“Yori!” I called. “Imasen ka? Are you there?”
“Koda?” came a voice from the second floor. Yori walked to the window dressed in his sugegasa straw hat, his cape, and goggles. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Yori, I need to talk to you. Can I come up?”
“Is it about the kappa Shibaten?”
“Yes, it absolutely is.”
Yori’s face lit up. “Do you need the Desert Punk?” he asked.
“That is, yep, exactly why I’m here.”
Yori pumped his fist in the air. “Come up, Koda. The door’s unlocked!”
“Sumimasen,” I said, after I walked up the stairs and into his room.
“Here, have a seat, Koda. First question: Did you ride all the way here?”
“Yes.”
“Next question: You’re out of breath.”
“That’s not a question. I was riding hard.”
“Drink this,” he said, handing me a canteen. “You’ve lost a lot of water. I can see it in your face. You need to rehydrate. Our bodies are ninety-eight percent water.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”
“Drink it anyway.”
I took a swig. “Done. And really gross.”
“All right, your turn.”
“I think my girlfriend is a yōkai,” I blurted out.
Yori stopped dead in his tracks. He slowly turned around. “You have a girlfriend?”
“Yori, that wasn’t the important part—”
“What’s it like to have a girlfriend? Someday I’m going to have one. She can be Rain Spider in my cosplay videos. I definitely need a girlfriend.”
“So that really wasn’t the point. And I shouldn’t have said ‘girlfriend.’ We’ve never actually, you know, defined our relationship.”
“A girlfriend who doesn’t know she’s your girlfriend?” Yori said. “Oh, okay, I’ve had those before.”
“I mean, we kissed once. But the point is, I think she’s a yōkai.”
Yori walked to the window and removed his straw hat thoughtfully. “I don’t know, Koda. Having a supernatural creature for a girlfriend could complicate things … in the romance department, if you know what I mean.” He turned back to me. “Do you know what I mean? Because I do not know what I mean. Women are a complete mystery to me.”
“If my girlfriend is supernatural, is she dangerous?” I asked.
“It’s possible. It depends on what kind of yōkai she is. She could be good or malicious or something in between. She could be a yūrei ghost. She could be a shape-shifting obake. Does she seem more like a snake or a badger or a spider? Oh! She could be tsukumogami—an inanimate object that comes to life every hundred years! I once dated a porcelain teapot for three months thinking it had a woman’s soul inside.”
“But it didn’t really?”
“We broke up,” Yori shot back.
“When you say ‘broke up,’ do you mean you ‘broke it’?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. It was a very delicate teapot!”
Yori untied the strap on his cape and laid it over a nearby ramen box. “The first thing you need to do, Koda, is find out what kind of yōkai she is. This is very important. If you’re compatible enough, you might be able to marry. If not, she could suck your soul dry and leave your body a withered husk. Just like a kappa,” Yori said, spinning on me. “You aren’t dating a kappa, are you? Koda, are you dating Shibaten?”
“What? No. Gods, Yori, no. But if I can find out what kind of yōkai she is, I’ll let you know.”
“All right. And if she is an inanimate object with a soul, I will not judge you. Heaven knows those relationships are hard enough.”
“I’m really here because I need a favor.” I lowered my voice. “One that isn’t strictly legal.”
“Illegal?” Yori asked. “Like criminally illegal?”
“That … Okay, what other kind of illegal is there? No, I just need you to borrow something for me.”
“What kind of something?” he said, removing his goggles.
“You work at the town office, right? You work with records and stuff?”
Yori took off his straw hat. “I work with tax records.”
“What about different kinds of records?”
“How different?”
“Police different.”
“What would you want with police records?” Yori asked.
“Not police records.” I handed him a piece of paper.
Yori opened and read it.
“You remember how Taiki’s father was murdered by Shibaten two years ago?” I said.
“Sure. They found him in the river.”
“Well, I need any evidence they still have at the town office. This is a top secret mission, Yori. Only the Desert Punk can do it.”
Yori looked up at me. “What are you talking about, Koda?”
“The case was ruled accidental, and any evidence was probably filed away somewhere. I need you to get it for me. I need whatever he was carrying at the time. A watch, maybe. A wallet. A key. There might be clues that will lead us to Shibaten.”
“This is incredibly dangerous, Koda. What do you think you’ll do if you find the kappa anyway?”
“Something larger than Shibaten is happening to this town,” I told him. “It’s bigger than me and you and the Yamabuki Three. Bring me any evidence the police have, and I will show you a conspiracy that makes Shibaten look like a sneezing kitten.”
“Why a sneezing kitten?”
“I tried to think of the opposite of scary. That’s what popped into my head.”
“Cats give me the hives.”
“I’ll remember that. Will you do it for me, Yori?”
He looked down at the paper. “I don’t know, Koda. I could get in trouble. I don’t even know if I can get into those archives.”
“I need help,” I said. “I need your help. And when people need help, who do they call?”
“The police?”
“No. They call a hero. They call the Desert Punk.”
“Sure.”
“Yori,” I started, “you are a simple town employee. You were fired from being a bus driver because you saw things and refused to back down. And what did you get for it? Thanks? No. A medal? Hell, no! You got stuck behind a dusty desk in the basement of the town hall. You sit around all day under the glare of fluorescent lights making sure that numbers in Column A match numbers in Column B.”
“It’s not that bad,” he said.
“No one sees you,” I continued. “No one pays you any mind. If you suddenly stopped existing, they would just replace you with some other mindless drone who is willing to waste his life away over a mountain of papers.”
“Hey.”
“That’s no way for a person to live,” I said. “That’s not a real life, is it? But I will tell you what it is, Yori. It is a perfect cover. The perfect secret identity. Who would ever suspect that Yori Yamamoto, failed bus driver and town hall accountant, is really the Desert Punk? Out there solving murders! Changing lives!
“You come home each night and dress up in front of your camera. You put on that cape and the hat and goggles, and you pretend you’re making a difference. But I’m offering you something here, Yori. I’m offering you a chance. A chance to be someone. For real.”
“Koda,” Yori said.
“Help me, Desert Punk.”
“It’s just, if someone saw—”
“Help me, Yori. I need the Desert Punk.”
“I don’t—”
“Please, Sunabōzu. Please.”
Yori folded up the paper and pushed it into his pants pocket. “All right, Koda. I’ll bring you the evidence. But promise me you won’t keep it for long. I have to return it. I could get fired for this. Or worse.”
“You have my word. On the honor of the Desert Punk, you have my word.”
Yori walked me to his front door. “Give me a couple of days, Koda. I need to reconnoiter the premises.”
“Sure thing. Whatever you just said.”
I walked out into the growing darkness of Kusaka Town. “By the way,” I said, turning back to Yori, “there’s this strange haiku that keeps popping up. I wonder if you know anything about it.”
“I like haiku.”
“Crows fly.
A traveler on the road
Is lost.”
“Nope. I can look into it, though, if you want.”
“Don’t do that. I’m just glad you’ve never heard it before. Have a good night, Yori.”
“Oyasumi,” Yori said.
I walked out to my bike and kicked up the stand. Looks like I am an awesome thief after all. Step one: Tell your victim he has access to something you want. Step two: Ask him to get that something and bring it to you. Step three: The victim says he’ll do it.
Being a master thief is way easier than I thought.