> "Society loves a disabled person right up until they stop being inspirational and start being inconvenient. Or worse—scary. Being scary is freedom. It means they stop trying to fix you and start running away."
> Maria's Notes, Entry #58
>
Part 1: The Tyranny of Cute
Class meetings are the seventh circle of hell.
I'm sitting at my desk, head tilted toward the window, listening to the rhythmic scritch-scratch of chalk on the board and the droning voice of Sato, our beloved Class Rep. The air in Classroom 2-B smells of hormones, floor wax, and the distinct, sugary stench of forced enthusiasm.
The Cultural Festival is coming.
"Okay everyone!" Sato chirps. Her voice is so high-pitched it's practically a dog whistle. "We need to finalize our class theme today! The leading suggestion is... a Maid Cafe!"
A roar of approval from the boys. Of course.
I groan internally. A Maid Cafe. The absolute peak of unoriginality. It involves awkward curtsying, overpriced omelet rice, and painfully forced "Moe~ Moe~ Kyun!" chants.
Sato continues, "It will be so cute! The girls will wear frilly aprons, and the boys can be butlers, and we'll serve tea! It's perfect for our class image!"
Our class image is 'chronically depressing with a side of academic anxiety,' Sato. A maid outfit isn't going to fix that.
"And Maria-chan!" Sato suddenly pivots to me. The room goes quiet. Oh god. Don't perceive me. "You can be the greeter! You can sit by the door in a cute outfit and ring a little bell when customers come in! You won't even have to walk around!"
I feel my blood temperature rise three degrees.
A bell. Like a leper in medieval times warning people of their approach. Unclean! Unclean! The blind girl is here!
She wants to use me as a prop. A cute little disabled mascot to prove how inclusive Class 2-B is.
My hand tightens around my cane. I am seriously considering throwing it like a javelin. I don't know where Sato is standing exactly, but if I aim for the sound of her annoying voice, I might get lucky.
"Objection."
The voice cuts through the saccharine atmosphere like a rusty saw blade.
Yu-ri is leaning back in her chair, boots up on her desk (a direct violation of school rules, obviously). She's chewing gum with aggressive snaps.
"Yu-ri-san," Sato sighs, the patience already draining from her voice. "Please put your feet down. Do you have a constructive contribution?"
"Yeah. Maid Cafes are lame. They're basic. Every year, three classes do Maid Cafes. It smells like desperation and cheap polyester."
"Well, do you have a better idea?" Sato challenges.
Yu-ri pops a bubble. "Yeah. Haunted Hospital."
Silence.
"A... haunted hospital?" Sato wrinkles her nose. I can hear the wrinkle. "Isn't that a bit... grotesque?"
"That's the point, Princess," Yu-ri says, dropping her feet to the floor with a loud thud. "People get bored of cute. People want adrenaline. They want to piss their pants a little. We black out the windows, get some strobe lights, splash some fake blood around. It's cheap, it's easy, and it's fun."
She pauses for dramatic effect.
"Besides, we have a secret weapon."
Oh no. Where is she going with this?
Yu-ri points a thumb over her shoulder, directly at me.
"We have Maria."
The class murmurs. I feel twenty pairs of eyes on me. The usual mix of pity and curiosity.
"Maria-san cannot participate in a haunted house!" Sato protests. "It's too dangerous! It's dark, there are obstacles..."
"She lives in the dark, you walnut," Yu-ri snaps. "She navigates obstacles every day. The dark is her turf. We're just tourists."
Yu-ri stands up and walks over to my desk. She puts a hand on my shoulder. It's heavy and grounding.
"Think about it," Yu-ri tells the class, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Maria as the main ghost. She sits in the middle of a pitch-black room. White dress. Long black wig covering her face. And she just sits there. Totally still."
She leans down close to my ear.
"And then," Yu-ri says, loud enough for everyone to hear, "when someone gets close, she lifts her head. And they see her eyes."
The room goes dead silent.
My eyes.
I don't know what they look like. I've been told they are clouded. Milky. "Like agates," my mother said once, trying to be poetic. "Creepy as hell," a kid on the playground said when I was ten.
I usually wear dark glasses to hide them. To make other people comfortable.
"Her eyes are naturally creepy," Yu-ri declares matter-of-factly. "No contacts needed. It's organic horror. She just stares at them with those foggy dead eyes, points a finger, and lets out a screech. People will shit themselves. It'll be legendary."
Sato gasps. "That is horribly offensive! You are calling Maria-san creepy!"
The class is paralyzed. Yu-ri just broke the ultimate taboo. She insulted the disability.
I sit there. I feel the weight of Yu-ri's hand on my shoulder. I hear Sato's indignant breathing.
Creepy.
I taste the word.
"Cute little bell-ringer" versus "Legendary creepy ghost who makes people shit themselves."
I slowly reach up and take off my dark glasses. I place them on the desk.
I lift my head and stare blankly toward the sound of Sato's voice. I widen my eyes as far as they will go.
I open my mouth and let out a sound. Not a scream. A low, guttural groan that I've been saving up for a special occasion.
"Uuuuuuunnnnggghhhhh..."
Someone in the back row squeaks in terror.
Yu-ri bursts out laughing. She slaps my shoulder hard.
"See?!" Yu-ri yells. "Natural talent! She's a horror icon!"
I grab my tablet and type. The robotic voice is loud in the quiet room.
"I VOTE FOR HAUNTED HOSPITAL."
The tide turns instantly. The class, realizing the "poor disabled girl" is on board with being terrifying, suddenly thinks it's the coolest idea ever.
Haunted Hospital wins by a landslide.
Sato looks like she swallowed a lemon.
Part 2: The Art of Negotiation
School ends. Yu-ri and I are walking to the station.
"You were brilliant back there," Yu-ri says, lighting a cigarette. Technically illegal, but she doesn't care. The smell of tobacco mixes with the autumn air. "That groan? Oscar-worthy. Where did you learn that?"
"I LISTEN TO J-HORROR MOVIES WHEN I CAN'T SLEEP. THE SOUND DESIGN IS INSPIRING."
"Nerd. But seriously, you okay with the 'creepy eyes' comment? I was winging it. Didn't mean to actually offend you if I did."
I stop walking. I tap my cane against the curb.
"YU-RI."
"Yeah?"
"SATO WANTED ME TO BE A DECORATION. A HARMLESS LITTLE BELL. YOU WANT ME TO BE A MONSTER."
I turn my face toward her.
"I WOULD RATHER BE A MONSTER THAN A MASCOT. BEING SCARY IS POWERFUL. NO ONE PITIES A GHOST."
Yu-ri exhales a plume of smoke. I hear the smile in her voice. "God, you're twisted. I love it."
"HOWEVER. I HAVE A CONDITION."
"Oh? The diva makes demands. What is it? Specific brand of fake blood? Silk ghost kimono?"
"NO. I WANT SATO."
Yu-ri pauses. "You want Sato? Like... in a romantic way? Because I don't judge, but your taste is trash."
"NO, YOU IDIOT. I WANT HER TO BE MY FIRST VICTIM. WHEN THE HAUNTED HOSPITAL OPENS, SHE HAS TO BE THE FIRST ONE THROUGH THE DOOR. AND I WANT FREE REIGN TO TRAUMATIZE HER."
I feel Yu-ri grab my shoulders. She shakes me wildly.
"Yes! A thousand times yes! We will rig the whole thing. We'll make sure she pees her skirt. Maria, you're evil. It's beautiful."
"SHE CALLED ME 'CUTE'. SHE MUST PAY."
"Agreed. Come on. We need supplies. We're going to my place."
Part 3: Entering the Yokai's Den
I've never been to a friend's house before. Mostly because I've never had a friend before.
Yu-ri lives in an older part of town. The streets are narrower, the sounds echo differently.
"It's an old wooden house," Yu-ri describes as we stop. "Looks like it survived World War Two out of sheer stubbornness. My grandma refuses to renovate."
She slides open the front door. Gara-gara-gara.
The smell hits me instantly.
It's not the sterile lemon-cleaner smell of my house. It's deep. Complex. It smells of old tatami mats, incense, simmering soy sauce, and... something sharp. Like metal polish.
"I'm home!" Yu-ri yells, kicking off her boots. "And I brought a hostage!"
"Take your damn shoes off properly, you barbarian!"
The voice that yells back is incredible. It's older than Yu-ri's, but it has the exact same gravelly texture. It sounds like rocks tumbling in a dryer.
Footsteps approach. They are light, quick, and shuffling.
"Who's this?" the voice demands. It's coming from down low.
"This is Maria," Yu-ri says. "My co-conspirator. Maria, this is my grandma. The ancient one. The cop-fighter."
I bow awkwardly towards the floor.
"Hello. Nice to meet you."
A hand grabs my chin. It's small, bony, and incredibly strong. The skin feels like dried parchment, but the grip is iron. She tilts my head down.
"Blind, huh?" Grandma says. It's not a question of pity. It's an appraisal. Like she's checking the ripeness of a melon.
I nod.
"Huh. Eyes are cloudy. Like bad sake." She releases my chin. "Well? Don't just stand there letting the drafts in. Come inside. Yu-ri, get her some tea. And don't spill it on her, you clumsy ox."
"Yes, ma'am," Yu-ri mutters, sounding strangely subdued.
I follow the sound of the shuffling feet. This is Yu-ri's world.
We sit at a low table in the living room. I hear Yu-ri banging around in the kitchen.
"So," Grandma says abruptly. I feel her intense gaze even though I can't see it. "You're the one Yu-ri got held back for? The one she punched the VP over?"
Wait. What?
"NO," I type quickly. "THAT WAS A DIFFERENT GIRL. A YEAR AGO."
"Bah. Details. She's always punching someone for someone else. Got a martyr complex, that one. Thinks she has to save every stray cat in the city because she couldn't save her folks."
My breath catches. Yu-ri mentioned her parents died in a car crash. I didn't realize...
"She's soft," Grandma continues, her voice dropping lower. "Acts tough. Wears all that leather. Talks like a Yakuza reject. But inside? Marshmallow. Don't tell her I said that. I'll deny it."
"Tea!" Yu-ri announces, slamming two mugs down on the table. "Careful, Maria. It's boiling lava hot. Because I hate you."
"THANKS. YOU'RE TOO KIND."
I carefully wrap my hands around the mug. It's thick earthenware, rough and comforting.
"So, what are you two troublemakers plotting?" Grandma asks, sipping her own tea loudly.
"School festival," Yu-ri says, mouth full of a rice cracker. "We're doing a haunted hospital. Maria is the star ghost because her eyes are creepy."
I tense up, waiting for Grandma to scold her for being insensitive.
Grandma cackles. It sounds like a sputtering engine.
"Good! Use what you got! Better than being some useless flower display. You need fake blood? I got a recipe. Corn syrup, red food dye, and a splash of chocolate sauce to make it look clotted. Looks disgusting. Used it to fake a murder scene back in '98 to scare off a landlord."
My jaw drops slightly. Yu-ri wasn't kidding. This woman is a yokai.
"We need everything, Obaa-chan," Yu-ri says. "We need creepy cloth, we need ropes, we need weird-smelling stuff."
"Check the shed out back," Grandma waves a dismissive hand. "Full of junk. Just don't touch my katana. It's sharp."
I lean over to Yu-ri and whisper.
"She has a katana?"
"Yeah. And she knows how to use it. She's four foot ten of pure rage. I love her."
Part 4: Blood and Bonding
We spend the next three hours in the shed.
It is a sensory wonderland. It smells of rust, oil, mildew, and dust. I sneeze four times immediately.
Yu-ri is in her element. I hear her rummaging through boxes, tossing things aside.
"Okay, we got torn fishing nets. Perfect for cobwebs. Feel this."
She shoves something into my hands. It's rough, stringy, and smells faintly of dried seaweed.
"EXCELLENT TEXTURE. VERY REPULSIVE."
"Right? Ooh, what's this? An old mannequin head? Why does she have this? And why is half its face melted off?"
"I DON'T WANT TO KNOW. PUT IT IN THE PILE."
We find rusty chains (great sound effects), heavy tarp that smells like gasoline (great for blackout curtains), and a box of old medical textbooks that smell like vinegar.
Then, we make the blood.
We go back to the kitchen. Grandma supervises from her chair like a tiny culinary dictator.
"More red! It looks like fruit punch, you idiot! It needs to look like arterial spray!"
Yu-ri is mixing a giant bowl of goo. I can hear the squelching sound. It's deeply satisfying.
"Maria, stick your hand in. Quality control."
I hesitate.
"Do it!" Grandma barks.
I stick my hand into the bowl.
It's cold. Thick. Sticky. It clings to my skin like slime.
"Well?" Yu-ri asks.
"IT FEELS LIKE MURDER."
"Perfect." Yu-ri high-fives me with a blood-covered hand. Now my hand is sticky too.
We sit on the floor of Yu-ri's living room, surrounded by our haul of horrors, covered in fake blood. I look like I just emerged from a swamp.
And I realized something.
I am comfortable.
In this dusty, strange-smelling house, with the gravel-voiced delinquent and her terrifying grandmother, I am not "Maria the blind girl." I am just Maria, the co-conspirator. The horror expert. The girl with the creepy eyes.
Sato wanted to put me in a corner with a bell. Yu-ri put me in the center of the action with a bucket of fake blood.
I turn to Yu-ri. I can feel the warmth of her arm next to mine.
"Hey," I say, using my real, rusty voice.
She stops counting rusty nails. "Yeah?"
"Your grandma... is awesome."
Yu-ri chuckles. "Yeah. She's a lot. But she's the only family I got."
She bumps her shoulder against mine.
"You're part of the crew now, Defect. You survive Grandma, you're family. Sorry, those are the rules. No refunds."
I smile. The fake blood on on my cheek cracks as I smile.
Family.
I like the sound of that.
I grab my tablet to type a final thought before we leave.
"YU-RI."
"What up?"
"SATO IS GOING TO SHIT HERSELF."
Yu-ri throws her head back
and laughs, a loud, unladylike bark that fills the old house.
"Damn straight she is. Come on, Ghost Girl. Let's get you home before your mom calls the National Guard."