Yoiyama Sisters

The girl and her older sister attended Suzaki Ballet Studio, which was in a venerable four-story building on Sanjō Street in Koromonotana-chō to the west of the intersection with Muromachi Street. Each Saturday, their mother would send them off from their white, ivy-covered residence behind Kyoto Notre Dame University, and they would ride the gently swaying subway car to the studio in the middle of town.

The walk from Karasuma Oike station to the ballet studio was not long. Turn at the lofty brick bank building at the southwest corner of the intersection of Sanjō and Karasuma, proceed straight ahead on Sanjō Street, and the building would soon come into view on the left.

It was difficult to lose one’s way on such a straightforward path, but the girl was cautious, and followed her sister closely as they walked. She had a habit of saying to herself things like “Turn right here”, as if to fix the oft-traveled path in her mind. If her sister showed the slightest sign of straying from the path, the girl would at once become uneasy, for one never knew when familiar places would abruptly become unfamiliar.

“Let go! How am I supposed to walk with you grabbing on to me?”

“But I’m scared!”

The girl was in third grade, and her sister in fourth.

Her sister would gravitate to shop windows unpredictably, like an inquisitive cat. Their mother and the ballet instructor forbade them from taking detours, but her sister would suddenly exclaim that she wanted to buy a magazine at a bookshop, or take a peek inside a flower shop, putting the girl, who was more fastidious, on edge. Her sister kept herself busy running around satisfying her own curiosity, while the girl was kept busy minding her. The two girls moved around and around each other, as if tied together by a string.

The girl always felt tense getting off the train and walking through the streets, but once she saw the stately entrance of the building where the ballet studio was, she would fall into a reverie, and her worries and cares would slip away. The building reminded her of a medieval castle, and she had been enamored with it ever since the first time she went to class there. She loved everything about it: the beautiful old-fashioned emerald lanterns flanking the entrance; the low, elegant steps leading to the doorway; the tall, narrow windows spaced along the facade of the building. Whenever she stood in front of the door, she imagined a flock of large white birds swooping down towards a princess leaning out of the window on the topmost floor.

Their mother had worked in an office in this building, before she was married. The girl often imagined her mother and father meeting here when they were young. In her head she replaced the princess at the window with her mother, basing her mental image off of an old photograph she had seen. Her father, passing below on Sanjō Street by chance, glanced up and instantly fell head over heels in love. It was just like a movie! the girl happily thought, though that was precisely because she was imagining it as one. This way was much better than an arranged marriage, she decided.

　　　　　　　◯

The girl was engulfed by a blast of chilly air as she passed through the door into the empty red-carpeted lobby. A peculiar framed painting hung directly in front of the doorway. It depicted a little girl wearing a red yukata, alone in an alleyway lit by many paper lanterns. The girl didn’t like this picture, because the dusky colors made her feel strangely forlorn.

Suzaki Ballet Studio was up the stairs in the corner of the lobby on the third floor.

Ms. Suzaki was closer to the girls’ grandmother than to their mother in years, yet she was youthful and elegant. She stood statuelike on the wooden floor observing the students, coming down on sloppy movements with unflinching severity. When she was displeased, rays of fury emanated from her to every corner of the room like the bars of an iron cage. On such occasions, even the assistant instructors trembled in fear.

The girl changed into her outfit along with her sister and their friends.

The restless chatter that filled the room revolved around Yoiyama. Some of the girls talked about getting changed into yukata and going to the festival after practice was over. The girl listened to them rattle off their plans with envy.

As she had gotten off the train at Karasuma Oike station that day, she had overheard other passengers mention Yoiyama. There were more people around than usual, and stalls were lined up on both sides of Karasuma Street. Walking along Sanjō Street, she glanced south down Muromachi Street as she passed the intersection and saw that even in this already cramped lane, stalls had managed to squeeze themselves in front of the buildings and parking lots. Beyond them she could see the lantern-bedecked shape of Kuronushiyama. Even after changing into her outfit and starting practice, she occasionally thought about that sight, and eventually she realized that the picture in the lobby in fact depicted that very scene.

As they moved away from the barre to do centre work, the girl noticed Miss Misaki looking lost in thought. Miss Misaki was seldom one for words, but today she was even more taciturn than usual. The girl was quite sure it was because of Yoiyama. What was it about Yoiyama that was making everyone so uneasy? She pressed her ear to a frosted window pane, trying to make out the hubbub that was spreading over the town.

Ms. Suzaki began the floor lesson, and sensing that she was in a foul mood today, the normally excitable students meekly attended to the lesson. The wooden floorboards creaked softly as the girls shifted their feet over the faint reflections of the fluorescent lights. Though they were in the middle of the city, the inside of the studio was quiet and still, and each step and breath reverberated in the silence.

Lately, the girl had finally started to feel like her movements were ballet-ish, and for the first time she was having fun here. Of course, being scolded by the teacher was never enjoyable, and she frequently found tears springing to her eyes, but the feeling that her body was moving the way she wanted it to made her happy. Despite that, she often lost confidence in herself at pivotal times, something which she was told was only hurting her. Her sister was utterly fearless, and consequently always looked perfectly in control of herself.

　　　　　　　◯

When break time came around, the girl needed to use the bathroom.

The bathroom was in the middle of the long corridor outside the classroom. The ballet studio was not the only room on the third floor, but the space outside the frosted glass pane in the door was always dark, and a little creepy. She made her sister come with her. Her sister always came along cheerfully on these occasions, never teasing her even once.

When the girl came out of the bathroom, her sister was gazing at the stairwell at the end of the hall.

“What’re you looking at?”

“Shh.”

Her sister grinned and placed a finger to her lips.

“Take a look.”

The stairway leading up was lined with lanterns on both sides.

“What is with all these lanterns?” her sister muttered, one foot already on the steps.

The girl thought back to the time when her sister had taken her up to the rooftop. Ms. Suzaki had caught them coming down the stairs and given them a severe lecture.

“We shouldn’t,” the girl said.

“Just for a moment,” her sister insisted.

The girl could see a large tanuki ornament and a lucky cat statue on the landing. Her sister peered at the stairs leading further up.

“Ah-ha,” she said. “There’s a Hina doll display here.”

“Hina dolls?” the girl inquired.

“Right here. It’s rather impressive,” her sister replied.

“I guess I’ll take a look,” the girl said.

She climbed the first flight of stairs and stood beside her sister.

On the second flight of stairs, there were lanterns hanging from the walls as before, but the steps were lined with dolls, like a traditional doll exhibit. Her sister pirouetted up the steps, being careful not to tread on the dolls, and stopped at the landing on the fourth floor.

“Amazing,” she murmured. “There are so many strange things up here.”

“Really?” the girl asked.

“Most peculiar.”

Hearing that, the girl burned with curiosity and went up after her sister.

The fourth-floor corridor was cluttered with cardboard boxes filled with dolls and toys. Her sister picked up one of the bits of rainbow-colored tape that were scattered on the floor. It sparkled in the rays of light shining through one of the tall, thin windows. She let it flutter down through the air and strolled on, patting the heads of the black and white lucky cat statues on the floor as she passed.

“It’s just like a toy store,” remarked the girl.

Her sister nodded in agreement.

The pair came across a large box covered with a red cloth.

Her sister placed her ear to it and said, “I think I hear something.”

Throwing off the cloth, they came face to face with a murky tank of water, and a round, goggling eye staring at them from within.

They both stepped back and uttered little shrieks. The girl grabbed her sister’s hand. Her sister gripped her hand just as tightly.

Inside the tank floated a bulbous scarlet fish, about as large and plump as a watermelon. Its mouth gulped open and closed as it stared vacantly at the two girls.

As they stood there petrified staring back at the fish, a shout rang through the corridor.

“Hey!” A woman wearing a straw hat stood there glaring at them. “If you’re naughty, Lord Yoiyama will come and eat you up!”

The two girls sprang from from their stupor and fled down the stairs.

“That was so scary!” her sister laughed.

　　　　　　　◯

It was nearing five in the afternoon by the time the lesson ended.

Each time the girl set out for the studio, she was filled with a gloomy reluctance, but as practice went on those feelings would be replaced with an enjoyable sort of stress. She would always slip into deep concentration during practice and by the time it ended, she felt as if she were a completely different person. It didn’t feel good being sweaty and smelly, but that feeling of detachment was like a cool wind blowing through her soul, and she quite liked it.

As they wiped off the sweat and changed out of their outfits, the topic of Yoiyama came up again. One of the other girls mentioned a giant, moving model of a praying mantis. This caught the sister’s attention, whose eyes lit up as she listened.

“Goodbye, Ms. Suzaki,” said the girls as they passed her, bobbing their heads.

Ms. Suzaki looked at them. “No detours on your way home,” she reminded them, eyeing the girl’s sister particularly closely.

“We won’t!” she replied brightly, and the two girls went down the stairs. Pushing open the heavy front door together, they went out onto the street.

Heavy, humid air smothered the city. Rays of sunlight painted the tops of the buildings and the clouds above a golden hue. Sanjō Street was unusually crowded with people, many of whom were streaming into Muromachi Street.

The girls took their usual route home until they reached Karasuma Street, when the girl’s sister stopped in her tracks.

No cars rumbled down the boulevard; instead, the wide gulf between the office buildings on either side of the street was filled with people coming and going. There were businessmen in suits holding briefcases, old men fanning themselves with paper fans, tour groups full of middle-aged women, and young couples wearing yukata milling this way and that. The sun was setting over the wide avenue. Both sides of the road were crammed with more street stalls than the girl had ever seen in her life, many of which were already turning on their lights. The damp breeze carried a sweet-smelling aroma, difficult to discern exactly. The girl breathed in deeply through her nose. The stalls and the crowds filled the street with a feverish air.

　　　　　　　◯

The sister, burning with curiosity, flitted about hither and thither. The girl was gripped by a sense of unease as she was pulled along. She was afraid that Ms. Suzaki would find out that they had not gone straight home.

Furthermore, the girl was afraid of the perils that the city held. There were people here who would kidnap children for ransom, sell them off to far off countries, and even kill them. There was no telling when some dastardly grownup would swoop out of a dark alley and whisk the girl off to some foreign land, never to return home again. This was why the girl carried herself stiffly, palms slick with sweat, and never let her guard down for even a moment whenever she was walking around the city. Though she was fainthearted, she felt responsible for being vigilant and keeping a close watch since she had such a reckless sister. It really was quite endearing.

Her sister insisted that she had to see the festival’s praying mantis. The other girls had said that it moved as though it were really alive. Really, what an idiotic thing to tell my sister, she thought to herself uncharitably.

“Do you have to see it? Let’s go home!” she urged.

“I just want to see it, okay? Come on, this way!”

As they spoke, her sister was already slipping into the crowds surrounding the stalls of Karasuma Street, so the girl followed, clinging onto the hem of her skirt.

The sister’s black hair was tied up in a bun, which shone in the light, and her steps were fleet, like a dancer’s.

The girl had to admit that walking in the middle of the street among all those people was thrilling, like nothing she had experienced before. The rows of stalls that jostled along the sides of the road seemed to continue on forever. Her sister, overcome with amazement, kept giggling for no particular reason. As the two girls continued along the road, the banks and office buildings with which they were so familiar began to seem entirely unrecognizable. The orange lights of the stalls spread dimly through the street, while the white fluorescent lights in the windows of the office buildings spilled out into the darkening sky above. The girl had never seen a sky as beautiful as this one in her life, and an awesome sensation of boundless possibility shivered down her spine.

“Incredible,” she whispered unthinkingly.

“Oh, look!” her sister cried, pointing.

A jet black flock of birds plunged down through the air, swerving up at the last moment to the tops of the buildings before repeating the movement, perhaps drawn by the mouthwatering smell of yakisoba and charbroiled squid and fried chicken wafting from the stalls. The way the birds seemed almost to be targeting the people below frightened the girl. What if they mistook her for food and carried her off into the sky?

Continuing down Karasuma Street, the girls joined a stream of people flowing west onto Takoyakushi Street through a gap in the stalls. The old-fashioned cafés lining the street were packed with people taking a respite from the bustle of the festival. Under a canopy that had been erected next to an alleyway, children sat hawking sticky rice dumplings wrapped in bamboo leaves, shouting to passersby in their high, shrill voices.

The sister pulled the girl towards a crowd that was gathering in front of a traditional two-story residence. The facade was adorned with white cloths and large red lanterns, and the front of the second floor was wide open for all to see. Sitting on an altar was a doll, clad in armor and wearing a fearsome expression.

“What’s that?” the girl asked.

“That’s Benkei,” her sister replied, standing on tiptoes to get a better glimpse.

They squeezed their way out into the middle of the intersection with Muromachi Street. A sea of people stretched out in all four directions.

Stalls vied for space on the narrow street, squeezing the already cramped lane even further. The girl and her sister skimmed through the stalls. There was grilled corn and fried chicken and goldfish scooping and lotteries and hot dogs and tamago senbei and masks and stuffed animals and it seemed to the girl that the festival just kept going on forever, like it had swallowed up the town.

As the girls made their way down the street, they encountered the lantern-festooned Minami-kannonyama.

This float resembled nothing so much as a fortress made of wood and lanterns. Its ramparts towered high in the darkening sky, halting the stream of people that sought to continue down the street. But the sight of this did not placate the sister, who continued to weave through the crowd, insisting that she was going to see the mantis. The girl had no idea whether her sister knew where she was going, or whether she was merely striking out at random.

The sister stopped in front of a booth selling candy apples. “You know, I’ve never had a candy apple before. Do you think they’re good?”

“Maybe,” the girl answered hesitantly. “Is it really a good idea to get one though?”

“I have money.”

“But if Ms. Suzaki sees us we’ll be in for a scolding.”

The sister walked past the booth, staring longingly at the shiny apples as if they were baubles on a Christmas tree, but the girl put a firm hand on her back and pushed her onward.

A police officer stood in the middle of the next intersection, directing the flow of the hordes of sightseers that jostled on all sides.

“This street is one way only! Everyone will move faster this way!”

The sister navigated the narrow streets like she was tracing the grid of a Go board, turning left, then right, and occasionally changing her mind and turning back around. As she was pulled around, the girl called out “Left!” or “Right!” each time they stepped onto a new street, like a train conductor announcing the next station.

“We made a left here, so when we come back we have to turn right,” she muttered to herself. “And that means right will become left.”

But as she whispered reminders under her breath, her sister would turn around without warning, and all her diligent memorization would go to waste. Countless times she would be in the midst of saying “right” or “left” when she would suddenly forget which direction was which.

“Oh, forget it!” she said despairingly.

Everywhere the girl looked she saw another narrow alleyway stretching out into the distance. Each street, buzzing with festival merriment, appeared indistinguishable from one next.

“Didn’t we just come this way?” the girl asked.

“Did we?” her sister said, sounding completely unconcerned.

The further they walked, the more distant the idea of escaping the festival became, and the girl began to feel the world closing in around her.

　　　　　　　◯

The girl had lost all sense of direction, and unfamiliar faces pressed in all around her, so she heaved a deep sigh of relief when she spotted Mr. Yanagi in the crowd.

Mr. Yanagi worked at an art gallery by Sanjō Takakura. The girl had gone there with her mother once, and she still remembered sipping the fragrant black tea that he had served her. Now, he was loitering by a vending machine, carrying a cloth-wrapped package. He looked a little weary.

“Hello, Mr. Yanagi!” the sister chirped, greeting him politely.

“Well, hello there,” he said, smiling.

“Do you know where the praying mantis is?”

“Praying mantis… perhaps you mean Tōrōyama?”

“Yes, that must be it.”

Mr. Yanagi smiled again and gave them clear, simple instructions on how to get there.

“Don’t let go of each other,” he instructed them as they parted ways. “Hold hands tightly, so you don’t lose each other.”

Following the directions Mr. Yanagi had given them, the girls at last made their way to Tōrōyama.

Tōrōyama was located on Nishi-notōin Street, which, while much wider than the alleys they had been traversing, still twinkled with the lights of street stalls as the day faded into dusk. Gazing at Tōrōyama, the sister suggested that they go home before it got too late, seemingly satisfied at last. The girl, thinking that she would be released from this infernal festival after all, allowed herself to relax. It was this carelessness that caused her to lose her sister.

As the two walked up the gentle slope of Nishikikōji Street, passing old houses and shop buildings, the girl became enamored with a few girls weaving in and out of the crowd, shrieking with laughter. They were all wearing gorgeous crimson yukata, and the flashes of deep red as they darted in and out of sight reminded the girl of a school of goldfish frolicking in the murky canals.

“That looks lovely,” she murmured as she watched them, spellbound.

Snapping back to reality, she suddenly realized that she had lost sight of her sister in the surrounding throngs, and her heart thudded so rapidly it hurt. She started to panic, thinking that her sister had abandoned her. Stumbling on recklessly, she ran headlong into the side of a large man walking past her. The man, a bald-pated monk, glared down at her, and blinded by sheer terror the girl fled without even apologizing.

Turning at the next intersection in an attempt to evade the monk, the girl stopped under the overhang of a small shop to catch her breath.

To the right, above the crowds, she could see another float decorated with paper lanterns.

She was separated from her sister. She had no idea where she was, or even which way was which. Tears quickly welled up in her eyes, and the red and white glow of the lanterns began to blur together. But away from the crowds, under the eaves of the shuttered shop, she willed herself to hold back the tears.

“Don’t cry,” she told herself. “Don’t cry…don’t cry…”

The girl was a crybaby.

She was alone and separated from her sister as night fell. She had never felt so alone in her life. Willing herself not to cry, she began to feel sorry for herself, wondering what to do now. She couldn’t go home now, not without her sister.

“What do I do, what do I do…” she repeated, as if reciting a mantra, when her eyes fell on the police officers directing traffic in the middle of the intersection.

She wondered if they might be able to help her. But what if they scold me? After all, I was wandering around, she thought hesitantly. She had always had a great fear of approaching strangers.

Though only a few minutes had passed since she had lost her sister, it felt like it had been hours, and the sky was getting dark alarmingly quickly. But even as the girl stood under the storefront feeling small, her thoughts were for her sister’s safety.

She was very worried about the possibility that her sister had been tricked and whisked away by some bad person. With so many people here enjoying the festival, there were bound to be a few bad eggs mixed into the crowd. No one would notice if a child or two were to go missing. The more she thought about this, the more convinced she became that everyone that passed by looked like a kidnapper. She folded her thin arms and shivered.

She couldn’t trust any of these adults, even if they said they would buy her a candy apple, or take her to the station. But her sister was more trusting, and would blithely go along with anyone.

“They’d only need to tell her that they had a giant candy apple and she’d follow them anywhere, simple as that,” she sighed.

She imagined her sister locked in the hold of a ship sailing away from the harbor at Maizuru, surrounded by suspicious boxes of all shapes and sizes, a great iron ball chained to her leg as she sat in the corner, weeping and thinking of Kyoto. All because she couldn’t resist the promise of a giant candy apple. The girl’s chest tightened painfully as this sad scene went through her mind, and she could no longer just stand there anymore.

“Wait! Don’t go with them!” she whispered.

　　　　　　　◯

The girl mustered all her courage and began to walk. There was always a chance that she would come across a familiar part of town. The air rang with shouts from street vendors, which was enough to make the girl freeze up. She began to walk faster. A man watching the festivities from the upstairs balcony of a house waved, but she turned and trotted onward.

Her breath grew short as she pushed onward, so she crouched down below the overhang of a house. Warily observing the crowds from her hiding spot under the eaves, she noted people hiding their faces behind exquisite fans, or holding extraordinary balloons with goldfish inside them. Each time someone glanced at her, she feared that they intended to kidnap her, and she felt a burning flush sweep over her. Sweat prickled unpleasantly on her back. Blood oozed out as she nibbled at her nails, and her fingertips throbbed painfully.

“Ow, that stings!” she yelped, but continued to gnaw at her nails.

The sight of happy families ambling by piqued the girl’s ire. How delightful it must be trailing along behind a mother and father.

“That must be wonderful,” she mumbled. “I wish I were them! But here I am, alone and bleeding from my fingers.”

If only she were with her sister, she wouldn’t feel lonely, no matter how lost or anxious she might be. If only she had known this was going to happen, she never would have let go of her sister’s hand. If only she had paid attention when Mr. Yanagi warned them never to let go of each other. The girl had a feeling that she would never see her sister again.

Her sister had dragged her to parts unknown on several occasions before, and while the girl was always on tenterhooks, the experiences hadn’t been bad. Her happiest memory was venturing onto Shijō Street just before Christmas, looking at the glittering lights and the Christmas trees and the great belled wreaths that hung on the street corners, peeking into a flower shop bursting with bouquets of red and green. Even the time they had snuck into a ramen shop after practice seemed like a thrilling adventure now. Once, Ms. Suzaki had caught them on the roof of the ballet studio building and shouted at them until even her sister had been reduced to tears, but the girl still thought of that day fondly. No matter how scared she had been, or how annoyed she had gotten at her sister, she had enjoyed all of those adventures. But of course, that was only because her sister had been by her side.

“I wish she would turn up in front of me! I’m sure I wouldn’t let go of her again!” she lamented, still crouching down.

She shut her eyes tightly and imagined herself riding on the subway with her sister. They had made that gently swaying trip back to the white walls of their vine-wrapped house so many times, but now it seemed a distant, treasured memory.

“I want to go home. Straight home, and into the bath,” she said wistfully, fervently praying that today’s frightful ordeal would turn into a cherished memory just like the others.

Almost too exhausted to even stand, she was staring into a fire bucket when she noticed what looked like a red cloth floating in the water. Moving out of the way of the light to take another look, she realized that it was actually a goldfish.

“What’s a goldfish doing here?” she remarked, putting a hand on the edge of the bucket as she watched the goldfish bobbing in the water. “Did you escape from a goldfish scoop? You must be quite a jumper!”

The girl thought that such a strong goldfish must become quite an impressive koi. She was under the impression that goldfish turned into koi when they grew up.

As the girl gazed at the little fish, a shadow fell over her.

It belonged to a girl wearing a red yukata.

　　　　　　　◯

The other girl sidled up and looked into the bucket, then looked at the girl with a friendly smile. The girl couldn’t help but smile back.

“Is that a goldfish?” the other girl asked.

“Yes, it is,” the girl said.

While the girl’s new companion looked into the bucket, other girls converged towards the overhang, as if drawn by her presence. It was the same group of girls that the girl had been watching when she lost her sister. They all wore the same scarlet yukata. The color was so dazzling that it was hard to tell how many of them there were, but the girl counted five. They surrounded her, nudging and tugging at each others’ yukatas and giggling.

“They’re like goldfish looking for a bite to eat,” the girl thought to herself. As she watched them cooing over the goldfish, it struck her that they might be familiar with the surrounding neighborhood. And maybe, just maybe, they even knew where Suzaki Ballet Studio was.

“Um,” she ventured.

One of the girls turned to her and sang “What is it?”

“Do you know where Suzaki Ballet Studio is?” asked the girl.

The girl thought for a moment and then gave a little nod. The girls offered to take her there, and so the girl at last let them take her hand and pull her out from underneath the overhang that she had been cowering in and back into the rushing crowds. Although it was midsummer, the other girl’s hand was not sticky with sweat, but rather cool and pleasant to the touch.

“You’re all very kind. Thank you!” the girl exclaimed, beginning once again to wend her way through the narrow alleys.

The lights of the stalls twinkled ever brighter as the sky faded into darkness. The girl walked along the street, with the girls in red yukata around her flitting nimbly through the congested alleys, and eventually the girl felt like her own steps were becoming lighter.

On Shinmachi Street, the glowing edifice of Minami-kannonyama loomed up before them into the dark evening sky. Laughing and chattering, the girls walked under a bridge connecting the upper level of the float to one of the old wooden houses on the street.

Occasionally, they stopped to look through the stalls at their leisure, shrieking with laughter as they put on fox masks, waved candy apples around, and stuffed their cheeks with little sponge cakes. None of them paid, but the stall owners didn’t seem to mind. These girls must know everyone around here, the girl thought to herself.

The girls plied her with all sorts of sweets.

“Here, have a bite!”

“This is really yummy!”

Each time she refused, the girls looked amazed. The girl felt bad eating food that hadn’t been paid for, and she didn’t want to be caught by Ms. Suzaki and given another scolding. Most of all, she just wanted to hurry back where she came from.

Only one stall caught the girl’s attention. It stood alone on a dim, mostly deserted side street, lit by a single, bare old-fashioned light bulb. Lined up on the counter was an assortment of kaleidoscopes of every color and size imaginable, and the girl joined the others as they peered at them, squealing in delight.

The girls seemed to be more interested in going round all the stalls than guiding the girl to her destination. Each time the girl asked if they were nearly there, the other girls all chattered and nodded in assurance, but afterwards they always returned to their endless sightseeing. The girl nearly suspected that she was being deceived, but the girls all looked and spoke so earnestly.

“Well, I suppose they are just little girls,” the girl mused. “And it is the festival, after all.”

The sights of Yoiyama flashed before the girl everywhere she looked—bustling stalls, floats bedecked with paper lanterns, windows gleaming in the buildings, yukata-clad festivalgoers, police officers directing traffic. They had run on quite a ways, and yet the hand which clasped the girl’s own still felt as cool and pleasant as before. The longer she held hands, the airier her body felt, and the airier her body felt, the more lightheaded she became. She did not even realize that she was encountering the same scenes over and over.

The girl passed the lonely kaleidoscope stall countless times, turning the same corner, walking down the same street, and coming back to the same place again and again. Going round and round the same clamorous corner of town like she was circling a whirlpool, the girl was drawn into the mysterious depths of Yoiyama.

　　　　　　　◯

“Hey,” the girls chirped as they clung onto the girl’s arm. “Let’s go up top. They’re having the festival there too!”

“Where?”

In response to the girl’s question, they pointed up, past the power cables that dangled over the constrained alley to the tops of the buildings. The sliver of sky that was visible between the rooftops had been overtaken by night.

“Kingyohoko is there!”

“It’s the prettiest float of them all!”

“Come on, let’s go!”

The girls gathered around her, all clamoring at once.

“Don’t you want to see it?”

“I would love to,” the girl blurted out, then hastily added, “but I can’t.”

“Why can’t you? Tell us, tell us!”

“Well, I have to go home…”

“Come on, it’s going to be lots of fun! I promise!”

Surrounded by all those bright faces pleading with her, the girl felt a twinge of curiosity. Her own face wore a conflicted expression, but she let herself be pulled along.

She fell into thought.

The girl imagined Yoiyama rising like a flood from the depths of the alleys to swallow up the tops of the buildings, the stark white lights leaking from the windows gradually taking on the warm tint of the orange lights of the stalls, the red and white lanterns swaying as high as the rooftops. The scene was based on a memory from when she and her sister had climbed to the roof of their ballet studio. Clutching the rusty railing, her eye had fallen upon a shrine on the roof of a building far off in the distance. Where there’s a shrine, there must be a festival, she had thought to herself.

“Just for a moment,” she mumbled, letting her mind wander again.

This time she imagined herself in a landscape of water towers and antennas and rooftops of various heights, enveloped in the same light of the festival that surrounded her now. The view was breathtaking. Timeworn wooden bridges connected all the buildings together, stretching as far as the eye could see. The floats rose up from the crowds hidden in the shadows of the buildings like giant street lamps.

Kingyohoko could be seen in the distance, unhurriedly crossing from one building to another. It was an awesome sight, larger than any of the other floats, like a shining fortress.

　　　　　　　◯

The girl found herself on Rokkaku Street, standing at the entrance to an alley.

The narrow passageway was squeezed between a multi-tenant building and a cafe, and was so inconspicuous that most passersby would never notice it was there at all. The entrance was guarded by an immense iron gate, flanked on either side by red lanterns. Between the iron bars she could see a paved stone walkway disappearing from the faint light of the street into the gloom. One of the girls opened the gate, and the rest slipped in after her like water disappearing down the drain.

“Where are we going?” asked the girl, stopping short.

“Come on!” smiled the little girl that was holding her hand, gently placing the girl’s fingers, still oozing blood, into her mouth. The girl immediately became dazed and docile, and eventually let the little girl’s cool hand lead her into the alley.

The dark, deserted path went on and on. Gray walls hemmed the girl in on either side as they trod the stone tiles underfoot. The lights of the town did not reach here, but ahead in the distance the girl could see a light burning, perhaps from a gate lamp. Beyond the light she made out what seemed to be a thickly overgrown forest grove. In the darkness it was hard to be certain of anything. Looking up, she saw a faraway old-fashioned looking building, its tall, thin windows flickering with orange light. The sky was a fragment of indescribably sorrowful indigo.

From ahead came the sound of muffled laughter and the clacking of stone steps as the other girls did a little dance in the midst of the alley, their crimson sleeves flashing like fins as they twirled around and around.

The girl looked back as the little girl pulled her onward, watching the lights of Yoiyama recede behind her.

“I feel a little lonely,” she said out loud. “I’d really rather go home now!”

The girls gave no reply. After proceeding on a little further, they all gave the stone floor a little kick and jumped into the air.

They floated in the darkness of the alley, slowly rising up through the air.

“Come on,” said the little girl holding her hand.

Imitating the motion, the girl stamped on the floor. At once the languor left her body, and still wrapped in that vague air of melancholy, she began to rise through the alley towards that slice of sky. Well, she thought dimly, maybe I’ll go see this place they’ve been telling me about.

Laughter rang out like a bell.

Just then, the girl heard loud footsteps on the stone pavement, rapidly approaching from behind. As she began to float upwards, she felt someone grab onto her ankles. Their hands were slick with sweat. The girl was jerked sharply towards the ground; she yelped in pain and instinctively flailed her legs, but the person stubbornly clung on. Glancing down in exasperation, the girl came face to face with her sister, who looked as if she might burst into tears any moment.

“Sister!” the girl cried out, shocked out of her stupor. She reached down to grab her sister’s hand.

Her sister tried to pull her down to earth, but the girl in the red yukata pulled her in the opposite direction towards the twinkling sky with all her might.The hand that had formerly felt so cool and pleasant was now bonechillingly cold. The girl shivered in horror and desperately tried to shake her hand free, while her sister doggedly held on to her legs.

The other girls came floating towards them like goldfish come to feed, and began to caress the girl’s hair, which was tied up in a bun for ballet practice, taking out the pins that held it one by one. A warm, moist wind blew in from the depths of the alley, and as the girl’s untied hair fluttered in the breeze, she felt gravity take hold of her again.

The girl came thumping down on top of her sister.

As the girl in the red yukata came floating down to clutch at the girl once more, her sister rose to her feet furiously and slapped her pale cheek. The dry sound rang through the dark alley with a satisfying echo.

The sister sank to her knees and embraced the girl.

“You know you shouldn’t have gone with them,” she chided. “And I thought you were a crybaby!”

“I’m sorry,” the girl whispered.

Holding her sister tightly, the girl looked up at the girls who had tried to pull her into that inky blue sky as they tittered and floated onwards. The sound of their laughter bounced off the walls of the alley. That laughter had seemed so joyful, but now it sounded utterly transformed. It was the most eerie, forlorn sound the girl had ever heard.

At that moment, the girl had a sudden realization.

Each and every one of the girls that were floating away had the same face.

　　　　　　　◯

The girl ran pell-mell with her sister, and before she knew it they had come out onto the broad expanse of Karasuma Street. They sat down, blending in with the multitude of people who were seated eating all sorts of street foods from the stalls.

For a time they did not speak.

Her sister squeezed her hand tightly, and the girl squeezed back, neither caring how sweaty their palms were. As they slumped together, the girl caught a whiff of something sweet, the way her sister always smelled after ballet practice.

After a while, the girl turned to her sister and began to ramble.

They talked about the recital in May, the fun they had eating their packed lunch in the dressing room backstage, like they were on a field trip. Later on, they had stood behind the curtains in the wings, watching the older students perform. They both liked watching from the shadows by the stage much more than watching from the seats. It felt almost magical. The thought that one day, they too might be able to dance like that, and become part of that spectacle, sent a thrill through them.

“What do you think we’ll be performing at next year’s recital?”

They chattered on, sitting on the sidelines of Yoiyama.

Having calmed down, they stood up at the same time and walked to the middle of Karasuma Street, silently observing the festivities growing more raucous by the moment. The streets twinkled with the lights of the stalls, and far off in the distance between the buildings, Kyoto Tower glowed like a candle.

“Let’s go home,” her sister said.

Clasping hands tightly, the two girls set off at a run for the white, ivy-covered house where their mother was waiting for them, leaving behind the Yoiyama night.