It is night again. The human world has wound down after nineteen hours of school, work, studying, volunteering, cram schools, shopping, errands, cooking, and cleaning (and preparing to do it all again the next day). Long after humans have departed the cities that never sleep, the steel and cement flatlands buzzing with electricity and adrenalin, time has stopped in a tiny pocket of land in a mountain valley. Wisps of smoke above the treetops collect in the cold violet air. Without wind, they spiral and swirl together, in and out of each other, into curlicues and whirligigs, growing in number until they coalesce to form a giant cloud. At the top of the cloud a single, wet eye bulges out. It slowly blinks a vapour eyelid over its red-veined sclera. It searches the night sky, then scans the forest for a clearing. When it locates what it is looking for, it drifts toward the clearing. It hears whispers become murmurs, becoming words:
“Evening.”
“Evening? Pretty sure it’s later than that.”
A rustle in the grass. “And morning for some of us!”
An impatient sigh. “Yes, Sensu-sama, we know. Good morning, I guess, if that’s what you want to hear.”
“It is! So, what’s the plan today, gents?”
“Ahem.”
“And ladies. Or, whatever it is you are.”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m an umbrella.”
“Oh. I see. Is that plastic?”
“Yup! I’m trying a new look. You like?”
“It’s very … modern.”
“And yet you can keep your soul. Interesting.”
“I know! Aren’t you jealous? Yes, you’re jealous. I can tell.”
“Ahem. Back to the matter at hand. What did you have planned tonight? I’m so bored of chasing humans; this better be good.”
Other voices agree, offering their various opinions. The smoky cloud descends and settles on the grass, exposing a humungous red full moon in an indigo sky, the light of which reveals a cadre of monsters, varying in shape and size. Animal-like creatures, mostly, with a few modern-day appliances and accessories that have long been abandoned by human owners and became sentient over the years. A short, squat yokai with blue scales all over its body excuses itself between a pair of rice cookers to stand before the group on a large, conveniently placed boulder. It places a hand where its neck must be and makes a sound in the guise of a human clearing its throat for attention:
“Everyone. I’ve been thinking. The onsen is just up the valley. We walk around in our starkers all the time, and we’re always robbing humans of their clothes, but that’s it. Let’s up the ante. What say we strip some skin tonight?”
“Don’t we already do that?” says a dragon-looking demon.
“Not really. See, I hear a lot of humans are afraid of this thing called Titan, and for some reason people keep attacking it?”
“Ugh, that’s so ten years ago,” a voice pipes up from a broken fan lying in the grass.
“And it sounds foreign,” says the umbrella rolling in the grass.
“No, it’s Japanese! I think.” The scaly blue yokai strokes what must be its chin. “Well, it’s some creation of Japan. Anyway, I look in people’s heads and all I see are big skinless giants running around chasing and eating humans. And Sensu-sama’s right — you used to see it a lot in human dreams; then it went away. I guess it’s making a comeback?”
“Sounds like fun!” the dragon snarls.
The fan feigns a yawn. “Sounds like something we used to do before people got into all this ‘late for a meeting’ and ‘failing a test’ garbage. Come on, those aren’t real nightmares. Whatever happened to getting home before your face gets eaten off? Now that’s something to worry about!”
“Yes!”
“I concur!”
The blue yokai shushes the crowd again. “All right. So are we going with skin?”
“Personally, I wouldn’t mind stopping by a bathhouse or two,” says one blotchy, red demon with an extremely long tongue.
“What’s wrong with scales?” says a catlike yokai. “Because if we’re talking about skin, then it has to be fish for me.”
“Hmmm …” The blue demon looks down at its own body. “I don’t know.”
“No white meat,” says the small dragon demon, twirling its whiskers. “Human all the way. Everyone knows that red meat is much more delicious. Enenra-sama, you hang around humans — wouldn’t you agree?”
“Tobaccooooo …” The cloud of smoke croaks out a smoker’s cough.
The blue yokai groans. “Should’ve guessed. I suppose we’re heading to another snack bar, then?”
“No snaaacks …” the smoke yokai says. “Mmmmeeeeeeth …”
“Yes, yes, we can get some of that, too. Hey, you there!” The blue yokai points to someone at the back of the crowd. “What are you in the mood for?”
Behind the last row of creatures, lying in a large ditch, is the Yokai. She stirs in sleep, then sits upright, awake. She scrambles out of the ditch that has been her bed. The other demons turn around and stare. She looks at their stoic faces, recognizing no one. Her face feels itchy. She wipes her mouth, violently — her sleeves come back sticky and black in the thin veil of moonlight. It appears to be some kind of viscous substance, not unlike congealed blood. “Huh? Wha? What’s happening?”
“Hey, relax. You must have been having a bad dream. A little ironic, but I’m not judging. You hungry?”
The Yokai looks around, confused. Everyone continues to stare as they await her response. Some demons nod with encouragement, others glare through narrowed eyes. The minimal light from the moon gives her just enough detail to see the crowd, some no higher than her knee, like the dragon, some as big as cars, like the cat. Slowly she begins to understand they are not ordinary creatures, nor are they to be trifled with. Something about the yellow eyes, the too-long claws and fangs, and the scent of blood in the air churns her empty stomach. She can only think of one thing she wants. “I want to go home.”
Half the group throws up their hands, arms, tentacles, and similar appendages in disdain.
“I knew she wouldn’t pick human.”
“Told you so!”
“I didn’t hear. Did she say scales? Please tell me she picked scales!”
“She didn’t choose!” a massive pond turtle in the crowd shouts. “I nominate her! Her skin already looks like it’s been burned to a crisp. So tasty-looking is she …”
The blue yokai silences everyone with another shushing motion of its limbs. “Everyone, please. We’re not here to eat our own. We agreed to meet to come to a consensus?”
As voices rise into another heated debate, something rustles in the grass next to the Yokai’s leg. She feels something wet lick her leg and cries out. “Mmm, just like honey! Or caramel!” the fan squeals. “Try it, try it!”
“What does it taste like? Human, or something else?”
“Oh, please,” the umbrella rolls its eye. “If she were human, she’d have bolted by now.”
“Not necessarily,” the fan pipes up. “Humans can be quite stupid, you know.”
The blue demon shushes the crowd again. “We know, Sensusama. Now, back to business. I get the feeling the majority of us are craving human. You there, Gigantor. You in?”
The Yokai thinks for a moment. “Hmm. I am hungry.”
“Good. What would you like?”
“… Something to eat?”
“Well, duh. What else do you call human skin? Decoration?”
“Oh,” the dragon sighs, “that reminds me of a beautiful story. Quite lovely a tale.”
“A story!” The other yokai all cheer and get comfortable on the grass. “Let’s hear it!”
“Certainly. You’ll love it; it’s all about skin.” The dragon makes a throat-clearing sound as it lies prostrate on the ground. The fins on its back start to shiver, playing a light suspenseful accompaniment:
“Once upon a time there were two friends. The very best of friends. Soulmates, you might say. One day, they went on a journey together. The first went to his grandmother’s house to borrow her horse for the day, then he went to retrieve his friend and they departed on their journey. They walked, they talked, they laughed, they sang. They had a grand old time. Then, night began to fall, and the friends grew very tired. So, they parted ways. The first friend made sure the second got safely home, then went to return the horse. On his way home, however, the man got so tired he leaned against a tree and fell asleep.
“Suddenly, a yokai appeared. It sat beside the man and, when it was sure the man was sleeping soundly, it stole him to eat up his life and claim his soul. When his friend heard this, he became so enraged that he shed his skin and excuse me, but have you heard a single word I’ve said or are you being rude on purpose?!”
The Yokai bolts upright again, eyes snapping wide open. “Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t believe how sleepy I am.” She laughs nervously. “You were saying something about eating skin?”
Everyone groans again. A ruckus of arguing voices breaks out. Some side with the dragon, wanting to hear the end of its tale. Others side with the Yokai, saying yes, they were talking about skin, and that they are still hungry.
The dragon lets out an angry puff of smoke (which the Enenra cheerfully gobbles up). “We’re ALL hungry, damn it, but I am trying to make a point here that may be useful to the likes of you someday! You know what, shut up. I’m not going to bother finishing my story. I’m out of here. Hmph! Ungrateful little shits …”
The departure of the dragon yokai turns the once-composed crowd into a sea of arguments.
“Wait, Koto-san, I wanna hear the rest of the story!”
“I thought we were going with skin!”
“What are you fools talking about?! Speak English!”
“But I don’t know any English!”
“I mean, no one gets what you’re saying! Speak plainly!”
“Oh. Well, why didn’t you say so?”
The blue yokai holds up a claw. “Wait … I’ve heard of you. Aren’t you the one who ate Akki’s house a while back?”
At the sound of the name, the crowd falls silent. Everyone turns their attention to the giant Yokai now.
“Whose house?” Then the Yokai remembers. The warm, dark chocolate, the sweet delectable crunching … But the other yokai fly into a frenzy.
“What?! This is the one who ate the boar god’s place?!”
“It must be! No one would lie about that!”
“Forget this! I’m out of here!”
“Me, too! No way am I getting wrapped up in that business!”
They scatter, galloping on all fours, rolling in the grass or dragging themselves across it, disappearing into the surrounding trees. Some take a moment to stick out their tongues one last time at the Yokai or call her crazy. The Yokai hesitates to follow any of them, which only makes sense as they traverse in different directions — left, right, up into the air, burrowing down into the ground — until she is left alone in the clearing.
Well, at least I won’t be eaten, she thinks to herself along with other consolatory thoughts. The Yokai wanders off in search of other friends and food. Being a giant, she covers ground quickly. The scent of peach mixes with cedar and maple, the silence broken by the sounds of what she hopes are bats in the trees and raccoons in the underbrush. The air reeks of overripe fruit. Her stomach feels funny. She sniffs her hands again: they too smell of rotting peach. Suspicion alleviates. So it isn’t blood. The trees here appear to be full of the large dancing orbs. She grimaces at the sound and sensation of peach pulp squishing under her giant feet. At least, that is what she hopes she is stepping on.
Someone giggles.
The Yokai whirls around. “Who’s there?!” She looks around the trees and down at the ground. No response, except another wave of gentle laughter when the wind blows. Her stomach growls. She is still hungry. She heads deeper into the woods, hugging her stomach as if she can protect it from the chill in the wind.
Something rushes over her naked foot. Startled, she backs into the bush and stumbles against a tree, grabbing a branch that shakes a peach loose. It bounces off the Yokai’s shoulder and tumbles to the ground. Instinctively, the Yokai reaches out to catch it. She misses.
“Whee! Oof!” The peach giggles as it lands.
“What the …?” Wary, the Yokai reaches down to retrieve the peach. She picks it up and turns it over. Rolling her thumb over the surface she feels two soft, fuzzy lips open up at her touch. She drops it with a shudder. “Ew! What the hell?!”
Giggling, the peach rolls around on the ground. Face-down, its words are muffled: “That tickles! Do it again!”
“Ugh!” The Yokai runs away, horrified. What the hell is this place?
The Yokai finds herself on the other side of the underbrush. A wide dirt path winds ahead of her. Holding her raging, empty stomach, she climbs up a small hill and follows the path. Her surroundings are just as unfamiliar as before. The now-leafless trees extend high above her like old, scraggly fingers. Are the trees getting taller, she wonders, or am I getting smaller? She is unsure until she notices a figure on the path, about the size of a normal human. She must be shrinking, she thinks to herself. Maybe it is the hunger. She must find something to eat, somewhere to go, before she disappears altogether. It is not a stressful thought, merely a calm conclusion that spurs her to approach. Despite the darkness she can tell the figure — a man, by the look of it — has his back turned to her. Something also tells her she is about to get a rude awakening when she approaches this person. She braces herself. She hopes this person is politer than those creatures in the clearing.
“Excuse me,” she begins. “Hello? Can you help me? I’m lost and … Hello?”
The person does not answer. She comes closer, ready to tap his shoulder. Just as she reaches out, he turns around, slowly. His face is smooth as an egg, featureless. The Yokai freezes. He grabs the Yokai by the shoulders and brings his egg-face dangerously close to hers. He makes a muffled sound from where his mouth should be. “Rrrr!”
The Yokai stares at him, baffled. “Excuse me?”
“Rrrr!” he repeats.
“Never mind.” This one is no help. She wrestles herself from his grip and continues on.
“Rrr!” he shouts after her. Disgusted, he bats his hands at her. “Ah, forget you. How rude.”
The Yokai looks over her shoulder to rebuke him, then thinks better of it. Best not to get into an argument with someone without a face. He must have enough problems already. “Weirdo,” she can’t help muttering under her breath.
“I know, right? The people you run into around here.”
“Tell me about it,” says the Yokai, turning to look ahead of her to the source of the kind, feminine voice. “That guy had … no face.”
The Yokai finds herself face to face, for lack of a better term, with an old woman. At least, the Yokai presumes her to be an old woman. Her back is curved and bent, her hair is long and pale in the moonlight. Everything about her seems normal except for the absence of eyes, nose, and mouth. The faceless woman does not move.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
“Um …” the Yokai says. “Yes?”
“Aren’t you scared?”
The Yokai’s stomach gurgles. She hopes the woman has not heard it. “Should I be? You can’t help it if you have no face. Look, I’m just trying to …”
“To what, dear? Where are you going?”
The Yokai shrugs half-heartedly. “I don’t even know anymore.”
“Well, how did you get here?”
“I don’t know that, either. I’m not feeling all that well. And I’m starving. I just want to get out of here and go home.”
“Home? Where is that? Oh, wait. I get it. You’re the yokai everyone’s been talking about. That explains it. Sorry. You’ve been at the jinmenju, I see.” She points to the Yokai’s feet, still covered in remnant streaks of peachy juice. “Yeah, better get them while they’re still in season, eh? You’re smart. Not like those other sheep teeming up the villages.”
“The villages?”
“Yup. Can’t get into a decent onsen, now. Gotta wait in lines like a bloody human until the fire festival’s over. Pain in the ass. But what can you do? Come on. We’ll get you home.”
“‘We’?” The Yokai turns around. The faceless man is behind her now, nodding. “Oh. Oh, thank you.”
“That’s the spirit, dear. This is not the best place to be alone … in the dark …”
Together, they watch an assortment of short creatures pass them on the path. A hoard of small lumpy creatures somersault and cartwheel past her; some run hand in hand with relatively normal-looking children. One of them is a wet-faced boy who stops to stare at the Yokai as if she is the scariest creature he has seen today. As one of the fleshy lumps extends an arm and pulls him along by the cuff of his pyjama sleeve, the boy lets out a wail and allows himself to get dragged along.
“See what I mean?” says the faceless woman. “Abnormal little creatures in these parts. They’ll attract the yamauba for sure. Let’s get out of here.”
The Yokai presses on with the faceless ones. The scent of peach and the calls between the crows and crickets fade. The gentle breeze tugs at the Yokai’s kimono, tickles her naked legs. She knows this place.
The faceless old woman interrupts the Yokai’s thoughts. “What are you here for again, kid? You said you were lost or something?”
“Yes. I’m …” the Yokai pauses. Suddenly, she cannot decide what is a more pressing matter. The lack of food, or her desire to go home. The last thing she wants to do is scare them off, as she did before with the other yokai. “I’m just looking for a place to eat,” she decides to say.
“Ah. You can’t be looking for the place I’m thinking of, then. There’s only one in these parts. You do NOT want to go there.” The woman shudders. “Disgusting place.”
“Why not?” The Yokai asks, wary. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s made of sin,” says the faceless man. “And eyes. Eyes everywhere. Watching, always watching.”
“Hmm, yeah. Not my bag.”
Deeper into the woods, on both sides of the path, the Yokai can hear more nocturnal creatures chattering, chirping. Something has them on edge. She stops to listen for a brief moment. She knows this road. Its twists and bends are familiar. The thick stench of blood and carrion that hit her like a punch in the nose are not.
“Ew!” The Yokai clamps her sticky sleeves over her face. She turns on her heel and runs away to catch up with the others. Behind her, four small shadows drag the remains of their evening meal across the path and head deeper into the bowels of the woods, past an arrangement of trees that do not match and are ever changing: thousand-year-old oak, majestic redwood, thick reedy bamboo, baby spruce, short fat pine, many others with no names.
The body they drag behind them leaves ten long fingernail marks of blood down the path; the trails curve where the road opens up onto a large abandoned garden. The body stains the dead grass as it lies in a crumpled heap of limbs, and is then slumped into a vacant hole under a skeletal bonsai tree. The shadows have no need to fret about their next meal tonight. Their work complete, they suck the last salty red globs from under their fingernails. Their heads turn in one swift motion; they are being watched. They recognize the young man, his cold grey eyes staring without judgment or emotion. Oh, him. Who cares? They do not even bother to hiss at him in warning. They leave the garden and leave Zaniel to his thoughts.
Zaniel stares up at the house he has come to hate. Same deep eaves, same worn-down wood-panelled walls, same faded onigawara tiles, same makeshift monument at the very top — a spherical structure stippled with an array of long spikes, all tarnished from wind, water, and the passage of time. It has held up quite well, Zaniel thinks, considering whichever ancestor of Akki’s copied the original Yumedono roof decoration must have been a samurai, not an architect. Not that Zaniel can hear his thoughts above the voice yammering loudly from Akki’s bedroom, repeating vocabulary she must have crammed before she went to sleep:
“Lutetium, carbon, iodine, darmstadtium —”
In the bedroom, a young woman gathers her clothes as she drills these words over and over in her mind. She has no idea where she is, but she is almost certain she is far from campus and therefore late for her big chemistry exam. Not that she is complaining. She had so much tension, so much steam to blow off. This exam will be a breeze … unless it has already started. Now, what could have happened to her bra? How strange; she is no longer sure that she came in wearing one.
“Silicon, iodine, nitrogen, sulphur, oxygen — tee-hee! No, wait! Sulphur, hydrogen, then iodine, nitrogen —” She smirks, and bursts into giggles. “Oxygen, nitrogen …” she trails off, studying her new-found lover as if she is seeing him for the first time. “Hey, what happened to you? Wow … you’ve changed! Your skin is, like … glowing … and I didn’t see that dragon there before … oh, no! It’s okay! I like it! Change is good! Change is important; otherwise, everything stays the same. So boring. Change, transformation … physical and chemical — consequent release of heat and sound — yes, that will be on the test for sure —” She giggles again. Yes, they definitely made quite a bit of sound, and heat, no question about that. “I’ve always preferred a man with muscles. Men are usually so skinny. You can’t protect a woman with a body like your little friend. Oh! I’m sorry! Please don’t look at me like that. I mean, he’s okay, just … not as handsome and strong as you. I just didn’t feel as much chemistry with him … yes, chemistry: enthalpy and entropy — basic thermodynamics,” she continues nonsensically to herself. “Endothermic, exothermic transformations … oxygen, nitrogen —”
Akki grabs his black yukata, runs out, and slams the door behind him, practically flying down the stairs. He does not even bother to put on his sandals. He goes out the front door, desperate for a smoke. He can still hear her talking inside. He rubs his brow, right in the spot where he can feel pressure starting to bloom. “Zaniel,” he curses. One of these days I’m gonna eat this kid.
He walks out into the garden and looks back at the house as he dons and tightens his robe. It is just the way he remembers it. Everything seems normal: an ancient, traditional Japanese home. This has been the only home he has ever known, and it was not until its mysterious disappearance that he began to appreciate it. Not that it stopped him from setting it ablaze when the mood took him. Like a loyal dog, it always returns to him, and listens only to his command. Why can’t everyone be so obedient?
The front gardens remain as they are, as well. Zaniel is right where he should be, waiting on a cold stone bench, hunched with his hands in his pockets, staring at the rock gardens that have not been touched in a century. Hino has just arrived from wherever her night adventures had taken her. She is not alone. Several green-hued creatures, no taller than her knee, scuttle after her like children. A heavy-looking plastic shopping bag swings from her hand. Hino sits down on another bench, as if unaware that Zaniel, Akki, and the little creatures are around. She removes her blazer, lays it across her short skirt and exposed thighs, and dumps the contents of the bag onto her lap: cucumbers. The sight of them stirs the creatures into a frenzy. Their eyes glow bright red with a feverish excitement. They chirp with eagerness, nipping at Hino’s pale-skinned knees. She slices the cucumbers by hand — literally.
Zaniel watches with a mix of fascination and horror as Hino saws her long, sharp fingernails through each cucumber until they are slicing into the palms of her left hand and then tosses the vegetables for the kappa to fight over. She draws no blood, for there is no blood to be drawn. The wound in Hino’s left hand opens and closes in a steady cycle of self-repairing gashes. Zaniel has never seen this before. He is finally beginning to wrap his mind around what kind of yokai Hino truly is. He is so horribly fascinated that he does not notice Akki standing nearby until Hino has dealt out the last of her third cucumber.
“Yeah?” he asks without thinking. He then leaps to his feet with a deep bow at the recognition of his own apathy. “I mean, I’m sorry, Akki-sama. I must have kept you waiting. Were you looking for me?”
“Damn right I’m lookin’ for you. What —” Akki points to a window on the upper floors, where they can hear the young woman’s incessant chatter “— is THAT all about?”
“Barium, potassium, uranium … Barium, potassium, uranium …” floats down to them from the upper window.
Zaniel hesitates. “She is … who you requested? The one you met at Yoshida campus? She did tell me she dreamed about you, and from what I saw in her mind, she really wanted to —”
“Oh no, she’s the same chick — and she’s a fuckin’ bore! I wanted young, nubile, and excitin’, and you bring some chemistry otaku? You’re KILLIN’ me, boy.”
“I’m sorry, Akki-sama. I suppose …” He is not sure what to say. If he were to tell the truth — that looks and deep-rooted desires rarely have any correlation with interests or even personality — Akki would destroy him on the spot. He knows too well the dangers of pointing out the mistakes of his superiors; however, he cannot think of a better argument. “I suppose,” Zaniel says finally, “it is possible that my ability to read people isn’t what it used to be.”
“I’ll say.” Akki spits on the ground. Zaniel looks away, holding back his gag reflex as the large blob of saliva foams and sizzles the earth. “Fuck, man, I remember when we first met, you could get a dozen bitches in one place, one night to meet me. I had to be so fuckin’ selective back then. Now, we’re chattin’ up, like, one chick a week? And that’s on the nights when I fuckin’ call you up. What’s goin’ on? You losin’ your touch? Chicks don’t dig the eyes anymore? No, wait, I know. The human realm gettin’ on your ass again, is that it?”
“No, Akki-sama. Far from it. In fact, things in the waking world have never been better.”
Akki flashes his teeth in a menacing smile. “You’re lyin’,” he sings.
“Uh, wait. I didn’t mean to — I meant …” He bows low. “I apologize. You’re right, things have been better, but right now things are okay. They’re stable. I’m … managing.” It is truthful enough for Akki to relax his smile: although Zaniel’s boss and co-workers are horrible to him, his work situation is not his biggest concern. He had assumed Akki already knew that. “I have no cause for complaints.”
“So, nobody’s beatin’ you up, buggin’ ya for lunch money anymore, eh?”
“No, Akki-sama. That was years ago. I’ve long since graduated.”
“Grad … u … a … ted…?”
“Uh … sotsugyou?”
Again, Akki turns over each syllable in his mouth. He shakes his head as though he does not much like the taste of the word. Zaniel is surprised. The word must not translate well into yumego. Then again, Akki has never been much of an eloquent yokai.
“Whatever. That’s good. I guess. Means more beauty sleep for me.” The yokai stretches and yawns as the chemistry major’s monologue continues somewhere in the upper room, through a window:
“Lutetium, carbon, iodine, darmstadtium …”
Akki makes a disgusted noise. “Well, I’m done for the night. Go on, kid, get outta here.”
“Yes, Akki-sama. My apologies, again.” Zaniel bows a graceful ninety degrees and turns away while Akki begs Hino for a cigarette, trying to hide the excitement in his voice at her return. Zaniel does not bother to bid Hino farewell; she is too preoccupied with the two small green creatures fighting with fiendish delight over her slices of cucumber. Past Akki’s gate the forest is now a dark void of dead trees, stripped bare of their autumn leaves, into which the young man disappears without a sound.
The obsidian beads on Akki’s left wrist begin to glow. “Ah, shit. Seriously?”
“Wow, so soon?” Hino takes out a cigarette for herself. Akki does not answer. He is already on all fours, his fiery-green aura rippling into the shape of a boar. He charges toward the gate, headlong into the bramble.
“Where are ya, kid?” the boar growls. He couldn’t have gone far …
“Son?”
Akki whirls around and lets out a squeal, ready for anything. He is not entirely prepared to see a ginger-haired foreigner with his pants about his ankles exposing his rear end at him, but neither is he surprised when a giant eyeball appears where his anus ought to be. Zaniel is cowering against the base of a tree. “A shirime? What the hell you doin’ in this neck of the woods? This is my turf.”
The eye swivels and focuses on the boar. “… Akki?” The man’s eyeless head peeks between his legs. “Is that you? Damn. Then that means …”
“Exactly. The kid’s mine. Beat it, asshole. Uh, that didn’t come out right. Whatever. Just leave the kid alone.”
“Crap. And I had this awesome gaikokujin disguise, too. Least I know it works.”
The disgruntled yokai crawls off into the woods in search of another target for his prank. Akki morphs back to his humanoid form and offers a hand to pull Zaniel to his feet. “Relax, kid. It’s gone.”
“I’m sorry, Akki-sama. I …” Zaniel’s blush is visible to Akki, even in the dark. “I panicked. I was too preoccupied with my thoughts, and when that shirime appeared, and called me ‘son,’ I forgot where I was — I didn’t know what to do, so I —”
“Eh. No worries, kid. That’s what the bracelets are for. Go on, get outta here before another one shows up.”
Again, the young man bows a perfect ninety degrees before he curls back up against the tree. Akki waits patiently for Zaniel to fall asleep. It only takes a moment for him to disappear. With a disgusted shake of his head, Akki tromps back to the house. He is relieved to see Hino is still there doling out cucumbers, but his good mood is dashed when his latest conquest sticks her head out his bedroom window.
“Samurai-sama! Samurai-sama, where did you go?”
Akki rolls his head back with a hand on his immense forehead. “Ah, fuckin’ hell … it never ends.”
“She is looking for you, I believe.” Hino cuts another slice of cucumber in her hand.
“Yeah, no shit.” Akki tilts his head at her. “Say, how’d you get those, anyway? I thought yokai couldn’t run around the human realm all people-like.”
“You forget, I am not restricted by territory. I am completely different from you. I have my ways.”
“Oh.” The giant yokai rubs his temples. “You don’t think I was too hard on the kid, do ya? Or maybe I wasn’t hard enough?”
“He is your minion, not mine.”
“Stop callin’ him that! You’re confusin’ him with my nightmares. Zaniel’s my wingman. He’s my buddy, my kouhai. I look out for him, and he helps me with my chick game. The pact works out for both of us.”
Hino’s stoic voice and expression do not change in spite of her bewilderment at this declaration. “How can you call him your ‘buddy’ when you did not even know he was half-Japanese? How can you call him your kouhai? He is the one doing you the favour, navigating women with a samurai fetish through this realm for you. Such strange terms you choose, Akki.”
“So what if I don’t know the word for it? Can’t expect me to keep up with all this bullshit human lingo.”
“Why not? I thought you used to be one.”
Akki snorts. “Prove it.”
“Hmm …” Hino dangles a cucumber slice above the kappas’ heads and relishes in their dance without smiling. “Well, if you ask me, I question whether he still needs your protection. He looks like a grown man to me.”
“‘A grown man’?” Perhaps. Try as he might, Akki cannot recall how much time has passed between this shirime attack and the first time he came to Zaniel’s rescue in these woods. The boy’s hair was not quite so long, of that he is certain. He shakes off his doubts. “Nice try, Hino,” he rebuffs. “Always knew you had a thing for him. But like I told the shirime, you can’t have him. He’s my human.”
Hino ignores him, more concerned with making her point than hearing about the demonic encounter. “He is a timid, insecure man to be fair, but a man, nonetheless. All I am trying to tell you is he is no longer the boy you followed into the wrong part of the woods. You heard him, he graduated years ago.”
“Agh, this word again.” Akki nurses his temples once more. “You know how I feel about learnin’, Hino-chan.”
“He knows these mountains like the back of his hand, now,” she goes on, slicing up her last cucumber. “And I am certain the yokai around here are familiar enough with you to leave him be — for the most part. From what I have overheard, there are fewer threats to him every passing year.”
“Please. You saw how fast my wrist lit up. Yokai still mess with him, and he’s scared shitless about it. If you’d seen him cryin’ into that tree, you’d know what I’m talkin’ about. Shit. If he were a real man, he’d fend ’em off like one, but what does he do? He calls me.” Akki holds up his left forearm, gesturing to his black bracelet. “So when the mood takes me, I call him.” He holds up the red one on his right. “And by the way, before you even ask, he always answers. Yup. Still comes around with these broads lookin’ for a good time with a real man, so he must need me around for somethin’. Sure ain’t to keep himself entertained at night.”
Akki’s latest conquest emerges from the house. She comes up to him and pulls at his yukata in a coy fashion, enticing him to come back to bed. Without turning to acknowledge her presence, Akki reaches out a large hand and plants it right on her face. He hoists her several feet off the ground, ignoring her fruitless kicks and muffled screams as he continues his conversation with Hino.
“To be real with you, I’m surprised he don’t take none of these chicks we meet for himself. I wouldn’t be bothered by it. I’d be impressed, to be honest. But hey, I ain’t complainin’, either.”
“But are you not afraid the boy will take off on you one day? Ever worry he will lose his ability, or get inspired come springtime to KonMari his life, starting with us? Or, who knows, maybe he will just start ignoring you altogether one day …”
“Yeah, right. It’ll take more than spring cleanin’ and the cold shoulder to get rid of me. I don’t plan on removin’ those bracelets no time soon. Believe that.”
“Yes. I suppose I could believe that.” Hino tosses the last of her cucumber slices on the ground. The kappa creatures tackle them like ravenous birds. “But what will you do until such a time comes to live without him? You must have some plans to prepare for this distant future without your ‘buddy/kouhai’?”
“Pssh. Easy. I’ll do what I always do: whatever I want.”
Like a stovetop filament, Akki’s hand glows. The young woman’s screams grow higher, reaching a screeching cry. Her face bursts into flames.
“Whoops!” Akki drops her. “Almost forgot about these.” He reaches down to pluck out her eyes. “Fuck. Overcooked ’em again. No wait, this one’s still good.” He flicks the burned eye into the air and catches it in his mouth like candy.
Hino narrows her gaze at him, at the remains of human soul sizzling in his hand. “And what, pray tell, do you plan to do with that one, Akki?”
Akki quickly shifts his enclosed fist behind his back. In his fervour it had not occurred to him that Hino might show concern. “What are you?” he says. “A cop? Ain’t none of your business what I do with my eyes. I mean, their eyes — I mean … uh … Whatever, man, it’s the only way I can sleep!” He backs away toward the house, his burning green eyes shifting. “You’re not gonna tell the kid, are ya?”
“Tell the kid what?”
Akki relaxes. “That’s my girl! … Or, whatever y’are. I’ll see ya ’round, Hino-chan.”
Hino watches him turn and head back into the house with a blank stare. “Yes,” she shakes her head at the closing front door. “I suppose I will.”
Elsewhere, on the other side of the forest, the Yokai wakes up. She looks around, bewildered. A sliver of moonlight reveals a large clearing again. Perhaps it is the same one as before; she cannot tell. She only knows that she is all alone. The faceless people are gone.
“What …?” the Yokai says out loud. She struggles to remember how she got here. Half-remembering, the Yokai sees, in her mind, a group of children that passed by, chasing one another. Or, being chased. A vague image of an old, gawking woman floats through her memories, as well. She remembers a child left behind, screaming, swallowed up by a wall of darkness. She does not remember walking about the woods after that, but here is where she must have ended up.
“I’ve gone in circles, I guess,” she says, deciding it is best not to think about it too much. The Yokai figures it is better to preoccupy herself with how to get out of here.
Slowly, the clouds part above her, exposing a blanket of stars in a sea of violet darkness. One at a time, the stars descend on her; like fireflies, they blink as they approach. They come close, so close she can reach out and touch them. Twinkling like gold, they float down, down, down like falling leaves, then bounce along an invisible horizon above her head.
“How pretty,” she whispers.
“Wish I could say the same for you!” Someone blows a raspberry in her ear.
“Hey!” The Yokai leaps to her feet. She finds herself surrounded by blinking lights, will-o’-the-wisps of gold that now float around her. She hears laughter, but not the kind that she would want to join. Mean, threatening laughter. “Who said that?! Who’s there?!”
The laughter grows louder and more intense. “Well, well, look who it is? The freak everyone’s so scared of. What’s wrong, freak? You lost again?”
“Don’t bother explaining, freak,” one of the lights barks at her. “You ain’t welcome here. You’re the futakuchi-onna or whatever who ate Akki out of house and home. You better beat it!”
“You sure she’s a futakuchi, brother?” says another light. “She sure don’t look like one.”
“Yeah. What in the hell are you supposed to be, anyway?”
“Maybe she’s some sorta shadow yokai.”
“Well, she’s a pretty gnarly shadow, if you ask me. She just looks like a freak.”
The Yokai whirls around at the sound of each chastising word. Why do they keep calling me a freak? The Yokai thinks about all the creatures she has seen tonight. The strangeness of them all, and yet she is the one everyone runs away from. It does not make sense. What makes her more monstrous than them? Her words are on the tip of her tongue, but for some reason she cannot bring herself to speak. Instead, she tries to smile. “I’m sorry, I —”
“Ew! What’s wrong with her face? What’s she doing?”
“Are you smiling? What is wrong with you?”
“She must be stupider than we thought.”
“Or stupider than she looks!”
“And what the hell is that on her robe? Is that — ew, it is! It’s blood! It’s fucking blood!”
“No!” The Yokai waves her hands. “It’s peach … I think …”
“You think?! Oh ho, look at that, guys. She ‘thinks’! Could’ve fooled us, freak.”
The Yokai feels her stomach lurch again. Not from hunger, but from fear. She stops smiling. “I’m sorry,” the Yokai repeats. “I’m just lost.”
“Yeah. We know exactly where you’re trying to go. There ain’t no way in hell we’re letting ya, so don’t even bother trying to play nice with us!”
One of the lights descends so close to her face that her vision is blurred. The Yokai squints through her fingers and sees that it is the brightness of the other lights that is also blinding her. They dance around her in a wide halo of light. They are singing:
“Lost little Yokai
Looking for a friend
Wandering in a wilderness
She cannot comprehend!
Looking for the others
That she cannot befriend
Posing as a human fool
Or tryin’ to pass off as a ghoul
Dumb and stubborn like a mule
So she must meet her end!”
“Little? I’m not …!” The Yokai looks down at her body. She is about half the size of an average human. She can practically feel herself shrinking under her lengthening white robe. “Stop! Stop it!” she cries.
“Ha, ha, look at her now!” the voices cackle. The Yokai can sense them pointing invisible fingers at her. “She’s shrinking! Let’s make her shrink until she disappears!”
Without warning, they swarm her. She waves her too-long sleeves across her face, swatting fruitlessly, as they attack. Some fly past her ears, the chainsaw-buzzing startling her each time. Others sink invisible fangs into her robe and rip the clothing away. More lights come at her, attacking her exposed skin. Soon she is naked. She makes a hopeless attempt to cover her bare parts while pressing her hands against the missing chunks of flesh they take out of her. She collapses into the grass, crying, huddled into a ball for protection.
“That ought to get the message across,” says one of the lights. “Only real demons can get past us. And even then, you gotta be ready to take us all on!”
Another voice laughs. “Yeah, stupid! No freak like you is going anywhere! We’re like that new restaurant: ‘oni only!’”
“Oh, geez,” says the first voice, the ringleader. “Do not mention that restaurant.”
“Why not? The boss seems to like it. Says they got good eatin’.”
“Shut up! We can’t talk about that place in front of her. She’s a wannabe. This ain’t no place for creatures like that!”
Curled up in the grass, the Yokai weeps. The first light lowers itself down to the grass and nips at her toes, savouring the blood. She cries out again.
“Ha! I think she gets it now, chaps. Guess the freak speaks yumego after all. Come on; let’s get out of here. The smell of her is making me sick.”
“Yeah. Good.”
The other lights dance over her head and drift away, still calling her every awful name they can think of. One light lingers behind, illuminating her vision in the darkness, for even the moonlight is gone. The Yokai watches the lights grow smaller and smaller. She sits up a little and looks down at her body, covered in bloody holes, blisters, and bites. Why did they do this to her? What had she done? Perhaps she should have stayed with the faceless yokai, for at least they were civil to her. Even the first group of yokai had not treated her like this. If only she knew the way home …
The light hovering over her head makes a darting motion. It hits her square in her jaw, knocking out a tooth, then flies away to join the others. “Ha!” it shouts. “Guys! Guys, did you see that?! I got a tooth! A whole tooth!”
The Yokai can hear them all laughing at her in the distance, congratulating their comrade, over the sound of her own lamentation. She holds a hand to the burning spot on her face and feels blood oozing from the corner of her mouth, wet and thick like paint. When she tries to feel around her mouth with her tongue, she gags on something sharp. The Yokai coughs, and coughs, and with a cautious hand, she slowly guides a long, sharp sliver out of her mouth. There are more inside, a spiky network of pins and needles that seem to be growing as she removes another and another. She is afraid to speak, let alone swallow, whimpering as she takes out each one. She lets out a fresh sob once they are all gone, sitting in a pile in the grass at her knees.
Careful not to disturb the small mountain of spiky metal, she crawls away. Her hand plunges into something wet. Water. The moonlight returns. A small pond stretches out in front of her. She crawls into it, hoping the cold water will soothe her. It is not enough. Each gaping hole on her arms and legs still burns like acid. She sits in the water and hugs her knees to her chest. More than anything she tries not to look at her reflection in the water. The reflection of a monster, the monster that everyone else sees: skin dark as a shadow, grotesque bulging eyes, swollen lips encircling a mouth ready to devour and maul the innocent, and scars, scars everywhere. A patchwork of hate.
“I just wanted to go home,” she whispers. She is grateful that this time there is no one around to reply.