Young Writers Society

#

We spend most of the morning in silence; Conrad pouts from his bed as I pace up and down, ignoring his accusatory glares. As promised, Father brings up breakfast at some point. Grilled fish for me and vegetable, animal-less broth for Conrad. Both meals lay uneaten and forgotten.

I can’t shake the feeling of utter helplessness. It’s only a matter of time before Mr Tanaka and Sayuri arrive. There’s no way I can head them off or otherwise stall the situation. I sacrificed any cooperation they might have extended me the moment I tricked Mr Tanaka into giving up the location of Kitsune’s portal. I was happy to pay that price when I thought the night would end with some kind of conclusion; a great revelation that would let me get closure and put everything behind me. How could I have known that instead I’d walk away without even scratching the surface?

The only thing I can count on is that Father will brush the Tanakas off. He never believed Mother’s reason to flee this place, and it’s not like he hasn’t heard this all before. The only difference to the equation, one that I have a small chance of mitigating, is that Conrad also knows the truth, and isn’t nervous to share it. He isn’t the most reliable source of information, granted, but how many people reciting the same story will Father be able to deny?

“Conrad, will you listen to me please?” I say, coming to a stop. I take his uncharacteristic silence as an invitation to continue. “Sayuri Tanaka is going to visit Shinpi today, and she’s going to find out what we—what I—what happened last night. I know you want Father to know about Mother, but we need to be careful about how we approach this. If Sayuri convinces Father we’re in danger—

“Hello? Kit wants to help us,” Conrad says, as if this is more obvious than an earthquake.

“Use your brain,” I say, knocking on top of his head. “Are you forgetting what happened to Tami Tanaka? And the other kids that went missing? Do you think Kit took them away for a lifelong tea party?”

“Nobody knows what happened to them.”

“Exactly. Even more reason to take this slow with Father, and especially more reason not to trust Kitsune.”

“Kit wants to help us,” Conrad says again, crossing his arms, scowling.

I start to think I might never convince him otherwise. I stride the length of the room another few times, and before long, halt in the same spot again. “Look. If you go spouting off to Father about spirits and magic trees and whatever else, then no offense, he’s going to think you’re a lunatic. And when the Tanakas come over and also try to make him believe this stuff—it’ll just be too much for him. He’ll end up taking us back to the city. Do you want that?”

He shakes his head.

“So here’s what we do,” I say, building momentum. “We let the Tanakas speak to Father first. He’s already told us he doesn’t believe their story, so he won’t this time, either. He’ll send them away. That’ll buy us some time.”

“To do what?” Conrad asks, perking up.

It’s a simple question. If only my brain hadn’t frozen.

Feeling like I’ve lost my chance to win Conrad over, I breathe a sigh of defeat and resume pacing the room. But something about my expression must’ve turned him around, for he hops off his futon and copies me, striding the length of our bedroom, face carefully arranged as if deep in thought.

#

When the patch of sky framed in the window shows the first signs of twilight; a lilac tinge bleeding into the yellow and orange glaze of sunset, just when I start to hope the Tanakas won’t come after all, a soothing, female voice trails from downstairs, evoking a rabble of butterflies in my stomach.

Conrad and I exchange nervous looks of unease. I make a ‘shh’ gesture, then another sign for him to follow. He tiptoes behind me as I crouch low and inch out onto the balcony that connects the two attic bedrooms, where there’s a fragmented view of the living quarters through the wooden bannister . . .

“Please forgive me, I don’t mean to impose on your evening,” Sayuri says, led to the hearth by Father, her kimono as red as the fire twisting beside them.

He gestures for her to sit whilst he takes his usual place at the foot of the large pillar dominating the room.

“Not at all,” Father says, waving her concern away. “Can I offer you a drink? Tea? Sake?”

There’s a sympathetic tone within his welcoming gesture. I suppose the last time they saw each other might’ve been the night she ran screaming out of the forest, claiming a spirit took the children away. While he might not have supported her version of events, he believed that she believed it.

“Oh, no thank you. I don’t expect to stay long.” Her arm shifts slightly, and there’s a faint ruffle of parchment.

“Is there something I can help you with, Sayuri?”

“I suppose—well, yes.”

Father simply inclines his head, inviting her to continue. There’s a moment of hesitation, as if she’s struggling to find the right place to start.

“Your children came to my home yesterday,” She finally says. “I live in the village,” she clarifies when a crease forms between his brows. “Please forgive me. I made the terrible mistake of sharing with them my history on Shinpi Farm.”

Father looks visibly relieved. “That’s not a problem. I explained to them myself the reason I left the farm with their mother. I expected this—ah, story—might indeed come up eventually.”

His tone inflects when he says the word ‘story’. Sayuri catches this, too.

“You don’t believe?” She says, crestfallen. “I assumed—given that you fled the farm that night . . . Well, I suppose, then, that this will be very difficult for you to hear.”

Father stiffens, eyes narrowing.

“You see, your children used my story to play a rather cruel trick on my husband. They lured him into the forest last night. He wrote me a letter which I must share with you.”

“The forest?” Father repeats, taking the folded parchment Sayuri hands to him.

My heart accelerates, drumming hard against my chest; Father already knows of our venture into the forest. Is he therefore more likely to believe Mr Tanakas words if his story begins with a ring of truth?

“Before you start,” Sayuri says, “I must impress upon you the significance of the words you now hold in your hands. In the thirty years following our daughter’s disappearance, I have visited my husband very often. In that time, he has never spoken a single word to me, not even in writing. This is the first instance I have known him to break that silence.”

Father nods his understanding and begins to read. For several intense minutes, his eyes dart from side to side, flying over each sentence with purposeful haste. The silence is broken only by his huffy exhalations, accompanied by the vigorous shaking of his head. The further along the story he gets, the more pronounced these gestures become, until he finally reaches the end of the letter and holds it slightly aloft, shooting Sayuri an incredulous expression.

“But you can’t surely—I mean this is just . . .”

My heart leaps. This is it. Father is going to throw her out. Perhaps toss the pages into the fire.

“I know this is difficult for you,” Sayuri says, getting to her feet. “I hope that you accept my apology for my part.”

“Hold on a second,” Father says, also rising. “I would like to hear what my sons have to say for themselves.” His head twists up in our direction, clearly about to shout for us to come down, when his eyes find mine peering down at him from the railings.

He seems momentarily angry that we’re eavesdropping on his conversation, yet his clear desire to get to the bottom of Mr Tanaka’s letter overrides this. He says, “boys—you—you didn’t go into the forest with Mr Tanaka, did you?”

I rise to my feet and gaze at them over the banister. I’m hesitant to deny Mr Tanaka’s letter without knowing exactly what was written in it, but I need to find some way to derail Sayuri. I glance to Conrad, and whether it’s out of fear of punishment from Father or from the urgency I impressed upon him earlier, his wide-eyed, thunderstruck expression tells me he has the sense to keep quiet and let me take the lead.

“We went into the forest like I told you,” I say, throwing caution to the wind. “But not with Mr Tanaka.”

“And there you have it,” Father says immediately, though I’m sure that’s not a credit to his trust in me more than a measure of his unwillingness to believe the Tanaka family’s unlikely story.

“Very well,” Sayuri says, then she stares up at me and regards me with defiance. “I suppose it does not matter if you deny what happened, because after today, this will all finally be over.”

Huh? What is she talking about? I hope the glow of the fire below isn’t strong enough to reveal the surprise on my face.

“You see, I told you my own lie yesterday, I suppose. I said that I separated from my husband because he became a different person after Tami disappeared. But actually, he never stopped being the man I’ve always known. He never let go of our daughter, never gave up hope that one day she will return to us. I believe he visits the spirit’s tree often, waiting for her to come back. I’ve pleaded with him over the years to move on—because every day that tree is left to stand, the spirit has another chance to return to our world and put the lives of more children in danger, like you and your brother are now. That ends tonight, Henrik. My husband has finally accepted what needs to be done. He has gone back to that cave for the last time tonight, and he will burn the spirit’s tree to the ground.”

It feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room. I don’t know the implications of what Sayuri has said. I have no idea what destroying the tree will accomplish, whether that will truly shut Kitsune out from our world, and whether it will end his deal with Conrad. What I do know is that if Kitsune can’t return, then neither can Mother, and I can’t stand here and let that happen. I need this conversation to end. Now.

“Father,” I say, unable to keep the panic out of my voice. “Are you going to listen to this? Make her leave, please!”

“I agree that it is time for me to depart,” Sayuri says, then turns back to Father. “Before I do, you deserve to know the truth. It’s clear that your son will stop at nothing to keep you in the dark. There’s a simple way you can end that. The letter mentions something I believe Henrik keeps hidden from you. A symbol of light, on his arm. If you still doubt what we are telling you, ask him to prove this wrong.”

It’s all over. Before Father can even look up, I start to whisk Conrad away, but he’s no longer by my side. I rush into the bedroom—he’s sat between the beds, pulling on his shoes.

“Why are you standing there?” he cries, fumbling with his laces. “Put on your boots!”

I comply at once, shoving them on whilst Conrad hoists open the window and clambers out into the twilight.

“Get here now!” Father shouts, thumping up the stairs.

I crawl out of the window, where Conrad is waiting, perched on the slanting roof like a cat. “We have to stop Mr Tanaka,” he says, then scurries down, barely disturbing the thatch as he goes. I can’t quite give in to such haste; weighing considerably more than Conrad, and knowing patches of the roof are in dire need of replacement, I fear I could fall through if I make one wrong move. So I pick my way down with care, trying to spread my weight as evenly as possible.

By the time my feet hit the sodden ground, Conrad has taken off towards the forest, squelching in the mud.

“Wait!” I shout, stopping him in his tracks. I sprint past him, along the forest’s edge. “Follow me, I know a faster way.”

“Okay, Hen!”

We don’t make it far up along the riverbank before Father barks from our bedroom window. “BACK HERE NOW!”

“Don’t look back,” I warn Conrad, though I don’t have to; the only reason he hasn’t already overtaken me is because he doesn’t know the way.

While we move, I keep tabs of the rice paddies on the other side of the river. Mr Tanaka’s path starts where the paddies end. Sure enough, there’s the unmistakable signs of trampled weeds marking the gateway into the forest.

“In there!” I point, ushering him into the shadowy tunnel. The purple of night has almost entirely eaten the golden glow of sunset. There’s barely enough light filtering into the pathway. The thought crosses my mind that I could again use my symbol, but then this would also benefit Father, who is guaranteed to be in pursuit of us. He won’t be able to clamber down the roof, however I’m sure it won’t take long for him to double back and charge out of the front door, then along the forest’s edge.

Now with a clear direction, Conrad takes off down the path, hands held out either side of him so that he can brace himself before running into something solid. I follow suit, struggling to match his speed, digging deep for every ounce of energy I have.

By the time we reach the base of the mountain, night has truly fallen, and my lungs burn from exertion.

“Be careful, Hen, the rocks are still wet,” Conrad says, panting as he mounts the path leading up along the mountain face. We scramble along in single file, stepping over the branches overlapping the ledge, leaning into the rock wall on our right. My boots keep slipping on the path, just a fraction of an inch, but enough to make my heart shudder.

When we burst into the colossal cave, I expect to find signs of a fire, perhaps a trail of ash billowing in the wind, the smell of charcoal carried along with it. Or more likely, the red and yellow flickering of an enormous blaze in the middle of the miniature forest. But all ahead is cold and dark.

“It’s not too late,” I breathe.

Together we hasten through the sparse trees. As my mind wanders onto what we might find, a silvery glow starts to divide the solid black; the ghostly tree materializes ahead, an entirely separate entity to the gloomy world around it.

Then I see it; a streak of yellow flames dancing in midair beside a tall, dark figure.

With a final spurt of energy, we race into the clearing, inside the hexagon of horizontal tree trunks forming a perimeter fence around the collection of tree stumps.

Mr Tanaka whirls around from the base of the tree, a flaming torch in one hand, and judging by the ease it swishes through the air, an empty container of gas in the other. His eyes are red and puffy, wells of sheer despair and anguish. Conrad and I attempt to press on, but he lets the canister clunk to the ground and uses his now free hand to gesture for us to stop. He then points his fiery torch at the soil, where there’s a dark streak—clearly a trail of gas. The flames at the end the torch dance mere inches away from the fuel-soaked dirt . . .

“Don’t do it,” Conrad pleads, voice breathy. “Please!”

Mr Tanaka winces, lips detracting, revealing clenched teeth, as if he’s in physical pain.

“Thirty years,” I say, letting the words tumble out of my mouth. “You’ve been coming back here all this time. You could have destroyed this tree whenever you wanted, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because you knew Tami would never be able to come back.”

Even from this distance I can see the tears glistening in his woeful eyes, reflecting the orange flames of his torch.

“You’ve held on to hope for this long,” I say. “Please don’t give up now. If you drop that torch then Kitsune will win. Please don’t let that happen.”

He raises the torch away from the ground. The knot in my stomach lessens . . .

“It’s okay, Mr Tanaka,” Conrad croons, meandering through the stumps. He takes Mr Tanaka by the hand and tows him back the way he came. I’m not sure if the old man is simply debilitated by the conflict of emotions that are surely raging through him, or if we have successfully talked sense into him. Nevertheless, he allows Conrad to guide him towards the entrance of the enclosure.

“Thank you,” I say, breathing for what feels like the first time. “You’ve done the right—

It happens too fast for me to react. When Mr Tanaka draws level with me, his hand tightens over Conrad’s. Then he twirls on the spot and tosses the torch with precision. The flaming stick sails in an arc, pirouetting through the night like a rampaging Catherine wheel. I can only watch in horror as it lands on the wet soil, finding its mark. An eruption of red sparks to life, slowly streaking towards the ghostly tree.

A spindly hand clamps over my wrist.

“Get off me!” I scream, yanking my arm back as hard as I can. I lurch Mr Tanaka forward hard. He doesn’t loosen his grip on my arm, but the sudden motion makes him release Conrad, who immediately bolts towards the fire.

Mr Tanaka is locked in a stalemate. He can’t catch Conrad without releasing me. And if he continues to subdue me, he has to allow Conrad to rush towards the flames. He decides the former is more urgent, and unclamps his hand from my arm, turning away from me to go after Conrad. Taking advantage of this, I tackle him, diving at the ground and sweeping his legs out from under him. He hits the ground with a bodily thud, and gasps in pain. I bear hug him around the knees so that he can only lie in wait with me, watching Conrad’s fearless attempt to fight the blaze.

First he tries to stamp it out. The trail of fire is too wide and easily reforms each time he lifts his foot. He then switches tactic, kicking at the surrounding soil, trying to douse the inferno with dirt. The soil is too dry this far into the cave, too compact to dislodge a significant amount.

Somewhere far off, Father bellows something unintelligible into the night.

“Kit!” Conrad cries in defeat, thumping his small fists against the tree. “Please help us!”

Again Father roars in the distance. I catch my name this time. He’s getting closer . . .

Conrad glances over his shoulder after hearing Father’s booming voice, his blue eyes defiant, luminous in the glow of the fire snapping at his feet.

“Kit, please come out!” he shrieks. He slaps the area we saw the door appear the previous night, striking this spot with an open hand in tandem with each word tearing from his mouth. “Open! Open! OPEN!”

A flash of blue explodes from his palm. When he peels his hand away from the tree, a tiny, glowing line has been stamped onto the trunk. Each end of the line twists and twirls a complex path along the bark, meandering this way and that, until finally both ends meet together, completing an intricate symbol with a blinding flash.

The shining outline of a door appears, followed by a section of bark swinging out, unleashing a stream of azure radiance from within, inviting us inside. The flames spreading towards the tree flicker and die, as if unable to withstand the magical luminosity flooding into the clearing.

Conrad is staring at his trembling hands, then glances over his shoulder again, this time panic-stricken. “Did I do that?”

The door behind him tremors, and slowly starts to swing back towards the tree. The symbol imprinted on it is dimming, extinguishing line by line.

This is our chance. Our only chance. I release Mr Tanaka, and before he can recover, I dig my heels into the ground and bound over him.

“Hen, I don’t understand,” Conrad whispers as I race towards him. I lift him up and insert him into the tree, into the chamber of blue light. The door is still slowly closing, soon I won’t be able to enter . . .

I risk looking back. Father flies into the clearing, slowing to a stop, utterly stunned by the sight before him. Our eyes lock.

“Get in here!” Conrad screams, leaning out and taking my hand. He heaves me inside the tree, forcing me past the door that’s closing against me. I tumble inside, and seconds later, the door shuts soundlessly.

The blue drowns everything. Conrad’s hand squeezes mine. Whether he says something, I have no idea, for there is suddenly a tremendous rushing in my ears, and the light goes berserk, streaking upwards in a continuous motion, giving me the sensation of hurtling over a great distance. I try to say something myself, but either the words don’t come out, or the whooshing light is too loud to hear them. Conrad’s hand again clenches mine.

I can only squeeze back.

END OF ACT 1