Ghost Hunt 
by No. 13

“Kunimitsu!” ,Ayana announced not quite twenty minutes later, her voice cool and business-like once more, “Grab your coat, we’re going to Fuji-san’s. I’ll just wrap dinner up. Is that okay with you, Kunikazu? Haru-chan will be home soon, so the two of you can eat together. If I find something out I’ll tell you later tonight!”

Tezuka frowned; his mother’s sudden change of mood bode no good. She had gone from almost-devastated to determined in a matter of minutes – and he didn’t quite like the way her eyes kept glittering. He didn’t dare to protest though, and silently put on his scarf and gloves once more.

“Fuji-san offered to do the exorcism herself.” Ayana said as an explanation while slipping over her own woollen coat, grabbing the car keys on the way out, sounding maliciously happy.

Kunikazu raised an eyebrow at his daughter-in-law, fixing her with a inquiring stare – one that she met head-on. Tezuka Ayana was not, had never been and would never be malicious. But she, too, couldn’t shake the sense of righteous satisfaction creeping up on her with the prospect of having that ghost finally banished in mind. Hell, not even Tezuka Kunimitsu would at this stage stop to consider whether their actions were actually right.

There was a dead girl. Dead by accident, to everyone’s eyes. Dead, unnamed and unknown forevermore, due to the actions of a ruthless ghost. How in the world could they just avert their eyes, ignore this and move on?

This was, Tezuka knew and his grandfather also understood, not about justice. Maybe, at some point, the question of right and wrong came in. But foremost, this was about responsibility.

They had known about the ghost. Had personally experienced it’s presence, been warned and still – still hadn’t thought it serious enough to act at once. And now, only after somebody had died, they decided to take action.

Perhaps it was late – but hopefully not too late to prevent anything else from happening.

“She said it would be possible with a bit of background knowledge about that beast.” His mother’s voice suddenly penetrated his thoughts, “Kunimitsu, be a dear and fetch that blue folder from your father’s desk – it should contain whatever we’ve got concerning that house.”

Tezuka obliged wordlessly. His mother’s sudden, gleeful enthusiasm frightened him, and he knew better then to protest right now.

Her driving style tonight was equally reckless. Cutting across several lanes, turning corners sharply and paying an astonishing disregard to speed limits and road conditions, she still managed to manoeuvre them safely through the evening traffic.

When she parked the car in another broad, silent street, she looked once more at her own son. A soft smile ghosted across her lips and Tezuka wondered what went on in her head.

“I was thinking…” she said gently, “If nobody shows up to claim that girl’s body… if nobody comes for her - we could hold a funeral for her instead.”

Her smile said that yes, she realized that this was perhaps a classically female whim, but she wanted to indulge it, because it simply felt right.

“I just keep thinking of that poor thing, and you know, leaving her to total strangers who might do god knows what with her body, well, I won’t stand for that. So what do you think?”

In other words, Tezuka realized and his heart throbbed oddly, his mother didn’t only feel sympathetic, but also responsible. And he couldn’t deny any of those feelings either. They’d seen the ghost, been warned about its malevolent intents.

Who knows if they’d ever done something about it, hadn’t that little girl meet a premature death.

This wasn’t even about responsibility anymore, he realized, looking at his mother’s gentle face. This went far beyond – touching something deep within his own heart he couldn’t find words for.

“Yes.” he agreed, mirroring that small smile, “I think that is a good idea, mother.”

It was the least they could do for a nameless little girl, whose life had served little more to proof a known threat.

“Good.” his mother said, her clear voice effectively cutting through his foggy thoughts. He caught her fixing her hair in the review mirror, before pushing open the car door. They left their umbrellas inside, running the small distance to the Fuji’s doorway.

Thankfully, somebody answered the door shortly after the bell rang – Fuji Yumiko, looking less posh than usual, yet she still had the energy to greet them with all the formalities demanded.

“Kunimitsu…” ,his mother addressed him as they had entered the spacious, spotless living room, that held everything but persons – one thing he’d noted early upon entering the Fuji household; the house was always spotless, neat and aesthetically perfect, but it usually lacked inhabitants.

With Yuuta at Fuji’s father at work overseas and his mother travelling the world, there was rarely anybody there to make the house feel like a home.

“Kunimitsu, why don’t you go upstairs and say hello to Fuji-kun.” his mother sweetly suggested. Tezuka recognized an order when he heard one, especially when Yumiko handed him a tray with two steaming cups of tea, cookies and an assortment of odd snacks.

“Ja, have fun.” she said, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Tezuka felt slightly foolish, watching the females disappear into the living room, but then he shook his head. They would tell them in time, he told himself and turned to take the stairs up.

Wandering the corridor, he wondered if Fuji would actually welcome a visitor. Last time he’d seen his team mate, he’d been out cold after a possession. Did Fuji remember being possessed after all?

For a brief second he recalled the black flowers at school, earlier today, but forcefully shoved the thought away. There was no need to mention that extremely tasteless joke unless he wanted to liven up the dreary November by watching Fuji extract his revenge.

He entered the dim room after having knocked and received a hoarse ‘come in’ from Fuji. The curtains were drawn, and the only source of light was a small bedside lamp near a mountain of blankets.

“Tezuka?” the mountain moved and Fuji’s head emerged, hair tangled and face flushed. He blinked sleepily, as if he had just woken up.

“Aa.” he said, approaching his friend’s bed and setting down the tray.

“Thank you.” Fuji propped himself up on is elbows, then doubled over coughing. Up close he looked even paler and the dark circles underneath his eyes belied a restful sleep.

“How are you?” Tezuka asked, holding out a cup of tea, after Fuji’s coughing fit had abated.

“Honestly?” his friend whispered, lips twitching in a weak shadow of a smile, “I’ve been better.”

He gratefully accepted the tea, closing his eyes and carefully taking a sip before turning to Tezuka once more. “What brings you here, buchou?”

Tezuka involuntarily closed his eyes, recalling the tragic news and instinctively questioning, whether he ought to share them with a person this sick. He didn’t know for sure, but he himself still wasn’t entirely sure whether he ought to feel guilty that a little girl had died after he had escaped.

“My mother had a question.” was his diplomatic response.

Fuji looked at him seriously. “Did something happen?”

When Tezuka failed to respond, the smaller regular continued. “My sister didn’t exactly tell me, but I guessed something bad happened or was going to happen…”

“A girl.” Tezuka said, starring out through the crack in the curtains, where water was sliding down the window plane and the world outside remained hidden in total blackness. “A five-year old girl drowned in the mansion’s pond last night.”

Even though he was already abnormally pale, Fuji blanched further. “So that’s what it was.” he muttered and was taken over by another coughing fit; one that lasted longer than the previous one and rendered him breathless, leaning weakly against the pillows.

Casting the worries from his mind for the time being – his team mate was already at home and lying down and there was nothing more that could be done for him short of taking him to a hospital – Tezuka concentrated on the topic at hand.

“My mother wants the ghost exorcised. Do you… do you think that is possible?”

Last Monday, Tezuka registered in the back of his head, he wouldn’t have dreamed of asking a question like this. He would have been the first to deny the existence of ghosts – of all things paranormal – until two nights ago. And even now, he wasn’t sure whether he was only making exceptions for one special case.

“Most certainly it is possible.” Fuji replied, still trying to catch his breath, “And we’ll do it, too.”

He breathed deeply, drawing his knees to his chest and reaching for the tea again.

“Nee-san, well, she usually doesn’t like the idea of exorcising rashly. Ghosts… you know, ghosts were human beings, too. Only, they had something left to do, when they died, something that kept them from finding peace. And, usually, helping to fulfil that last task puts them to rest, too. Banishing a spirit however …. Well, we don’t know what happens to the ghost exactly, but the idea of leaving a task unfinished forevermore – it just seems wrong. It just…”

Violent coughing disrupted his words and Tezuka’s heart clenched painfully, as he watched his friend double over, clutching helplessly at his chest.

“Sorry.” Fuji gasped afterwards, trying to pull himself together, yet his trembling hands barely managed holding the teacup steady.

“Sorry. We’re going to get rid of the ghost for good this time.”

What are you really apologizing for? Tezuka frowned. For a split second he recalled his mother’s words on responsibility – was Fuji of all people entertaining the same sentiment? And was that still only responsibility?

When had the line between responsibility and guilt started blurring? It had always been so clear in his mind, but now, looking back, evaluating his own motivations – wasn’t it guilt that brought him and his mother to Fuji’s house? Wasn’t it guilt that made Yumiko declare such a harsh decision, forgoing her usual principles?

Were they all only predictable fools tottering on a stage without actually being aware of it? Wasn’t there…

“How about we go down there and help them with the planning?” Fuji’s faint voice cut effectively through his thoughts. Tezuka raised his eyes to meet a tentative smile – tired, yes; trembling, yes, but very, very determined.

Tezuka raised an eyebrow at the outrageous suggestion. Fuji wasn’t in any condition to be leaving his bed, but then again – his friend was right, this concerned them too, they couldn’t just leave the planning to the adults. Not as long as Tezuka wondered, whether that little pre-school girl had had to die only because he didn’t.

“Ne, let’s go Tezuka.” Fuji said, struggling to his feet. He wouldn’t have gotten very far, if not for Tezuka’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, but together they managed the slow trek downstairs.

“You ought to stay in bed and rest.” Yumiko told her brother who only smiled and hid a cough behind his hand in response.

Ayana glared at her son, silently promising there’d be a talk once they were at home. Tezuka, on the other hand, tilted his chin up and said. “We were there yesterday and we encountered the ghost. So we thought maybe we could be of help.”

The two females exchanged a glance, until Ayana sat back with a sigh and Yumiko waved them over. “Sit down, then. We might need your story later on.”

“Thank you.” Tezuka bowed before sitting down beside his team mate.

Yumiko started, “We were just trying to gather a few facts about our ghost – how old do you think it was?”

“Ancient.”, Fuji muttered at the same time as Tezuka said: “Judging by the clothing, it might have originated from the early Tokugawa phase.”

“Roughly when the house was build then.” Ayana concluded, “1608, that’s what the documents say. I wonder if the builder is identical with the ghost? Or maybe the architect or anybody else closely involved with the building process?”

“That would all be possible. Necessary is only having a close attachment to this house.” Yumiko said, “Do you have the name of the person who had the house build?”

“Tatsunori Ichirou” Ayana read, “He was a merchant who’d made money from overseas trade.”

While Yumiko pondered, Ayana shot in a further question. “Would it be a necessary requirement for a ghost to haunt the place he died at?”

Fuji Syusuke was the one who answered. “Yes. Ordinarily, that is. Actually, there are few examples to the opposite, and most of them seem most legendary. Why do you ask?”

“Because that man who had the house built died on the battlefield somewhere down in the south.” Ayana said and Yumiko raised an eyebrow.

It threw quite a wheel into the workings, Tezuka thought, to have their main suspect ruled out so suddenly.

“Then…” Yumiko started anew, eyes unusually dark, “Who did die in that house? Early in the 17th century?”

“A lot of people, supposedly.” Ayana replied with a shrug, “Rumour claims no owner died a natural death there, but I have no documentation on that. It’s all rumours in the end.”

Silence descended over the small group, only broken by the raindrops hitting the window and Fuji’s stifled coughs. His friend’s pallor had grown worse, but he held up well, so Tezuka refrained from commenting for now.

Ayana suddenly looked up. “Did you get any results on Wednesday, actually?”

“Ah, yes.” Yumiko turned around “We got something, but nothing really new. That little black box – it usually works like a camera. Well, we only got a vaguely humanoid grey blob, which means that our ghost isn’t bound to some form. He can freely change his appearance.”

Tezuka nodded, remembering slivers of grey fog sliding past him last night.

“It isn’t bound to the house, either.” Fuji added suddenly.

Yumiko tilted her head. “Not in spirit, no. But … did any murder ever happen outside of the mansion’s grounds? Because I suppose our ghost has restrictions…”

“That would be unusual, nee-san.” Fuji protested, coughing slightly, “If a ghost can kill at one place and isn’t bound to it, than he should be able to do so wherever he wants to.”

“Ordinarily.” Yumiko allowed herself a grim smile. “But I suspect killing at another place might interfere with said ghost’s intentions. Why else would he have made that little girl come into the garden if he could have killed her somewhere else?”

Ayana froze and Tezuka frowned. Yumiko, once again, revealed more details than anybody else had known previously.

“The writing on the sheets.” Yumiko suddenly turned to him “What did they say?”

Recalling the brownish splotches, Tezuka recounted a couple of words. “It made little sense, most of it was words like ‘Death. Loss.’ And the like.”

“Might that be a clue to the ghost’s objective?” Ayana questioned, leaning forward.

“It could. But we know far too little right now.” Yumiko said. “If you don’t mind using some unconventional methods, we could try to find out a little more.”

On to Chapter 9~