“What are they, and where can we find them?”
“We cannot speak of such things here.” Natsuki gestured to a small boat. “Come with me.”
—
Natsuki steered their boat to the edge of the cloud, away from the bustle of the market. She pulled her paddle into the boat and sat down.
“My necklace was much shorter when the rumor first weaved its way through the market,” Natsuki said. “Many of the vendors who worked here at that time have since retired. This rumor traveled faster than most, not because it was thrilling, but because once they had heard it, people could not bear keeping such misery to themselves. They passed it on quickly, hoping that if they shared it, they would have less of it living in their minds. I can tell you from my own experience that it did not work.”
“What did you hear?” Hana said.
Natsuki stared at the market’s bright lights. “Our world exists because there is an order to things. Everyone knows their duty and their place. The vendors sell their wares. Porters carry them. Sweepers go over every inch of the market at the end of each evening, cleaning and making sure that everything is ready for business the next night. We wake up to days that look exactly the same and find ways to amuse ourselves to make the hours go faster, only to sleep, wake up, and do it all over again until our voices are too hoarse to hawk our wares or our backsare too brittle to carry our baskets. But we do not complain. Why? Because we know that there is something worse than drudgery. And even death.”
“What does any of this have to do with the rumor about the children?” Keishin said.
“As everyone is taught from when we are children, in the hierarchy of our world, there are two kinds of people whose duties hold the most importance. The pawnshop owner who collects souls and the Horishi who infuses them into us as maps.” Natsuki nervously looked over her shoulder, scanning the clouds. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “The Shiikuin do not wish us to know this, but sometimes, they fail.”
“What do you mean they fail?” Hana stiffened.
“The pawnshop owner is not always able to collect enough souls for all the children born in our world. When such children are brought to the Horishi, they are unable to receive any soul or fate. They are husks. Soulless shells.”
“Soulless…” Hana pressed a hand over her trembling lips.
Keishin put his arm around Hana’s shoulders and drew her closer. “What happens to those children?”
“They are not children,” Natsuki said. “They are monsters.”
“But why have I not seen such children…” Hana caught herself. “Such creatures? Do the Shiikuin kill them?”
“That would be the kind thing to do, but the Shiikuin are not kind. According to the whispers…they are buried alive.”
“Alive?” Ice ran up Keishin’s ankles.
“Where are they buried?” Hana asked.
“That is something that you will need to ask the source of the rumor.”
“Who?”
“The owner of market stall number five hundred and ten.”
Chapter Forty-three
Stall Five Hundred and Ten
Baskets, glass jars, and wooden crates were displayed on tiered shelves in front of market stall five hundred and ten, each containing a different item for sale. Ballpoint pens, sorted by color, bloomed from jars like plastic bouquets. The biggest collection was the color blue. Next to the pens, a row of smaller jars held an assortment of the knickknacks that one would find collecting lint in the bowels of a purse. Tubes of lipstick. Receipts. Loose change. Baskets overflowing with mountains of eyeglasses and keys were arranged beneath them. Crates occupied the last shelf closest to the clouds, each filled with an impressive collection of mismatched socks.
“I hate to admit it,” Keishin said, “but except for the lipstick, this stall kind of reminds me of my old college dorm room during finals week. The only difference was that my junk wasn’t arranged in baskets. It was an obstacle course over my floor.”
“I am not surprised,” Hana said. “Everything this stall sells is from your world. The door shared by the pawnshop and the ramen restaurant is not the only way into your world. Sometimes, cracks appear. The things that are lost or forgotten in your world’s dusty corners fall through them.” She picked up a gold-colored credit card from a short stack. “I used to collect these. Your world has such pretty bookmarks.”
“Er, yes. Very pretty.” Keishin bit down a laugh. “Forgetfinding neutrinos. Life’s greatest mystery is finally solved. I always wondered where the socks that vanished from my washing machine went.” Keishin plucked a coin from a jar and rolled it across his knuckles.
A man bundled in a multicolored patchwork coat appeared from behind the stall. Keishin spotted the bottom half of a gray-and-red-striped necktie stitched to a sleeve from a theme park’s souvenir T-shirt near the coat’s waist. The vendor greeted them with a deep bow and a smile that was as cheerful as his coat. He glanced at the coin in Keishin’s hand. “Are you interested in that item? It’s called a coin. The people in the other world use it to pay for things. And coins that have holes in themlike the one you are holding are supposed to bring good luck.”
“How…uh…interesting.” Keishin returned the coin to the jar.
“I just received a new delivery of wallets,” the vendor said. “I have not had a chance to display them yet, but I can fetch them for you if you would like to take a look.”
