“Yes. I have seen what happens when a person falls into it.” Hana stared at the rushing water. “During one of my visits to my grandmother, I saw a Night Market vendor being chased down this road by a Shiikuin. Everyone on the road and the bridge froze in place. Only the vendor ran. The Shiikuin moved slowly, and sometimes it paused mid-stride, not moving at all.”
“I thought that the Shiikuin was chasing the vendor?”
“It was, but time passes differently for a Shiikuin. My father said that while we may see them standing still, they could be racing through time, living several lifetimes in the blink of aneye. They never run because they know they don’t have to. There is nowhere any of us can hide from them. They will always catch us in the end.”
“Why was the Shiikuin chasing the vendor?”
“For the same and only reason they hunt down anyone from this world. The vendor failed in his duty. He fell asleep while tending his stall. I will never forget the terror on his face. The Shiikuin nodded at the people on the bridge and they began to move like puppets on a string. They grabbed at the vendor, ripping his clothes and tearing his skin. He screamed and tried to shove them out of the way, but they were too many. They blocked the end of the bridge, keeping him from reaching morning. He jumped into the river, choosing to drown rather than get caught.”
Keishin watched the violent water sweep a fallen tree away. “It was a good thing it was only a dream.”
“The vendor was in a dream, but the Shiikuin was real. The vendor never woke up. Anyone who falls into the river will never be able to cross over to the morning.”
Keishin stared at the river and swallowed hard. “We should keep our distance from it then.”
“Unfortunately, crossing the bridge is our only way back.”
—
A manicured roji stood as a mossy border between the gravel road and the large kito tree. Keishin sensed a change in the air as soon as he entered the tea garden. The gentle breeze drifting over the serene landscape of sculpted evergreen bushes felt solemn and sweet, a silent signal that a tea ceremony had begun with his first step. Each stepping stone laid over the grass took him further from the mundane.
“The tsukubai is for purifying ourselves before entering theteahouse.” Hana stopped by a stone washbasin surrounded by artfully arranged stones. She picked up a bamboo ladle and proceeded to wash her hands and rinse her mouth.
Keishin followed her lead. A pleasant, soothing tinkling, similar to the music made by a zither, echoed from the ground next to the basin. “Do you hear that?”
“That is the suikinkutsu. I helped my grandmother make it. We put a hole in a clay pot and buried it upside down. When water drips through the hole, it falls into a small pool of water and makes the pot sing.”
Keishin did not remember most of his dreams, but he hoped to hold on to the suikinkutsu’s song when he woke up. “It’s magical.”
“There is nothing magical about a buried pot.” Hana walked over to a bamboo lattice gate by a hemlock hedge. “Do not be so quick to fall in love with things in this world, Kei. You will find that many things here are not as they seem.”
“A beautiful song is a beautiful song.” Keishin’s eyes lingered over her face. “Whatever world it’s from.”
The gate swung open, inviting them into the teahouse’s inner garden. Hana stepped through the gate without looking back. Keishin followed her into a more intimate, rustic scene. Shrubs were left to grow naturally in the shade of the kito. Keishin looked up at the tree’s dense, sprawling canopy. Even in the moonlight, its leaves looked as though they were on fire. He ran his hand over the tree’s trunk and felt it beat beneath his palm like a heart. “I still can’t imagine how your grandmother’s teahouse is inside this tree.”
“It grew inside it when it was still a seed,” Hana said.
“A seed?” Keishin’s mind raced with possibility. “I don’t suppose your grandmother would have some extra seeds Icould take back with me? They could solve—” He wrinkled his nose, regretting his words. “Sorry. Forget I said anything. Bad habit.”
“We could ask her, but I am not sure how well such a seed would grow in the ground. The mind is a thousand times more fertile than any kind of soil.”
“Good point.” Keishin chuckled. Lightning streaked across the night sky. The wind blew, carrying the scent of rain. Even in a dream, Keishin could not escape terrible weather.
“We should head inside.” Hana rapped her knuckles against the tree’s trunk.
A long branch reached over from the side of the tree and clasped a ridge in the trunk with fingerlike twigs. It pulled the bark open like a door. Another branch tapped Keishin on the shoulder. He jumped and twisted around. The branch nudged his chest.
Hana tried to hide a small smirk. “It is telling you to go in.”
The branch continued to tap Keishin. “I’m going. I’m going,” he said, removing his shoes. He left them on a flat stone by the entrance to the tree.
“Kei, wait.”
“What is it?”
“I think it would be best if we do not mention anything about my mother being alive to my grandmother. We do not have any concrete proof, and it might upset her.”
“I understand.”
