My Modern Kaidan

Chapter 5

Everyone leaves pretty quickly after that. Once they're gone, I sweep the emptied contents back into the box as best I can and place it back on the desk like nothing ever happened.

I'm in my bedroom later that night when I hear rustling coming from my dad's office. I get up and find him standing over his desk, rifling through the box.

"Hey, Dad."

"Mai-chan," he stops and looks at me. "Did something happen with this box?"

I swallow. "I think it got knocked over earlier."

"Sou desu ka?" my dad feigns surprise. "An earthquake?"

"I had some friends over from school," I tell him, suddenly nervous. I don't know why. I've never felt nervous with my dad before. Somehow I feel like letting them in today crossed a boundary. The only way to save myself is to appeal to the author in my dad. "They begged me to see your office. They're huge fans."

My dad's expression softens like microwaved butter. "And they knocked this box over in their excitement?"

I nod.

"Do you think one of them took a souvenir?" he asks me, still sounding tense. "My car is missing."

Doubtful that anyone took anything, I scan the floor, finding the little plastic Toyota keychain he's talking about has rolled into the corner of the room. I grab it and present it to my dad who smiles. "Ah," he says. "Thank goodness. I got this at the racetrack. It was one of the first real dates I could afford to take your mom."

"I'm sure she loved it," I say. It's a running joke that my mom hated that date, but my dad's other passion besides manga are cars. I watch him place the keychain on the corner of a shelf.

We stand there then, feet apart, before he turns around and places himself at the drawing table. I come up behind him, peering over his shoulder. All he has drawn so far is the disembodied face of a terrified girl, her mute scream disappearing into the oblivion of the page. My dad could draw these terrified girls in his sleep. They're commonplace. What changes, what's missing, is what's scaring her this time.

"Ano, Mai-chan," he says suddenly. "What I'm working on is secret, for now. For this reason, please don't bring your friends in here without my permission."

I nod. "Sorry, Dad."

His pencil moves across the page. I back away, heading towards the door, but something won't let me leave.

"Dad?"

His chair creaks as he turns around to look at me.

"The hair?" I say.

He stares at me blankly.

"In the vial," I continue.

A smile creeps onto his face. "Who do you think it belongs to?" he asks me.

I shrug. "I don't know."

"Then why are you asking about it?"

My dad has a crooked sense of humor hidden beneath his unassuming demeanor. It's what makes him so good at what he does.

A small laugh escapes my lips. "I don't know." I place my hand on the doorframe, getting ready to leave.

"It's your hair," he says. "From right before your first haircut."

"Oh," I say.

He turns back to his work, hand moving over the page. "Don't tell your mother," he says. "She thinks I'm too sentimental."

Later, I have a hard time getting to sleep. I go over that afternoon in my head over and over, mostly focusing my attention on Kenji. I tuck my earbuds into my ears and imagine all the songs are about us.

Eventually I feel my eyelids getting heavy. Finally sleepy, I remove the earbuds, placing them on the table next to me, and snuggling into my pillow, willing my dreams to go the way I want them to.

My eyes snap open as I hear the squealing pipe again. I groan as I curse myself for not telling my parents about it earlier today. I put my pillow over my head and press it against my ear, vowing to take care of it tomorrow. The noise still needles its way through, across the garden, through the shōji, and into the fibers of my pillow, an unsubtle reminder that there's not much that separates me from out there.