Chapter Ten, in which I Finally Find Success and Immediately Regret It

* * * *

Just like that, she was gone. I remained fixed in place, staring through the spot where Kijimuta-san had just stood. That was… the end.

Three days with enough uncanny events for a lifetime. There was probably never going to be a day as unusual as the ones I spent with Kijimuta-san. I was probably never going to meet another person like her at all, in fact.

Kijimuta-san’s parents were whispering to one another, but I couldn’t bring myself to listen. They were talking about Kijimuta-san… and Kijimuta-san was gone. Someone I had known so well had just died. No, I had only known her three days. And technically she had died long before I ever met her. But what did any of that matter?

Kijimuta-san was dead. And didn’t I only have myself to blame?

I only wanted to help her. This was what was best for her. She had already died long ago, so meeting me was something that was never supposed to happen in the first place. The time she spent with me in the mansion, and the time she spent inside my head—none of that was everyday reality; it was more like a dream, if anything. Dreams don’t last. They’re ethereal. For such a brief time you think something is happening, but before you know it everything comes to an end, and you realize none of it was ever truly real in the first place.

Yet it still felt real. Would it always feel that way?

* * * *

Eventually Kijimuta-san’s parents spoke with me concerning how I came into contact with her spirit and managed to bring her here. They believed me readily when I explained my being an onmyoji who allowed her to possess me—they did see me as Kijimuta-san after all, presumably due to their close connection with her and perhaps their extensively spirit-focused lifestyle. I kept my story of the past three days as brief as possible, not feeling it in me to try working out what to divulge about Kijimuta-san and what to make up about myself.

“Kijimuta-san should be at peace now,” I said. “You won’t need to worry about her well-being any more than you have.”

“We have so much to thank you for,” the father said. He held his wife’s hand and managed the faintest, the weariest of smiles. “Our daughter had suffered so much… but amid that suffering, you managed to bring her that small happiness we never could give her. She never would have been able to reach us, if you hadn’t been her support.”

“No, I didn’t do anything special. I just happened to be there… Simply did my job.”

The parents stood quietly, and looking into their eyes now I could only imagine just how much they had worried this past year. They had spent months of sleepless nights anxious for the well-being of their daughter’s soul, and I rather doubted much of anything in their lives could have been comfortable while living in a cave. The father surely furnished it with what woodworking skills he had, but there’s only so much he could have done to make the place feel like a home. Not only that, but this location put them so far from the village, their financial position—not to mention their social well-being—had to have become even more precarious than it ever was before.

“We’d love to hear more,” the mother said. “You’re welcome to stay here if you need a place to spend the night.”

It was nice of her to offer, but spending even an hour with Kijimuta-san’s parents felt like too much for me to handle at this time. Not just because of what I knew of their… eccentricities—but I didn’t want to muddle their perception of everything regarding Kijimuta-san’s time as a ghost. Everything had been settled, and it was best to part ways while the mood was amicable.

“Thank you, but I’m afraid I still have work to finish at the mansion. I’ll need to head out if I’m going to get anywhere before it grows too dark.”

The father looked up to the sky a few moments before glancing back toward me without moving his head again. I wasn’t sure if he was gauging what time it was, or if he was simply lost in thought for a minute.

“Good luck, Onmyoji-san,” he said. “If anyone can free that mansion of its terrible curse, it’s you.”

What did he mean by that? Kijimuta-san was no longer in the mansion, and would never haunt anyone again. The old man’s home was cleansed as soon as Kijimuta-san left with me.

But thinking back on the matter, there were those stories the old man and the shrine priest had said concerning the mansion’s ghostly history. Supposedly there had been hauntings off and on for a whole century, but I couldn’t know if any legitimate ghosts were involved or not.

Had there been other spirits in the mansion in the past? And if those spirits had never been successfully dealt with—was it possible they still lingered on in some form to this day? I didn’t like the sound of such a possibility, but it seemed clear that Kijimuta-san was honest about how long she had been trapped in the mansion. She couldn’t have been responsible for any of the events that happened before she died, and if something supernatural about the locale had indeed drawn her there…

“I will do what I can,” I said.

What that would entail precisely, I had no idea. I didn’t know what to think about what I was supposed to do with this newfound knowledge—this possibility that my ghost hunting efforts with the mansion were still incomplete. And I still didn’t know what to think about what I had done in regard to Kijimuta-san. Would I ever be sure if what I did was right?

I needed to be alone.

No, I needed to be less than that. I needed to sleep.

* * * *

Before I bid Kijimuta-san’s parents farewell, I suggested they try to visit her uncle and aunt, noting how they too had been going through the ordeal of losing their daughter all this time. Perhaps it was too much to expect the two families to become close very quickly, but I could at least hope they could begin to support one another a little better.

It was easier to go about your days if someone was around, who cared about anything that was happening to you.

I walked down the mountain path with these thoughts in mind, not certain what would become of Kijimuta-san’s parents, and not certain of what would become of me. Were any of us really going to be okay? It wasn’t like any of us could ever change the fact Kijimuta-san had died, so what was there left to do?

Kijimuta-san’s parents were going to be fine, I realized. Everything had played out the way I hoped—the conflict that lingered between Kijimuta-san and her parents had been settled, and everyone managed to let go of their painful mistakes.

Was I supposed to just move on though? It was the only reasonable advice I could think of, but it didn’t make me feel any better. I had done what was right, but it didn’t make me happy. Of course, none of this was ever about achieving happiness—not for me, nor for anyone else. Just settling issues.

Just another job in a life full of work.

The sun was setting behind me, and though I said I intended to head back to the mansion, I didn’t feel like walking that far after spending the entire day on my feet. And considering what Kijimuta-san’s father said about the mansion, I didn’t feel like finding out if there were still some lingering ghost-related issues to deal with right away.

Upon entering the village once more, I considered returning to Kijimuta-san’s aunt and uncle’s house, since they had offered to let me stay the night if I were still around. It sounded reasonable, particularly from a financial standpoint—but I didn’t feel up to it any more than I felt up to staying with Kijimuta-san’s parents. There would be too much for me to say, too much for me to think about on someone else’s terms.

I continued past the outskirts of the village, only seeing a few people in the distance here and there, but never having to actually interact with anyone. It felt like I was already back to my day-to-day solitary travels. Business as usual.

* * * *

I shivered at the entry to the reclusive inn I had stayed at the night before. This would be the best place for me right now, I reasoned. The inn-keeper beckoned for me to enter, and I wearily pushed my numb feet from my sandals and stepped into the hall.

“Ah, is that Tsunoda-san again?” the inn-keeper said. “Going back and forth, I see.”

I gave a slight nod. “Just how things turned out.”

“Not sure where you’re going?”

The way he worded the question made me pause to think longer than I should have. “I’m… just finished with business. Need somewhere to spend the night.”

“That’s fine,” the small man said. “You can use the same room as before.”

I payed for my night’s stay and brought my pack to the small room I had spent the previous night in. Once my futon was pushed into a tight corner, I crumpled into a ball and pulled the covers tight around my body. I didn’t bother lighting a lamp before settling in; there was nothing for me to do now but sleep.

There’s nothing to worry about when you’re asleep, I always told myself. It was nice to be able to retreat into the empty void each night, to spend a few hours simply not living. Perhaps it was practice for when I would die for good? Dying didn’t seem so terrible, if it meant simply taking a particularly long nap.

I found it difficult to fall asleep right away, however. It had been nearly pitch black outside for a few hours now, thanks to winter’s early nightfall. My body had rarely felt more tired, or my spirit more drained. But considering all that had been finally dealt with, my mind should have felt at ease. Chances were there wasn’t anything left to deal with at the mansion, and I likely would never run into another ghost again. Everything concerning Kijimuta-san was finished. It was time to take a well-deserved sigh of relief and rest easy.

It was just me, my fake job, and the long quiet road—wherever that led me. It was unorthodox, but it was a living. Granted, I never found it the ideal lifestyle to begin with, but life wasn’t throwing any better opportunities my way.

Perhaps an hour passed, and I simply lay there. Staring into the darkness. Trying to keep my mind in as blank a state as possible. I didn’t really want to think anymore. Just needed to sleep.

It wasn’t happening though.

Feeling a little thirsty, I lit a nearby floor lamp and rummaged through my pack for my flask. While downing a few gulps of water, I couldn’t help but notice just how good it felt. Its slick, icy texture coursing down my throat… That’s how she had put it, right?

She was genuinely happy just to have a drink of water. I hadn’t given it much thought then—I was just trying to figure out how to be rid of her—but it was sad to think about now. Even prisoners convicted of terrible crimes got water every day. And she had gone without any for over a year.

I put the water away, and in the process noticed some loose papers among my small number of belongings. I pulled out the nearest sheet and saw it was an ink drawing the spirit had drawn for me. It was Kijimuta-san’s self-portrait, which she had drawn to show me how she looked—well before I got to see her for myself on the boat. She had quickly added a drawing of me as well, the end result being a picture of the two of us holding hands and smiling. At the time she had only been pretending to be lovesick, but in the process of my spending time with her she supposedly felt she really did end up loving me after all.

It was still very bizarre, I felt. But perhaps it wouldn’t have felt that way, had it been anyone other than me. I was slow to feel much of anything.

Perhaps I should have done something differently, somewhere along the way. Did Kijimuta-san really have to leave, after all? It was probably wrong of me to question this now. Kijimuta-san had become a spirit. She would never find peace, rest, or enlightenment in such a state. She would just linger on, the feelings that attached her to this place only to grow worse over time. What I did was not only my job—it was the right thing to do. She needed to move on. All ghosts need to move on; all that awaits them otherwise is more suffering.

It was pointless to worry about it now though. Kijimuta-san was gone, and I had to accept that. And even if Kijimuta-san was still around, it wasn’t like we were ever going to be able to hold hands like this. Or anything at all.

Without another thought, I slid the paper back into my pack. I blew out the light and shut my eyes, hoping I could will myself to sleep as soon as I could.

For a minute I wondered if I would dream of anything. For example, what would have happened if I had met Kijimuta-san when she was still alive? Another pointless thing to think about. Not to mention a moot point to begin with, because I hardly ever had dreams. Or at least, I never had any I cared to remember once I awoke.

But perhaps it would be nice to have a good dream every now and then. Even if it did lead to regret the next morning, when it inevitably came to its abrupt, unwelcome conclusion.

* * * *

Perhaps I had a dream that night, but I couldn’t recall anything that happened. I couldn’t even tell if it was a pleasant dream or not. But now that it was morning, it was time for me to be on my way. I thanked the inn-keeper and headed out the door.

It was a frigid, cloudy morning, and there wasn’t a soul in sight on the trail that would lead me to the old man’s mansion. There was still another day left before he returned, but I needed to see if there was anything left to do to make the premises look as ghost-free as possible. I hoped there weren’t any more major issues left to deal with, though at this point I couldn’t really put anything outside the realm of possibility. Kijimuta-san at least didn’t appear to have any connection with the past incidents that plagued the mansion, so technically the overarching mystery was likely far from solved.

None of it felt relevant now though, or rather I couldn’t bring myself to care. Whatever I did next, where I went from here, however I lived my life—would any of it really compare with all that happened the last few days?

I didn’t even feel any anticipation toward getting paid. That was always a rare event, though admittedly I rarely did anything to celebrate such occasions. I was always reluctant to spend much money, even if I had a decent amount of it for a time. Work was rarely steady; I had to make the money last through the slow times. And it was more often than not a slow time.

It was a bizarre line of work, just as Kijimuta-san said. She had been quite insistent that I wasn’t an average person because of it. And considering all I had to do recently, perhaps her claim was entirely legitimate.

I didn’t want to think about Kijimuta-san though. Or perhaps I did—but there was no use to it. I would only wonder if there was something more I should have done. Something I should have said. Something that could have… made things play out a bit differently. Was there any other ending anyone was hoping for, though? I helped the ghost find peace. Everything ended just fine. Just the way everyone wanted.

And yet something didn’t feel right. It was as if I had forgotten something important, and it was already too late to do anything about it. Was there anything else I could have helped Kijimuta-san with before she left? It wasn’t like she needed to give her post-mortal regards to anyone else in the village. She was hardly close to anyone at all.

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Perhaps that’s what I felt was amiss. It was such a small village, but there were so few who cared about Kijimuta-san at all. How many people mourned her passing? Perhaps nobody at all, save for her parents. All this time she had lingered on as a ghost, and there was nobody else who tried to reach out to her. It was sad she had to come up with such elaborate, ridiculous plans just to get somebody to care about her at all. When she roped me into her schemes, I hadn’t really cared at all for her predicament. Perhaps I should have.

And if I had, perhaps things could have played out differently. But again, what other outcome could either of us have hoped for?

My thoughts returned to that picture Kijimuta-san drew. It was little more than a joke at the time, but there clearly must have been some truth to her desire to have somebody else in her life. Maybe she did have one particular attachment—her anguished relationship with her parents—which had kept her lingering on as a ghost, but she was still a human being with her own regular attachments in the meantime. She still genuinely wanted to have that nonsensical date with me.

And she never took back what she told me on that boat, either.

Was it true though?

Did she actually love me?

* * * *

I stood at a crossroad near the outskirts of the village, a frigid breeze whistling through the barren branches reaching above me. My mind had turned hollow, and it took me a few minutes to decide what direction I was supposed to take. I felt reluctant to head back to the mansion straightaway, but I also felt unsure about walking through the village again. I found myself walking toward it however, as if I were being guided there. Just as I had been before.

It really was just me wandering aimlessly, however. I still had complete control of myself, and I simply felt like walking this direction on a whim. And to follow that up with another whim, I ended up turning to the same side path I took two days ago, not long after I went ice skating.

I walked through the torii gate leading to the village’s hidden shrine, not certain why I was bothering. I wasn’t exactly the pious type, but showing a little devotion to the kami seemed warranted after dealing so extensively in spiritual matters. For all I knew I had received all sorts of divine assistance with my first actual ghost hunting, and perhaps this was a sign I needed to start heeding the spirits of the world a little more in general.

I repeated the rituals I had gone through with Kijimuta-san, but found it difficult to pin down how I felt through it all. Bowing at the gate, cleansing my hands and mouth, ringing the gong, and leaving with a fervent series of bows and claps… None of it seemed to matter any more than it ever had before. Did my experience with Kijimuta-san really change anything? Perhaps everything I had gone through was just a random interlude that had nothing to do with the rest of my life in general. I was just going to go back to scraping by for a living, and would likely never deal with an actual ghost again.

Just how real was my time with Kijimuta-san? Did any of it matter at all in the end?

When I turned around to leave, I found myself staring face-fo-face with the priest. He had snuck up behind me again, just as he had the last time I was here.

“Good morning,” the young man said with a blank face. “You’re here earlier than I anticipated.”

“Did you expect a return visit?”

“I cooked some of my award-winning soup for you, did I not? It was only a matter of time before you returned, hungry for more.”

I wasn’t sure how serious he was about that. “Only passing through, actually.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Just heading north for business.” I decided to be vague.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re in a hurry,” the priest said. He leaned his head toward a wooden bench nearby. “Rest your weary feet a bit. A traveler like yourself must have an interesting tale to tell.”

“I’m not a storyteller,” I said.

The priest walked over to the bench and sat down. “Not a problem. Just say whatever you wish. Doesn’t have to be long. In return, I will importune the gods to heal your troubled heart.”

I frowned, a bit worried he somehow knew more about my situation than he was letting on. This sort of feeling had crept up on me last time I was with him, I recalled.

The priest looked up at me and smirked. “Everyone is troubled in some way. It’s not just you.”

So he was only speaking generally. I set my pack to the side of the bench and sat down beside him. We kept our gaze toward the trees, snow, and mountains, our view only obscured by the short-lived clouds we breathed into the still and frigid air.

I wondered if there was something I could ask this priest. Though he said before he wasn’t the best one to ask about ghosts, he at least had to have a grasp on spirit-related matters. It felt bizarre to ask him questions about Kijimuta-san though. And besides, what was there to ask at this point? Is there a way to bring her back? Absolutely ridiculous. Even if it were possible, such an action would undo everything we had struggled through these past few days.

The priest spoke up in that calm voice of his. “Do you like the winter, Traveler-san?”

“No more than any other season. I don’t have an opinion on it.”

“Most people do not like the winter. I believe it’s nice though. It’s quiet and peaceful. The earth puts on a soft white blanket and takes a nap for a season.”

“Where do blizzards fit into this?”

The priest cast a glance toward me for a moment, but maintained his stoic posture while doing so. “The analogy is not perfect. I have never been much of a poet.”

“Most people aren’t.”

Most people aren’t a lot of things. Like ghost experts.

The thought made me steer the conversation in that direction. “The last time I spoke with you, you told me about a haunted mansion. I’ll probably be passing by there on my way north.”

“Is that so?” the priest said. “Be sure to say hello to my older sister, if you happen to pass by her. She left a little while ago to head to that very mansion.”

I nearly choked on my own breath. This information presented a bit of an issue, considering nobody was at the mansion right now. But there was presumably nothing haunting it anymore, right? So there hopefully wasn’t much to worry about, save for a wasted day of traveling.

“You said before she liked ghost stories?” I asked.

“Yes, she has a great interest in such things. She is always communing with the kami and looking for people to help whenever spirits might be involved.”

“She wants to find out more about the mansion then? You said there was an incident fifty years ago, when a shrine maiden was killed there. There was bloody writing on the walls, right?”

“So the story goes, and now my sister has heard that same sort of bloody writing has resurfaced once more.”

“Are there any other stories about the mansion you can verify?”

The priest held up his hands to the side. “Stories are stories, but if you are interested I can at least share one other incident which is tied to my family line.”

With a nod I encouraged him to go on.

The priest clasped his hands on his lap and hunched forward slightly. “The building has been haunted for over a century. My great-grandfather Mishima Takumi and his brother Ichiro—they were both priests, back when this shrine was a bit more lively—they went to the mansion to cleanse it of impure spirits. These spirits were quite abnormal though, so when my ancestor’s efforts proved unsuccessful, a traveling onmyoji was hired to assist them.

“Together, the three managed to dispel the evil spirits. But unfortunately at the final moment of their ritual, the onmyoji had to—or perhaps chose to—ensure the complete sealing of the spirits through the use of an especially dangerous technique. My great-grandfather died in the process.”

“What did the onmyoji do, exactly?”

“I’m not certain. Onmyoji do use techniques that share some similarities with those found from our shrines,” the priest explained, “but their power stems from connections they’ve made with spirits, rather than the divine system instituted by the kami. I can’t say much more than that though. As I mentioned before, I’m not the expert on these matters. You’d be better off asking my sister.”

“I see. But the end result was a purified mansion, though at the cost of your great-grandfather.”

“Yes, and it is possible the onmyoji orchestrated events in that manner. According to the story I was told, the onmyoji was an untrustworthy man who took great pride in his own power and abilities. He may have wanted my great-grandfather and uncle to die so he could take all the glory in defeating such powerful yurei.”

“You acknowledge your story might not be accurate?”

“It’s all in the past now,” the priest said, with what might have been a hint of sadness. “But this unfortunately brought about an even greater tragedy for the family. My great-grandfather’s brother went on to kill the onmyoji in revenge. And then he killed himself, afflicted as he was for such a dishonorable act committed in pure rage.”

“That…” I had to think a moment for what I wanted to point out. “That sounds like everyone involved… died. How does anyone know this story?”

The priest looked at me, his face unflinching. “He became a yurei himself, leaving dozens of bloody messages on the mansion walls.”

So people died, a suicide took place, and then a vengeful spirit wrote a series of messages in blood. The similarities with Kijimuta-san’s passing all jumped out immediately. A family element was at play in both situations as well, it seemed.

“A sad ending,” I said.

“Ghost stories tend to have unhappy endings. I take it you like ghost stories, Traveler-san?”

“I do have an interest in them. But did your great-grand uncle ever find peace?”

“It is hard to say. There have been many stories of tragedy at that mansion, but no way to know which ones are true—and which of the true ones are the cause of ghosts, if any.

“Your sister believes something has happened recently though with a ghost?”

“Supposedly the man who currently lives at the mansion has had such a grievance,” the priest said. “My sister was eager to investigate as soon as she confirmed the possibility, unfortunately, and was adamant I stay behind to do what I could for her here at the shrine. If you really wish to speak with her I would suggest you simply wait with me for her to return here, but knowing my sister… Chances are you would have to wait a fairly long time.”

“Why’s that?”

“I think I mentioned it before, but my sister has no sense of direction. She gets lost really easily. I wouldn’t be surprised if it took her all day just to find the mansion.”

That was pretty harsh for a priest to say, but it was actually somewhat good news. There was a chance I could get to the mansion before her, since she supposedly left not that long ago.

“I do have a number of ghost-related questions,” I said.

“She will be the one to ask then,” the priest said. “But are all your questions strictly related to ghosts? I imagine there is at least one thing you can still ask me.”

There was a question that immediately came to mind, but was it all right for me to ask it? I had never spoken to anyone before about the things that troubled me, if excluding instances with my parents when I was much younger.

The priest smiled and closed his eyes for a moment. “Is there someone you are worried about?”

I decided to give him at least one question, since he seemed so eager to help in what manner he could. “If someone says she loves you, but just ends up leaving you… did she ever really love you?”

The priest stared out at the silent world in front of him. It looked like he was pondering over my question, so I let him do his thinking in peace. What seemed like a few minutes passed, and still he maintained that nearly meditative, motionless pose—his back straight, his arms folded, his eyes seemingly never blinking.

At last he turned to me and gave the calmest, wisest smile his face could have even conjured up.

“Sorry, could you repeat the question?”

Did he seriously not hear me? Or was this just another one of his jokes?

I decided to be blunt. “A woman said she loved me, but now she’s gone. I was wondering if she meant what she said.”

“Why did she leave?”

I didn’t want to explain everything that happened, but I didn’t feel like I should lie about anything either.

“She just… had to. It was the right thing for her to do.”

“According to whom?” The priest’s expression still looked slightly bemused.

“According to how things are supposed to be. The very nature of human existence. Life.”

“Who the hell are you?” the priest asked. “You fancy yourself an expert on this sort of thing?”

I had no words. On one hand it seemed the priest understood far more than he had ever hinted at, but at the same time this whole conversation felt entirely disjointed. What was the priest saying?

What did he mean?

“I’m… not really an expert on anything,” I finally said.

“Maybe this woman didn’t just leave,” the priest said. “Maybe she left you. For what reason, I can not say. But it does not have to be because she wanted to.”

Of course. She had said she loved me, but I never truly reciprocated any such notion. After all… she was a ghost. There was no reason to fall in love with a ghost.

Just like there was no reason for a ghost… to fall in love with me.

I stood up. “I have to go find an expert.”

“Leaving already?” the priest asked.

“Important business to take care of,” I said. “But first, I never did learn your name. Or your sister’s name.”

“I am known by many names: Village Kannushi, Wonder Chef, and Shamisen Hero. My sister is Akita Mizuki.”

“Akita-san,” I repeated the family name. With a bow I added a thank you and took my leave immediately.

“Remind my sister she’s in charge of dinner tonight if you see her,” the priest said as I quickly walked down the path. By the time I reached the torii gate I heard loud and raucous music emanating a ways behind me. I turned around to find the priest standing up on the bench, strumming as furiously and frantically as possible on a shamisen. Where did this instrument come from? Did he have it under the bench in advance? He swayed left and right, forward and back, hardly ever in harmony with the music—if it could really be called music in the first place.

I turned back and took off, gradually propelling myself from a jog to a sprint. Perhaps the delirious music had simply been the priest’s way of encouraging me. Somehow… it seemed to work.

I had to get to the mansion right away, and speak with the shrine maiden.

If I was ever going to hear Kijimuta-san’s voice again, I needed a ghost expert.

* * * *