Chapter 14

A scream trapped in my throat, I grip the edge of the windowsill and lean into the night, watching as Gwen plummets from the skyscraper, bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle a shriek. As she falls, her fingers smooth away her face, leaving only blankness; her body drifts apart into mist, disappearing into blackness.

It wasn’t really her.

But try telling that to my heart, which is beating so hard and fast it’s skipping beats. I fall to my knees, clutching my forehead, fighting Yukimi’s grip on my mind.

I snarl at myself. “Get out of my head!”

No need to shout, she whispers.

With a sudden relief of pressure inside my skull, Yukimi leaves me. I crouch, panting, a splitting headache thudding behind my temples. Snow swirls into the bedroom on the wind, carrying a wisp of mist that may or may not be a piece of the defeated ghost. I hold my breath, waiting for it to reappear or leave me forever.

The door opens.

Gwen walks in, wrapped in a towel, and I scramble away from her. But this time she’s wringing her hair dry, not letting it drip everywhere like she just doesn’t care.

“Shut the window!” she says. “It’s freezing in here. Are you trying to turn my hair into icicles?”

I exhale in a shuddering breath. “I thought you were the noppera-bō. Again. It came inside, pretending to be you…”

“Tavian!” Gwen latches the window. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay…” I stop and squint at her. “What’s the best place to get pizza in Klikamuks?”

“The Olivescent,” she says, without skipping a beat.

“And what were you eating the first time we met there?”

“Calzones.” She sighs. “Tavian, I don’t think the ghost would have answered the first question correctly, you know.” And she sounds snarky enough that I know she’s real.

I turn up the thermostat and grab a blanket. We huddle together on my bed for warmth. Shivering, I tell her what happened, how Yukimi entered my mind while I was awake.

Gwen rubs the goose bumps on her arms. “She can do that?”

“I didn’t know.”

“This is bad, Tavian. Really bad. Maybe you should ask for help.”

“From who?” I’m too tired to muster any sarcasm. “The myobu?”

“Maybe.”

I squeeze Gwen’s hand. “I don’t understand what Yukimi wants from me. Or who the noppera-bō is—was.”

She twists a curl around her finger. “We’re going to have to find out.”

“He could be anybody. At least, anybody who was an enemy of Yukimi, or who hated her enough to stay after death. Maybe he thinks Yukimi is so evil she’d hurt her own son.” I rub my pounding head. “She already has.”

Gwen hugs me, and I hug her back even though she’s getting water all over me from her hair. “I’m sure there’s a story behind this, Tavian. An explanation. We’re going to find out.”

I wish I shared her confidence. I grimace. “I hope I didn’t wake my grandparents.”

“I don’t think they heard you,” Gwen says. “Michiko was already snoring when I walked past their room, and that alone would drown out anything under one hundred decibels.”

“Hey,” I say, mustering some pretend outrage, “she’s my grandmother.”

“Your loud grandmother,” Gwen says. “I’m glad I’m sleeping next to you.”

“In your own bedroom,” I say.

She arches her eyebrows. “I wasn’t suggesting anything inappropriate.”

I can’t help smiling. “Sure. After we get home, you’re in big trouble.”

“That’s more like it.” She snuggles against me and shuts her eyes.

I hold her close, maybe a little closer than I need to, trying to erase the image of her falling from my mind.

~

Twilight in the forest. I crawl from my den and yawn, my tongue curling. The sweet loamy scent of earth clings to my fur. It’s a fine evening to be a fox. I tilt my head back to look at the stars winking into being between gaps in the lacy canopy. Wind ruffles my red fur, carrying a delicious perfume—a delicate spice over a deeper, musky smell.

Nose held high, I trot deeper between the trees.

Fireflies light my path, floating around me in a scattering of glow. A yip breaks the stillness of the air. I cock my head toward the sound. Another yip—a vixen.

I slink closer, poking my face between a tangle of vines.

A pure white fox stands in a grove of apricot trees, her eyes as golden as the ripening fruits. She walks nearer on slender legs, her sleek tail trailing behind her. We touch noses. I inhale the spicy-musky perfume, and I realize it’s the vixen’s scent.

I dance back with a yip, inviting her to come run with me. The vixen narrows her eyes and gives me a short growl. I whine questioningly and tilt my head to one side. Why doesn’t she feel like slipping between the shadows, trotting beneath fences into farms, and maybe finding a nice plump chicken for dinner?

Tavian. Now is not the time to think with your stomach.

The whisper echoes in my head, paradoxically loud. I skitter back, my ears flattened against my skull. I know that voice.

Shizuka?

The white fox smiles, the corners of her lips curling. Yes.

Around me, the forest ripples as if it were only ever a reflection. I blink and stagger back, swimming in the melting green. This is a dream. Shizuka has entered my dream.

Tail bristling, fur spiking along my spine, I growl.

Calm down, Shizuka says. No need to wake yet.

The white fox walks to me and rests her muzzle on my shoulder. The forest quiets, settling back into the illusion my imagination has created for me. But now I’m totally lucid, and I’m not sure I like the idea of a myobu creeping into my mind at night.

Shizuka sniffs, a miffed, whistling sound. I won’t stay for long.

And she can read my thoughts now. Great.

Why are you here?

She sits and wraps her tail daintily around her paws. You would do well to return to the shrine in the morning. She pauses to sniff the air, then glances back at me. Alone.

I prick my ears. Why?

There is much left unsaid.

So the myobu didn’t think I was a total—I force my mind to swerve from those thoughts. Must be polite.

Shizuka laughs silently, a chiming sound in my head.

Wait. So if she didn’t send the unsigned letter…

Letter?

Never mind. I’ll figure that out later.

Shizuka tilts her head. Goodbye, Tavian.

Her fur shimmers at the edges, twinkling like sun on snow. The brightness sweeps over her body until she’s nothing but a fox-shaped glow. With a blinding flash, she blinks out.

And I’m left alone in the forest of my dreams.

~

Over a breakfast of seaweed-sprinkled rice, fried tofu, and corn puffs—the last one’s for Gwen, who had a craving for cereal—I break the news to my grandparents.

“The letter wasn’t from Shizuka,” I say.

Tsuyoshi frowns over the top of his newspaper. “Oh?”

“I had a dream about her, last night.” I wrinkle my nose. “Technically, she entered my dreams.”

Gwen crunches some corn puffs. “What did she say?”

“Shizuka asked me to come back to the shrine, this morning. She wants to talk to me.”

“Then you must go at once,” Michiko says, pouring herself more tea. “It wouldn’t be very polite to keep a high-ranking myobu such as Shizuka waiting, especially after she took the trouble of inviting you personally.”

Tsuyoshi frowns. “Shizuka didn’t send you the letter at the teahouse?”

Last time was not enough. Do not look for me. I will come for you.

“No.” I remember the long black hair that drifted from the letter. “It might be from one of the Kuro Inu. Another threat.”

Tsuyoshi’s face hardens. “I will come with you to the shrine.”

“Shizuka asked me to come alone,” I say.

“Oh,” Tsuyoshi says, with a tinge of disappointment. “Why?”

“She didn’t say.”

Michiko nods at my bowl of food. “Finish your breakfast and find out.”

It’s hard to swallow with a stomach that feels like it’s already full of eels, but I scrape the last grains of rice into my mouth, excuse myself, and hurry to get ready.

At the door, Gwen kisses me on the cheek. “Good luck.”

I can see in her eyes that she’s not content staying at home, waiting for the news I’ll bring back. I can only hope she won’t do something too adventurous to make up for it.

As I board the metro, the eel-feeling worsens in my stomach. Sure, it’ll be really nice if Shizuka has some sort of magic pill for me, or maybe a secret recipe. But why wait to tell me?

I can see my reflection in the subway window, and it looks pretty sarcastic. Better wipe that smirk off my face before I get to Ueno.

A prerecorded female voice announces, first in Japanese, then English, “The next station is Ueno.”

I climb to my feet, grabbing a pole to hold myself steady. People trickle from the subway doors, joining the greater flow of crowds navigating the stairs. Aboveground, in Ueno Station, weak winter sun trickles through a roof of glass. On the wall nearby, a poster catches my eye. It’s nothing special, artistically speaking: a super-cute snowman standing in front of a snowy castle. It’s an advertisement for the upcoming Sapporo Snow Festival.

In, of course, Hokkaido.

I could buy a ticket and melt into the crowd, wait patiently for the train to my birthplace, so close and so far away. But what would be waiting for me in Hokkaido? The orphanage? I shudder, the hairs on my arms bristling. No way in hell am I going back.