Plan: 30 Days of Pride

Hi. So, in my attempt to do something that is close to my heart and identity, I've decided on doing this. During Pride Month this June, I intend--as someone who fully realised their bisexuality within the last year--to do one post a day on my socials highlighting an author/creative that falls on the LGBTQIA+ spectrum. One per day, for thirty days, using the hashtag #30DaysOfPride. Now, this isn't a small task, and it's also open to being royally messed up if I just set about it randomly, so I'm setting up a few ground rules.

Rule 1: The creatives in question need to be confirmed either through their own words/actions, or personal anecdotes, to be on the rainbow spectrum. That means some figures with question marks over their head, such as T. H. White, will not be counted. There may be some compelling evidence surrounding these people, but there's no confirmation about it and it's still a debated topic. That also rules out Shakespeare, since we really can't be sure about him either. See this video from J. Draper on that subject, which I heartily agree with. It similarly rules out straight creators who wrote LGBTQI+ characters. I may well miss some creatives that could have been better included on the list, and if so I apologise.

Rule 2: I'm going to try and provide a mixture of authors/creatives from across time periods. It would be surprisingly easy to go for a lot of classic and mostly now-dead creatives such as Noel Coward, but that would be too easy. Also it would be doing a disservice to multiple current authors. I also hope to get a descent amount of BIPOC creators into it, so it can be shown it's not just whites who fall along the spectrum.

Rule 3: They must have created some kind of original story in a form that is a narrative with words. This can be a graphic novel, a book or short stories, plays, or a video game. It doesn't matter the genre, but it must be a written narrative. There are a number of famous LGBTQIA+ artists, actors, singers, and similar. But this quest is for writers, the ones who can move with words. This isn't to devalue these others' work, but only to highlight creatives of narrative-based fiction. This also partly rules out non-fiction.

At the end of the 30 days, which is a Sunday and thus my usual blog posting time, I'll be bringing together all the creatives mentioned, and including a section of honourable mentions. The honourable mentions are to help incorporate some which I really wanted to include, but don't quite fit in with what I want to attempt with this. I don't know whether this will work out, but I really want it to be...something. An attempt by me to highlight a group that for a very long time has needed to work either in secret or under a veil of obscurity. And now they--we--are coming into the light.

Here's to Pride Month.

Short story – Night at Shujuki; Part 4

 There was a prolonged pause after my outburst. I didn’t know what else to say, but for whatever reason I knew it was the right thing to say. Gouta stopped as he was reaching up towards the noose, looking hard at me.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what I say. Someone else was there who can tell Akira’s side of things. Then maybe we’ll know for sure. Please, don’t act rashly.”

Gouta slowly turned towards me. He still looked like the same kind old sensei, and that made this whole situation worse. But behind his glasses, behind his eyes, there was a horrible impassive glint. The cessation of feeling, or perhaps a feeling so strong it eclipsed everything else. Letting go of Takahiro’s chair and walking up to stand right in front of me, he smiled.

“Go ahead. Tell me.”

I screwed up my courage and recited the words. “Yami-yami-bake, Yami-yami-Lycoris, Yami-yami-yomi.”

For a second, nothing happened. Then the candles went out, leaving only moonlight to illuminate the scene. And behind him and Takahiro, there she was. The black-clothed miko with the blood-red eyes. Gouta turned, even Takahiro twisted round to stare at the figure. There was a prolonged pause, then a voice came. No mouth movements were visible, making me think more and more that this was some terrible mask being worn.

“I come to deliver truth. The truth you would obscure, Tatsumi Gouta.”

Gouto seemed to falter for several seconds. “I... You... What is this? Some kind of prank? What are you doing here? Get out!”

He reached out, then something flung him back and he landed at my feet. I hadn’t seen a movement except a very slight drifting forward, as if moved by a slight wind. The miko raised her long-sleeved arm and I heard the snap of a finger. The restraints on my chair fell away, but not onto the floor. They simply vanished. I heard some commotion outside, and hard on the door opening Yukari, Souhei and Rumiko burst in. They paused in the middle of...some action, staring at the black miko.

Takahiro came up next to me. “Is this what you saw outside?”

“Yes. And...what I saw on the roof of the building when Akira and Hisawa died. I saw her, saw... Who are you?”

The apparition cocked her head on one side, at the same time reaching up to touch the ugly noose with one hand. She didn’t actually touch it, but the rope vanished noose and all. She looked around at the six of us, then I saw the noh mask twitch and rise into a smile.

“I hold no name. But I have seen much. I have seen, watched, observed and recorded since a time before people inhabited this land. And I know what happened upon that day. I shall take you back, to see what truly occurred.”

She raised her hands and clapped them together. Was that a bell I heard somewhere? Or the hum of something like a great drum? A machine? The scene vaguely shifted and became...familiar. There was a golden gleam of late afternoon across everything, the scenery was shifted into position for school break, there were a couple of students in a corner... Surely they were Koichi and Daisuke from the third year... I went over to them instinctively, but as I reached out, my hand simply passed through them. The voice of the miko came again, this time from the doorway.

“This is memory. Nothing is changeable. Come. See.”

Was I imagining all this? Was Takahiro being murdered right this minute while I was lost in a delusion. I went towards the miko, and felt the others follow. Even Gouto, though everyone did their best to keep their distance from him. I was out in the corridor, and there was no sign of the miko. I wondered briefly what was about to happen. Then it did. I saw a young man with close-cut hair walking quickly down from somewhere, probably the toilets, and heading for the stairs. It was Akira.

I ran after him, but without warning Takahiro overtook me. I was then able to see his parkour abilities as he went round the corner and was ahead of me up the stairs by a good distance. The others were panting behind as I took the steps three at a time. We finally reached the top, and Takahiro and I went to where the roof door was standing...open? That didn’t make sense. The reports I remembered said it had been closed when Gouto found it.

We were all soon out on the roof, the memory of its pristine surface filling me with the kind of longing nostalgia that couldn’t be ignored. My heart pounded for a long moment, and then I saw the two of them standing a good distance from the edge. Akira, looking drawn and urgent, and Hisawa looking on the verge of some emotional outburst. They were in the same clothes I’d seen them wearing that day, the day they... I watched, with the others, as they quietly argued.

“But I’m telling you, Akira-kun, the answer is no.”

“But... Sensei, I can’t deny these feelings any longer.”

“You’re talking like a pre-schooler.”

“But I mean it. I mean, I thought I could care like this for Takahiro, but I don’t feel anything for him. Not really. I love you, Sensei. I love you, I love you—”

“Akira-kun, please think about this. No, get away.”

The teacher abruptly pushed the student away, but then a voice shouted from behind me and the others. “Hey! What’s going on here?”

I turned. It had been Gouto’s voice breaking across the scene, but Gouto shrugged, as puzzled as the rest of us were. Then another Gouto appeared, the Gouto of memory, the Gouto that had gone up and found them. His voice broke past me.

“What the hell’s going on here? Shiki-chan, what are you doing?”

Hisawa-sensei turned to face Gouto. “This isn’t your business, Onii-san. I can handle this without your help.”

“Are you sure? I’ve been worried about you all day. You’re sure there isn’t anything that needs my—”

“Nothing needs your personal touch.” Hisawa-sensei’s voice grew harsh. “I can handle my own battles, Onii-san.  I don’t need your constant monitoring of my life anymore, I’m not a child.”

“You behave like one sometimes. Like with this...boy.”

“You... I...”

“Come on!”

The memory Gouto reached out for his sister, who seemed to draw away instinctively. But as Gouto pressed forward, bringing them closer to the edge, Akira stepped between them and pushed him away.

“Just a minute, Gouto-sensei. I can explain.”

“Get out of the way!”

Gouto tried pushing Akira aside, but he resisted. I heard the real Gouto’s voice behind me raised in protest.

“No! That’s not what happened! I...! I didn’t...!”

The miko’s voice came again. “Watch. And learn.”

I continued to watch. The memory Gouto was struggling with Akira, then Hisawa-sensei tried breaking in. With an inarticulate snap he pushed randomly back. Both were caught in the shove, and a scream came from Hisawa’s lips. The same scream we’d heard that day. I saw the memory Gouto rush forward, grasping futily at the pair as they tipped over the edge and began to fall. There was no sound then, save for the thudding far below, the muffled sound of breaking bones.

There was a silence. I felt suddenly sick. Gouto slowly slumped to his knees. And we were abruptly back in the present, the moon shining overhead and the dilapidated building cold and real under our feet. I sensed the miko, but I didn’t turn to see where she must be standing directly behind us, somewhere she could see us all but we couldn’t see her.

“You see now? In your rage and fury, your wish to protect your little sister from everything, you threw away their lives. But in the heat of the moment, you forgot that ever happened. All you remembered was a falling couple, and an idea that a wrong had been committed.”

Gouto reached out towards the edge. “That... I never... How could... How could I have...done that?”

I spoke suddenly. “They knew. That’s why...they all left. Somehow, they knew what happened, but never spoke of it. A boy fell in love with a woman, and the brother killed both the sister and her lover. People must’ve thought this place was cursed. So they abandoned it rather than confront the truth.”

The miko’s voice came again. “The memory is revealed. The truth set right. No more die for this. My function is fulfilled.”

Function? I turned, but the miko was gone from where I assumed she’d been. I looked round everyone. Takahiro looked sick, Rumiko was shuddering with a strange combination of shock and rage, Yukari stared blankly at Gouto, Souhei seemed like he was about to be sick. We all stood in silence as Gouto broke down into tears. I didn’t care what happened now, what might or might not happen to Gouto. I just wanted to get away from this dead town.

“Souhei, can your car take five?” He nodded vaguely. “Good. I don’t want to spend a minute longer than necessary in this place.”

We all left. Gouto remained on the roof. The journey back through the abandoned and dilapidated school wasn’t easy for any of us. We all packed ourselves into Souhei’s car and got away from that place as fast as possible. We ended up at a quiet spot on the road out of town. There we settled and caught our breath. We were very silent, almost too silent. Looking at each of us, I wondered if this would be the stray that broke the back of our friendship. Then, of all people, Rumiko spoke.

“I’d...like to keep in touch with you all. If that’s okay.”

We started talking again. In a more subdued tone, but it was still talking. And I sensed something there, a spark that I hadn’t heard before. Slowly, surely, the energy seemed to return.

There isn’t much more I wanted to tell. We did end up staying in touch this time. Takahiro’s still abroad, got to competing at Olympic levels. He’s got a boyfriend, and they’re visiting Japan again next week. Rumiko’s still going strong with her modelling career, and there’s talk of a film role. Yukari’s still a doctor, but she seems less...stiff than she had been. And Souhei and I are still in our careers, and closer than ever. Funny how that horrible situation seemed to draw us closer together.

As for Gouto, I didn’t hear anything more about him for another three months. Then I got a report of a ‘former teacher from Shujuki High School’ who was found in his home in Tokyo. He’d hanged himself in his bathroom, and it was found that entire apartment was covered in scrawling writing saying ‘sorry’. I don’t feel much sympathy, but I can only hope death gave him some kind of peace. The truth he lived with those last few months must’ve been worse than his delusions.

We never went back to Shujuki, and it became a true ghost town. The railways stopped going there, cars stopped visiting, the last few remnants of residents round its centre moved away or died. I do wonder about the miko and whether I should visit the shrine to pay thanks. But no. Not again. Never again. Never will I go to that town again. There’s nothing left for me there.

Short story – Night at Shujuki; Part 3

I woke up to find the moon shining in through the windows, the room mostly in darkness, and my arms secured to one of the chairs. I felt rope pinching into my arms and legs, and a cool metal I assumed was handcuffs securing each wrist to one of the chair legs. As my vision cleared and clarified, I slowly took in the surrounding scene. All the others were there, and all secured to chairs on either side. Save one.

Sitting in the sixth chair opposite the five of us, Gouto was staring through his glasses, the scene lit by a pair of candles. Their flickering light picked out the piled-up school desks, the podium, the table now in front of him holding that fragmented message...and the newly-produced noose suspended through a hole punched into the ceiling.

The others were also coming round, and Rumiko quickly started to struggle against her bonds. “Hey... What...? What’s going on?!” She saw Gouto. “Hey, Sensei, what’s happening? What are you...” Her eyes travelled up, and she saw the noose. “Oh...my God.”

Takahiro pulled against his restraints, but I saw it was useless. Even with his strength, he couldn’t break out of steel cuffs. Souhei pulled hard with his legs.

“S...sensei... Please...let us...out...”

Yukari didn’t struggle, but looked coldly at Gouto. “I probably should’ve known one of us was responsible for this, but I didn’t expect you to be the one, Gouto-sensei. Nor did I expect you to be so dramatic.”

She too glanced up at the noose. Souhei and Takahiro saw it too, and both looked slightly sick. Rumiko was starting to blubber.

“Go home... I want to go home...”

Gouto-sensei adjusted his glasses and spoke with the same kind of detached tone I recognised from his lectures. “Students, for here and now you still are, something happened here ten years ago. Two deaths, without rhyme or reason. My sister, and your friend, both fell to their deaths from the school rooftop. Today, here and now, we shall discover why that happened.”

I looked hard at him. “What do you mean?”

“I spoke with Akira’s parents recently. They told me something very interesting. One of you, and I don’t know who, is responsible for their deaths. But I know one of you helped create this tragedy. And so, upon learning the full truth, the one who holds the guilt for this act shall be subject to the fate they deserve.”

He slowly pointed up towards the noose. I felt a cold fist gripping my stomach, and Rumiko burst out in a near-hysterical shriek.

“You’re insane! Let us out of here, we can’t tell you anything!”

“Shut up!” Yukari snapped at Rumiko, who was shocked into silence. “We can’t reason with him, so we should play along.”

Gouto looked coldly at her. “How sensible of you, regardless of the language. So very sensible. Perhaps you could begin, Yukari, by telling us about Akira’s meeting with you the day before he died.”

I looked at Yukari, who seemed to be thinking through what to say. I hadn’t known she had met up with Akira that day. She kept her eyes steadily on Gouto as she spoke, as if to hypnotise him with her words.

“I suppose Akira’s parents told you about that? Well, it’s true. The last time I saw Akira was, as you seem to know, the day before the accident. I was coming home from school as he asked me to walk with him. I didn’t know what was going to happen, what might be about to happen.”

“So care to tell us exactly what happened?”

“It’s been...so long.” She closed her eyes in reflection, then opened them rapidly and continued staring at Gouto. “He was in love with two people. A teacher at the school, and a student. I didn’t say anything, but then he asked me directly. He asked me...what he should do. When I told him, that he should make a decision before the beginning of the next school year, he seemed put out. He left, and that’s the last time I saw him alive.”

There was a prolonged silence. Then Gouto approached rapidly and heaved at Yukari’s chair. He pulled her out of the room, and I heard another door being opened and a shuffling sound. Then he re-entered. Rumiko tried to shuffle away in her chair.

“What’ve you done to Yukari?”

“Just left her in the other room. She’s of no further use. Now, Souhei... Didn’t you meet up with Akira on that day too? I’d heard you two liked to bond over the latest computer games.”

Souhei looked abruptly ashamed, as if he’d been slapped in the face. Souhei, for the longest time in high school, was the butt of the joke when it came to his appearance and his hobbies. He was a good student in grade terms, and incredible when it came to technical stuff in college, but that part of him... It was nothing to be ashamed of, loving games and being a trifle introverted, but it was an easy thing to target in Japan even then.

“Well... He...came round to see me...that evening. He wanted me to...give him an opinion... He was...in a state. Said he didn’t know...what to do.” His old stammer was asserting itself. “I met him...outside... He seemed in a...state... Didn’t want to say...anything in front of...the rest of us... I didn’t know...what he was talking about until he...said he’d gotten himself...involved with someone...at school. Like, really involved. I told him...he should talk to them. And come tell us about it...when we met up after the end of...term. I seriously...asked him to come...and play a game with me... He said ‘no’. Didn’t feel like...wasting time.” Souhei choked on a sob. “My God, I didn’t... I wasn’t to know that...”

Gouto got up abruptly and dragged Souhei’s chair from the room. I felt decidedly uncomfortable now. We were down to three, and the image of that noose still swung slightly in a breeze coming from...somewhere. I had no idea where. Gouto reappeared and reseated himself. Then he looked directly at me.

“Sai... You’re not here to tell a story, you’re here to witness everything. Because you didn’t see Akira all that week.”

“How can you know that?” Gouto didn’t respond, and I suddenly felt sick. “I always wondered about... That shape I saw on a corner sometimes, I didn’t pay any attention as I wasn’t ever molested, but...”

There aren’t any words to really describe in the moment what I felt. Now, looking back, I felt violated and betrayed. My kind and considerate ‘Gouto-sensei’, the ‘odd lingerer’ I’d seen during my high school years, one and the same? There’s no going back from that kind of revelation, no turning away from what that means. He instead turned to Rumiko.

“Instead, you... You said something on the day of Akira’s funeral, didn’t you? Something about impossible love. Why don’t you elaborate for us?”

It felt more and more like the horrible parody of a class. Rumiko frowned for a while, then seemed to become almost self-assured.

“What do you want to know?”

“What was he like the last time you met him? And when was that?”

“It was...on my way to school. We met up and walked together for quite some distance. He was in a bit of a state. Yes, I’d even say distraught.”

“And?”

“Well... Why shouldn’t he have been distraught? I’m quite sure he was on the brink of despair. We loved each other, so—”

“Stop lying.”

Gouta’s cold words made Rumiko’s hackles rise. “What did you say?”

“You heard me perfectly well. Let’s face it, Rumiko. No-one ever cared for you in the slightest. You were pleasant to be around, but the only long-lasting attachment you’ve ever had is to your make-up kit.”

She looked as if he’d stabbed her in the heart. For a moment, she was completely silent, then she began shaking. But not with sadness or sobbing, with a kind of long-bottled fury.

“No matter...what I did. I could never hold anyone. I did my best to look popular, to be pretty and trendy, but it never worked. They always went for Yukari, or Sai, or hell that little bitch Chisato. Why did no-one love me?!”

“Please keep to the point.”

I wanted to hit him. Rumiko also seemed to want to hit something, but restrained herself and kept on talking.

“I tried...to get him to say he loved me that day. He was looking so distracted and forlorn. I said that last night I’d dreamed of him. I had, really I had. In the end, I asked him straight out, did he wanted me? And he said... He said... He said he’d rather have the scarred Oiwa than me. I didn’t hold anything for him. And he said that if I still wanted him as a friend... I asked him right then, who was he seeing? Who had he been with? He didn’t tell me, but I guessed at last. My God, I guessed.”

“And who had he been with?”

Rumiko shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t tell you.”

Takahiro burst out suddenly. “I can.”

Gouto looked at him. “Yes? Why?”

“Because...he’d been with me. In my house. My room... My bed. Rumiko doesn’t like to admit she’s wrong about guys and which way they swing. She’s never been able to get it right.”

There was a long pause, with Rumiko staring aghast at Takahiro. Then Gouto rose and dragged Rumiko’s chair from the room. She started screaming and struggling, but the noise soon ceased. And I heard Yukari’s voice raised in a snapping tone. I was still looking at Takahiro as Gouto entered again and sat down.

“This...is new. Perhaps you could tell us what happened, Takahiro-kun?”

Takahiro squared his shoulders and stared directly into Gouto’s eyes. “Akira didn’t just like the ladies. He saw right through me, saw that I liked guys. When we got together the first time, it was...great. Wonderful. That’s why we stuck together despite us being so different. Him being such a serious student, me being...anything but most of the time. When we were in that friend group, it was...wonderful. Until Rumiko started hitting on him. He didn’t know what to do, he was so confused. Because he was already seeing someone, though he didn’t tell me who.”

“You’re telling the truth about that.”

“I... He came to me that night, must’ve been soon after he met Yukari and Souhei. My parents were away, so I could let him stay the night. He...said he didn’t know who to love. He was caught between two impossible loves. Two unthinkable loves. One of them was me, and... He wanted me to...show...whether mine was the one he wanted the most. So I took him to bed, and we...”

He let the sentence finally tail off. A sudden vague thought flashed through my mind. Bara, the rose and the genre. He reminded me of the physicality used in those works, though there the resemblance surely ended. There was a heart, a soul. He continued speaking with a subdued tone.

“He wanted something more... I tried to give it to him, but it was no use. He was sure. He wanted to go back to the school and make sure the other knew. I told him that if that’s what he felt, that was fine.”

“And the other party was?”

“You must’ve known. All along.”

“Say it. Out loud, right now.”

“Shiki Hisawa. His other love, the one he loved from afar as it were, was Shiki Hisawa, the PE teacher. Your half-sister.”

There was a prolonged pause. For some reason, I wasn’t surprised. Not in the slightest. I always imagined Akira capable of doing something silly, and this fit right in with the easy-going atmosphere the town had seemed to foster. Takahiro pressed on.

“I tried to see him the following day, tried to keep myself normal, but... And then the accident happened.”

“Not accident. Never accident.” He suddenly glared at Takahiro. “You killed him as surely as if you’d pushed those two off the edge. You made him confront my sister that day, confront her on the roof. There’s no way she’d have been up there if not for him. No way, no way.” Why was he suddenly repeating everything? “Now... I think that’s it. That’s over. The truth is known. And judgement shall be delivered for my sister’s life.”

“What?!”

“Must I spell it out? You are the witness. Every execution has witnesses.”

He grabbed Takahiro and started to drag the chair towards the noose. My mind rebelled against this. It was impossible, unthinkable, insane. Gouto was planning on lynching someone for...encouraging the following of one’s heart? The words of that strange apparition flashed into my mind.

“Wait! You can’t do anything yet! There’s one story you haven’t heard!”

Gouto paused, turned. “And who’s is that? Yours?”

“No.” I sighed. “Akira’s.”

Next, the final curtain...

Short story – Night at Shujuki; Part 2

Over ten years went by. I managed to get into a good art college, intending to pursue my plans on becoming a freelance artist. I heard eventually that the old school was closed down, though nothing else happened. Then, as if that had marked the beginning of the end, the town had slowly died. People drifted away, the remaining old people died, and it was soon an obscure little ghost town. The railway still ran there, there were properties for sale there, but no-one wanted to live there.

The five of us—Yukari, Rumiko, Souhei, Takahiro and myself—stayed roughly in contact with each other, though we did drift a little. Takahiro went overseas and seemed to get into competitive combat sports, Yukari and Rumiko just stopped communicating after a while, with Yukari becoming a doctor and Rumiko a model. Souhei ended up going into programming for a software outsourcing company, and kept in contact with me.

The announcement voice appeared overhead, starting me from a prolonged bout of reminiscence. “Yaso-Shujuki. Yaso-Shujuki.”

I was almost at Shujuki’s train station. We passed through a short tunnel, and the train’s harsh electric lights threw my face into relief against the window. It had been a week since I received the letter, asking me to come back to Shujuki. How old-fashioned it was in these days of emails and texts and tweets, getting a bit of ‘snail mail’. I had reminded me of who I was back then, that eager and somewhat plump twin-tailed girl with enthusiastic dreams and a big mouth.

The woman looking back at me was tall, rather thin, a thin and reserved mouth curving up into an ironic smile. Her hair was now in a single pigtail down the back, and she wore a black sweater top and plain trousers that could pass muster in the more casual kind of Japanese company. She worked as a freelance artist, and got good money for her work. Enough to live in a small, comfortable apartment in one of Osaka’s suburban wards. Not enough that she wanted to get married yet, she’d leave that for a little later when she could afford longer breaks.

I wondered how that commission I’d created for Square Enix was getting along? It should be almost there now, almost ready to assault the eyes of customers from gaming magazines across the country. It had been a big spread, and there were some rumours of offers coming from overseas. But the letter had chased all those thoughts from my mind. It had been an impossible letter, an unthinkable letter, a letter without rhyme of reason. It had been from Akira. Or at least, the writing on the outside, and the stuck-on message inside. A message to please come back to Shujuki High School on a certain date.

I did wonder. But at the same time, I wondered what was the worse that could happen in a place I knew so well? Even abandoned, what was there to fear? I kept telling myself that as I disembarked onto the platform and looked around me. The same little station, the same clear and clean air. Even the sound of my boots on the concrete evoked a fuzzy nostalgia. As I left the station, my overnight bag slung over my shoulder, I heard a car horn blare. Puzzled, I turned to look. Someone was getting out, a plump man in a suit with close-cropped hair that reminded me briefly of... But no, it was Souhei.

“Hi.” He waved. “Need a lift?”

I frowned. “Souhei? What are you doing here?”

“Probably the same thing you are. A letter that shouldn’t exist?”

I started, flushed. “Yes... Yes, I got a letter. In Akira’s handwriting.”

“Yeah, so did Rumiko. She contacted me out of the blue, wanted to know if it was some kind of trick.”

“Rumiko’s here too?”

“She rode down with me. I think Takahiro and Yukari are here.”

Goodness, a regular reunion. I got into the passenger seat, and looked round the town as we took the short drive from the station to the school. I was always expecting to see figures on the pavements, other cars, lights in the houses...

“The place looks dead.”

“No-one I know lives here anymore.” Souhei sighed. “Ever since poor Akira’s accident, the place just seemed to...die off. Not even the old folk wanted to stay.”

“You kept in contact?”

“As much as I could. A programmer’s life isn’t an easy one. What about you? How’s your art these days?”

“You’ll be seeing it in a couple of weeks... All over Japan.”

“Good for you. You know, regardless of the circumstances, I’m really looking forward to seeing the others.”

“Me too.”

There was the truth. The whole and honest truth. But I’d also wanted to see how the town had changed, and seeing it so utterly unchanged yet so completely dead was more than uncomfortable. It was terrifying.

We reached the gate of the school, which was...open? Why was the gate open? The others were waiting there, and even after ten years I recognised them. Though they had changed to fit with their ages and professions. Rumiko had on a fashionable outfit and a tactfully made-up face, and for whatever reason had dyed her hair a chestnut shade. Yukari looked what she was, the prim and proper business woman. Takahiro wore a tracksuit and chunky trainers, and wow he’d put on muscle in ten years. Not the bulging kind, but the sort you get by doing gymnastics and martial arts. He’d also grown his hair out into a short ponytail.

Takahiro came over and hugged me, and he smelled of overseas. “Great to see you again, Sai. Come on.”

I was led over to the others. Rumiko put on something like a stage smile and embraced me with that same glomping energy, though it felt like she was putting on a performance or something. Yukari was more reserved, but her handshake and formal greeting seemed to have more heart. Despite these odd sensations, I was glad to see all of them. They all seemed to have lived, just as I had, without letting Akira’s death weigh on them.

“So, why d’you all come here?”

“My question,” Rumiko seemed to be side-stepping the question, “is what this gate’s doing open. This place should be closed.”

Yukari looked hard at it. “Someone probably opened it before we came. And...that’s got me a little worried... Who’s that?”

We all turned as the new car drew up and a middle-aged man emerged. He wore casual clothes, his hair was unkept, and he looked almost weary, but I recognised him at once. I spoke before any of the others.

“Gouto-sensei?”

Gouto-sensei frowned. “Toshikiro?” He looked over all of us. “Suou, Ishin, Hishima, Taito... What are you all doing here?”

Rumiko countered with her own question, again seemingly avoiding something. “Come to that, what are you doing here?”

In reply, he pulled out a familiar-looking letter. That was it, no further point in trying to avoid the issue. We all produced ours as if on a signal. And then I sensed it. Turning abruptly, I saw it for the slightest moment, standing on top of the school building at the corner nearest where Hisawa-sensei and Akira had met their end. A woman in an all-black miko robe, with something there that made me sure she was looking directly at me.

Takahiro spoke. “Sai, what’s wrong?”

I started back to reality. “It’s...nothing. Thought I saw something.”

Rumiko spoke. “Geez, you think... Is there some grounds behind this place being haunted?”

Souhei looked at her. “H...haunted?”

Gouto-sensei spoke before Rumiko could answer. “It’s an old story. Apparently there used to be a lord’s castle in this area, with that shrine adjoining it. People round here used to say that Nobunaga Oda destroyed it during his campaigns.”

“But...” Yukari frowned, thinking it through. “I didn’t think Oda campaigned in this area.”

“Probably didn’t. It’s probably just a myth. So shall we go in? I found the place unlocked, and I went to get some supplies just in case.”

We all agreed in silence. Passing through that gate, I thought I saw vague ghosts of memories, odd echoes of those high school days when I’d walk through at the start and end of each day after the half-mile walk from my house. We approached as a body, almost as if each was afraid to get close alone. The front door of the school was open, and passing into the front hall we all saw it. A sign hung where a message board had once been, directing ‘visitors’ to Classroom 3-A. Our old classroom. Rumiko shuffled audibly.

“We’re...gonna be okay, right?”

“As long as we stay together, we should be.”

It was the best I could come up with. I ended up leading the way up those stairs. It felt almost naughty going up in my boots rather than changing into school shoes or sandals. But the place was so dilapidated that those feelings soon evaporated. There was no sign of vandalism, just a total abandonment that left me feeling cold and unwelcome in that place. Takahiro trotted up beside me as we reached the third floor and turned towards our classroom. He spoke quietly.

“No sign of anyone else. But...is it me or has the floor been swept.”

I looked, and replied with equal quiet. “It does look like someone brushed the place before we came, yes.”

“I see. Well...”

Without warning, he trotted up to the wall and performed some strange...parkour, I think? He seemed to skitter along the wall briefly. There was a giggle from Rumiko, and he smiled.

“Side effect of gymnastics. I got into free running. Gotta say, I’ve always wanted to do that here. And...my friends would probably not be happy. You’re not supposed to show off in parkour.”

I heard Gouto-sensei laugh, and saw Yukari sigh and shake her head. She always was the serious one. We entered Classroom 3-A with trepidation, and I saw reason to be worried. There were six chairs arranged there in a circle around a table, almost like some freaky student council meeting abandoned to time. I approached, looked round, but there was no indication of what to do next.

“So what now?”

Souhei’s question crystallised our actions. I pulled out my letter and opened its enclosure at last. For a second, I struggled to understand. Along the edge of the paper was what seemed to be a broken piece of text, an incomplete sentence. The others were also opening their enclosures, and Rumiko snorted.

“What the hell? It’s just a scribble?”

A thought struck me. “Bring them here. Let’s see what I can do.”

They all brought their pieces of paper, and my artist’s eye quickly saw the pattern. In a few seconds, I’d arranged them. Six pieces of paper with one sentence written across their overlapping faces.

‘Wash the blood from your hands, and say what you saw.’

There was a long pause as we all took the sentence in. Then Yukari snorted.

“Well that’s a poor prank to play. All this way for nothing.”

“Agreed.” Gouto-sensei reached into his bag. “You all look parched. Shall we have a drink before we go? Not the best circumstances, but...”

He left the sentence unfinished. For whatever reason, we all agreed. We each had a bottle of juice, just like the old days. I took the orange and sipped. I knew there would be another train leaving in a few hours, but maybe I could get a lift back to civilization with Souhei or Gouto-sensei. This place was beyond unsettling now with the sun sinking over it. It was...well...

“Whew, it must’ve been a day.” Rumiko had been talking to Souhei about her modelling. “I...feel kinda sleepy. I think I’ll need to use one of...these...chairs.”

She slumped into the chair, Souhei barely stopping her from sliding onto the floor. Then he also started to wobble.

“Oh boy... My head...”

Yukari frowned, looked around. “Everything...so fuzzy...”

Takahiro was leaning on the table, struggling to stay upright. I looked round, feeling my head growing dizzy and uncertain. Gouto-sensei was...leaving the room? What was happening. And... Oh no. There it was again, this time right in front of the teacher’s podium. The black-clothed miko, and this time I saw her face clearly. A cold face like a noh mask, with blood red eyes. Her mouth opened, and I heard words echoing in my ears.

“With these words, call me. Yami-yami-bake, Yami-yami-Lycoris, Yami-yami-yomi. Call when needed. I shall come. This record must be correct.”

I then slumped. My vision whirled together into a blurring mass, all sound dulled and faded, and I slumped to the floor.

Next, a terrible scene...