Chapter Eleven

“What is this book that you’ve traveled to Kakunodate for?” Yumiko asked as they walked along a street of small shops. “Is it something that may address your curse?”

Brian looked over at her hesitantly. “No, not so much. It holds legends that are not in Madame Mori’s library, ones that I think she needs to see.”

“Yokai legends?” Yumiko frowned. “I’m sure that Madame Mori knows about them. She is a yokai expert. None know more than her.”

“No human is all-knowing in any subject. And some legends prefer to remain hidden.”

Yumiko mulled this over for a moment. “Okay. Let’s say I believe you. How did you stumble upon this treasure trove of knowledge?”

Brian grinned. “That’s a polite way of saying that you don’t believe me, but you don’t have to. You’ll see it for yourself soon enough.” He paused at a stall with several trinkets laid out. The shopkeeper was beginning to pack up her things, as the sun was beginning to set.

“This is nice,” Brian said, touching the purple frame of a hand mirror.

Yumiko glanced over its simple design. “You think so?”

“I do,” Brian said, then fumbled for his pocket, pulling out his wallet.

“No, I…” Yumiko put a hand out to stop him. “Not for me.”

“Are you sure?” he stopped to look at her.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.” He bowed to the woman of the stall, who quickly packed the mirror away.

With a sigh, he led her two doors down, where a small bookstore was tucked between a supermarket and a shop boasting souvenirs. The sign on the door proclaimed that the store was already closed, but after Brian knocked on the door, it was opened quickly by a friendly old man with a white mustache and a marshmallow fluff of thin hair atop his head.

“Mr. Itou,” Brian bowed. “Thank you for having us.”

“Certainly, certainly,” the man said, waving away the formalities. “It’s always a pleasure to speak to one interested in folklore.” He raised an eyebrow at Yumiko. “And this is Miss Sato?”

“A pleasure,” Yumiko bowed.

“Please, come have some tea,” Mr. Itou said. “And excuse the mess. Since my granddaughter went to college, there’s no one to pick up after a scatterbrained old man like me.”

He led them past an entryway with magazine and newspaper stands overlooking a cash register, and down one of the many claustrophobic aisles of book shelves crammed to overflowing with books.

“You have a lovely shop,” Yumiko commented as she was led through a door and into a small kitchen area.

Mr. Itou scrambled around a counter, preparing tea, and insisted they have a seat. “Yes, we have many rare and first edition books,” he told her. “I specialize in Japanese folklore, but it seems that all anybody wants these days is popular fiction and manga.” He shook his head sadly. “Youth have no sense of history.”

Yumiko looked around the room to see books and papers in piles on nearly every available surface. As Mr. Itou put a tray down before them, he swept his hand over the low table to empty it of several musty-looking volumes. But Yumiko liked the old books. She loved the old smell and yellowed pages. And she was intrigued by Mr. Itou. If Brian was correct, he might have something important for them. Yumiko had accepted knowledge from Madame Mori over the years, but had never been able to give anything in return. Perhaps this was her opportunity to do so. She wasn’t very optimistic, however. Even if Brian assumed that Mori wasn’t aware of some text, she most likely was. If Mr. Itou was aware of it, Master Mori must have been too.

The tea was watered-down and bitter, but Yumiko politely sipped at it. As she set her cup down, she caught her reflection in a mirror above the door to the bookstore, and looked away quickly. She shifted uncomfortably and ignored the questioning look that Brian sent her way.

“Mr. Mathis tells me that you are quite a yokai aficionado,” Mr. Itou said after a moment of silence.

“Mr. Mathis is too kind,” Yumiko murmured modestly.

Brian snorted.

“There are three great evil yokai,” Mr. Itou stated. “Do you know them?”

Yumiko cleared her throat. “Of course. Tamamo-no-mae, the nine-tailed fox, Emperor Sutoku, who became a Daitengu, and Shuten-Doji, king of the oni.”

“Very good,” Mr. Itou looked pleased and rubbed his chin as he studied her. “Madame Mori has taught you well.”

“You know of Madame Mori?” Yumiko perked up.

“Of course. Her knowledge is legendary. I have conversed with her on yokai myself a number of times. I like to think of myself as a resource for her…line of work.”

Yumiko nodded.

“You are the yokai hunter that I’ve heard so much about, aren’t you?” Mr. Itou asked bluntly.

Yumiko glanced over at Brian, unsure, but nodded again.

Mr. Itou let out a deep breath. “I thought as much. You hold yourself like a warrior, one who is used to battle and being always ready for the unexpected.”

“Thank you.”

Mr. Itou looked at her warily. “Forgive me for saying so, but your line of work brings death. I suspect that this old town is home to many yokai, and they will note your presence before long. I will give you what you seek, and ask that you to be on your way.”

Brian blinked, surprised. “Mr. Itou-”

“I suspect that my company won’t be missed when I give you what you seek,” Mr. Itou interrupted him. He stood abruptly. “Please, enjoy your tea. I will be back in a moment.”

Yumiko stared down at her teacup as the man left them, ducking back into the bookstore. When she raised her eyes, she saw Brian gazing back at her. “I’m sorry,” she told him.

“Don’t be. He’s a fool.”

“Is he? I find him to be rather wise.”

Brian sighed. “Yumiko…”

“You could learn a thing or two from him,” she said quickly.

“And keep my distance from you?”

Yumiko shrugged.

“I don’t think I could do that. I wouldn’t want to. I’ve been away from you for long enough.”

Yumiko frowned at his choice of words. While flattered, and a little happy if she was honest with herself, she thought that she detected some meaning hidden in them. Suddenly, she realized that she knew very little about Brian. His past was shrouded in mystery. Just who was Brian? What secrets were buried in his past?

“We’ve only known each other a little over a month,” she murmured.

Brian pursed his lips. “That’s true. But doesn’t it feel like longer than that?”

“And here we are,” Mr. Itou said, returning, and saving Yumiko from further discussion.

He held a scroll in one hand, and a leather-bound book in the other. Both were yellowed with age. Yumiko concentrated on them to get her mind off of Brian. She pointedly turned away from him.

“I asked you about the three great evil yokai for a reason,” Mr. Itou said. He set aside the book, and unrolled the scroll carefully, stretching it across the floor beside them. Yumiko leaned forward, squinting at the words on the page, although she didn’t need to, as Mr. Itou read them aloud: “When Shuten-Doji was just twelve years of age, he was known throughout Echigo as a pretty boy, even though he was an unplanned bastard. He was known for his long lashes and hair the color of chestnuts. All the girls loved him and wanted him to be theirs. Shuten-Doji, however, refused the love of all of the females who approached, and they all died, they were so distraught over his indifference. Soon, Shuten-Doji earned a reputation that kept people away from him. Lonely and bitter, he burned all of the love letters that the females of Echigo had given to him, but the smoke enveloped him and poisoned him, turning him into a grotesque creature. An oni.”

“I have heard this before,” Yumiko told him. “It’s not an uncommon legend.”

“No, it’s not,” Mr. Itou agreed. “But you do not know the entire story.” He gazed down upon the scroll and unrolled more brittle paper carefully, revealing more kanji.

Yumiko, startled, glanced at Brian, who didn’t seem surprised at all. Frowning, she turned to Mr. Itou as he continued:

“Fueled by rage, Shuten-Doji earned the reputation of the monster he had become, rampaging and destroying villages, and devouring people as he came across them. His appetite, and his fury, knew no bounds. Soon, other blood-thirsty oni followed him, and the terrible army shook the earth where they marched, foretelling massacres across Japan. Shuten-Doji was so frightening that one glimpse of his reflection in a mirror startled the mirror into breathing life into his reflection. It became a yokai itself, and would never willingly gaze on Shuten-Doji again. Meanwhile, Shuten-Doji led his troop of oni to Mt. Ooe, where he plotted his next move, to take over the human world, and punish them for his ill treatment.”

“And what of the reflection?” Yumiko asked, eyes wide.

“That’s one of the reasons I wanted to come here today,” Brian said, meeting her eyes. “It seems that this is how Kagami was created. A mirror image of Shuten-Doji, because the oni king was so terrifying.”

“That’s…” Yumiko shook her head as her voice trailed off. “I never even considered how he came to be. A reflection of one of the three great evil yokai.” She watched Mr. Itou roll up his scroll carefully, before gesturing toward the book he’d brought out. “And what is this?”

Mr. Itou licked his lips and handed it to her. “Allegedly, it is a book for yokai.”

Yumiko arched a brow. “A book for yokai?”

He nodded. “A book written by yokai, for yokai. The pages are blank, but supposedly, it holds legends sacred to their kind. Legends not meant for human eyes.”

Yumiko ran her fingers over the blank spine, then over the edges of the pages, which were cut roughly. She took a deep breath before she opened it.

A great gust of wind blew open a window at the back of the room, and papers flew around the room, causing chaos.

Mr. Itou hurried over to the window to secure it, just before the lights winked out.

Yumiko blinked in the darkness. A crop of trees beyond the window, thick with foliage, blocked most of the sunlight from illuminating the room, allowing for only a soft cold luminescence to filter in through the small pane of glass. It wasn’t much to see by, and she let her eyes adjust to the sudden dark as Mr. Itou scrambled for a flashlight.

She hadn’t had the chance to look at the pages of the book before the power had gone out, but she felt something from the book. Some sort of power. She was almost sure that by being touched by a yokai before, she would be able to read it, just as she was able to see their kind. It was her curse as well as a blessing.

The hum of metal caught Yumiko’s attention and she turned back toward the door that led to the bookstore. The door stood open, a black mouth yawning wide, as if swallowing what little light surrounded it.

She stood slowly, and unsheathed her mirror sword, a sound uncannily similar to the hum of metal that had just come from the doorway. Someone was there. And that someone was holding a sword as well.

“Come out,” Yumiko commanded, voice strong as she faced the unknown. She fell into a defensive stance, shoulders tense as she waited for a flash of blade from the intruder.

She heard a tearing sound behind her and swiveled around to see Mr. Itou gasping, his back arched as a sword thrust out from the center of his chest, splattering blood across the papers and books audibly. The sword was quickly withdrawn, and Mr. Itou tumbled to the floor, dead, blood oozing across the floor quickly, emptying his body of life.

She looked up from the body into the face of a monster. A red-faced ogre, with swollen lips and cheeks, wild, unkempt dark hair, and black eyes with red pupils. It was nine feet tall, dressed in samurai armor and holding its sword steady, eyeing Yumiko with interest. Samurai used to wear masks depicting oni, much like the creature that stood before her. But this monster wore no mask. The corners of its mouth lifted into a smile, revealing rows of yellow, elongated teeth, and a chuckle welled up from deep in its chest.

“Yumiko,” Brian breathed.

“Get behind me,” she ordered. And then she heard a shuffling from the door at her back. She glanced over her shoulder and saw another oni standing in the doorway, its bulk nearly filling the space. This one had blue skin, but was equally as terrifying. Many yokai were ghost-like or impish. These were demonic and truly monstrous. And Yumiko knew that they were strong and brutal in their attacks. She could perhaps beat one of them, if she was on her A-game, but she would never be able to best two of them. While she had speed and agility on her side, they were rock-hard and durable.

“I’m going to attack the one in the doorway,” Yumiko said softly, low enough for the oni not to hear, but loud enough for Brian. “You run like hell when I engage him, and don’t look back.”

“You can’t beat them by yourself,” he said, as if reading her mind.

“No, I can’t,” she agreed. “Which is why I’m planning on striking the one and running after you.”

Brian considered. “I can fight.”

“No, you can’t.”

“We have to. We can’t let them escape.”

“What?” Yumiko looked over at him, confused, but saw that he’d armed himself with a skillet. “Brian, you can’t-“

“Behind you!” he cried.

Yumiko had just enough time to lift her sword to ward off a blow from the blue oni. She grunted at the force of the blow, then pushed him back and quickly sliced at his torso, a blow that nearly landed, but was blocked just in the nick of time by the oni.

The oni’s eyes burned with hate as he swung his blade at her several times, with no break. Yumiko met his steel with hers every time, then showered him with several blows in quick succession herself, forcing him to step back. She smiled at the little give, but in the back of her mind, she was imagining Brian being torn in two, so she needed to end this match quickly, so that she could come to his aid. All she needed was one slice of her mirror sword against his flesh, and he would be imprisoned in the mirror world. But she was finding that it was increasingly difficult to even block his blows.

Then she remembered the mirror over the door.

Without betraying a glance in its direction, Yumiko feigned an attack to the oni’s left, but leapt up into the air, swinging her sword wide, easily over the beast’s head. In mid-air, she caught half of the mirror in her free hand, which she’d split in two with her sword, and, blocking a blow of the oni’s sword with her own, she shoved the mirror into the oni’s cheek with a grunt. And it disappeared.

Yumiko rolled as she tumbled to the ground, then sprang up quickly, sword at the ready, as she assessed Brian’s battle with his enemy. But the oni was on the floor, its own sword embedded in its stomach, loosing black blood over the floor to mingle with Mr. Itou’s. She looked up at Brian, who gazed down at the oni with a troubled expression on his face, the skillet still held loosely in one hand.

“How did you do that?” she asked.

Brian looked up and tossed the skillet aside casually. “Beginner’s luck, I guess.”

“Beginner’s luck?” Yumiko echoed, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

He shrugged. “What do you want me to say? I got a lucky hit in. He fell on his own sword.”

Yumiko couldn’t decide if she believed him or not, but she was interrupted from having to come to a conclusion. A sword thrust through a paper sliding door and cut sharply downward.

Without waiting for another oni to appear, Yumiko grabbed Brian by the hand and yanked him into a run. She hesitated at the doorway to the bookstore, and looked back.

“What is it?” Brian asked, his voice high.

Yumiko leapt back into the room to grab the yokai book, looking up as three more oni clambered into the room, swords drawn. They stopped when they caught sight of Yumiko and Brian.

“We have to kill them,” Brian insisted, stepping forward.

“No, we don’t,” Yumiko said. She pulled him out of the room and, stumbling into bookshelves along the way, sprinted toward the exit and burst out into the sunshine. With birds and cicadas making their music around them, it was hard to believe that they’d left such a nightmare behind. It seemed like a bad dream in the stark light of day, where shadows were confined to dark-paned windows and alleyways. But the oni had been as real as the sunlit streets and tourists taking pictures of samurai houses, happily ignorant of monsters in claustrophobic bookstores. Yumiko felt Brian’s solid arm in her grasp, heard his heavy breathing as he kept pace with her and they avoided the carefree bystanders. And she didn’t stop or look back once until they reached the train station.

They didn’t have to wait long before the bullet train, bound for Tokyo, arrived, and they boarded silently, each lost in their own thoughts.

Yumiko stroked the cover of the book she’d procured, and wondered if it was worth the life of the man who’d given it to her.