it.”

A moment after she spoke, the girl gave a yip of pain, as if someone had elbowed her into silence. Yuko was beginning to resemble Hana more and more.

“I'm not asking you,” Yuko said. “I wanna see you dance, Maeda. We all do.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“So do I.”

“There's nobody here. Relax.”

Saki took one step sideways to get a better view. As her foot settled on the floor, a burst of music sprang from her pocket. Her message tone. Of all the terrible times… In the reflection in the glass, the village kids turned to look at Saki for the first time since she'd come in. It was too late to disappear. Saki buried her nose behind her phone screen, pretending to be busy looking at the message Hana had just sent.

The employee behind the counter didn't even stir when the village kids came over to her. Panic fluttered in Saki's chest. If she took too long, her parents would know that she wasn't really looking for her jacket. But if she ran away now, she'd look like a baby. Whatever happened, she didn't want to be in Maeda's position. All she'd wanted was a few minutes alone in an air-conditioned convenience store. Why did it have to come to this?

“Hey,” one of the boys called out to her.

Saki didn't turn. She kept her gaze focused on the phone screen.

“Hey,” he said again. “Are you one of the kids from up the hill?”

After the second question went unanswered, Saki felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see a girl with bright blond highlights.

“Hey, we asked you a question. You're not from around here, right?” The voice belonged to the girl named Yuko. Over Yuko's shoulder, Saki could see Maeda wedged into the corner of the store, holding a bottle of unpurchased tea. Saki took a deep breath.

“Sorry, didn't hear you,” she lied. “But yeah, I'm visiting my grandma.”

Yuko leaned forward until her nose was uncomfortably close to Saki's face. “She's the old lady who lives up the hill, like, by the graveyard, right?”

Now was the perfect opportunity for Maeda to slip away. To Saki's increasing frustration, the other girl did nothing but huddle in the corner. If she was going to be such a doormat, she deserved the treatment she was getting. Yuko noticed Saki's gaze.

“Oh, you know Maeda?”

Saki shrugged and tried to look elsewhere. “Not really.”

“That's weird,” Yuko said. “Because Maeda told me she knows you. She said you were a stuck-up city girl from Tokyo.”

Maeda stirred from her spot in the corner. “I never said that. Don't confuse me with you, Yuko.”

The spark of fire that had gathered in Maeda's eyes was soon extinguished by a withering gaze from Yuko.

“Anyway,” Yuko continued, “I don't think you're like that. I'm glad we could run into you. I'm Yuko.” She smirked and tilted her head up. The other village kids watched like a pack of hungry dogs.

Saki had no choice. If she was going to survive the next few days in the village, she didn't want a girl like Yuko against her. She smiled back.

“I'm Saki.”

“So, what's it like?” Yuko asked.

“What's what like?”

“The graveyard! At night when nobody's around, do weird things happen or what?”

The village kids moved in closer, and Maeda was forgotten. Yuko and her friends blocked Saki's view. Either way, she had problems of her own. The village kids seemed to think she was interesting, but whether that was a good or a bad thing, Saki couldn't tell.

Saki shrugged. She'd never felt the urge to go sniffing around after dark. “I don't know. No one goes in at night.”

“Lame,” said the second girl in Yuko's group. “I want to see ghosts.”

“You can't see ghosts,” a boy replied. “They're invisible.”

Saki shifted her weight. They may have been delinquents, but kids like Yuko and her friends would know how to get out of the village to someplace more fun. “It's probably not half as cool as other places you've gone.”

Yuko gave her a sly look. “You busy tonight, Saki?”

It was exactly the opportunity she'd been looking for. Saki brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to keep cool. “I've got some stuff to do, but…”

“What are you doing right now?” Yuko said.

“Like, right this second?” Saki froze. This wasn't part of the plan.

“Yeah.”

“Talking to you…?”

The town kids looked at one another. One of the boys stifled a laugh. Saki tried not to smile, because Yuko didn't take well to the joke. She was losing points fast. Hana had always liked her ego stroked…Yuko couldn't be all that different.

“What did you have in mind?” Saki asked.

From the wicked smile on Yuko's lips, this was a more satisfying response.

“We want to go see that graveyard,” said Yuko. “We've been talking about it forever, but now we have the perfect chance. That old lady almost never leaves.”

“Wait a minute.” Saki held up a hand. “Can't we go someplace…I don't know…cooler? It's just a bunch of old rocks.”

Yuko didn't bat an eyelash to Saki's suggestion. “We all decided. If you don't want to come, that's your business.”

“No, I'll do it.” Saki had learned from Hana that saying no to girls like Yuko was never easy. And if they went up there and made a mess… “We just have to keep quiet, okay? My grandma's house is right down the road, so if anyone hears us, we're done for.”

Yuko gave her a flat look. “Uh, duh. That's why we're going while they're all down here. Honestly, we're not going to
do
anything. We just want to check it out. Nobody around, when all the ghosts are supposed to come out… We could have a séance or something.”

The second girl in the group shivered. “Ooh, freaky.”

Yuko slapped Saki on the shoulder. “I knew we could count on you. Tokyo girls aren't wimps. We just have to grab some of our stuff, okay? Wait for us by the gate in ten minutes.”

“All right.” Saki did her best to play it cool, though a sick anxiety began to creep into her stomach. “See you then.”

The other kids gave tacit good-byes as Yuko led them all out of the convenience store. They struck up another conversation on their way out, but Saki couldn't catch a word. She'd held up well against Yuko, better than she ever did against Hana. If she played her cards right and showed them she wasn't scared, they might invite her to that concert tomorrow. Ota wasn't much of a city, but it was better than four days stuck with her family in Grandma's crusty old house.

Maeda moved out of the corner. She'd been waiting in the store the entire time with her bottle of tea. She came up the aisle, her shoulders squared. Her face was impassive, but she gripped the plastic bottle so hard that it bent out of shape.

Saki wasn't sure how to greet her. She opened her mouth, but Maeda spoke first.

“I hope you realize that they're not trying to be your friends.”

Saki closed her mouth and turned away. She didn't need a lecture from a doormat. “Better than being their target. Besides, I don't need friends. I have friends in Tokyo. I just need people to hang out with for a few days so I don't die of boredom.”

“And that's exactly how they see you. You're just a passing attraction to them. A toy. If you're leaving anyway, why do you care so much about what people think of you?”

“What about you? You don't have any pride. Why would you just stand there and take that? No wonder they don't respect you.”

“I don't want their respect; I just want them to leave me alone. One person's opinion isn't the end of the world,” Maeda said. “But maybe Tokyo people do things differently.”

“Yeah, it must be because we're all stuck up.”

Maeda tried to break in, but Saki wouldn't let her.

“And in case I didn't make it clear before, I don't need any more of your help. I can take care of myself.”

In a huff, Saki stormed out of the convenience store, leaving Maeda behind at the magazine rack. She walked fast and didn't even take out her phone to light the path. There was no way she would let Maeda catch up. Saki didn't think she could stand the sight of that ugly gray dress for one more second. Some country girl had no right to spread rumors about her. Saki gritted her teeth as she stomped down the road to the base of the hill.

The festival would go on for another hour at least. Her mother would spend most of the time browsing and chatting with the other families. Her father would have more than enough to do among the locals, reminiscing about their childhoods. She didn't know what Jun would get up to, but it would likely be noisy enough to keep Grandma after him all night.

They'd never even miss her.

The village kids were late. Saki waited at the foot of the hill in the shadow of a tree so she wouldn't be seen from the road. Insects buzzed in her ear, and the anticipation in the air made her sweat more than the muggy summer heat. She had a constant, gnawing sense of being watched by something just behind her. It was the same foreboding she'd felt on the path down from the shrine. But no matter how many times she turned around, there was never anything there.

Where
were
they? She considered bailing, but after she'd gone to all the trouble of sneaking away, she couldn't just go back. For all she knew, this was the only chance she had to impress them. She wouldn't give Maeda the satisfaction of being right.

Saki waited for almost twenty minutes before her resolve faltered. As she turned to leave, a quartet of voices came laughing up the road. The village kids' silhouettes moved between the trees as they wielded their phones as flashlights. None of them seemed to notice her until they were right in front of the gate, shining the bright light into her eyes.

“I was starting to think you guys wouldn't come.” Saki had a sharper remark ready, but she kept her temper in check as she squinted against the phone lights.

The tallest boy took a step up the hill toward the graveyard. “Come on, then. Let's do this.”

Saki trailed behind and tried to keep the annoyance from showing on her face. She pretended to smile, but her pride stung every time they burst into laughter over a joke she was never in on.

At the flat part of the hill, the headstones gleamed in the moonlight, fresh from the morning cleaning. Offerings lay spread out on each family grave. The heavy scent of incense still lingered in the air as the group fanned out on the main path.

“Whoa, this place is totally creepy,” the tall boy said, awe in his voice as he snapped a quick photo. “It's like the ghosts are going to pop out at any second. Check this stuff out!”

The other boy in the group inspected the offerings. “This is still good to eat, right?”

“Ew.” Yuko scrunched up her face. “That stuff's been out in the sun, and bugs have probably crawled all over it.”

“Gross!” the second girl squealed. “I dare you to do it.”

Saki struggled for what to say without telling Yuko off. She still hadn't forgiven them for keeping her waiting, and if anything happened to the graveyard, Saki's family would be the ones to clean it up. “If they're offerings, I don't think we should eat them. Didn't you promise that we weren't going to mess anything up?”

Four pairs of eyes sized her up.

“I mean, what if they curse us or something, right?” Saki added.

“Exactly,” Yuko agreed. Such a quick response was the last thing that Saki had expected. “Just shut up and remember the plan, okay?”

The boys stifled their laughter and hushed one another. Saki certainly didn't remember hearing about any “plan.” She pursed her lips and kept close to Yuko. That way, she could keep an eye on all of them.

The village kids combed over the graveyard, whispering in conspiratorial tones.

“If the Obon stories are true, that means we probably have a hundred ghosts watching us right now,” said the tallest boy.

Yuko snorted, and the second girl shivered, hunching her shoulders. Saki's eyes darted from the village kids to the trees beyond. How long before her parents realized she was missing?

Yuko slapped her on the back. “You scared already, Tokyo?”

“N-no.” Saki bit her tongue to curb the stutter in her voice. “I'm not scared.”

“Is that so?” From her bag, Yuko took a rolled-up sheet of paper. She looked at Saki the way a cat would look at a goldfish. “If you're not scared, we should play a game.”

The other village kids huddled close. Yuko propped up her phone and unfurled the paper to show a circle full of words and characters. The center had numbers from zero to nine, along with the words
yes
and
no
. In a circle around the center, each character of the alphabet was written in heavy black lines.

“We're going to play Kokkuri-san?” Saki asked, raising a brow.

“It's just a little fun,” one of the boys said.

“Isn't that a kids' game?”

Hana and her other friends had talked about it before. The players summoned a ghost to answer their questions, like who they would marry or what day they would die. It didn't seem like fun, least of all with a group of delinquent village kids.

“If you're bored, you can leave.” Yuko turned up her nose and turned her back, boxing Saki out of the group.

Saki swallowed and sidestepped until she was a part of the circle again. “Fine. But I've never played before.”

“You don't have to do anything. The ghosts do all the work,” teased the tall boy.

Yuko stuck out her tongue at him. “The rules are easy. We just have one special one for tonight.”

The village kids exchanged glances. From the looks of it, none of them had heard about the special rule before either.

“What are you talking about?” the second boy asked.

“The penalty, of course,” said Yuko. “The first one to get scared has to do a penalty.”

“Wicked,” the boy replied with a nod of appreciation.

“Ooh, Yuko, that's such a good idea,” the other girl cooed.

The penalty would be decided by a vote at the end of the game. Yuko and the others discussed the prospects with sadistic enthusiasm as they stole glances Saki's way. None of them expected to lose. Why not have a little fun with the new girl? Maeda's words at the convenience store wouldn't stop repeating in her head, but before Saki could open her mouth to protest, the others were all settling down around the fortune paper.

They sat in a circle on the path at the center of the graveyard. Saki ended up sitting opposite Yuko, framed in the shadows of the old temple building. The tall boy to Saki's right took out a pencil and handed it to Yuko, who placed it at the center of the paper.

“Everyone puts a hand on the pencil. Even a few fingers will work,” she explained. Her gaze was aimed at Saki. All of the other kids nodded along, already familiar with the rules. “We each take turns asking a question. You can ask anything you want.”

“Just not something dumb,” said the shorter boy.

“Well, that leaves out all your questions,” the other boy replied.

Saki forced herself to smile as everyone else laughed, but her heart wasn't in it. The whole idea of the game was dumb. Why even bother playing if they'd already decided she would lose?

“You got it?” Yuko asked.

Saki nodded. She put her hand in first and grabbed the base of the pencil. She wasn't going to let them walk all over her. If she was going down, she would go down with a fight.

“No problem,” she answered.

A bit of respect flickered across Yuko's face. She curled her fingers around the eraser end, and the others joined them.

Yuko closed her eyes, and the village kids followed suit. Saki left her eyelids open a crack, enough to see the pencil, the board, and the wrists of anyone who tried cheating.

“Kokkuri-san, Kokkuri-san, please descend.” Yuko's even tones lifted into the night air.

The pencil moved, but Saki knew one of the boys was only trying to mess with them. She had her grip on the base, so she could tell when one of the others was pushing or pulling. They'd have to try harder than that if they wanted to scare her.

“Kokkuri-san,” Yuko continued, “please descend and show us the truth.”

The wind tugged at Saki's clothes and hair. An unseasonal cold crept up through the stones below and settled in her bones.

“If you have descended, give us a sign,” Yuko finished.

The invocation was complete.

All of their eyes snapped open. The tip of the pencil hovered between
yes
and
no
on the fortune paper. For a long time, nothing happened.

A sudden jerk brought the pencil to land on
yes
. The movement happened too quickly for Saki to pinpoint just who had guided the pencil. The town kids were all fixated on the answer, except for Yuko, who stared across the board at Saki. When Saki raised her eyes to meet the gaze, Yuko let her focus drift slowly back down to the board.

Saki didn't like being made the butt of the joke. Yuko and her gang weren't as cool as they seemed to think. In Tokyo, they didn't have to make up such stupid games to have fun. She would show them all that she wasn't going to be played with. From here on out, she would be the one in control.

“Kokkuri-san, when was I born?” Saki asked before anyone else could claim the first question. A small smile curled at the corner of her lips from the bewildered faces of the village kids. None of them would be able to answer. So much for all-knowing spirits.

The pencil glided across the game board, but Saki could feel Yuko moving everything from the top end. The tip of the pencil hovered by the numbers. Instead of watching to see what numbers the pencil pointed to, Yuko's eyes were once again fixed on Saki. None of the others seemed to notice the strange behavior; the pencil and the board had their full attention. Saki glanced back and forth between Yuko and the game.

The tip of the pencil rested on the number five. Saki's stomach did a flip.

Saki tried to shrug off the coincidence. The number five was the closest to the middle, an easy target. Yuko had a one in ten chance of picking a number that would mean anything. She couldn't guess the other two. Saki took a slow breath, keeping her face as neutral as possible. She fixed her eyes on Yuko's wrist. A wrong flick of her glance or unconscious gesture could give away the last two numbers.

The pencil drifted toward the number one. Saki's calm façade crumbled. Heat rose up her neck, and her fingers struggled to keep a firm grasp on the pencil. After lingering for a moment, the tip reversed course and landed on the number four. Saki looked up at Yuko. The other girl stared back at her without a hint of hesitation.

May 14, Saki's birthday, had been mapped out on the board.

“Was that right?” the tall boy asked her.

Saki opened her mouth to lie, but she couldn't make a sound.

The second girl wrapped her free arm around herself. “Ooh, creepy. Let me go next. Kokkuri-san, is anyone here going to die?”

The pencil moved to
yes
before resetting itself in the middle of the board.

The tall boy scowled. “What a stupid question. Everyone dies eventually.”

“Oh no, you're right! Let me ask another.”

Yuko broke eye contact with Saki to stare at the other girl. “No. You are finished.”

Yuko looked around the group, her eyes open just a little too wide. The hair on the back of Saki's neck prickled. No one else spoke as Yuko asked the next question.

“Kokkuri-san, do you sense death around us at this very moment?”

Once again, the pencil pointed to
yes
.

The tall boy opened his mouth, but Yuko cut him off. “Kokkuri-san, who in this circle is closest to death?”

Every second seemed to take minutes. Saki's vision narrowed to the pencil, the board, and Yuko's wide eyes.

The pencil kept moving down the board. Saki broke into a cold sweat, but she never let the pencil out of her grip. It passed out of the outer circle of characters until everyone's hands were dragged to the edge of the paper. A shiver worked up her spine and shook her to the core, but the pencil moved slow and steady. When she thought her chest would burst from the breath she held inside, the pencil came to a stop before Saki.

She pulled her hand back as if she'd been burned. The circle erupted in a flurry of chatter.

“Penalty!” one of the boys called. “You have to do a penalty!”

Saki blinked, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. They all looked so far away, their voices distant and distorted. Had that really happened? No, it had to be a trick.

Yuko smirked and joined in the chants of “Penalty! Penalty!” and the too-wide eyes were gone. It was as if she'd never been acting strangely at all.

The town kids pulled Saki to her feet and away from the game board, deeper into the graveyard. Brooding in the shadows, the old temple loomed at the end of the walkway. The disrepair was hidden by night, but Saki could still feel the age of the building as the wind raked across the yellowed shoji paper and the tiled roof blocked out the light of the moon.

“Your penalty is to go into the main chamber and ring the monk's bell,” Yuko hissed into her ear.

The others nodded their heads, biting back giggles. They watched for her response. Saki didn't give them the pleasure. She kept her mouth closed and her eyes forward. But inside, she shuddered. The game was over, yet she still felt the tip of the pencil pointed toward her.

A death curse
, her fears whispered. That was the price she paid for disturbing the spirits here… She shook her head to clear the ominous thoughts, but they hid in the back of her mind between her fears and doubts. They lurked in the half-seen shadows of the trees that pressed in from the forest beyond the wall.

Her feet climbed the steps, and the wooden staircase teetered under her weight. Yuko and the village kids coaxed her from behind, but over the dreadful beating of Saki's heart, their voices were no louder than the buzz of the cicadas.

Saki stepped into the open chamber. A gust of wind at her back slammed the doors shut. She froze. She didn't dare turn her head. She took her phone out of her pocket with shaking hands. It cast a meager glow, not even the span of a full step. The walls glinted with statues and altars cloaked in the darkness that pressed all around. The bell was supposed to be in the very back of the room. If she walked straight from the entrance, she would find it.

One step. One step, then another. It would be fine. It was only an old building…