by Z. V. Hunter
As if in direct opposition to Meiji, this Temple was as traditionally ostentatious as many Shrines. Instead of a somber tree-lined gravel walk, the entrance to Sensoji Temple featured a busy pedestrian market lined with stalls as colorful as the Temple itself.
They sold everything here, mostly cheap tourist knickknacks made in China like the ever-popular lucky cats. I had one of those myself. Other stalls hawked pottery or clothing, also cheap and made in China, or foodstuffs like senbei which are delicious Japanese rice crackers not to be confused with those Styrofoam rice cakes in the USA.
Since it was March, a distinct chill filled the air, and the stalls weren't crowded. With humans, at least. The weather didn’t seem to affect the Calamities as much.
My mother spent hours at the neighboring Asakusa Shrine when I was a child. I memorized the paintings on the ceiling, the complex dragons and other mythical creatures that stared down at me from high above. I always found them more calming than frightful because they weren't the real thing.
Now, if I squinted I could make out the sinuous form of a real dragon passing through the thick gray clouds overhead.
"Ryūjin looks lonely up there. Why don't you call to him. Take a ride on his back."
"And have him swallow me like an appetizer? No thanks."
"I'd never tell you to do something that put your life in mortal danger. Don't you trust me?"
I laughed instead of answering. I didn't need to go to the Shrine proper, so I moved past it. Then what Lux said struck me. "What do you mean this place used to be poor? How would you know?"
"Oh, so you can finally think about someone besides yourself. And you expect me to share after all these years together, all the time you could've asked and you didn't because you're so selfish? I'm not telling."
That wasn't entirely true. I used to ask Lux about his past, and he always answered in a combination of riddles and lies. Something about being important or how lowly he'd fallen since I picked him up and bound us together. But nothing concrete. Not his name or the type of Calamity he might be.
Nothing about his past.
This was new.
Unless he was lying again, which he probably was.
"Fine. I don't care anyway. You obviously don't know."
Lux sighed. "This is Yoshiwara. It used to be a red-light district, and if you knew anything about your history, you'd know that. There was a Noh Theatre on the corner over there. The foundation is still there. So is something else."
He was right. A forlorn presence hung on the corner, the shape dim in the daylight. A heavy sadness clung to the place. Right above it stood an old cherry tree starting to bud. It wouldn't bloom for another few weeks, and I wondered how many years the Calamity had been there. How many times had that tree bloomed while it waited beneath it?
"Stupid fool," Lux said, his voice quiet and, for the first time I'd ever heard it—and I had to be imagining it—the events of that day were probably getting to me, pained. Lux had never shown anything but derision to humans and most other Calamities.
"Know him?" I asked.
According to Google Maps, the house I needed was along a winding side street.
"As if a being such as I would know such a weakling. I'd eat him, if you let me out of here. Put him out of his misery."
Like I'd ever do that.
It's another unpleasant fact about Calamities—they're cannibals. Well, sort of. Lots of Calamities eat others to absorb the power. It's one of the first things my mother taught me about them.
I've never eaten one. Or been remotely tempted to.
Still, I smiled. "But you noticed him. I wonder if the tree holds him or the foundation does. And if it used to be a Noh Theatre, is there a cursed mask there? Those are the worst."
Lux didn't answer.
In another few minutes, I found the house.
It was ancient, especially by Neo-Tokyo standards. It looked like an old farmhouse built when this part of Edo was a sleepy agrarian hamlet. That made it several hundred years old, and it looked its age. Whatever repairs had been done were sparse and slapdash, probably to the annoyance of their neighbors, whose homes were tidier and in superior repair.
Still, an air of shabbiness lingered around the whole neighborhood, and I bet that old house had something to do with it. A few crows cawed at me from their place on the power lines that hung above the house.
Not a good sign.
Crows like to hang out around Calamities and ghosts. Whenever they're gathered in one area, you can bet something nasty is close by. There's rumors they feed on Makai power. Most people, magic and not, think they're evil. I'm not so certain it's that easy anymore.
The wooden beams that held the house together were dark and splintered with age. The walls hadn't been whitewashed in several years, at least, and were stained and yellowed, like a smoker's teeth.
It looked abandoned.
Whoever owned it probably didn't have the money to fix it. And, even in this city, a house this old and worn down wouldn't sell for much unless you could afford to knock it down and rebuild. They obviously couldn't.
A fence surrounded the yard, wooden and short, and inside were a few gnarled maples and a plum tree in full bloom. The delicate pink flowers and the scent, floral and sweet, did nothing to cover the reek of mildew that emanated from the house itself.
"No wonder she ran away. I wouldn't want to live here, and I'm stuck in a rock."
I felt the same.
My apartment might be small—two cramped rooms—but it was a world better than this.
The surname on the door had faded to the point it was barely legible.
"Stop putting off the inevitable. You'll have to go in, and you'll hear the same thing everyone else told you. You'll be no closer to the truth because this case is stupid. Go back to the fun stuff."
When I knocked, no one answered. Unlike the landlady the night before, I didn't think anyone was home this time.
"Oh well, I guess you can turn away and give up."
I shook my head. "I have to go in."
No one wandered down the street, and the other houses hunched against the weather, their curtains drawn and still.
Was it a bit early in the game for breaking and entering?
No.
Plus, it gave me the chance to peek at the missing girl's room.
If I didn't get caught, I'd be fine.
9
THE BEST WAY to break into a house is to pretend you belong there. Don't ask where or how I learned that. I always have a good reason for breaking in, and I rarely ever take anything unless it's part of a job.
I tried the door, and it was locked, so I gave another quick glance up and down the street before slipping into the backyard. The latch on that door was a simple one, easy to slip a knife into and flick up. I learned that trick from Rika years before, and I smiled at the memory.
Aki wouldn't approve at all. She'd lecture the way she had the night before.
My chest warmed. After so long on my own, I'd forgotten what it was like to have someone give a shit about me. If the idea of hurting her—or getting her killed—didn't overwhelm that, it might've felt nice.
"Lots of death here. At night, it'll be in a fog," Lux murmured. He sounded impressed. Of course he'd be.
"You mean you didn't know the original owners?" I said in a whisper. Speaking out loud felt wrong. Not to mention, I didn't want anyone to hear me.
The interior looked like it'd been remodeled at some point. However, that point had been in the eighties, which meant it was all out of date and falling apart. The original floorboards creaked under my weight and the walls were a dingy gray. The door opened into the kitchen, which was tiny with a small table and four wobbly chairs, moldy dishes piled high in the sink, and the faucet leaked.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The sound echoed in my ears, drum-like.
A heaviness in the air choked me.
Even if it wasn't a C
alamity, this place had too many memories. Too many things had happened here for the atmosphere to lighten unless a Priestess or Monk blessed it. Even then, the presence could've embedded itself in the house proper.
I'd heard of Calamities like that—ones that became the places they possessed. Not easy to get rid of.
Lux was right; at night, this place would be unbearable.
Good thing I was here during the day. What was left of the day, anyway.
The chill in the air hung heavy and still. An ancient split A/C and heating unit hung on the wall, the plastic brittle and covered in dust. It might not even work. Under the scent of mildew was something else: the faint odor of kerosene. They must use smaller heaters for each room.
The downstairs didn't seem to hold any clues or even a single bedroom. The front door was draped in an interior shadow, and the occupant’s shoes were all neatly set in a row. One pair was missing, and my chest constricted. The little girl: Miki.
There was a living room with a low-slung couch and a small TV. The only other room down there was a bathroom.
I moved to the stairs. The wooden steps whined under my feet and gave way to a narrow hall lined with sliding doors, typical of such an old house.
A dingy bathroom hunched behind the first door.
The second held what I was looking for: a girl's room. It was tiny and had probably been little more than a storeroom in the past. It looked like any other that belonged to a ten-year-old. Her bed was made, though not neatly. A few worn stuffed animals sat on it, rumpled and well-loved.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Getting too emotional about a case was a mistake—it'd cloud my judgement—and I couldn't have that happen in a place like this.
Faded posters of Rilakkuma, that popular bear character she must've liked, covered the walls, though they all looked secondhand. A few had torn edges, but were lovingly repaired with tape.
A small desk sat in the corner, near the window, piled with a few books and papers—school work from the look of it. Her writing was small and neat. Inside the top drawer were a collection of pictures she'd drawn. They were good for a kid her age.
I flipped through them.
A park.
A cat and a dog.
A few of Doraemon and Rilakkuma.
Some sketches of girls I assumed were her friends.
A dark tunnel with broken tracks running inside it.
Okay, I stopped at that last one.
That was unusual.
And it struck a faint memory that didn't belong to me.
Tomoko's mom thought the kids were hanging around an abandoned train tunnel. Then I find this? Yeah, not a coincidence.
I took a photo of the last picture with my phone and moved to the closet. A few pairs of extra clothes hung there, but it was mostly empty…cleared out perhaps or, more likely, Miki didn't have much.
Something pattered on the roof, and I started. The steady click of talons followed by the scrape of something dragging across the wood above—like a sack of potatoes or rice. Or a body.
I frowned.
It was only crows.
"You've been unnaturally quiet," I said and peeked at the closet ceiling. I suspected there was an attic.
I hate attics.
Or, more accurately, I hate the sorts of things that live in attics.
"I was waiting to see if you'd notice."
"Notice what?" Even as I asked it my bones filled with dread. Lux never sounded that gleeful unless something bad was going to happen.
He giggled. "The three bodies in the other room."
I stood still.
Held my breath.
Well, that explained why no one answered the door.
Not the best thought when I stood in a house with several dead bodies. I'd say 'supposed' dead bodies if I thought Lux was lying, but I knew he wasn't. He never lies about death.
"Oh, and the other thing."
That bothered me more than the prospect of dead bodies.
Scrape.
Scrape.
The scratching of crow's talons sounded on the roof, followed by a heavy dragging sound.
Fuck no.
I slammed the closet door and turned to march out of the room.
"Did that thing in the attic blight this house? Yes. It did. And if you leave it, it'll kill more people. Drive them to do what happened just one room over. Go see for yourself."
Dead bodies don't scare me. They can't curse me or lunge at me or do anything but rot and stink. It's their spirits that are the problem. They become ghosts or Calamities and these were, no doubt, prime examples of that.
I ignored Lux and threw open the door.
A wave of dizziness passed over me—the scent of kerosene overwhelming—but it dissipated quickly. The heater had obviously run out several hours ago, and flicked itself off. The three of them: mother, father, and grandmother, sprawled on the floor as if sleeping.
Only they were dead.
Stiff and blue in the face and starting to smell.
A bottle of kerosene was knocked over next to them, but the floor around it was dry. Not a drop spilled.
Gently, I slid the door shut and looked up.
Scrape.
Scrape.
Scrape.
It sounded like a snake dragging its belly across the ground, and it was right overhead, following me throughout the house.
"Was it murder-suicide or a suicide pact?"
"Who can tell? You might pop over to the Spirit World and see. Ask them yourself. They haven't crossed to Yomi-no-kuni yet. They might not unless you show them the way."
I scratched the newest mark I had—the one on my shoulder—and frowned. "No thanks. Can't we burn it to the ground? I'm not even getting paid for this."
"I said you were selfish. Are you trying to prove me right? That's no fun."
Being lectured on proper decorum in a situation like this by a Calamity that thinks dismemberment is an acceptable way to say 'hello' sucks. Even worse, he wasn't wrong.
Money or not, I couldn't let something like that stay here.
Only problem was, I didn't have anything to seal it with besides a few strips of paper, and from the atmosphere I could tell it wouldn't be enough. I'd need a Spirit Vessel. Why the hell hadn't I asked Aki for some?
If I left who knew what might happen? Who this Calamity might attack? No one who came into the house was safe.
"Quite the dilemma. If you had a better weapon, you could slice this thing down without a problem."
"I'd still need to seal it."
"Would you?"
There he went being annoyingly cryptic again, and I didn't have time for that.
"Is there any iron in the house?"
"If there was, it'd be rusted and useless by now. You know what you have to do," Lux said, his voice dripped with poisoned honey.
I did, and it didn't involve a jump into the Spirit World either. It was a thousand times worse.
"I need help," I muttered and yanked out my phone.
"Oh, this must be difficult. Asking for help after all this time. And you were doing so well on your own. Really. I'm not being sarcastic at all."
My fingers trembled as I dialed Aki's cell, and I almost hung up before she answered. I may not have given her the entire lowdown—or explained the issue of the bodies in the house—oops, but all I needed was a Vessel for the Calamity in the attic.
Not a problem, right?
She didn't think so either, but I should've been suspicious by the light tone of her voice and how she sounded happy when she said she'd send someone right over.
"Oh, and Yuki, I'm glad you called," she said.
I nodded, even if she couldn't see me. "Yeah, well. Uh, thanks. Sorry for putting you out. I just—"
"Please call again. I mean it."
I mumbled something incoherent under my breath and hung up. A pang struck my chest. It'd been a long time since I depended on anyone but myself. Asked anyone for anything. I guess it di
dn't hurt, like I'd thought.
Well, that was until my help knocked at the backdoor.
The day had almost faded. I paced around the kitchen and kept an ear out for sirens. I doubted the family had been dead more than a day, but I didn't want to be caught there.
"Finally!" Lux said and snickered.
I threw open the door and my eyes widened. My stomach knotted.
I felt the Calamity above me rustle and pulse and the energy flowed between us. When I was a kid and still used Ame, I enjoyed the sensation of that power. It felt like a warm summer's day when it filled me. But Makai wasn't like that. It was as light as a spider’s web and as insubstantial as smoke. It felt like the brush of silk in the darkness. Never comforting.
No!
I cut the link and gritted my teeth.
"Hey, Yukine. It's been a long time," Kuro Abe said.
I was going to kill Aki.
10
THE LAST TIME I'd seen Kuro Abe had been at my mother's funeral. His family came to pay their respects, and he'd managed not to insult me or my unique abilities for a few hours—a record for him.
Even then he'd been too good-looking. He always wore his hair so it hung in his eyes and clung to the back of his neck. He was tall and slim with just enough muscle to be interesting. I think he played some kind of sport—the ones that only well-to-do schools offer like polo or lacrosse.
I went to a mixed American and Japanese public school, so I wouldn't know.
His cheekbones were stupidly high and well-placed. His hair was slick and black, now pushed off his forehead. And his eyes were a gentle green—the color of moss after it had rained for five days straight.
I expected him to be in a suit, but instead he was casually fashionable in jeans and a button-up with a slick gray coat thrown over it that was sleeker than my trench. It still had mud stains on it from the night before. I didn't have time to drop it at the dry-cleaners that day.
Not to mention I'd been up all day with a pitiful amount of sleep. I looked far from my best, and I shouldn't have cared.
I didn't care.
Not for him.
"He looks like a tool. Feed him to the Calamity upstairs and burn the house down."
For once, I agreed with Lux.
