A/N: Hopefully the spate of rubbish updates ends with this chapter.

Chapter 5

It was a bright and sunny morning. The miasma of doom that had impended over Kainan the previous day was gone. The koi pond shimmered in the sunlight, and the trees swayed gracefully in the warm late-summer breeze. Maki had arranged for mats to be laid out around the pond. He expected that recent events—from all the macabre talk of Kainan's past to Sendoh's dramatic disappearance and reappearance—had put his guests ill at ease—perhaps enough to make them change their minds about staying at Kainan. A refreshing sojourn in nature's lap would restore equanimity among them and ensure that such a thing never happened.

Rukawa contrived to pull Kogure aside while everyone else was busy taking the air or becoming one with nature in some other way, and told him everything.

Kogure listened with rapt attention. Once Rukawa had finished telling him about the burnt corpse and the information Sendoh had stumbled upon, he spoke.

"You're afraid that Sendoh might not be possessed at all, and it may in fact be you who are possessed."

Rukawa nodded. He was past the stage where he felt any embarrassment about entertaining straight-faced talk about the paranormal, and had given himself entirely up to Kogure's authority in these matters. Dr. Kogure, psychoanalyst and noted nutjob, was now presiding.

"There are only two possible explanations I can think of to why the burnt body of Toshiro chose to appear to you," said Kogure. "The first is that Toshiro had some connection, in life, to the dorm room you're staying in. Something is tying him down to this world and preventing his natural passage into the afterlife, and he has made your room his home for the time being. In this case, the best way to proceed would be to find out why Toshiro is unable to move on. What unfinished business could he have in the world of the living? What's holding him back? Once we've helped the spirit of Toshiro find peace, the hauntings should cease."

Kogure said all this with a straight face. If it all turned out to be an elaborate joke, Rukawa would be deeply impressed by his deadpan delivery.

"What's the other possibility?" said Rukawa.

Kogure sighed; then accepting that there was no way around it, he smiled.

"Rukawa," he said gravely. "The second possibility is far and away the more serious one. It may be the case that you're a spiritual magnet. Something about your being draws the souls of the dead to you. You're like a lighthouse, shining brightly through the fog of death, promising the dead safe passage. Picture yourself as a sort of latter-day Charon, ferrying the souls of the deceased across the Styx into Hades."

Rukawa tried, but couldn't. His imagination was not sufficiently well adapted to the looney to afford him such imaginings.

"Or you can think of yourself as the kid from The Sixth Sense."

"Okay," said Rukawa at length. "What's the cure?"

"There is none. This is a responsibility that you must carry to your grave."

Dr. Kogure's session had come to an end. Kogure had decided to take his ravings to other ears. Miyagi's, it transpired.

"Miyagi, have you ever heard of the Love Genie?" Rukawa heard Kogure say. "No, it's not a metaphor. I'm talking about an actual genie. You haven't heard of him? Well, your life's about to get a whole lot better…"

Rukawa had ceased paying attention. He was absorbed in his own thoughts. So he was a ferryman for the dead? Did that mean he was out of harm's way? He decided that it was a comforting thought, in spite of its far-fetchedness, and he forbore to pick at it with the pickax of reason.

There was activity by the pond. Coach Takato had deigned to appear before his guests for the first time since their arrival.

"Hello, boys," he said brightly in the sickly-sweet tone of one who was not accustomed to being pleasant. "I hope you're having a great time here at Kainan. We've got lots of things for you to do. There's a mini-golf course, an Olympic-sized swimming pool, catered farm-fresh food in the cafeteria for when you're hungry…"

"Thank you, Sensei." Akagi bowed low before Coach Takato. "But we won't be a burden on your school. Basketball is all we need. Thank you for letting us use your basketball court."

Coach Takato's smile became strained. He had always had reservations about letting lesser teams set foot on Kainan's hallowed basketball court, which in his mind levitated six inches off the ground purely from superiority. It was for that reason that Kainan never hosted practice games.

"Of course," he said with a wide toothy grin.

"Tch," said Rukawa under his breath. He had always found Coach Takato's air of superiority most insufferable.

"Nice of Takato-sensei to let us use his basketball court."

He whirled around to see Sendoh standing next to him, smiling insouciantly.

"Yes, of course," said Rukawa, recomposing himself. He could never tell when Sendoh was being sincere and when he was being sarcastic.

"I seem to recall Taoka-sensei telling us that Takato-sensei was a year younger than him," Sendoh mused aloud. "Which would mean that he's forty years old."

Rukawa couldn't see where Sendoh was going with this line of thinking, and decided that he didn't care.

"When are you going to tell the others what really happened when you 'disappeared'?"

"Don't worry about it," said Sendoh, back to his old smiley self in a flash. "Let's enjoy the weather. Hey, how about a round of one-on-one on Kainan's outdoor court?"

Rukawa agreed. He never noticed that Sendoh had masterfully steered him away from dissecting his account of the pursuit of Hikari Mizuoka the previous day, and forgot all about it in the course of the basketball game.

The other guys, seeing that basketball was afoot, decided to join in.

"Quit hogging the court, you guys," said Fujima. "We want to play, too."

"How about we have a face-off between schools?" said Jin.

"Ryonan and Shoyo have only got two players each," said Mitsui.

"Nyahahahahaha!" Sakuragi laughed. "The benchwarmer's too scared to face the Tensai."

Hanagata flashed his glasses upon Sakuragi.

"The two of us are more than a match for Shohoku," he said. "Especially since you'll be doing half our work for us."

"Say that again!"

"Guys, quit fighting," said Maki. "How about we form our own teams? I pick Sendoh, Mitsui, Hanagata, and Rukawa. We're Team A."

"Maki-san!" Kiyota whined. "What about me?"

"You can sit on the bench," said Maki.

"What! I'm way better than Rukawa. He should be the one on the bench. Tch."

"For once I agree with Wild Monkey," said Sakuragi. "Rukawa being a starting player is an insult to the Tensai."

A vein throbbed in Maki's temple. He exchanged a meaningful look with Akagi. Maybe the two of them could start a support group for people who had spent too much time in the company of monkeys.

"All right," said Akagi. "I pick Fujima, Jin, Sakuragi, and that other Kainan forward for Team B."

"Muto," said Maki. "His name's Muto."

Muto was not a little peeved. It had taken Coach Takato a whole year to stop calling him "Mito", and his name was not something that he took lightly anymore.

"I'll be the referee," Uozumi said hastily so that it didn't appear as if he'd been flat-out ignored by both teams.

"Hey, what about me?" Miyagi's eyes burned with the fire of determination—the determination to prove once and for all that he was the best point guard in Kanagawa.

"You can sit out on the bench."

"What the fuck do you mean…?" Then realization dawned on him. Ayako would be on the bench. "Yeah, fine, whatever."

Both teams organized themselves on the court betimes.

"All right," said Uozumi. "Let's go."

He threw the ball into the air with a flourish.

Akagi and Hanagata jumped simultaneously. The ball soared above their fingers. Hanagata hit it on its downward arc.

"That's a jump ball violation," said Uozumi.

"You threw it too damn high," Akagi growled.

"You're too tall for this job," said Hanagata.

Uozumi bridled, but checked his enthusiasm the next time around.

The game was underway.

Akagi got the jump ball and hit the ball over to Sakuragi, who was full of energy after convalescing from his back injury. Unfortunately, being away from the basketball court for so long had made him a little rusty on the rules.

"Traveling," said Uozumi with glee.

Ayako slapped her forehead.

"Do we need to go through basic training again, Sakuragi?"

"Of course not, Ayako-san."

Kiyota burst into loud guffaws.

Maki punched him.

Sakuragi doubled over in laughter.

Akagi clenched his teeth and began berating Sakuragi at ear-splitting length. What he had failed to realize was that the game had already resumed around him, and the ball was alive. Sendoh and Rukawa got past Fujima and Hanagata in an unexpectedly perfect stroke of teamwork, and scored the first basket of the game.

"Idiot!" Akagi bellowed, landing a large fist on Sakuragi's head.

Sakuragi feared all his progress at rehab had been undone as he fell face-first to the ground.

More laughter from Kiyota.

"Guys, guys, guys," said Maki, interceding from Olympus. "Let's act like grownups for once, all right?"

"Easy for you to say," said Sakuragi, rousing from his coma. "You've been a grownup all your life."

A vein throbbed in Maki's temple.

"What did you say to me?"

He came close to committing hospiticide.

Ultimately it was decided that there was no way a basketball game so charged with passion could continue. Everyone returned to the pond and passed the time making small talk.

Mitsui lay on his back, chewing on the end of a long stem of grass while trying to discern shapes in the clouds overhead. He was bored out of his wits.

"Tell us a ghost story, Kogure," he said in a moment of inspiration.

Kogure smiled broadly.

"I think I know just the story for this occasion," he said after a minute of thought. "It's about a boy named Hiroshi who lived several years ago. He wasn't much older than you or me, and was an average teenager in all respects but one: He loved fireworks—with a passion. More than that, he loved making fireworks. It was a lot easier to make your own fireworks at home back then than it is now. The ingredients were easy to acquire, and setting up a workshop in your bedroom didn't draw the attention of the authorities.

"Hiroshi made fireworks during the day and sold them to kids in the neighborhood. At night, he would go out into an empty field and set some off himself. Now, Hiroshi loved a good explosion—the bigger the better. As a result, his fireworks packed a significantly bigger punch than the standard mass-produced variety. His parents and neighbors were afraid his hobby could end badly for him, but Hiroshi loved fireworks too much to give up making them.

"Then it happened. One evening, when Hiroshi was gathering up a bunch of his most explosive fireworks to set off in the field as he did every night, his cigarette fell out from between his lips and landed among the fireworks. Boom. That was the end of Hiroshi and his family."

"How fucking stupid do you have to be to smoke a cigarette while handling fireworks?" Mitsui laughed contemptuously.

Kogure eyed him curiously.

"There's more to the story," he went on. "Hiroshi's house, while severely charred, was more or less unharmed structurally. The house was rebuilt and the explosion forgotten. Eventually the town was swallowed up by urban sprawl, and a contractor from the city moved into Hiroshi's old house.

"It was pretty unremarkable at first. Then one night the contractor was awoken by a loud thud near the foot of his bed. He sat bolt upright. His eyes darted from one side of the room to another, but there was no one there. Just as he was about to go back asleep, he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. He sat up again. There, under the window, illuminated by moonlight, was a burnt corpse lying on the floor. The contractor jumped out of bed and ran out of the house. He never even returned for his stuff."

A minute of silence followed this story.

"Jesus," said Mitsui. He closed his eyes and shuddered. He had sat up when Kogure had got to the part where the corpse fell on the floor with a thud. "I must admit, I didn't expect your story to be quite that scary."

Kogure grinned.

"It does paint quite a picture in your head, doesn't it?" he said. "I can guarantee you won't be able to shut your eyes tonight without feeling a pair of burnt eyes on you."

Kogure was complimented by all and sundry on his storytelling abilities. He acknowledged the praise modestly. Then his eyes caught Rukawa's, and he smiled.

Rukawa was shocked that Kogure should recycle Rukawa's own experiences in such an obvious fashion purely for entertainment. He turned instinctively to Sendoh, and saw that Sendoh was white. With fear? Or with fury?

That evening, when the two of them lay in their beds in their room, Sendoh broke the silence and answered all the questions that had been burning in Rukawa's mind.

"The reason I made up the story about hitting my head and passing out was that I didn't want Maki to know of all this just yet," he said in the dark.

"You were trying to spare him the bad news?"

"Yes," said Sendoh. "But I'm not talking about the fact that Kainan could be shut down. Maki knows that already."

Then what the fuck are you talking about?

"I haven't been entirely honest with you," Sendoh confessed. "I didn't tell you everything Hikari told me that night. I apologize for that."

You can make up for it by telling me now, idiot.

"Like I said, Hikari's not all up there, and it's hard to get a straight answer out of her. She also has a tendency to talk in riddles. She told me that Toshiro had a 'young friend' who was deeply affected by his death. She said that that 'young friend'—and she wouldn't name names—was now a member of the Kainan faculty."

Rukawa took a stab in the dark.

"Takato-sensei?"

He was the only member of the Kainan faculty Rukawa knew of.

"I'm positive. He's just the right age to have been a student at Kainan back when Hikari and Toshiro went here. I think he's in much deeper in all this than any of us realized."

This seemed to Rukawa to be straight out of crazytown. He was skeptical.

"Why would he try to cover up his friend's murder?" he said. "Wouldn't he want to bring the killers to justice instead?"

"That's what I thought at first, too," said Sendoh. "But I just had an idea about what Toshiro's last name could have been. It was stupid of me not to have not to have seen the connection before."

"What was it?"

"Takato."

Rukawa's head reeled, even though he was lying in bed. That could only mean…

"I think Toshiro might have been Takato-sensei's brother."

tbc.

A/N: The plot thickens.