At first, Lee thought it must have been hinges that needed oiling, but then the noise came again and Lee remembered there were no hinges in this house, only sliding doors.
He followed the sound, paused and held his breath and waited for it to repeat, then followed it again. The sound led him out to the front yard, then the backyard, then the well, where Hina had told him about Okiku.
A strange cry echoed up from the stone prison of the well. Lee drew closer and peered into the darkness. The sun blurred the water, but he could make out a flash of fur among the shadows. Maybe it was a stray cat, or a raccoon, or an injured rabbit. Lee couldn’t discern the type of animal from its cry alone, but pain was a universal language.
He pulled at the rope to lift the bucket but found the frayed end in one hand. It had torn a few feet into the well, and was caught on a small hook.
The cries grew louder, more frantic. It was like a twisted piece of machinery, the sound scraping the inside of his ears. He leaned forward, tried to reach the remaining half of the rope, but his fingers just barely grazed it.
Lee thought of Okiku at the bottom of the well, looking up at the circle of white sky overhead. He thought of dying withhis mouth full of dirty water and blood, of clawing at the wet stones until his fingernails fell out, bloody hands reaching for a sky he would never touch.One... two... three... four... five.
He braced one arm against the edge of the well and leaned deeper inside its mouth.
Sounds swelled around him, his every breath echoing across the stones. The world smelled of mildew and rain, the light blocked out by his torso. Without the sun, he could no longer see the rope. He swung his hand aimlessly through the dark, then felt around the wet edges of the wall.
Something brushed his hand, soft and cold.
He reached out again, and this time, a hand closed around his andpulled.
His feet slipped out from the dirt and the dark water rushed toward him. For a moment, he was falling headfirst into the well.
Then his left hand caught the lip of the well, halting his fall. He panted into the wet air and realized his right hand was closed around the rope.
He pushed himself back until his feet reached the ground, then stood up straight, a cape of sunlight warming his shoulders. He wiped the wetness of the well on his pants, then hastily tied the rope ends together and pulled the bucket up.
It was heavy—perhaps from last night’s rainwater—and Lee wasn’t strong. It took several tries, the pulley system creaking threateningly with each lurch. With one final tug, he lifted the bucket up over the edge of the well.
It was a raccoon, just as he’d thought. Lying on its back, tiny hands splayed out to the sides. Perhaps it was injured? Maybe weak from hunger, or scared, at the very least.
He glanced around for a stick to poke the raccoon with, to turn it over and check for injuries without the risk of getting bitten. Maybe he could wrap it up tight in a towel and bring it to Hina—she always knew what to do.
When the raccoon didn’t seem like it was about to jump up and rip Lee’s face off, he drew closer, the bucket swinging as he tugged the rope taut. The bucket thumped against the side of the well... and a maggot crawled out of the raccoon’s eye socket.
Lee dropped the rope and the bucket plummeted back down, splashing at the bottom. He rushed to the edge of the well, but in the secret darkness below, he couldn’t see the dead animal at all.
“I wouldn’t drink from that if I were you.”
Lee turned. Hina stood behind him, smirking.
“There’s lots of rust in there,” Hina said. “Don’t cut yourself, or we’ll have to take you into town for a shot.”
Lee wondered if he should tell her about the raccoon—it probably wasn’t good to let dead animals rot on your property. But then one of them would have to bring it back up and bury it or burn it. Lee’s eye twitched as he imagined a maggot popping out from behind his own eyeball.
“Hina,” Lee said, the word delicate, so quiet he wasn’t sure if she’d heard him at all.
The smile fell off Hina’s face and she tilted her head to the side, waiting for him to continue.
Lee swallowed, looking anywhere but at Hina’s face. Then he asked a forbidden question, one he never could ask in front of his father, or he might as well crush his heart in his fist like a grape.
“Do you think there’s anything strange about this house?” Lee said at last.
Hina watched him carefully as the words faded. She glanced back at the house, as if she would see its strangeness spray-painted across the walls.
“It’s a samurai house,” she said. “Of course it’s strange. Why? Doyouthink there’s something strange about it?”
It was a dangerous question. There was no guarantee she wouldn’t tell Lee’s father exactly what he said. Hina might cookfor him and tolerate his presence and tell him ghost stories, but that didn’t mean she would protect him. Still, Lee’s gaze dropped to the ground, where Hina’s shadow was short and dark on the dying grass.
“Yes,” Lee whispered, letting the wind carry the word away. The grass shuddered in the empty space between them as a hot breeze sailed through, tearing at Hina’s hair.
