The Ghost in the Tokaido Inn Read Online Free Page A

paused. “Did you ever hear
this story before?” she asked Seikei.
    “No,” Seikei said. “It was a good
one, but I was not afraid.”
    “I must return to my father now,”
said Michiko. “Perhaps we will meet again, and then you can read me
a poem you have written.”
    “I promise,” said Seikei. He
watched as she rose and went into the inn. How graceful she is, he
thought.
    After she left, a cool wind blew
across the terrace, sending a chill through Seikei. The play across
the lake was over, and now all was silent. He began to think of the
jikininki, and stood up. It was too quiet and too dark. He had the
odd feeling that something might be hiding in the darkness beyond
the terrace. He didn’t want to stay out here any longer.
     
    4: The Hour of the Rat :
    Seikei hurried back to the room
where his father was sleeping. He took off his kimono and lay down
on the other mat.
    But he didn’t fall asleep. The inn
was still noisy. Only rice-paper screens separated one room from
another, and Seikei could hear Lord Hakuseki’s men talking loudly
in other rooms along the corridor. They were drinking rice wine,
and showed no concern for the slumbers of the other
guests.
    Seikei heard his
father snoring. All the noise did not disturb his sleep. Seikei knew that tomorrow
would bring another long, uncomfortable trip in the kago. He
sighed, and tried to shut the sounds out of his
ears.
    Then loud shouts made him sit up
and listen. He could hear very clearly, though the voice was
farther down the hallway. It was Lord Hakuseki himself. He was
scolding one of the inn’s servants for not bringing the wine
quickly enough. The sound of a blow was followed by a muffled cry.
Then heavy footsteps and a loud thud. The servant had been thrown
out on the wooden floor of the hallway. Much laughter followed from
the other samurai.
    Truly, as the
girl Michiko had said, this daimyo did not have a noble
spirit. I would not be that way if I were
a samurai , Seikei thought. He reminded
himself of the three qualities of a samurai—loyalty, right conduct,
and bravery. Right conduct meant setting an example for others to
follow. Lord Hakuseki, powerful though he was, did not know the
difference between right and wrong.
    The noise of the partying
continued for some time. Gradually, it began to die down. Seikei
heard the slow footsteps of samurai going down the hall to the
privy in the courtyard, and then returning. Finally, the inn became
quiet.
    Seikei tossed and turned, unable
to get comfortable. He regretted telling the girl he liked ghost
stories. Now he could not get the image of the jikininki out of his
mind. The dim light from the corridor shone through the rice-paper
walls of the room. The walls were decorated with a pattern of
whorls and curlicues. Every time Seikei looked in their direction,
he seemed to see large eyes staring at him.
    Far off, a temple bell rang once,
a hollow sound that meant the first hour after midnight had begun—
the Hour of the Rat. Seikei closed his eyes, but he could hear the
sounds of heavy breathing all around him. He knew it was only the
occupants of the rooms on either side. But it sounded like a gang
of jikininkis waiting to gobble him up as soon as he fell
asleep.
    Then his body tensed. He heard
another sound. Something was sliding across the floor outside the
doorway. Seikei’s eyes popped open, and he saw the bamboo-screen
door begin to slide open, very, very slowly.
    Seikei felt his hair stand on end.
As he watched in horror, the door opened wide. Something was
standing behind it—something larger than a man. The light in the
hallway was too dim for Seikei to see anything more than a shadow.
But he could see that it had a huge head, with horns sucking out of
it.
    Seikei sat up as quickly as if he
had been a marionette on strings. He waved his arms wildly, and
tried to say, “I’m not dead!” But his throat was paralyzed with
fear, and only a squeak came out.
    The shadow turned in his
direction.