DarkFuse Anthology 3 Read online

  Table of Contents

  DARKFUSE

  Connect With Us

  Other Volumes

  Ritual

  Chanterelling

  To Get Past It

  The Matchbox Sign

  Taking it All Away

  Winning Isn’t Everything

  About the Editor

  About the Authors

  About the Publisher

  DARKFUSE

  Volume 3

  Edited by Shane Staley

  First Edition

  DarkFuse, Volume 3 © 2015 by Shane Staley

  All stories © 2015 by individual authors.

  All Rights Reserved.

  A DarkFuse Release

  www.darkfuse.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  Other Volumes

  DarkFuse Vol. 1

  DarkFuse Vol. 2

  Ritual

  Lauren Gallo

  “Grandmother has died, Sara. We are going to Japan for the funeral.”

  Sara looked up from the kitchen table where she had been doing homework, math equations forgotten by Mama’s announcement. Mama was not crying. In all her sixteen years of life, Sara never saw her mother cry. She hadn’t cried when Papa died five years before either. Mama’s expression looked pinch as if she were in a struggle for rigid composure. Sara didn’t know how to react to the news herself.

  Granny Haruka felt more like a stranger than family. She only appeared in Sara’s life a brief handful of times. Mama had brought Sara to Japan at age four to meet her grandmother, aunts and uncle. Sara could remember the tall oak trees and adults speaking rapidly in a singsong lexicon as foreign to her as Klingon. After that, Granny Haruka had only visited them twice in Marin. She rarely travelled outside of Japan. The last visit, four years earlier, Sara and Mama took Granny Haruka to San Francisco to see the wharf and the steep, hilly streets. The elderly woman wore a mask of unimpressed disdain and hid behind her native tongue.

  Sara had only heard the woman speak a few English words and Granny opted to have Mama translate things for Sara. It didn’t escape notice that the elderly woman found Sara’s incomprehension of the Japanese language appalling and the blame fell on Mama for not teaching her.

  Sara put her pencil down on the kitchen table.

  “Mama, are you sure you want to go? Things aren’t exactly good between you and your family.”

  To her credit, Mama’s composure did not slip.

  “It is not about wanting. I do not want to but she was my okaa-san and I must give her one last respect.”

  “How long will we be away?”

  “A week. We fly in two days. Make sure you pack some jackets, Maebashi gets cold in the morning and night this time of year.”

  A bubbling of protest churned within Sara. A whole week! The homecoming dance was in a few days! Before the selfish complaints of teenage problems spilled from her lips, Sara pressed down the urge and simply nodded. It wasn’t like she had a date for the dance anyway, Mama forbade Sara to date yet. While other girls held hands with boys in the hallways of school, Sara could only look on and wonder what it felt like.

  Sara returned to her homework as Mama retreated to the living room to continue planning for their departure. Mr. Chen would need to manage the bakery while they were gone and school would need to be notified of Sara’s absence. Her friends needed to be told she’d be gone; they’d probably think it was so cool and exciting as they pictured Tokyo Tower and the glow of signs.

  Maebashi was not near any of that. The distant memories of youth recalled a city by mountains and a river. She also remembered Mama’s relatives spoke little to no English. They were very traditional, so much that they never approved of Sara’s father. He was the American foreigner always, even after he died. Sara overheard many conversations about it growing up. She wondered if the Kino clan would show her the same cold attitude and it gave her little comfort.

  That night Sara dreamt of trees and a river. She ran along the water’s edge as her bare feet swept along the cool grass. They were child’s feet. A boy stood ahead of her. He looked to be eight years old with pale skin and dark hair that fell in a bowl cut around his forehead. His eyes were narrow with delicate Asian folded eyelids, but they seemed almost animal-like. Sara noticed he wore a simple red yukata with an orange sash. He smiled at her with a large grin that showed gleaming sharp teeth.

  “Finally you return!”

  Sara thought he felt familiar but something about him was off. He approached her while she was rooted to her spot, too afraid to move. The boy reached out to hug her and his nails were pointed and dirty. Her skin burnt where his fingers touched and she thought it was going to rip her flesh apart. He moved his mouth to her ear.

  “Do not be scared, little one. We have a long time together still.”

  Only upon waking did Sara finally scream.

  Mama ran into her room and to the bedside.

  “Sara! What happened?”

  “This dream, it was so horrible!”

  It wasn’t the first time Mama had to console her after a nightmare. Mama asked about the dream and Sara told her about it, shuddering at the memory. Mama’s eyebrows furrowed with concern and she stood up and walked out of the room muttering in Japanese. Sara wondered if she had upset her. The thought was pushed aside when Mama returned carrying a slip of something.

  “This will keep bad things away. Take it.”

  Sara took the piece of thick paper and turned it over in her hands. It was white with black symbols scrawled on it, their curves and lines dancing across the front. The top of the slip had red lacquer along it where a matching red cord was attached.

  “I don’t know what it says,” Sara said, placing it on her lap.

  “It is a prayer charm, it keeps evil things away.”

  “So it’s kind of like a dream catcher then.”

  Sara looped the cord around a bedpost and let it hang over her.

  “You go back to sleep. We have to pack tomorrow.”

  Sara nodded and watched Mama leave and shut the door. She laid back in bed and attempted to get comfortable. The white slip dangled in the corner of her eye.

  The next day moved along with no incident and time seemed a giant blur. Soon they were on the plane and landing at Narita Airport. She grabbed at the back of Mama’s jacket as they bobbed and weaved through people to get to the exit. Every little boy in the crowd made a slight wave of nausea fill her stomach. She expected any one of then to grin at her with horrible, sharp-looking teeth. She reached into her jacket pocket and pressed her fingers against the evil-warding prayer charm. It gave her mild comfort, like a baby blanket vanquishing a closet monster.

  Outside the terminal amidst the taxis and other vehicles, a man stood by a small car waiting. His gaze fixed on them and he motioned them to come forth. Mama t
ook Sara’s hand firmly and led her over. She bowed before the man.

  “Onii-sama.”

  “Jun,” he replied, flatly.

  They conversed in words lost on Sara, but she could tell the conversation was not happy.

  “Sara, this is Uncle Kenji, you remember?”

  Sara hastily bowed before her uncle.

  “Uncle, it is good to see you again.”

  He scoffed harshly and replied with something she couldn’t understand except for one word. Gaijin. Foreigner. The word they called her father. The word Uncle Kenji called her now. She thought of the difference between her and her mother: Mama was fair-skinned while Sara was tan from playing in the sun. She stood taller than Mama, almost as tall as her uncle. Her eyes were rounder and more Caucasian.

  They got into the car and as Sara clasped her seat belt shut she heard a knock on the back seat window next to her. She looked over but no one was there except a teenage boy disappearing in the crowd. A silly prank, surely. A handprint stained the window with a faint smear and she tried hard to pretend it didn’t look slightly like a paw.

  The drive never seemed to end as they passed through the tall buildings of crowded Tokyo and through more cities that gave way to towns checked with patches of field. One could easily confuse it with California farmland in some places. Staring at the scenery gave her an excuse to ignore the staggering silence in the car.

  Soon, a river cut through the horizon and Sara tried hard to clamp down the memories of her dream. The river was the same one as in her mind. A fox ran along the bank and stopped to watch the car drive by. It looked straight at her and she felt another pang of discomfort in her stomach.

  They pulled into the drive of an old looking inn, the kind one saw on postcards. It looked to be three stories high with a sloping, triangular reddish roof. Sara got out of the car and took her suitcase from Uncle Kenji. She followed Mama inside and remembering to take off her shoes at the entrance and grab a pair of slippers. It was one of the few cultural things Mama had always kept intact at home and one less faux pas for Sara to worry over. She thanked goodness to be able to use chopsticks too. Breakfast would most likely be rice and some sort of fish. Sara hated fish, but she would suck it up and eat what was given to her. The goal was to keep a low profile, mourn for Granny and go home without incident. It was the best she and Mama could hope for.

  Two other women greeted them at the entrance, both shorter than Sara. Aunt Ichiko and Aunt Chidori, Mama’s older sisters. Both wore the same stern expressions as Mama greeted them, and the conversation was quick and fluid. Sara followed them to another room where they stopped before a small altar of incense and flowers that surrounded a photo of Granny.

  The women bowed their heads and Sara followed suit, offering up a small prayer. It seemed the expected thing to do. Aunt Chidori led Sara away and they walked up to the second floor. The older woman spoke at her in a mix of her Japanese and broken English.

  “Little niece sleep with Okaa-san, ii desu ka? Toilet down the hall. Okaa-san tell you better, Chidori Oba-san English no good.”

  She stopped speaking and looked Sara up and down.

  “You like your Okaa-san, some. Ii desu. This is good.”

  It was a strange compliment, but Sara supposed her relatives were glad she looked some Asian and not completely American.

  “Um, thanks. Arigato.”

  Aunt Chidori was pleased Sara knew the word, as if it made her more Japanese.

  “You rest, yes? We eat soon. Little niece tired, ne?”

  Sara nodded, thankful this aunt seemed friendlier than the rest of the family. The kindness in her dark eyes seemed genuine. Chidori left her and returned back downstairs. Sara poked her head in the room and took in the lay of the land. It was smaller than her room at home but big enough for her and her mother. Two futons lay folded against the wall and a single dresser stood next to a closet.

  She set her luggage down and walked over to the window, looking out at the Maebashi scenery. A shrine down the road caught her eye, the one where the funeral would be held. Mama explained the funeral customs on the plane. The family followed the old traditions, so an encoffining ritual was first. Granny would be dressed in a white kimono and put on dry ice, then the funeral followed a day later and they would place flowers around her head and shoulders before nailing the coffin shut and sending her off for cremation. Finally, seven days of memorial service held at the grave monument. Sara would only see five of them. Death was serious business here, it seemed.

  “It’s easier to take stairs to get down than jump out the window.”

  Startled, Sara jumped. She turned to see a boy her age standing in the doorway dressed in what looked like a karate gi. He was tall with fair skin and dark coloring and he smiled slightly at her.

  “I wasn’t going to jump. I was just looking outside. Everything is like another world here.”

  “Isn’t it? Some people here say our world connects to other worlds. Perhaps sometimes they blur into one.”

  She laughed, tension easing off her shoulders.

  “Your English is pretty good. I thought I wasn’t going to be able to really talk to anyone else here.”

  He walked into the room and stood next to her at the window.

  “My betrothed speaks English, so it helps if we understand each other.”

  “Betrothed? I didn’t think anyone used that term anymore. Aren’t you young for that? Or is it an arranged thing?”

  “I’m not that young and she was promised to me before her birth, so yes, arranged. When the time is right she will be my bride.”

  “And how does she feel about it?”

  “We met once when she was younger but she lives far away right now. I don’t think she even knows about it or remembers our meeting, but she will.”

  There was something odd and almost too cheerful in the way he said it. Sara shook her head. Arranged marriages seemed so antiquated it was hard to believe people still did it. It really was another world.

  “Oh, sorry, I’m Sara by the way,” she said, sticking out her hand to shake his.

  He looked at it, unsure. Sara wasn’t sure if they shook hands in Japan and retracted it back to her side.

  “My name is Shin. I help out here sometimes like an unseen spirit.”

  “You mean a ghost?”

  He smiled again, tight-lipped.

  “Something like that. Well, Sara-san, I am at your service if you need anything.”

  Her stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly.

  “Maybe you can show me the kitchen?”

  She followed him out of the room and down another set of stairs to a narrow hallway. Loud voices stopped them in their tracks and Sara recognized Mama’s voice. She pressed against the wall and indicated for Shin to do the same.

  “Can you tell me what they’re saying?” she whispered.

  He listened.

  “They are talking about someone abandoning the family and running away to America. Marrying that foreigner and forgetting promises? Little niece is foreign, and doesn’t understand her people’s tongue. Should have grown up here, she won’t understand when it’s time, no sorry, when the time comes.”

  Sara shot a hand out in a halting gesture.

  “Stop, Shin. I don’t want to hear any more.”

  She walked away quietly and through the door to the outside patio in the back yard. Shin followed. Sara kicked at a twig on the ground and sighed.

  “They were talking about my mother and well, me. There are a lot of issues between the family and my mom. You probably knew all this if you’ve been working here a while.”

  Shin shook his head.

  “No, not really. There was some talk of Jun-sama coming home for Haruka-sama’s funeral but they seemed relieved you were arriving.”

  “How strange, they show it pretty funny.”

  “You come from an old family Sara-san, very traditional. Obligation and duty are strong things here and not easily broken. People fo
rget these things more and more while some do not. The ones who remember the old ways thrive. They know retribution and how to appease the spirits and prosper in life.”

  She looked at Shin, searching his face.

  “You sound really old for your age, you know?”

  “I suppose I’m an old spirit,” he replied with a shrug.

  He walked away around the corner without a goodbye. The patio door slid open and Mama appeared.

  “Sara, what are you doing?”

  “I was just getting some air and talking to Shin.”

  Mama raised a confused eyebrow and Sara hoped the guilt of eavesdropping didn’t show on her face. She had questions but now wasn’t the time to press Mama into answering about what the family expected from both of them.

  “Who?”

  “He’s this boy who helps out around here I guess.”

  “Ah, I see. They mentioned something about hiring a local boy. Still, don’t spend time alone with someone you don’t know. Now come inside.”

  Sara rolled her eyes when Mama wasn’t looking and followed, remembering her hunger and hoping dinner was soon.

  Shin did not appear again until the following day as the family prepared for the ceremony. Mama was helping her siblings and left Sara to dress herself in the black kimono of mourning. She struggled to get the under layers on and the top layer confused her. She knew in her head how it was supposed to look but achieving it was lost on her.

  A knock on the door interrupted her and she acknowledged it was okay to open.

  “Sara-san, I came to check on you.”

  It was Shin, wearing the same outfit as before.

  “Oh thank goodness! Do you have any idea how this is supposed to work?”

  She held up the black outer layer of the kimono.

  “Ah, yes. I suppose it is tricky for you. I can help.”