Ume confessed to murdering Akane and gave the names of the other students who had been there that night and taken part. In defending themselves, those girls-the ones still alive- had all agreed on one thing, which was that Ume’s confession was one hundred percent true. She had murdered Akane.
So when Ume told the truth about what she had seen that night-the demonic beast that had tried to drown her before being driven off by Hachiro and the others-what else could people think but that she had witnessed their skirmish with the bear and her mind had twisted it into something worse? The girl had admitted to murder and that she’d been unable to sleep, haunted by nightmares and guilt.
“She snapped, I guess,” was how Kara’s father had expressed it.
The police were still calling Jiro’s death a suicide. Hana had jumped off the school roof, but she had been there the night Ume murdered Akane and it seemed obvious that guilt had consumed her and driven her to take her own life. As for Chouku, when questioned, one of Ume’s soccer girls-who had also been present for Akane’s murder-had recalled Chouku saying she thought they should all go to the police and tell the story. They couldn’t prove it, but with that scrap of information, the police suspected that Ume had murdered Chouku as well to protect herself.
No one ever mentioned that Jiro and Chouku had been drained of blood. Hachiro, Miho, Sakura, and Kara had compared notes over the phone, and none of them could recall anyone putting forth a theory as to how Ume was supposed to have killed Chouku. As absurdly unlikely as the official version of that night’s events might be, it was a puzzle in which all of the pieces fit together. The absence of blood in the bodies of two dead teenagers was an extra piece, and the puzzle had no room for it, so the police had discarded it.
The police had told Miss Aritomo, who told Kara’s father, who told Kara, that a black bear had attacked two men on Takigami Mountain and that their dog had killed it. The story had to be either a massive coincidence or an outright lie on behalf of the police, perhaps an attempt to calm fears at the school and in the town.
At first, Kara had been amazed that anyone would accept such a story and chalked it up to the Japanese sense of order, the need to have an explanation for something that was inexplicable. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that the police in American cities and towns also probably concocted stories on a regular basis to set people’s minds at ease. How many times had she seen something on the news about some suspected serial killer, where it seemed the cops had known for ages that the murders were connected and the guy was out there hunting people, but hadn’t bothered warning anyone? Murders went unsolved all the time, and nobody was panicking about killers living among them.
Of course, when the cops back home invented stories to explain something they could not understand, it didn’t involve the supernatural. At least, Kara didn’t think it did.
And then there was Sakura.
Despite Ume’s confession to murder and Sakura’s tale about the girl ruining her sister’s memorial shrine, the police had wanted to press charges against her for assaulting Ume that night. But Sakura’s parents were influential people. Their eldest daughter had been murdered and the police had not had a single suspect, and now the murderess had confessed and their younger daughter-defending her sister’s memory-was to be charged with assaulting the girl who had killed Akane?
Embarrassment and fear of public humiliation had taken their toll. After days of hesitation, the police had dropped the charges.
Incredibly, it was over.
“So, you’re leaving, then?” Kara asked.
Sakura took a long drag on her cigarette, blew a smoke ring, and smiled. “Well, they are. Tomorrow.”
Kara gaped at her. “They’re letting you stay? How did that happen?”
“Easy. I told them I wanted to come home, that the teachers at Monju-no-Chie School expect too much and are too strict. They decided that I would be too free in a public school, that I would get into even more trouble. It really wasn’t that difficult. It isn’t as though they wanted me to come home with them.”
Despite the smile on Sakura’s face when she said this, it gave both girls pause. Kara started to play something soft and slow, not paying any attention to the music or even aware of what song it might be.
This was her moment to say something encouraging or reassuring-something like I wish I could stay with you. But she didn’t want to lie and feared that those words might not be the truth. How could Sakura want to stay? Yes, this was her school, and Miho would be back tomorrow, and in a few days classes would start again. And from Kara’s perspective, leaving would probably mean never seeing Hachiro again. But still…
“Aren’t you afraid?” Kara asked, looking down at the guitar, watching her fingers move along the neck as though she needed to focus in order to play, when really she just did not want to see Sakura’s eyes when she asked the question.
“Of what?” Sakura said. “The curse?”
Kara nodded without looking up.
“A little. But it’s been six days and nothing has happened. The world Kyuketsuki came from is dust now, Kara. You heard what it… she… said. The old darkness, the things people in Japan used to believe in, are nearly all gone. They’re weak things. We don’t know if Kyuketsuki’s curse will really affect us, or if other dark things still exist to do anything about it. You know that story about how these guys caught this giant prehistoric fish that everyone thought had been extinct for thousands of years? Maybe Kyuketsuki’s like that fish, out there alone.”
Sakura paused to puff on her cigarette.
Kara looked up at her. “Maybe. But maybe not.”
Sakura nodded solemnly. “All right. I admit I was scared at first. But nothing’s happened yet. Nothing may ever happen. I’m afraid to be out after dark alone, and I’ll probably be jumping at shadows for my whole life. But I can’t run away when there might not be anything to run from. And all of my friends are here. I don’t have anywhere else I’d rather be.”
Kara played a few more chords, and then her hands went still. She stared out at Miyazu Bay and at the black pines that lined Ama-no-Hashidate. This was truly one of the most beautiful places she had ever seen.
“How have you been sleeping?” Sakura asked.
Kara turned to her, studied her face. “Fine. Really well, actually. No more bad dreams.”
Sakura smiled. “See? No restless nights. No nightmares.”
“You’re trying to get me to stay.”
“Of course. I’ll miss you if you go.”
Kara sighed. “I have to go. It’s all arranged.”
Sakura raised her eyebrows. “You don’t really want to live with your aunt.”
No, she didn’t. But her father had a contract to teach for the school year and could not leave without fulfilling that contract. At first he had planned to do just that, uproot them and take his daughter home. But the school board had expressed their extreme displeasure with the merest mention of that plan, and friends in the U.S. had warned that it could damage his career. So they had decided that Kara would live with her Aunt Julie-her mother’s sister-in Maine until her father completed his contract.
“You know I don’t,” Kara said. “The school year’s almost over back home. In the fall I’ll probably have to repeat this whole year. I won’t even be home with my friends. I’ll be at a high school in the middle of nowhere in Maine, starting all over again.”
“So why are you going?”
Kara watched a sailboat slice the water out on Miyazu Bay and breathed in the cool, pure spring air.
“Because I’m afraid. And my father’s afraid for me.”
“You don’t even know if there’s anything to be afraid of!” Sakura said, stubbing out her cigarette on the top of the stone wall.
Kara glanced at her sharply. “Don’t we?”