they told the newspapers in the spring. If they don’t want me to make my own calls to the newspapers, they will listen to you, and then they will go to Aritomo-sensei and question her, and search her home. It may be that the missing students are there, if they are still alive-”
“Miho,” Sakura said softly.
“But the police must be the ones to deal with this. I cannot allow any of you to put yourselves in further danger.”
For several seconds, no one spoke. Hachiro shifted awkwardly on his feet. Sakura whispered Kara’s name, a question, and then all of them were looking at her.
Kara stood, shaking her head. “No. I’m sorry, Yamato-sensei. That will take too long. We’ll go to her house ourselves. If the others are there, we’ll rescue them. And if Aritomo-sensei is there… we’ll have the answers we’re looking for. I only hope you’re right about my father.”
She and Hachiro turned to leave and the others started to rise to follow them. Kara’s thoughts were already running ahead, wondering how quickly they could gather the bells they would need, and thinking also about the story of Dojoji, about the monks, and the role that masks played in Noh theater.
“Stop!” Mr. Yamato barked. “I forbid you to leave. You will wait for the police.”
Kara held the door open for the others. As they filed out, she turned to the principal. “I’m sorry, sensei. This is ancient evil. We don’t have time to wait for the modern world to believe in it.”
Miss Aritomo lived a mile or so from the Harpers, in a house that had been built long before World War II. Once upon a time it had been one of a handful of larger homes beyond the outskirts of the city, but Miyazu had grown over the years and sprawled outward around it. There were offices nearby, as well as a handful of shops, a sushi bar, and a laundry, but the neighborhood had gone downhill of late. The doctor’s office next door had been abandoned, a realtor’s sign in the window.
“It must have been beautiful once,” Mai said, studying the front of the house.
Sakura frowned. As far as she was concerned, the art teacher’s house had not lost any of its beauty. If anything, the ugliness of its surroundings only enhanced its elegance, though she understood why some people wouldn’t see it that way.
She and Mai stood in a small alley beside the laundry. Its windows were dark and the building silent, but the streetlights were bright and they did not want to be seen if anyone should look out the window of Miss Aritomo’s house.
Kara, Ren, and Hachiro had gone to the school. It would be locked up, but they had passed the point where locks would stop them. The police would be on their way to Mr. Yamato’s house by now, but by the time the principal explained to them what he thought was going on-or some version of the truth, at least-it might be hours before they did anything about it. Sakura thought Hachiro and Ren might balk at breaking a window to get into the school, but she knew Kara wouldn’t hesitate. Not now. But she knew that if they did that, alarms would go off, summoning the police, and those explanations would also take too long.
Fortunately, they wouldn’t have to break any windows. Sakura spent some time every day in the shadowy recessed doorway on the east side of the school. It was her quiet spot-her smoking spot. She contemplated life during those cigarette breaks, thought about the past and about the future, about her sister and their hollow, loveless parents, and the hopes and dreams she never dared discuss in detail, even with her closest friends.
She also worked to pry the lock open on the door.
It had been forgotten, that door. Locked for years, it had been painted over and ignored, an emergency exit from a time before the renovations to the school created new ones at the rear of the school and out through the gym. In fiddling with it one day, Sakura had found out that the school’s present alarm system was not wired to that door, that any wires were antiquated, and connected to nothing. All they’d need to get in was a fork or knife, anything to pry the lock.
That was the easy part.
“How long do you think it will take them?” Mai asked.
Sakura glanced at her, biting back a snippy retort. “I don’t know. If they get lucky, they’ll find enough bells right away. If not…”
She didn’t have to finish the sentence. Mai sighed and nodded, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.
“I can’t stand just waiting here,” Mai said.
“Patience has never been one of my virtues,” Sakura replied. “But what other choice do we have? If we have any hope of stopping the Hannya-or even just getting our friends back-we need some kind of advantage.”
Mai scowled. “And you think bells will give us that advantage?”
Sakura shrugged. “I don’t know what to think. But so far, the old stories have proven to have truth in them. We can only hope that this is one of the true parts. And besides, you said yourself it didn’t seem like coincidence that Aritomo-sensei left the bells out of the play.”
They fell grimly silent after that, no trace of friendship or even camaraderie between them. Sakura had given her the benefit of the doubt a few times, but despite Mai’s denials, she would never be able to shake the feeling that the girl knew more about Akane’s murder than she admitted-that she might actually have been there that night. At the very least, she had known more than she told the police. If she had told the truth, Ume might be in prison now.
Sakura frowned and glanced sidelong at her, there in the dark alley beyond the golden glow thrown by the streetlights. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Could she make Mai talk to the police now, after all these months? Given what the girl had said in front of Mr. Yamato, she probably could.
The thought made her happy, and for several minutes she stood and stared at the dark facade of Miss Aritomo’s house, fantasizing about what would happen if the police arrested Ume. Sakura had been forced to let go of much of her grief and anger in order to defeat the ketsuki in April, but that did not mean that her heart had healed. She still wanted justice.
They waited on. Cars and scooters flew by, and people on bicycles, but there were not very many, and no one seemed to notice the two girls in the alley. The house remained dark and silent. Sakura tapped her front left pocket, where she kept her cell phone, and then her right pocket, where her cigarettes were nestled away.
“I would love a cigarette right now,” she whispered, becoming jittery. “I need a smoke.”
Mai shot her a dubious look. “Why don’t you have one, then?”
Sakura sniffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re not very sneaky, are you? If there’s anyone in the house, they might see the match, never mind the cigarette burning.”
Affronted, Mai raised her chin, half-turned away. “You say I’m not sneaky as though it’s an accusation. Is being sneaky an admirable trait?”
“That was me being polite,” Sakura replied. “By ‘sneaky,’ I mean clever. Which you’re not.”
That ended any further discussion, and Sakura was glad. She fidgeted, both with impatience and with a craving for nicotine. Thirty or forty minutes went by without her exchanging another word with Mai. Fewer cars passed. After a while, all Sakura could think about was how idiotic she had been to take up smoking, and how she really needed to quit the habit.
In a way, that was good. The less she thought about the house across the street, the better. Whenever she let herself focus too much on Miss Aritomo’s lovely old place, she wondered if Miho might be inside, and if she would still be alive when they went in after her. Those thoughts made her want to scream.
Craving a cigarette helped keep the fear bottled up.
Mai stiffened beside her. “Did you hear that?”
Sakura frowned, edgier than ever. “What? I didn’t hear anything.”
They both stood frozen in the alley, necks craned, concentrating on the sounds of the night around them. There were no cars driving by now, and no distant roar of motorcycle engines or rumble of a passing train. In that moment, the neighborhood was probably as quiet as it ever got.
Sakura cocked her head. Had she heard a muffled cry in the distance?
“There it is again,” Mai said, turning to stare at her, eyes wide with hope and terror. “You heard that.”
Sakura bit her lower lip, thinking for a moment before replying. “I heard something.”
Anger flickered in Mai’s eyes. “That was a voice. Someone’s screaming for help inside that house.”
Sakura stared at the house, listening intently. Mai fumed, but when she seemed about to speak, Sakura hushed her. Nearly a full minute passed before Sakura heard the sound again, and this time she could not deny that
