Old Bones and Ghosts
Chapter 4 of The Family Business
“Behind every man now alive stand thirty ghosts, for that is the ratio by which the dead outnumber the living. Since the dawn of time, roughly a hundred billion human beings have walked the planet Earth.” — Arthur C. Clarke, 2001: A Space Odyssey
I walked up the road by the river and soon arrived at the bottom of the vast graveyard draped over a gentle slope stretching up the hill behind the school. As far as the eye could see, stone markers stood sentry over their precious treasures, small boxes containing urns of ashes and bone.
No bodies were buried here. Only the cremated remains of the dead, buried in small square or rectangular family plots, under grey or brown stone pillars engraved with the family name.
The plots were packed closely together so as to not waste any space, accented here and there with white or pink blossoms of fresh flowers. Almost all were neatly swept and many of the granite gravestones gleamed as if they had been recently scrubbed and polished.
The afternoon breeze had died down as if to prepare for the early evening, and a somber calm settled over the area. A small column of wispy white smoke rose in the distance, and I caught a faint, sweet scent of burning incense drifting lightly in the air.
I tugged the corner of a folded sheet of paper wedged into my front pocket and retrieved Jimmy’s note from earlier.
I carefully unfolded the message, and read it again.
“SAKAMOTO 1428”
I began walking slowly up the path along the left edge of the graveyard.
Sakamoto (坂本) is a common Japanese surname. The kanji for saka (坂) means slope, incline, or hill. Moto (本) has several meanings including origin, so the meaning of the name can be roughly translated as “the base of the slope,” in this case, the spot in which I had been standing before I started walking.
Jimmy had thought up several such clever names for reference points in the graveyard, part of an elaborate game we played whenever we could.
As I walked, I counted the paths to my right spaced evenly between each pair of family grave markers, joining my path at right angles, forming a grid system like the streets of a well-planned city. As I passed each intersection, I glanced to the right to see the new departing path vanish into the distance with graves rising on either side, erect like soldiers standing watch, as if to search for ghosts or glimpse the occasional cat hiding in the shadows.
As I approached the 12th cross-path, I passed a cluster of Jizo statues on the left, each wearing a red knit cap, representing the souls of children who had died before their parents. Looking at them I wondered how old the statues were. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of sadness for their unfulfilled lives.
In the distance ahead of me, a murder of crows took flight from a grove of pines at the edge of the cemetery.
For a few moments, the air was filled with a cacophony of flapping wings and crow “caws” as 10–12–16 crows flew overhead on their way to wherever it is crows gather in the evening.
It became quiet again…
I thought of the irony of encountering a murder in the graveyard and chuckled to myself.
Reaching the 14th row, I turned into the stone path and started counting the headstones to my left. After the sixteenth, there was a break and another path crossed. At the 28th headstone, I stopped and faced the grave. This was it, the 28th grave on the 14th row from the bottom of the rise.
It was an older tombstone, darker brown in color than the surrounding ones, and the surface was a bit rough. The family name was engraved on the marker, as is customary in Japan. Several itatoba stood behind the marker, narrow wooden boards upon which were written the Buddhist names given to the deceased family members after death. They too were dark and faded, a few with patches of moss growing on the surface.
I did not recognize the family name. I pulled a small notebook from my pocket and carefully drew the characters as best I could. I counted the itatoba, five, one for each family member buried in the plot, and also noted this in the notebook.
I felt the air get slightly colder and sensed some small transient disturbance in the space surrounding me.
Behind me, I heard the sharp “snap” of a twig cracking and I imagined someone walking quietly, somewhere close. I glanced around quickly, but could not see anyone. I wondered how many ghosts were standing behind me, watching my every move. I wasn’t sure there were any, but I wasn’t sure there weren’t.
I cleared my throat and stamped my feet to make a little noise, hoping to discourage anything or anyone from surprising me or being surprised. I hurriedly put away my things and silently begged the ghosts not to follow me from that place.
As I was about to turn around, I felt a slight pressure on my ankle, as if some creature’s fingers were reaching from below the ground and brushing my heels lightly.
I froze in place, not wanting to move, unconsciously holding my breath, overcome by a sense of unease.
I felt it again, this time a nudge accompanied by a slight vibration.
My face became suddenly hot and flushed, and my mind turned to liquid as panic prepared to spring, poised upon my shoulder, ready to take control of my limbs and propel me quickly away from danger.
I looked down, then exhaled.
At my feet, a small grey cat was rubbing against my leg, purring loudly. She had a red collar and looked well-cared-for, wearing a shiny coat, large almond-green eyes open wide in the shadowy light. Her long tail, accented with a little white tip, was raised high in greeting, waving gently back and forth.
I was slightly amused that she seemed to be wearing our school colors: red and grey.
I spoke to her and was rewarded with a “prrrrrrrrang,” in reply. After a short dialog, I admonished her not to follow me, and to be careful while sneaking around the ghosts who were no doubt watching everything.
Finally, I took my leave and began retracing my steps to get to the exit of the cemetery. I looked behind to see the cat following at a distance.
As I reached my starting point, I looked back again to see that the cat had stopped and was sitting in front of the caretaker’s shed, in front of a small bowl and saucer. I felt a bit more at ease, knowing that the cat was being cared for.
The sound of chimes drifted up from the Japanese school down the hill, signaling the end of the school day, a well-known tune beloved and anticipated by school children throughout Japan.
Sunset splashes across the sky
A bell sounds from the temple in the mountains
I take your hand in mine
Crows leading us home*
As if on cue, a crow landed on a tree by the shed, cackling at the cat. I smiled to myself again, thinking of the murder in the graveyard, as I stepped out onto the road and began the steep descent down the hill.
*Author’s translation of “Yuuyake, koyake,” a traditional Japanese song. The interpretation above is slightly stylized. Below is the transliteration with a more literal translation (also by the author)
Yuuyake koyake de hi ga kureta / With the sunset, day grew darker
Yama no tera no kane ga naru / A temple bell sounds from the mountain
Otete o tsunaide mina kaerou / All join hands, it’s time to go home
Karasu to issho ni kaeri mashou / Let’s go home together with the crows
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