Something that doesn’t feel like me coils inside my body, wishing to move, but I force it down. I don’t want to talk about it. “Can we do this some other time?”
She softens. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry, Tark. I got a little wound up. Rest for as long as you want, okay? I’m just…” Her eyes brim up again. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“I’m glad to see you too, Callie.” I hug her back, grateful for her warmth and her closeness. But a strange burning curls inside me. It’s been plaguing me ever since we left Aitou.
“Is Kagura okay?”
“She’s banged up but mending fast. The doctors are having a hard time getting her to rest. The ghost-hunter guy’s going to pull through too. Search parties are still looking for the others.”
I close my eyes. They can look all they want, but the rest of the ghost-hunter crew will never be found. Guilt comes crawling back. Yet it doesn’t dull the burning that wraps around my insides.
“Don’t worry.” Callie’s tone is encouraging. “I’m sure we’ll find them soon. We can talk later, when you’re better.”
But I don’t get better. Not where it matters most.
As soon as I get a bit of my strength back, I start pacing in my room. Callie and a nurse come in and badger me into retreating back to the bed. But I can’t sleep. I feel too restless, and I’m not sure why.
I’m discharged from the hospital the next day, and Callie talks me into going back to the Kamameshi Ryokan instead of waiting for Kagura to be released. There, I resume pacing, too restless to do anything else. The news outlets had me pegged as an unimportant member of the search party who got lost, so I’ve been spared the media attention that poor Kagura and Riley are no doubt enduring. I saw Riley being interviewed twice on television but not the miko.
Callie returned to the hospital almost as soon as I’d settled in—to fend off the worst of the news vultures and to look after the miko. There’s nothing I can do but wait. As I pace for hours on end, I stare at the hot spring outside my room, remembering how much Okiku enjoyed the steam and the waters. Every so often, I would turn my head to ask her something, only to realize she’s no longer here. The pain only worsens as time ticks by.
Okiku’s presence is gone, but a strange one remains. I can feel it move. It whispers: we are power.
“Shut up,” I snap, and it does not speak for the rest of the night.
On my second night at the inn, Auntie visits my room. I haven’t told her about all that happened, and I’m pretty sure Kagura hasn’t either. She gently wraps her arms around me.
“I am so sorry for your loss.” I can hear her grief.
Maybe she could infer what had happened from my state of mind or maybe it’s because an affinity for spirits has always been strong in Kagura’s bloodline. Either way, I finally break, crying like a baby against her shoulder at losing Okiku. It’s a good release, and I pull myself together, although I’m probably only a little better off than I had been. Dad calls the next morning, frantic to know if Kagura is all right.
I learn then that Callie has been sneaky, because she didn’t tell him I’d been missing. For his peace of mind, I don’t enlighten him. Because the news says nothing about my and Callie’s involvement but is throwing Kagura’s name around liberally now that she’s been found, I don’t even need to fib too much. I tell him about Kagura’s current condition, playing down her injuries, and promise him that Callie and I are all right.
“I’m not so sure, Tark,” Dad says uneasily. “Every time you’re in Japan, strange things happen to the three of you.”
“You’re not going to stop us from visiting, are you?” That’s the last thing I want. “This isn’t Kagura’s fault, and you know what they say about Aokigahara…”
“I know. I’m not blaming Kagura, of course. I just feel terrible not to be there to help her. The local police should restrict access to that forest. If even an experienced film crew can get lost in there, there’s no telling what could happen to the average tourist. It doesn’t feel right to not even be in the same country with you when something like this is going on.”
“You worry too much, Dad. I’m almost eighteen, remember? I can take care of myself.”
“I know you’re more than capable, Tark.” I can hear him smiling. “But that won’t stop me from being a worrywart. You’re my son.”
“I know.” I’m smiling too. “I guess I’m just going to have to live with that.”
I dream of Okiku that night—of happier times together, all the little things I took for granted. I miss our hunts, the long silences when we had no need to talk, and sitting in our special field of fireflies. And then I wake, and the knowledge of what I lost returns, stronger than ever. There’s something else I’m missing. Something I’m forgetting.