The Haunting of the Coin

By Monica Banks

A clairvoyant child, Sarah Hokasen, and a shopkeeper, Keiko Yamamoto, become intertwined in the paranormal world by the disappearance of Aiko Ikenaga, a pregnant woman in the village. Sarah unknowingly lashes out on people who harm her and torment her because she is of American-Japanese decent. She soon catches on to what she is capable of and wishes her powers to increase. Keiko struggles to see the signs that a spirit keeps leaving, and the spirit begins to channel his thoughts through Sarah. With the spirit world guiding Keiko, she is able to help Aiko. On the other hand, a benevolent spirit tries to force Sarah to the dark side of the paranormal and doing so, he targets Sarahs mother.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 25, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450035439

Monica Banks

Monica Banks was born in Japan. Raised as an Air Force brat she and her family traveled several times between Okinawa and Japan. At one point in her childhood she lived with her grandparents in a small village on the island of Kyushu. There she was surrounded by many ghost stories and superstitions. She now resides in Tennessee. She has brought to her book, The Haunting of the Coin, a combination of the western world and that of the lives and spirits in a small Japanese village. The story involves inter racial relationships, prejudices, and the art of revenge in the era of post war Japan.

Book preview

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

Chapter Thirty-four

Chapter Thirty-five

Chapter Thirty-six

Chapter Thirty-seven

Chapter Thirty-eight

Chapter Thirty-nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-one

Chapter Forty-two

Chapter Forty-three

Chapter Forty-four

Chapter Forty-five

Chapter Forty-six

Chapter Forty-seven

Chapter Forty-eight

Chapter Forty-nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-one

Chapter Fifty-two

Chapter Fifty-three

Chapter Fifty-four

Chapter Fifty-five

Chapter Fifty-six

Chapter Fifty-seven

Epilogue

Dedication

To Robert Taylor, my benefactor, and to Nancy Taylor for their constant faith and encouragement. To Alex and Diana.

In memory of Kirt Dressler.

obake—

A ghost, an apparition, a phantom, a specter, a hobgoblin, a bugaboo

shinzulu—

Believe, accept (take) as true

—Sanseido’s New Concise Japanese-English Dictionary

Prologue

1945, Japan

The wind and rain violated her body through her thin kimono. The material flapped around her, exposing her legs and making the sleeves stick to her arms like wet butterfly wings. She gripped the concrete rail and leaned forward into the massive gusts of wind that threatened to blow her small body back against the opposite side of the bridge. The rough corrugated concrete ripped into her fingers, but she didn’t feel any pain, only numbness.

You can’t be dead, my koibito(fiancée)! The emperor just surrendered! she screamed into the wind. It’s not fair, Kazuo! I was to finally become your wife! Her screams came out as whimpers against the howling wind.

The wind pushed Sumiko Ikenaga’s head backward, preventing her from looking down into the river. The river water surged up to reach her above the rail as the rain showered her with the force of an open faucet. Thunder and lightning began to descend upon the bridge as the river current moved with snakelike speed.

Her hair stuck to her face as if it was glued to her wet skin. She fought to keep her eyes open from the water and the weight of her hair on her eyelashes. She could taste the occasional warm, diluted salt that streamed down from her eyes into the corners of her mouth before they were washed away by the cold rain. Sumiko blinked away the liquids to look at the rushing waters below as she forced her head forward and leaned into the railing.

Her betrothed was gone from this plane of existence. She had to decide whether to join him in his world or stay forever grieving for him in her world. Would anyone really miss her?

Yes, my parents will miss me.

Suddenly, she let go of the rail, and her body slammed against the opposite side of the bridge with such force she was momentarily stunned. She clasped her head in both of her hands and felt something warm seeping from one side of her head. The same warm substance seeped from her shoulder through her kimono that now tangled around her legs like wet gauze. Her head was beginning to numb, and she felt dizzy.

I want to live! This can’t be happening! Kazuo, help me!

Sumiko squatted and leaned against the wall of the bridge. With her slippery hands, she inched her way toward the end of the bridge nearest the village. The wind howled as that of a wounded dog, and the rain continued to pour down from the darkness above. Thunder crashed and lightning crackled inches from her. Panic struck, and she staggered up to run. Before she could take a step, the force of the wind tossed her small body over the railing and off the bridge. The thunder muffled Sumiko’s screams as she plunged headfirst into the icy water.

The swift current carried Sumiko downstream while she felt the force of the rocks and boulders slamming into her body. She managed to hold on to a moss-covered boulder for a moment and took a deep breath before she lost her grip. She flayed her arms, splashing the water around her as the current continued to move her downstream. Pain racked her whole body.

The sharp edges of some rocks caught her ankle. They embedded deep into her skin, and she felt the sharpness of her captor. She felt some warmth surround her in the icy water as she struggled to free her foot. Her clothes were dragging her down. Only her eyes were visible above the gushing water. Slick, warm liquid got into her eyes and made her vision blurry. She gazed up into the pink sky.

I guess I will join you after all, my koibito. Where are you? Why don’t you come for me? I can see some stars in the heavens, but I feel Buddha taking me away.

She thought of her parents and wished that they could know that she truly wanted to live. They would probably think she jumped to her death to join her Kazuo. It would show weakness on her part and disregard for her family. But would it be easier for them to know that she jumped from a broken heart rather than knowing that she lost the battle to stay alive and died a horrible death?

As she continued to gaze at the sky, Sumiko cried out, Oka-san, oto-san(mother, father)! I love you!

The current swept her under the water, again, as the rocks freed her flesh-torn foot. The icy water had numbed away any pain in her foot.

Sumiko held her breath and kept her eyes open. As she continuously hit the rocks and boulders, her cries subsided. She gasped for air when the current swept her up above the water once more. She coughed as she flayed her arms.

Memories of playing in the ocean with her cousins made her blue lips curve up into a smile. She had loved playing in the water and had often waded in this river as a child. It was the summer of her tenth birthday that she had met her Kazuo.

He was a couple of years older than she, with a lanky build and had eyes that were as brown as the rich earth that supported the rice seedlings. He had treated her like a sister at first, but gradually they both looked forward to visiting and doing things together. The ocean was their favorite spot when their families got together during their short summer vacations. On her eighteenth birthday, he confessed his love for her. The two families were ecstatic about their love for each other until the war started. Then there came that question whether to get married before or after the war.

We should wait until after the war for our union, he had said. Just in case I don’t make it back, I want you to go on with your life and always keep me in your heart.

He had kissed her gently sitting on the rock by the riverbed. The kiss intensified, and they explored each other’s mouths with their tongues. Soon he had his hands on her breasts and tugging at her sweater. She pulled at his shirt, and together they undressed each other. He stared at her naked breasts and cupped them with his hands. She let out a soft moan and closed her eyes as he moved his face toward her hardened nipples. He kissed them gently and began to suckle them. They moved onto the grass where wild daisies surrounded them. His hands moved gently over her body and stopped at where she kept her darkest secrets. He moved his fingers gently inside her. Sumiko winced, but he kept digging deeper as if he wanted to know her secret. He spread her legs with his hand and moved his kisses downward where he kissed her sweet petals. He shared her sweet nectar as she guided his face up to hers.

Take me and forever make me yours.

As she remembered saying those words, the waves became more violent and lightning seem to light up the sky like firecrackers during an Obon festival.

How beautiful! she gurgled through her cold lips as she was smashed against another rock.

Sumiko finally stopped flaying her arms and let them float aimlessly by her sides. Her head was spinning, and she was tired. Her will to survive had come to an end.

If this is the will of Buddha, so shall it be.

She closed her eyes and let the current slam her against a concrete boulder. She heard a crackling sound come from her chest and fought to breathe. Then she felt an enormous force against her left chest. Sumiko exhaled.

Sumiko’s body drifted with the current. It drifted like a lifeless log. A few moments later, a white puff of smoke rose out of her body. It hovered over her like an early-morning mist and floated toward the bridge.

She had a sensation of floating but not in the water. She sensed that she was back on the bridge. Thunder still crashed in the clouds, and lightning surrounded her. She caught a glimpse of something white floating with great speed down the river. It bounced off boulders like a rag doll she had once cherished. Sumiko watched with interest and stood perfectly still. A sense of calm came over her as the rain subsided and the clouds parted, taking away the menacing thunder. She felt lightheaded and couldn’t feel the ground beneath her. She looked down at her feet with trepidation. No, her feet were not there!

Sumiko then understood. She was now only a spirit floating on the bridge. What she had seen floating away with the current had been her own body. She continued to stay calm. The moon came out from behind the clouds, and a bright light spotlighted her spirit. It tried to pull her up into it. She fought its pull.

I am staying here! I want to be in between these worlds. I am not convinced that he is dead. He would have come for me. I must stay and wait at this bridge for his return. I must explain to him that I was not weak and killed myself. Nothing is going to change my mind! Her spirit voice boomed resembling the departed thunder. I don’t care if I am to become an obake!

The light disappeared as she disintegrated from a mist into nothing.

Out in the distance, voices cried, Sumiko! Sumiko!

Chapter One

Spring 1954, Japan

The terrain was like most of the conventional hills and valleys found in Japan. But unlike the busy city with its Ginzas and business districts, it was a miniature version of Kyushu’s countryside, the southernmost islands of all the islands that made up the entire country that was rich in farmland. This particular bit of landscape was rich with neatly manicured green grass and blossomed cherry trees.

Not only in its small size, but there was something magical about this tourist attraction. There were more contrast in colors on this land and diversity in its people that passed by each other. This wasn’t an ordinary place with children and adult tourists. Foreign men in military uniforms also were amongst the sightseers. All colors of uniforms were here. Blue and tan were the most prominent.

The shoreline was like a fine-tuned orchestra with its loud roar before splashing onto the shore. The shore was clustered with black lava, and the green waves washed over them repeatedly, creating white foam that sprayed high into the air. The white rain fell with the sea breeze making the children laugh and the adults squeal before the water transformed into bubbles that seeped deep into the coarse sand. The tourists laughed and squealed at this repetition of nature as if they were encountering the experience for the very first time.

After being part of this frivolity for a few moments, I sidestepped the bubbles and continued on my way toward the old pier. From the corner of my eyes, I caught sight of a single deer looking at the ferryboat bobbing in the water. The old boat was rocking its side against the wooden pier, making hollow thumping noises each time the green waves pushed against the boat, causing the boat to chip off more of its dull white paint.

The magnificent buck stood with his nose held high while the sea breeze rippled the white fur on his puffed chest. He snorted and pounded the green grass under him with one of his front hooves. I could see that his hooves made deep dents in the soft grass. The great blue sky and green bushes and the tall trees with pink blossoms surrounded the great buck. There was the occasional white puffy cloud—my favorite color. Sadly, the buck and his kind were confined to the island, dependent on man to care for them. But that was the whole idea behind Deer Island. At least they were being taken care of with great effort.

I returned my attention to the pier. Tourists disembarked from the ferry. I had to hurry.

Large petals flitted past me as I mounted the wooden steps. Earlier in the morning, I had eaten my meal sitting on the pink blossoms, but now the overpowering aroma mixed with the sea air. I wanted to vomit. The blossoms were another attraction for the tourists—as if seeing deer roaming about surrounded by sand and sea was not enough entertainment. Let’s plant cherry trees! someone important must have said. Each spring the blossoms exploded with sweet pride, which seemed to charm and fascinate everyone. I enjoyed them too, but not when their scents mixed with the strong smell of the seaweed that lay rotting on the beach!

As I held my breath and climbed the splintered wood, a herd of children thundered past me, screaming and yelling. I jumped against the rail to avoid being trampled just as a woman wearing soft shoes ran after them, shouting something. Their voices were nothing but meaningless screaming to me. I exhaled and took another deep breath and moved away from the shadow of the rail. Then, I saw her.

She lifted the end of her long garment and stepped carefully off the boat deck and walked past the large bell that hung from a metal pole. She ignored me and leaned against the rail. I moved back into the shadow of the rail.

I noticed her fingers flutter as she brought her hands to her chest. For a moment, she reminded me of belonging to royalty. Her beautiful silk kimono flowed in the sea breeze. Golden threads encircled the patterns of crimson flowers against the background of the orange silk garment. Green leaves sprouted from the stems of the flowers like gentle curves of a butterfly’s tongue, and her upswept hair was decorated with small silk flowers that were strung together by silk threads that hung from a kanzashi (comb) embedded in her dark hair. She carried a small silk purse that matched the crimson and orange color of her garment.

Her nostrils tweaked. She inhaled the ghastly air and smiled as if she liked it. I imagined my pale face turning green like the leaves that lay in front of me on the deck of the old pier.

This is beautiful, and so are you, Aiko, said a male voice. A man sauntered up beside her, twirling a hat between his fingers. I meant to tell you, that’s quite an outfit you’re wearing, he said with a wink.

Aiko Nakagawa patted her upswept hair, and her neck flushed as she looked down at the weathered boards beneath their feet.

Do you like? I want to look nice for you, Tomas-san, said Aiko in a childlike voice.

Tom McDonald took her hand, and I saw her cheeks flush through her carefully powdered face. She lifted her head and looked into Tom’s eyes. They were blue like the sky and gleamed in the sunlight. Hand in hand, they headed off the pier. I followed. I was able to breathe normally by now and grateful that they were heading inland.

I don’t like the way he looked at her.

Several young girls walked by me wearing neatly pressed pleated skirts and dark blazers with gold buttons that gleamed in the sunlight. Cameras dangled from their wrists. I decided to join them as they headed in the same direction as my assignment. I hopped onto the shoulder of one of the girls.

This particular girl had her hair braided with long loosely tied ribbons, and these flapped in the strong breeze. I almost panicked when these silk streamers blocked my visions. My many eyes frantically sought for any signs of my tourist couple.

Luckily, I spotted Aiko and Tom making their way up a hill. I left the girls giggling and clicking their cameras, taking pictures of each other with several of the island’s caretakers sitting in their shiny white golf carts. The men seemed to enjoy the young ladies’ attentions and flirted shamelessly as they tugged on the girls’ blazers and played with their hair. The girl with the annoying ribbons climbed in the golf cart, sat down on a young caretaker’s lap, draped her arms around his neck, and posed for a picture. Other tourists walking by gave disapproving glances while her classmates laughed and applauded.

First screaming, ill-mannered children and now flagrant behavior from young ladies!

I ascended the hill, skipping over the petals that blanketed the vast grounds wondering what had happened to my world.

The air was still pungent with sweetness, but thankfully, the aroma of the salty plants grew faint. Strange, I can remember there was a time where I could never get enough seaweed. Dried. Boiled. Cured. Raw . . .

As I heard Aiko’s voice, I jumped behind a tree and peered around the smooth trunk. The mismatched couple sat closely together on the grass. Tom slightly tipped his head to one side as if to rest his head on her shoulder. A breeze parted his short golden hair. I tried to see if he was smiling or not, but from my angle, I could only see their backs. I moved to another tree trunk and was able to get a better side view.

In the distance, we could see tourists admiring the trees, and some were hand-feeding the deer. More tourists were sitting under the trees having their lunches and enjoying the scenery from their picnic blankets.

Look at baby, Tomas-san! said Aiko and giggled, pointing a finger in the direction of a squealing child.

The little girl joyfully chased a doe. The girl’s mother followed close behind, shouting something. The squealing child was soon caught and scooped into her mother’s arms. As the mother turned and looked in our direction, she frowned. Tom seemed to take no notice and waved. She bowed and took her daughter to a small picnic blanket where there was a small buffet of rice balls, pickled radishes, and tangerines. Tom returned his attention to the ocean view.

Aiko lowered her eyes as a breeze made her dangling hair ornament skip across her forehead. The tiny silk flowers decorated with glitter sparkled in the sunlight. Aiko bit her lower lip. When she looked up, her lips were dark.

Like I said, the view is beautiful, and so are you, said Tom. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave them a small squeeze. I cringed.

Aiko giggled as though embarrassed by the compliment and the public show of affection. Her neck flushed as she took out a small camera from her purse. Her fingers trembled as she took off the lens cap.

Oh, let us ask this person to take picture, said Aiko, gesturing to an old man strolling up the path beside them with the aid of a walking stick. The end of the long stick made small dents in the soft ground. The man whistled a tune as he gingerly walked on the grassy path. Tom sighed as he took Aiko’s hand and helped her rise to her feet.

I shook my head.

No, no, Aiko-san! That’s not a good idea! I shouted, but she couldn’t hear me.

She sprinted toward the man, holding up the end of her garment with one hand and her camera in the other. The man looked up and smiled as he examined her up and down in her beautiful formal kimono. But the smile soon faded when he saw Tom standing behind her.

If only he wasn’t wearing that stupid uniform. It would make things less awkward.

The man’s eyebrows furrowed, and his lips contorted like a bad Kabuki mask. He raised his stick as if to strike her. Aiko brought her hand up to her throat, startled by the man’s show of hostility, and took a step back. The man shifted his glare from Aiko to Tom. He spat on the ground and walked away with his stick, leaving deep holes behind him.

I shook my head, again.

The innocence of youth . . .

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a woman, a little older than Aiko, approached her and extended her hand.

Where in Buddha had she come from? Had I been too focused on the man and his stick that I had lost all my senses? I must be careful from now on.

I will take the picture for you, the woman said. The war is still not over for many. Men like him don’t understand that some of us just want to get on with our lives. Don’t let him spoil your day. I’d be happy to take a picture of you and your foreign friend.

Aiko Nakagawa lowered her eyes, biting her lip. This time a small amount of blood seeped through the inner corner of her mouth. She bowed to the woman before handing her the camera.

What’s going on, honey? What did she say? asked Tom McDonald from under the tree. He took a step forward and placed his hat on his head, smoothing down his light hair with the palm of his hand in the process. He displayed a smile and exposed his gleaming white teeth despite witnessing the old man’s gestures.

Yes, Tomas-san, she say man is unwell. She will take picture. Aiko hurried to the petal-shedding tree and stood beside him. She stood slightly sideways to show off her obi(sash) where the ends tied around her back and draped down to her ankles, signifying a waterfall.

After this, I want to spend some time alone with you. Tom wrapped his arm around Aiko’s shoulders, again. This time he kissed her on her powdered cheek, getting some of the white powder on his lips. Her face flushed as well as her neck but still managed a shy smile for the picture. A breeze blew pink petals onto her hair from the branches above their heads as the woman snapped one photo, then another. The young woman smiled and handed Aiko back the camera. She bowed and walked away from them toward the direction of the pier. Aiko securely fastened the lens cap onto the camera before placing it back into her purse.

Tom lifted Aiko’s chin with his fingers and once again looked into her glistening eyes. She returned his gaze. Tom took her small hand and led her into a secluded cluster of trees. I followed them with caution and apprehension.

Let’s sit here. I don’t think anybody can see us, Tom said and pulled her down next to him. He took off his hat and unraveled his tie. He opened a few buttons to reveal a white shirt underneath his uniform. Thick golden chest hairs could be seen through the white shirt.

Why do you not want people to see us? Wha-what are you doing, Tomas-san? asked Aiko as she tried to move away from his side.

I just haven’t had time alone with you since we’ve met. There’s always a crowd of people around us. He whispered in her ear, Besides, I want to hold my pretty china doll.

"I’m not a China doll or a China person! She tried to push him away with both of her delicate hands. I am Japanese!"

It’s just an expression, honey. Now, come here and give me a nice kiss. He drew her to him and cupped her face with the palm of his other hand, guiding her face to his. His wet mouth glistened as he kissed her. He released his hold and murmured, I’ll show you what else I like.

Tom pressed his lips to hers again and slightly parted his mouth. I could see Tom’s tongue slither through her lips and into her mouth. Unable to be