There was a knock, and the door to the cabin opened. A young woman wearing a white head covering peeked in. "Asbel? Asbel, why aren't you asleep yet?"
The young man in the thick brown garb and with the metal-studded leather cap on his head looked away from the porthole, one of many in the side of the flying Dorok monitor he was traveling in. "Oh, hi, Kecha. Don't know. Just sleepless, I guess."
"Why?" Kecha stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She came to stand by the seated Asbel.
"I don't know." Asbel sighed, removed his cap and ran a hand through his unruly dark-brown hair. "You ever get to wondering how in the world we ended up with the rest of the people here, on this ship?" he asked as he watched the ungainly bulk of one of the Torumekian Bumblecrows accompanying the Dorok monitor slide slowly past the window opening, a black shadow with a few blinking lights in the inky night. The craft was resupplying their vessel. "I'm surprised they haven't murdered each other by now."
"There's a time for trusting other people, Asbel. Even your enemies." Kecha patted his shoulder. "Anyway, I'm keeping my eyes open. I don't like the look of some of the people here."
Asbel turned his head to look at her and laughed. "And you're also doing that, no doubt, to keep me from creeping out of this room and getting myself into trouble trying to assassinate Kushana." He said it with a light air, but Kecha noticed his right hand ball itself into a fist.
"You said it, not I." The girl in the pink dress, loose khaki pants and dark-russet boots gazed a moment out the porthole. "I know what your problem is. You miss Nausicaä."
"I... well, yes. Doesn't everyone?" The last Asbel had seen of the Child of the Wind was when he had split off from her over the World Sea after towing Mehve there with the Gunship. She had been chasing a dream, following a voice that no one heard but her. To what conclusion, no one knew. But since people like Luwa Chikuku Kulubalkuwa, Charuka, Kushana, and Selm were convinced she was still alive, he preferred to trust in their wisdom and believe them.
Kecha shrugged. "I guess. Otherwise, we wouldn't be out here, looking for her." She shifted on her feet. "Please, Asbel, get some sleep. Fretting about her does you no good. If we find her, we find her. If not..."
For a moment Asbel's brows came together. "We will find her. Count on it."
"Yes. Yes, of course we will." Kecha started for the door. "Well, good night."
"Good night." Asbel got up from his seat and prepared to turn in. He marked the pale, watery moon peeking out from behind the dark clouds one last time, then got into his bunk. The humming thrum of the ship's machinery soon lulled him to sleep.
In another part of the monitor, in one of its innumerable passageways, Selm of the Forest People paused in his cross-legged meditation and looked up as someone contacted him mentally.
Selm...
Yes, Chikuku?
The Apostle is... gone. We should get ready.
I understand. The sandy-haired man got to his feet, hefted his pack, and began to make his way up to the bridge, where Charuka and Kurotowa were. His boots clanked on the metal floor as he walked.
------oOo------
The Mononoke-hime blinked herself awake and sat up in her bed of leaves and furs. She looked pensively at the cave opening and stood up.
The giant white wolf sleeping beside her woke up too. "San?" she growled in a low voice, her lips moving, her fangs baring themselves, as if she was snarling. "What bothers you?"
"Don't you feel it, mother? Something great and sad is happening."
Moro the Wolf God sat up and shook herself. Loose strands of her white hair drifted down to the ground, and her bifurcated tail twitched as she spoke. "Now that you mention it, yes." Her face became the wolf equivalent of sad. "But there's nothing to be done about it, so come back to bed."
"Mother, I... forgive me, but I feel I need to be with him now."
"Who? You mean Ashitaka?"
San nodded.
Moro growled, but consented. "Have one of your brothers help you look for him, but be careful. He's bound to be somewhere near Tatara-ba and those cursed humans."
"Yes, Mother." San brushed her clothes clean, put on her large round earrings, shoes, headdress and mask, then retrieved her spear from the floor and walked towards the entrance of the den. As she stepped out of the opening, one of the little white kodama standing silently on the massive stone lintel rotated its head with a little clattering sound as she passed underneath it. Then it silently jumped down and began to follow her.
Ashitaka was right, she thought to herself as she searched the nearby darkness for one of her brothers. There was no real way to kill a kami. Moro's mysterious return was proof enough of that. And as for the shishi-gami... it was all around them, wasn't it? One could not really call it dead. That was like trying to call the wind 'dead' just because you couldn't see it.
Miles and miles away, at a gravel-filled streamside, the young Emishi man, kneeling beside his patient mount Yakkul, paused in drinking the cool water, tilted his head up, and listened to the haunting sound of one of Moro's children howling. Low in the sky, yellow and large, hung the round moon.
------oOo------
"Jiji? What are you looking at?"
The black cat at the windowsill turned to faced the 14-year-old witch. "Kiki! What are you doing awake at this hour?"
"I couldn't sleep. I have a feeling something's terribly wrong out there." The young girl with the red bow in her black hair, dressed in her quaintly cute cream-colored pajamas, stood by her feline friend and looked out the window at foggy, tranquil Koriko town, asleep under the northern stars. "Terribly, terribly wrong."
"Me too. It makes me want to howl at the moon, like a dog. Do you mind if I go caterwauling a bit?"
"I won't, but the neighbors are sure to be bothered. And besides, you'll wake your family. I'm going downstairs for a glass of water. It might help me sleep."
Jiji frowned within his cat's visage. It was difficult to put a kindle of kittens to sleep. And Kiki herself would probably not be able to rest with all his noise, so he decided against releasing his emotions and making a racket. He lay back on the windowsill and contemplated the moon hanging over Koriko.
------oOo------
"Marco? What're you doing out of bed?" There was the rustle of silk as Gina Pagot, clad in her nightdress, sat up.
The lighted end of the cigarette Marco held in his mouth jiggled in the moonlit darkness as he spoke. He was standing by the window, bare-chested and wearing white shorts. "Look, Gina. Silly Fio is out there in the garden with that American, and they're both looking at the moon."
"Leave them be. What she does with her love life is her business, you worrier." She frowned. "Smoking again? You know what the people at the studio said: those things will kill you."
Marco looked at her, his expression unreadable in the dark. "I know. I hope to live that long. If you'll excuse me, I feel like taking a stroll." Marco left the window, came back to her, and kissed her on the cheek. "Go back to sleep. It's not good for an expectant mother to stay up late." He dressed himself in a burgundy smoking jacket and pants, and was about to leave when Gina asked, "Don't you want me to come with you?"
"No. I just... need to be alone now. I'll be back shortly."
"Whatever you do, don't go raiding the larder again."
In the twilight Marco smiled. He missed the conveniences of 21st-century life. "I won't." Then he left, slipping out the door as quietly as a shadow.
------oOo------
"Okaa-san! Okaaaaa-saaaaan!"
The cry, repeated over and over, sent Mrs. Kusakabe hurrying to her daughter Mei's room. Satsuki was already trying to soothe her sister, but the little girl insisted on her mother's presence.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "Mei dearest, what's wrong?"
"She had a bad dream," Satsuki replied for her sister as she stroked Mei's mussed brown hair and sweat-moist forehead. That her imouto-chan was distressed was revealed by the violent way she had flung her blanket completely off her futon.
"I don't want to talk about it, okaa-san!" bawled Mei, clutching at her mother desperately. "Just please stay here with me tonight! I hate the dark! It's coming to get me!"
Mrs. Kusakabe looked concernedly at her younger daughter. Quite a change for someone who was always saying "Mei's not worried, Mei's not scared." The poor girl must really be upset, she thought. She quietly ruffled Satsuki's unruly brunette mane and told her to go back to bed. It was a school day tomorrow, after all.
"Yes, yes," the convalescent crooned as she gathered Mei up in her arms. "I'll stay here with you tonight. Now, try and go back to sleep. I promise I'll pray to Jizou Bosatsu and he won't let anything bad happen to you."
Satsuki watched as her mother sang a soft lullaby to put Mei back into dreamland, then turned and looked out the open shouji of the tatami-covered bedroom. There was the giant camphor tree, but tonight it seemed like a cold, ominous shadow in the moonlight, rather than the solid, comforting presence it usually was. And there, on one of the topmost branches, were the dark outlines of the three Totoro, backlit by the brightness of the full moon, hooting and whistling on their flutes the soft, ethereal, and dissonant melody that filled her soul with a great disquiet and kept her from going to sleep. Around them the sootballs formed a dark ring that danced and wavered in the air. Why were they doing that now? she wondered as she twirled an acorn from Mei's carry-bag in her hand. Why?
------oOo------
By the firelight and dazzling moonlight the tanuki and a few visiting kitsune had a ball--not the literal ones hanging from their groins, but rather a grand gathering. No one knew why the elders had ordered this meeting in the golf course this particular evening. It was just as well: the shape-changing raccoon dogs desperately needed a break from the rigors of human life. Everyone felt a certain need to be happy and rambunctious, as if this was needed to drive the darkness and worsening pressures of their lives away. So they danced and made merry, drinking sake and eating both human and animal food under the moon and stars.
All save a few. One of these was Shoukichi, who hung away from the madding crowd, his moment of revelry finished. He was quietly sitting on the finely-trimmed lawn, looking out over the trees at what he could of Tama New Town, when he was joined by Oroku, one of the elders.
"You shouldn't be here," she admonished him. "Go back to the fireside and forget your cares! Tonight we should be happy."
"Why should we?" queried the introspective tanuki. "Nothing's changed. Fewer and fewer of us are left each year. I miss seeing the faces I used to know so well."
Oroku intruded herself into his vision for a moment, changing her visage momentarily into one of a nopperabou's. They had used the faceless spirit disguises long ago, in the Spook War. "Oh, you mean like this?"
The memories that flooded into Shoukichi's mind made him smile. Gonta-kun, he remembered with fondness. "Oh, as you wish, obaa-sama." He got to his feet. "But why tonight?"
Oroku transformed back into her normal body, self-consciously tucking away a few loose strands of gray hair under the pins holding her gingko-leaf 'do together. "Shoukichi," she said, "you wouldn't believe me even if I told you." She took him by the hand, and together they walked back to the gathering.
------oOo------
"Well, here we are," Tokio Ooshima said as he and Sayuri stopped in the nearly-empty lobby of the latter's dormitory. They had just been out on a date, and it had been a hectic night of club-hopping and dancing, plus a short walk in Meriken Park and a ride on the Ferris wheel, animatedly talking and taking in the sights of Kobe's port area.
"Thank you, Tokio-kun," said the brown-haired young lady with the round eyeglasses. "I had a nice time."
"Yeah, me too. Thanks for helping me with my... father."
"I was glad to be of service." Sayuri smiled impishly at him. "Of course, I'll want a reward..." She closed her eyes and tilted her face upwards.
"Sayuri-chan, I..." Tokio bit his lips and opted to kiss her gently on the cheek. At the touch Sayuri opened her eyes.
"Tokio..."
"I'm sorry. I know you deserve more than that, but I'm... confused." Tokio sighed heavily. "I can't--"
Sayuri shushed him by grabbing the lapels of his dark leather jacket and planting her lips full on his mouth. Tokio reflexively brought his hands up to her shoulders to push her away, but stopped himself and let her kiss him for as long as she liked.
She broke the kiss off, and her gaze lingered momentarily on Tokio's lips, then transferred itself to his eyes. "After this long," she whispered, "you still don't know your own heart... un-chan, if you ever need me, you know where to find me." She flashed him a smile, did a quick about-face, and walked hurriedly to one of the nearby corridors, disappearing down it as she went to her room to cry.
With infinite sadness in his heart Tokio watched her go. Un-chan. Derogatory for some, the term was a private joke, something shared only between them. No one else called him that, not even Juna. He stood still for a long while, moving only to push his half-round red sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. The quiet, mellifluous strains of popular Maaya Sakamoto's Kuuki to Hoshi drifted in from the hidden PA speakers in the vicinity. Poor Sayuri. She'd been so helpful and supportive as Tokio sought to mend fences with his father. It had been the hardest thing he had ever done, but she was there, not asking for much in return--until now. She didn't deserve this, he thought bitterly. She really didn't. And what did that make him? He didn't want to dwell on the answer, but somewhere in there were the words 'manipulative shithead.'
The Docomo cellphone in his pants pocket buzzed. He dug it out and flipped it open. The Maaya Sakamoto song was suddenly cut off at the same moment with a hissing crackle, and a news bulletin, delivered in a swift male voice, began to replace it. Tokio read the message on the screen. It was from his mother, telling him to get back home on the double. The reason why was given after it, and for a moment the unreality of the situation prevented him from comprehending things.
A nuclear bomb had just exploded some miles offshore from the Japanese capital.
Tokio reread the message, unbelieving. Wasn't Juna in Tokyo with Katsunari and her boyfriend? According to her mother she still hadn't returned from vacation. He grimaced and ran out the dormitory, hopped onto his motorbike and put on his helmet. He started the machine and summarily sped off, the loose ends of his blond hair fluttering in the wind as he headed for the apartment block were Juna lived with her mother and sister. The full moon was out tonight, hovering above his chosen road like a beacon showing him the way he must travel.
------oOo------
"Sister? What's wrong?" the young girl with the violet hair and floral-patterned yellow dress asked her elder sibling as they ate with their hands their simple meal of roasted fish, vegetables, grated coconut and vinegar.
"Eh? Why should anything be wrong, Mao?" the long-haired young woman sitting beside her on the sand questioned. She finished her dinner, crumpled up the banana leaf she had been using as a plate and threw it into the popping, crackling campfire. Then she stretched her long, shapely legs out on the sand, leaned back on her hands and looked out to sea. "Ah, that was good."
"Come on, Sara, you've got that look again." Mao Nome aped the unquiet expression on her sister's face, exaggerating it enough to elicit a laugh from her.
Sara Nome smiled faintly. "You know me too well. I don't know why, but I just feel that something's not right tonight."
"Oh?"
Sara nodded. "There's a weight sitting on my heart. I find it oppressive." Grabbing the staff that was stuck upright in the sand beside her, she pulled herself to her feet and said, "I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to turn in early. Please don't forget that poultice I asked you to prepare, okay?"
"Sure," Mao reassured her, looking up at her with twinkling eyes, her short hair bobbing as her head moved up and down. Sara left her on the beach, her footsteps softly rustling on the sand as she walked away. Deprived of her companion, Mao contented herself with finishing her meal and listening to the rhythmic boom and hiss of the waves rolling onto the shore. She watched the myriad reflections of the silver moon sparkle off the dark South Pacific.
(Posted Sat, 21 May 2005 22:52)
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