and father were sitting by Maiko’s stiff, emotionless body. Their heads were bowed and they didn’t look up when Koyasan entered and crossed the room. Koyasan said nothing, only held out the ball of light which was Maiko’s soul and gently pressed it into her sister’s chest. For a moment Maiko’s flesh resisted, but then the soul slipped through the tiny pores in Maiko’s skin and disappeared into the body from which it had been taken.
A shimmer ran through Maiko. Her legs and arms jerked. Her nose and lips twitched. Then her eyelids flickered. “Tired,” she yawned. Her mother and father cried out with shock when they heard that and their heads shot up. They stared at their youngest daughter, then up at Koyasan, who was wilting on her feet, the trials and exhaustions of the night catching up with her now that it was all over.
“Funny head,” Maiko said, steepling her fingers together into a pyramid shape.
“Yes,” Koyasan agreed.
Maiko reached up and hugged her older sister, then lay down and went to sleep on the floor. Koyasan thought about going to bed, but decided it was too far to walk, so she lay down, cuddled up to Maiko and fell asleep too.
On chairs beside them, their parents watched the sisters sleeping, and slowly their stunned expressions were replaced by smiles of relief, love and joy.
DEAD HAPPY
A LOT OF the villagers didn’t believe Koyasan’s story. They thought the sisters had played a trick on them, that Maiko had been faking. After all, everybody knew that the spirits in the graveyard were evil and would kill anyone who went there at night. This was a truth which had been passed down through generations. Were all the adults, and their parents and grandparents before them, wrong and this young snip of a girl right? Impossible! She was lying. She had to be.
Koyasan didn’t care what people thought. She just tried to get on with life as normal. She’d talk about that night on the hill if pressed, but was happier not to. She didn’t think it was polite to gossip about the dead behind their backs.
When, four nights later, she returned to the graveyard, a huge crowd had gathered. Most were convinced that she wouldn’t enter the graveyard or wouldn’t return if she did. Yamadasan was there, ready to laugh at her when she fled from the bridge as she always did. Only her parents truly believed she’d cross, and although they were worried, they’d seen a new strength in their eldest daughter’s eyes and knew they couldn’t stand in her way. Koyasan had earned the right to make her own decisions.
Maiko wanted to go with her, to play with the funny spirits in the gravy. “Not this time,” Koyasan told her gently but firmly. “I’ll take you another night.”
There were gasps galore as Koyasan crossed the bridge, and cries of outright terror when she walked into the forest and vanished from sight. Koyasan only giggled at the villagers’ reactions, then made her way to the top of the hill, where the spirits — her new friends — were waiting.
That first meeting was a bit awkward, the way encounters often are when strangers are getting to know each other. The spirits and Koyasan were overly polite, keeping conversation to matters such as livestock and the weather.
That changed over the coming weeks and months. As they came to know each other, they relaxed and opened up. Soon they were talking about all manner of things, laughing and joking, playing games and sharing secrets. Quite a few of the spirits had been children when they died, and some of these became the best friends Koyasan ever had. Others, it turned out, were distant ancestors of hers and they rejoiced when they discovered their shared bloodlines.
For the first couple of months, only Koyasan went into the graveyard at night. The other villagers were wary of her, believing her to be some kind of holy person, with a great spiritual gift. Koyasan could have let them go on believing that, and acted like a lady of
A shimmer ran through Maiko. Her legs and arms jerked. Her nose and lips twitched. Then her eyelids flickered. “Tired,” she yawned. Her mother and father cried out with shock when they heard that and their heads shot up. They stared at their youngest daughter, then up at Koyasan, who was wilting on her feet, the trials and exhaustions of the night catching up with her now that it was all over.
“Funny head,” Maiko said, steepling her fingers together into a pyramid shape.
“Yes,” Koyasan agreed.
Maiko reached up and hugged her older sister, then lay down and went to sleep on the floor. Koyasan thought about going to bed, but decided it was too far to walk, so she lay down, cuddled up to Maiko and fell asleep too.
On chairs beside them, their parents watched the sisters sleeping, and slowly their stunned expressions were replaced by smiles of relief, love and joy.
DEAD HAPPY
A LOT OF the villagers didn’t believe Koyasan’s story. They thought the sisters had played a trick on them, that Maiko had been faking. After all, everybody knew that the spirits in the graveyard were evil and would kill anyone who went there at night. This was a truth which had been passed down through generations. Were all the adults, and their parents and grandparents before them, wrong and this young snip of a girl right? Impossible! She was lying. She had to be.
Koyasan didn’t care what people thought. She just tried to get on with life as normal. She’d talk about that night on the hill if pressed, but was happier not to. She didn’t think it was polite to gossip about the dead behind their backs.
When, four nights later, she returned to the graveyard, a huge crowd had gathered. Most were convinced that she wouldn’t enter the graveyard or wouldn’t return if she did. Yamadasan was there, ready to laugh at her when she fled from the bridge as she always did. Only her parents truly believed she’d cross, and although they were worried, they’d seen a new strength in their eldest daughter’s eyes and knew they couldn’t stand in her way. Koyasan had earned the right to make her own decisions.
Maiko wanted to go with her, to play with the funny spirits in the gravy. “Not this time,” Koyasan told her gently but firmly. “I’ll take you another night.”
There were gasps galore as Koyasan crossed the bridge, and cries of outright terror when she walked into the forest and vanished from sight. Koyasan only giggled at the villagers’ reactions, then made her way to the top of the hill, where the spirits — her new friends — were waiting.
That first meeting was a bit awkward, the way encounters often are when strangers are getting to know each other. The spirits and Koyasan were overly polite, keeping conversation to matters such as livestock and the weather.
That changed over the coming weeks and months. As they came to know each other, they relaxed and opened up. Soon they were talking about all manner of things, laughing and joking, playing games and sharing secrets. Quite a few of the spirits had been children when they died, and some of these became the best friends Koyasan ever had. Others, it turned out, were distant ancestors of hers and they rejoiced when they discovered their shared bloodlines.
For the first couple of months, only Koyasan went into the graveyard at night. The other villagers were wary of her, believing her to be some kind of holy person, with a great spiritual gift. Koyasan could have let them go on believing that, and acted like a lady of
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