For a Special on All Hallows Eve,
And I hope you enjoy the ride.
But if not, don’t blame me,
Just blame my friends on the Other Side
Hisao and Akira(?!): Walla Walla Bing Bang!
Table of Contents
Calm Before the Fall (this post) Part II
The Looming Storm Part II
The Voice of a Legion
The Hour of Judgment Part II Part III
Thou Shalt Not Suffer... Part II Part III
...A Witch to Live Part II Part III
The Day After
“Si vis pacem, para bellum.” –Latin Adage
Chapter One: Calm Before the Fall
When I documented my adventure—for lack of a better term—with Hisao in Hokkaido, I thought I'd had my fill of supernatural bullshit. Unfortunately, Hisao seems to have become some sort of magnet for such things, and worse, he keeps dragging me along with him. I’m not sure why I go along with it, other than the fact that the royalties for these pulp stories will probably put Chise and Carry through college.
This particular story began during the Winter Break before Hanako’s thirtieth birthday, a few days before Christmas. As usual, George and Lilly had traveled from Japan to visit our parents in Scotland. This time, the Nakais had been invited along. That invitation extended to the Setous, too, but Miya had a job in the United States, and had brought Kenji and little Hisato along for the ride. It would be too much to hope, I suppose, for Hisao to have someone as equally mental as himself along to help when shit goes off the rails, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
What was a long and tiring plane ride for Lilly and the others was just a short drive for me, as we would all be staying at my father’s house. It was early evening, a couple hours after lunch when myself, my husband, Daichi, and our twins were waiting with Father and Mother in the parlor.
Yes, the house had a parlor, which seemed to me like an archaic kind of room to have—all you could really do in there is sit and talk, or read—but Father was always one to stand on traditions, whether they were his or not.
Relatively short, both in stature and temperament, my father’s spindly appearance had sometimes been compared to that of a weasel, one that had accidentally ingested steroids. His cropped black hair, which used to be long and kept in a ponytail, was starting to gray around the edges, but, despite his age, his eyes maintained their steely red tint. While I could rant for hours and bore you to tears with anecdotes about the questionable decisions my father has made over the years, to keep this short, I’ll save those for another time—suffice to say he's a hard man to get along with, at least for me. With that said, I will admit that he was a very kind and doting grandfather, and was nothing but courteous to my friends.
That may have been because of Mother's influence, but then, I'm not sure what he was like before they met; she managed to soften him up over the years, I'm sure. Mother, whom Lilly looked so much alike it was almost unsettling, was actually much more like myself: outgoing, casual, and blunt, almost to the point of rudeness. Because she looked so mild-mannered, people often underestimated just how direct she could be, but, while Father had the final word on most all family matters, that only came once Mother had agreed with the decision.
While we waited for word from the Nakais, who were flying in through the remnants of a snowstorm, Father had changed into a navy blue smoking jacket, and sat in an armchair, flipping through a newspaper to pass the time. Mother sat nearby, re-reading a Jane Austin novel, its spine bent and worn from years of use; she probably knew the whole plot by heart, but that never stopped her from re-reading a book she liked.
My husband, Daichi, sat across the room from them, and was also reading a section of the newspaper, but his attention was focused on keeping a watchful eye on our twin, seven-year-old daughters. They sat on the floor nearby, sharing a hushed conversation of a doubtlessly mischievous nature, using their long dark hair to shield themselves from view. The chair I'd picked was across from Daichi, facing the inner wall, and we were all too tense waiting for news from the airport to talk, so I passed the time fiddling with my cellphone.
At the sound of snickering from the twins, I glanced up from my cellular internet surfing and put on my best motherly squint.
“You two aren’t up to something, are you?” I prompted.
Unflinchingly, the two girls turned to me, their expressions seeming a bit too innocent as their eyes—which were so much like their father's dark brown orbs—looked up at me and they replied together, “No, Mother.”
Wondering what they were really up to, I spent a few moments eying them disapprovingly, but soon rolled my eyes and went back to my phone, which was showing a new text message.
"Landed safely, car rented, bags secure, children collected, bundled up and on the road—ten minutes out, I estimate."
Smirking at Hanako’s refusal to use internet shorthand—the writer in her, no doubt—I looked up and announced, “They’ll be here in about ten minutes.”
The tension in the room didn't completely dissipate, but a reasonable amount of anxiety seemed to relax out of everyone's shoulders.
Moments later, springing from her chair energetically, Mother declared, “I’ll go make some tea.”
“Get out the decanter too, dear,” Father said.
Daichi hefted himself up and volunteered, “I’ll get it.”
“Nah, let me,” I said, levering myself up to head for the threshold.
My father looked like he was going to say something, but thought better of it almost immediately and went back to his newspaper. Maybe old age had taught him some things, after all; like, for instance, that the two of us being left alone in the same room together was probably a bad idea. Daichi and I shared a nod, and I headed for the door while he sat back down.
While retrieving the decanter, I stopped to look outside. Even though it was only around mid-afternoon, it was already pitch dark outside, and the storm earlier that day had buried the region with a thick blanket of snow. Fortunately it had ended just after noon, long before our guests were expected to arrive, so by the time Hanako sent that text message, the sky was clear and the roads had been plowed for the most part. Even the stars were plainly visible high above, their pale light reflected by the snow that spanned its way into the distance. At the time I had just chalked it up to the weather being fickle, but that’s the bliss of ignorance for you.
More or less ten minutes later, the doorbell rang, its deep ring sounding more like an ancient church bell than a simple chime. Though the land north of Inverness where the house sat had once belonged to a Scottish baron, the castle had long since been destroyed during one of the Scottish rebellions. It was also close to the beach, and the city itself was only a short drive away, but the history and location weren't factors when Father went looking for a place to build. His intent was to demonstrate the strength, power, and financial prowess of the Satou family by constructing an extravagant mansion on a windswept Scottish bluff.
At least it didn't have a moat.
“I got it,” I called, and headed to the door.
Upon reaching the imposing, arched, double front doors, which were as wide and ostentatious as the rest of the place, I quickly unlocked them and hefted one open. Standing on the stoop were Hisao, Hanako, and their three bright-eyed children.
Hanako held their youngest daughter, Refia, in her arms, bundled up like a big purple puffball with brown hair, while Satomi and Akio—Refia's elder sister and brother—stood at their father's feet, bundled in jackets and scarves to fight back the winter chill. The green holiday bulb overhead was casting strange reflections in Satomi and Hanako’s violet hair, and Akio and Satomi’s purple eyes—or, in Akio’s case, purple flecked with blue. Hisao, along with Akio, their firstborn, looked like they were carrying the entire family's luggage.
“Good, you made it here safely,” I said, stepping aside and gesturing for them to come in, “I was worried that latest storm might block the roads.”
Hanako smiled—no, grinned—and said, “Nothing all-wheel drive and some chains couldn’t solve.”
“I think we can kiss the security deposit goodbye, though,” Hisao remarked.
Hanako shrugged.
“Good to hear,” I said.
The two stepped inside and Hanako set the three year-old Refia down. She wobbled a bit from the weight of her parka before standing up straight and beaming a smile. Akio and Satomi stepped in afterward, and Satomi immediately bolted past me toward the twins, who had apparently followed me to the door.
Akio, the calmer and more polite of the two, and about the same age as the twins, bowed lightly to me and said, “Thanks for having us over.”
Grinning, I replied, “No problem.”
“Satomi!” Hanako chided.
I turned slightly to watch Satomi stop in her greeting of the twins to whirl around toward me, bow, and say, “Thanks for having us over! Please pardon my rudeness.”
“Can we go play now?” the twins asked, their voices blending in near-perfect harmony.
“You’re not gonna wait for Hanaye?” I asked.
“They should be right behind us,” Hisao remarked, peering through the opened door before closing it, “We made sure to keep in sight of each other.”
“I watched them the whole time!” Refia chirped, “Hi, Auntie Akira! Thanks for having us over!”
I grinned and peeled the parka off the young girl before picking her up. “Hey, Refia! Do you like all the snow?”
“Uh-huh! Can we play outside?”
“After dinner,” Hisao replied, “but not too long; you need to get over the jet lag.”
“What about us?” the twins asked, again in unison; I swear they practiced doing that.
“We’ll see,” I replied, “For now, how about keeping an eye out for your Aunt and Uncle?”
“Okay!” the two chirped, and bolted for the door.
Before I could say otherwise they had opened one of the doors and darted out. Hisao smirked at me, and I sighed while rolling my eyes. Hanako was smirking as well, but she was also heading for the door, which opened again before she could reach the handle.
.
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