One Time, One Meeting

A gust blew from the deck, through the covered walkway, tousling the loose strands hanging down Sachi’s face, before rattling the glass panes of the sliding doors at the top of the wooden steps where a young woman stood.

She wore a kimono with a careful splash of red at the bottom where embroidered karabana flowers rose up to color the garment that was otherwise as white as snow. Her skin that showed was equally pale, her lips were lightly tinted with the same splash of color, and her big round eyes were the brown of late autumn.

Sachi stared, partly with admiration and jealousy, and partly from fear and surprise. The place was deserted just moments ago when she stopped in the shade of the covered walkway to take a sip of water, and then, in that moment when she turned her head from the wind, there she was.

“Good afternoon,” the woman greeted her with a small bow.

“G-good afternoon,” Sachi bowed back without taking her eyes off the woman’s face. Ghosts couldn’t speak, could they?

“Fine weather today, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” answered Sachi, wiping the sweat of her brows to get a better look at the woman.

“Are you hiking?”

Sachi nodded. As far as she could tell, the woman wasn’t transparent or floating.

“Alone?”

Sachi forced a chuckle, and finally took her eyes off the woman. “Weird, isn’t it?”

The woman shook her head. “Just different. Most who come here are much older than you, and they don’t come alone.”

Sachi nodded, scratching the back of her neck. “I can imagine. Actually, I don’t hike, but my mother told me to go out and do something. She said this was an easy climb, and even I could do it.”

“It’s true. In fact, you’re almost at the top, about ten minutes or so.”

“Really? That was fast,” said Sachi, taking out her phone from her pocket to check the time. “Just half an hour.”

“Can I join you on your way up?”

Sachi hesitated. “Well…I don’t mind, but…won’t it be difficult for you in those sandals?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve been going up and down this mountain all this time,” said the woman, failing to read the words Sachi had tossed in air. She descended the steps of the abandoned building, her chunky geta sandals tapping quietly against the wooden boards. She looked about the same age as Sachi, but moved with the poise of a practiced geisha. “Shall we?”

Sachi forced a smile. “Okay.” She pulled on the straps of her backpack and plodded after the petite woman.

When she got out of the house this morning, fed up with snide remarks from her mother about her weight, she didn’t imagine she would end up climbing with the personification of kawaii. Ten minutes to the top, she had said. Sachi could probably put up with her for that long.

*   *  *

“Do you work?” asked the woman, whose breath remained level throughout the climb.

“Yes. At a kindergarten.”

“A respectable job. Do you like it?”

“It’s not bad.”

“I don’t have much experience with children, but I imagine it must be exhausting.”

“It is,” answered Sachi, astounded at the woman’s inability to read the air.

“Do you like children?”

“I thought I liked children,” answered Sachi before she could stop herself.

The woman turned to look at Sachi. “Now you don’t?” It wasn’t disapproving, but curious, like it mattered that it was given the answer it sought.

“They’re definitely more honest than adults.” Sachi couldn’t help being honest. “But that’s about it,” she sighed. “You?”

“I work at a shrine.”

“The one near the train station?”

“The one up here, close to the top.”

“I thought there were just castle ruins up here.”

“Very few know of it – only the ones who know it’s there.” She stopped at a turn in the trail and pushed the vegetation aside to reveal another trail that was hard to make out under the dense undergrowth. “This way.”

“Where does that go?”

“Somewhere else.” The woman raised her right hand to the side, showing Sachi the red patterns on the sleeve. “I’m not dressed the same way, but you can think of me as a miko. I assist in ritual prayers, perform dances, and clean.”

“I see.” I don’t care.

“It gets lonely at times, but there is always something to do. The precinct is vast. There is even a small garden where I grow vegetables. It’s not a bad life, especially if you enjoy being alone.”

Sachi didn’t bother to respond anymore. The woman was obviously lonely; she was going to keep talking even without any encouragement. At this point, Sachi would have gladly taken a ghost as a companion instead.

“It’s just through here,” said the woman, ducking under low hanging branches and disappearing behind dense leaves.

Sachi followed, expecting to see the last stretch of trail to the peak, but instead finding herself on a pathway of cut stone, lined on both sides with life-sized concrete lanterns and stretching for half a mile towards a broad flight of stairs. She stared at the concrete torii gate standing at the top of the staircase. “Where…”

“I’ll show you around,” said the woman, already walking away.

Sachi turned to look at the dense leaves that covered the trail. She only wanted to get to the peak and eat the rice balls she’d bought at a convenience store, but turning back would be impolite. What would the woman think of her?

*   *  *

“As you can see, it takes quite a lot of cleaning,” said the woman.

Sachi looked up as the passed the torii gate that towered as tall as the ancient cedar trees populating the grounds beyond the stone pathway. “I didn’t know there was a shrine this huge up here. It’s not just you, right? It’s not always this empty, is it?”

“As I said, only those who know where to find it know about it, and there are only a few who do.” The woman paused at a stone basin with clear water overflowing down its sides and trickling down to the ground even though there wasn’t any water sprout that Sachi could see. “The purification ritual is a bit different for this shrine. I hope you don’t mind complying.”

The woman handed Sachi a bamboo ladle and filled it with water from the basin. She poured water over her left hand then her right. She cupped her left hand, poured water into it, and then, instead of simply rinsing her mouth, she took a delicate sip of the water.

“Hold it. Is it clean?” asked Sachi, staring at her.

“Perfectly safe,” the woman said. “All sources of water here but the taps in the bath are potable. Go ahead. Try it for yourself.”

Sachi looked at the woman doubtfully, but when the water touched her lips, she took a small sip. The water hit her tongue with the chill of winter morning and the clarity of spring air.

“Refreshing, isn’t it?” the woman said.

“Yes…” Sachi slowly wiped her hand with her handkerchief as she tried to make sense of the peculiar but not unpleasant feeling running though her.

“Come.”

Sachi followed the clacks of her footfalls, bright and sharp as a chappa in the vast and empty space.

“The kagura-den, as you may recognize,” said the woman, gesturing at the square roofed pavilion to their right, halfway to the main hall. “Sometimes, we have plays, too. Do see the smaller building in the trees behind it? You will find everything needed for the dances and the plays there.”

“You do plays, too?”

“Sometimes,” said the woman, smiling with a wistful look. “There really is much to do here. You can’t see it, but the lodgings are behind the main hall. I think I told you about the vegetable garden, but there’s a library, too, and rooms for chadō and ikebana among others. There is also a small outdoor bath.”

“There’s a hot spring here?” Sachi exclaimed.

“And mostly everything you would need, really. Here we are.”

The doors of the main hall were wide open, revealing a space normally housing sacred objects and images, and only accessible to Shinto priests. This main hall was empty and stark except for two tatami cushions and two golden bells.

“Please,” said the woman, gesturing at one of the cushions, white as the fabric on her skin, while she took the other, red as the flowers staining her kimono.

Sachi complied, not complied understanding what was happening, but feeling like it was already out of her hands. Like a shadow to the woman, she folded her legs beneath her, took a bell in both hands, and with a quick flick of her wrists, she rang. Two bows, two claps, one bow.

Please help me, she prayed to whatever god was enshrined in the mountain.

“I’m sorry,” said the woman in a strange voice.

Sachi looked up to see herself staring back at her. She jumped and caught a flash of white and red. “What?” she gasped in a voice that didn’t sound quite right. Her arms were draped in silk, her legs wrapped in fabric. “What is this?”

“It couldn’t be helped,” said the woman, eyes looking at her with courage and intensity Sachi didn’t know she was capable of expressing. “One hundred years and you can pass it on to someone else like it was passed on to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Long ago, a young woman would be chosen as a sacrifice, but no one does that anymore. These days, we simply have to look for a replacement.”

“A replacement? What are you saying?”

“It’s not so bad. The goddess is kind, and everything is provided.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know.” The woman gave her a sad smile. “But you’ll get used to it, even enjoy it at times.

“This is a mistake.”

“I’m afraid there’s no turning back. My time has ended, and yours has begun.”

“You don’t understand. I’m just a normal person.”

“The goddess will return on the summer solstice.”

“Please.”

“She has given me her blessing to leave, and she will give you her blessing as her next attendant. “

“I don’t–”

“Until then, you won’t be able to leave the shrine precinct, but you have access to everything in here. I assure you that you’ll find many things to do and learn.”

“Please, just–”

“I am sorry, but it is how it is,” said the woman, rising to her feet and turned away.

Sachi struggled to her feet, opened her mouth, and hesitated as she watched the body that was once hers go farther away. She wondered how far those feet would walk with determined steps in a world that expected her to stay put at home. She imagined how those hands would handle the rowdy kindergarteners and the dirt that ran down their legs or exploded in their pants. She doubted that the heaviness in the middle would ever melt off, and she hoped those ears would be able to deal with the comments thrown at it at home, at work, everywhere. She guessed that round face would continue to attract no appreciative looks, no curious glances, no interest. She wondered if that heart would ever yearn for something more than a deserted island where she could do anything, any time, without caring for what anybody thought.

A gust blew through the torii gates, across the empty space, and around the main hall, pulling a strand of hair loose from the hair ornament to the side of her head. This time Sachi didn’t turn her head. She lifted her chin, pretty face to the sky, and breathed in.

“Ganbatte.”