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Nana wakes up in the middle of the night.
There's only a little light to see by, some from the window, some from her butterfly-shaped nightlight. Her big brother is still asleep in his bed next to hers. He's snoring a little, but that's not what woke her. She can't tell what did.
She senses something in the corner by the closet, where it's really dark.
"Onee-chan?" she calls out softly, trying not to wake her brother too. Sometimes her big sister watches over her at night, and she's good at hiding, because she looks like a shadow. She rubs her eyes. "Can we play later? I'm sleepy."
"Hello."
It's not her sister.
The voice that answers is quiet. It goes between low and high, like a song. Two orange eyes appear in the dark, looking back at her, one open wide, the other thin and nearly closed.
They are not human eyes.
"Am I dreaming?" Nana asks.
"Are you?"
How does she check? Her daddy told her once. Something about lights? She squirms out of bed and tiptoes over to the light switch.
"Don't do that." Nana stops in her tracks. The voice isn't sharp or loud, but for some reason she has to listen. "Please. I'm very shy."
"Oh. Okay." Nana yawns. She feels too heavy to walk back to her bed, so she sits down where she's at on the floor. The carpet is soft, and she picks at a loose piece of fuzz. The thing in the dark watches her.
"Does a man named Odaka Kensei live here?"
Nana blinks. "Odaka's my name," she offers. "Odaka Nana."
"Kumon Shuma," the voice says, and then a bunch of fast adult words she doesn't understand. It sounds like how her daddy talks to people on the phone.
"L-lebsure to," Nana repeats, brow furrowed, "to make your ack- aclay-" — the sounds stick in her teeth like jelly — "ackayshun-"
The voice giggles. "'Plea-sure,'" it says, very slowly, "'to, make, your, ac-quain-tance.'" A gloved hand reaches out from the darkness, palm out. "It means I'm happy to meet you."
She smiles and shakes its hand. It's big, and strong, but the glove is soft and gentle. It doesn't squeeze her fingers like her papa does when he's being funny. "You're nice."
"I ought to be," says the voice. "We're family, after all."
"Family?"
"Yes. I'm your uncle, Nana. Your daddy's cousin."
Nana gasps, excited. "Daddy never told me we had an uncle!"
"Your daddy doesn't like to talk about me very much, I bet. We didn't get along for a while. Honestly, I… I miss him, Nana." A wet sniffle. "I'm here because I wanted to see him, but I'm too scared."
"You're scared? You're a grown-up."
"Grown-ups are scared of more things than kids are." Nana thinks about her brother, and how her daddy and papa always get scared when he does something like climb on the kitchen counter or hunt for "clues" under the bathroom sink. She nods.
"I bet you're braver than me. How old are you, Nana?"
She puffs out her chest proudly. "I'm two years old."
"Two years," the voice mutters. "He's been hiding you for two years."
Nana's head is woozy and sleepy. She yawns again. "Mister, I-"
"Uncle. Uncle Shuma."
"Uncle S-Shuma…" Another yawn. "Can you come back in th' morning? My daddy's asleep now. I'm gonna fall asleep too."
"This is too important, Nana. I have something I need to do tonight. A surprise, so it's ready for your daddy." The eyes in the dark move, like it's kneeling down to her height. "You want your daddy to be happy, don't you?"
"Yes…"
"I need your help. Will you help me?"
Nana looks back at the door. Her daddy and papa's room is down the hall. She thinks about how quiet her daddy has been lately. It's been harder to make him smile. If her uncle has a plan to help, then… "Okay."
A soft, relieved sigh. "Thank you," says the voice quietly. "Thank you very, very much." The eyes move again; she feels that it's standing up. "Come along. There's a lot of work to be done."
Nana scrambles to her feet, then thinks of something. "Oh!" She turns back. "I should leave them a note, so they know where I am."
"That-" The voice goes quiet, and the big orange eye narrows. When it talks again, it sounds happy. "That's a very good idea, Nana."
-
The next morning, when Nana does not come down from her room, when her family realizes no one has seen her, when her sister checks her empty bed, she will find the note, written in crayon on purple construction paper. She will show it to their parents, and they all will feel a bottomless pit of dread open in their stomachs at the sight of the name on it.
A name they haven't heard in five peaceful years. A name they hoped to never hear again. A name Nana should never have known at all.
And yet, somehow, a ghost has come to spirit their littlest one away.