Ink Portals

A death in the family

28

By the time Arthur made his way back to the garden the sun was bathing the temple in morning light. Abby and Kazunori were huddled beneath the old Oak tree with Jack on his side, his head cradled in Kazunori's lap. They had draped a blanket over his legs.

Arthur approached them, listening to the snow crunching beneath his shoes. Mei landed behind him in a gust of hot air and dismounted the fire bird.

"Did you see anything from up there?" Arthur said.

"I flew over the fifth station at the end of the Subaru Line, from where you and Jack brought Abby up to the temple yesterday."

"He's not there?" Arthur said.

"No. There were a lot of hikers parked by the station. He likely blended in with the crowds and got into a bus headed back to the city."

Arthur's attention was pulled away by the sound of Abby sobbing inconsolably while clutching Jack's hand. The glaring sunlight revealed trailing blood splatters over the snow in all directions. Annabelle's mutilated body was face-down, surrounded by a crimson mote of blood. A few feet away the mangled remains of what was once Kurtis Shaw lay strewn out, partially covered by snow.

Arthur sank to his knees next to Kazunori. The old man sat staring out over the forest, his tiny slit-eyes sparkling with tears. He gently lowered Jack's head down and pulled the blanket over the body.

Jack was gone.

The rest of the morning was a strangely isolated affair. Everyone mourned in their own unique way. Mei, who had not known Jack for more than a few days, chose to meditate by the koi pond, sitting beside the porcelain urn containing Hiroko's ashes.

Kazunori stayed inside the temple, staring into the fire pit with a scornful frown on his face. Abby sat outside on the deck wrapped in a blanket with her knees pulled up to her chest, her eyes puffy and red. She watched Arthur pacing up and down the garden. Soon there was a rut in the snow around the old Oak.

As he paced Arthur stared at the blanket covering Jack, watching the wind playing around its edges, contemplating how Jack had died at the very spot where he had become a bearer. Annabelle's body lay motionless and unmoved not far from Jack. Arthur found himself resenting the corpse of this woman he hadn't known. She was the reason they had left California and come to Japan, to help a friend rescue his lover, now there she was, shot and skinned - meaningless in the greater scheme of things. And Kurtis was still there too, half buried next to Yoshi's tracks, his contorted hand sticking out of the snow with open fingers, stiff as rigamortis set in, still reaching for his gun.

"We need to bury them," Arthur called out to Abby as he turned back to the temple.

She didn't respond.

The two of them stared at each other with bloodshot eyes for what felt like eternity.

"I will help you, Arthur," Mei said, appearing by his side with her sister's urn under her arm.

Mei summoned her phoenix and used it like an excavator. The bird clawed at the earth with its talons, digging out pieces of roots and rock as it went. By noon two six-foot-deep graves had been dug beneath the Oak tree. Once Mei was satisfied with the depth of each grave she relinquished the fire bird from duty. It crusted over into ash that fell, partially, into one of the fresh graves. The fertile ash from the creature's body prompted a few seedlings to sprout up from the moist soil, blooming in the mid-afternoon sun in a short-lived display of color, before withering away.

Kazunori came back out into the garden, carrying a bundle of clothing and a bucket of hot water. He braced a hand on Jack's shoulder and gently pulled out the katana. The old man turned his head away at the gruesome rasping sound the blade made as it slid free. He placed the sword on the ground and started the process of cleaning Jack's body with a wet cloth before neatly combing his hair and beard. When he was finished Jack looked like he'd just gotten out of a refreshing shower, despite the fact that his skin had already started to turn pale. Arthur helped Kazunori dress Jack in a black and grey montsuki, a formal type of kimono that was neatly tied at the front.

They retrieved a bundle of ropes and a wooden plank from Kazunori's garden shed, and used it to lower Jack down into the earth. Mei and Arthur lowered Annabelle into the remaining grave beside Jack, not knowing what should be said of a woman that was a stranger to them, but they treated her remains with dignity either way.

Standing at the foot of Jack's grave Abby put her arm around Kazunori and the old man wept with his head on her shoulder.

Arthur picked up the katana and went to the head of the grave. He stabbed the sword into the frosty soil like a tombstone. The katana was still covered in dried blood, making it appear rusted. Arthur wasn't planning on cleaning it. That would be like wiping away his father's memory.

"Nobody moves the sword," Arthur said. "Nobody cleans it. We leave it right here."

Kazunori nodded in agreement, wiping more tears from his eyes.

Abby came over and curled her fingers into Arthur's hand.

"Shall I close the graves?" Mei said.

"Not yet," Arthur said. "I need some time alone with him."

Abby squeezed Arthur's hand before heading up the hill with the others to the warmth of the temple.

Arthur watched petals drifting down from a nearby Sakura tree, settling on the snow at his feet.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Arthur said, plucking a cherry bud from one of the lower branches. "All I wanted was for you to be proud of me."

Arthur rubbed the pale pink blossom apart between his fingers, letting the petals float into the grave where they twirled and drifted down onto Jack's chest. One of the petals came to rest on Jack's forearm, on top of the tattoo of Yoshi. Arthur stared at the snarling dragon for a long time. The wind whistled through the trees behind him as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"You could kill that octopus, couldn't you, boy?" Arthur said, talking to the creature in the tattoo as if it was listening to every word. "If anything could kill it, I bet you could."

The image of Yoshi was silent on Jack's pale, dead skin. Of course it was. What was Arthur expecting to hear anyway?

Arthur wiped the tears from his face and started towards the temple, dismissing the idea as a delusion, brought on by grief and the cold that was making him shiver beneath his clothing. He needed to warm up, but he didn't want to be inside the temple with the others right then.

Arthur decided to take a walk around the temple to the hot springs. He took off his shoes and pants; then waded into the steaming water while pulling off his hoodie. He sank down, letting the warm water come up to his shoulders. He rubbed his hands over his face, then dipped his head under the water and pushed his hair back, cleaning away the dirt and muck that had gotten stuck there while chasing Pierre through the forest.

Arthur spotted a Macaque watching him from the edge of the springs. He looked around and realized the entire troop was watching him, pocking their heads out from behind bushes and up in the trees. It was strange being there in their company. Arthur almost felt a kind of kinship with them. It was like they recognized something wild in him - something they knew well in themselves. Their little eyes were studying him, as if they were saying: 'Go ahead, act on your pain. Something hurt you. There's nothing wrong with wanting to hurt it back.'

Arthur watched the monkeys as if he was in a trance, then one of them, the alpha, grunted and slapped his chest, making Arthur snap out of it. Suddenly he stood up out of the water, so abruptly that he startled the monkeys. What if it wasn't such a crazy idea after all?

Arthur ran out of the springs with nothing on but his soaked underwear. He sprinted back to Jack's open grave. His eyes turned black as he sent a raven fluttering down into the gash in the earth. It started pecking at the tattoo on Jack's arm, excising the top layer of skin by peeling it off with its beak and crudely cropping around the image of the dragon. Then the bird returned to Arthur and dropped the thin, slightly bloodied, piece of skin into his hand.