Jikininki: The Bestiary Tales
By Allison Graham
Copyright 2011 Allison Graham
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Shuzenji, Japan - 2001
Emi Nakano shivered as she peered down at her meal. She didn’t want to eat this, but she had to. She was so…so hungry. Her stomach was screaming for food, she couldn’t think of anything besides her desperation and malnutrition for more than a few seconds at a time. Tears streamed down her face, and she scrubbed them away with a pathetic whimper. “Thanks for the food,” she whispered to no one in particular. She took a moment to collect herself, then dug in with both hands.
It tasted horrible. Slimy and dry at the same time, it every bit as awful as she’d come to anticipate rotting food being. She tried not to focus on the fact that she shared her meal with flies and their grubby young…or the fact that a few of those young probably found their way into her stomach as well. It didn’t matter, regardless of what she thought of it. Whether she liked it or not, this was all she had to eat, and if the insects had gotten to it first, that was her own fault for being so slow.
She had just started on the last of her repast when a beam of light streaked over her face and an angry male voice called, “Hey, what are you doing over there?!”
Emi shrieked and retreated, tearing one last piece of food away as she ran. She stuffed it into her mouth and dodged behind a row of hedges, squirming through the hooked branches without noticing the way they tore through the skin of her face and arms. She could worry about the pain later. For now, the shame and disgust of what she’d been doing was too great. She wasn’t about to risk getting caught eating carrion.
“Stop!!”
“No!” she wept back, sprinting through rows of trees, knowing that the watery moonlight gave her an edge here. She could see just fine in the dark; her pursuer needed a flashlight. Flashlights, she’d quickly learned, did very little good in places with thick cover. She just needed to make it to the forest’s edge, and she’d lose him.
She plunged through the scrub at the tree line and into the dark confines of the woods, and sucked in a deep, relieved breath. Whoever had been coming after her wasn’t going to find her now. He would probably search for a while - they always did; she was a trespasser as far as they knew - but he wasn’t going to find her, not if she didn’t want to be found.
And she didn’t.
No one would want to be found, not like this.
…
Goro Nanase’s eyes were somehow imploring and angry at the same time. “Miss Nakano, please, not in my office! Someone might see you!!”
“Be quiet!” Emi slammed one of her fists down on his desk, shaking with rage. “You promised me full secrecy between midnight and three AM! What was one of your attendants doing there at that time?! I pay you for your protection, Mister Nanase!”
“You don’t give me enough money to make up for the vandalism that occurs during your three hours. I had to send someone around; the monolith is being defaced on a nightly basis!” He crossed his arms. “I am aware your circumstances are…unfortunate. However, I will not tolerate your rudeness. If you are going to lose your temper, you can leave.”
She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. She purposely let a rancid, rot-laced breath snake from between her lips, into his face - just to remind him who he was dealing with. “You think you can tell me what to do, Mister Nanase? You can’t get rid of me. You could put attendants in my area if you really wanted to, but I think you’ll find I lose my sense of modesty very quickly when people try to start a fight with me.”
Goro paled. “What are you suggesting?”
“I doubt it would be good for business if your guards started talking about a crazy woman eating rotting meat on your grounds. You could pay them to keep quiet, sure, but these things get out.” She tapped her long, grime-caked nails on his desk. “Especially when someone is helping these things get out.”
He narrowed his eyes right back at her before his shoulders slumped in defeat. “It will be equally bad for business if visitors see a spray paint-covered memorial stone,” he pointed out. “We need to reach some sort of compromise if we are to continue this…business deal.”
Emi leaned back and smiled at him, suddenly a poster-girl for traditional Japanese manners. “Of course. You just leave the vandals to me, Mister Nanase. I think you’ll find I’m more than capable of discouraging them from returning.” She pointed behind him. “May I ask you to open the window for me? I know you don’t need grimy handprints all over the glass, and I already made such a mess of your desk. My apologies.”
…
She and Goro had spoken more after his customers had left. He wasn’t shy about his dislike of conversing with her, but then, Emi doubted she’d be much inclined to either, were their roles reversed. He had begrudgingly promised her the hours she requested all to herself once more, provided she could rid the grounds of vandals. He would pay to have all defaced surfaces cleaned during the daylight hours, but the moment new graffiti popped up, their deal would be terminated and she could find a new place to live.
Emi was confident. Perhaps even arrogant, but she’d always been arrogant. That was how she’d gotten into this mess in the first place.
The night did not disappoint; she was given a chance to prove her usefulness at guarding the grounds right around 1:30. She watched from the shadows as a group of teenagers - three boys and two girls, it seemed - approached the towering black stone with muted giggles. Their apparent leader wore a backpack which rattled and clicked, and she suspected it contained spray paint. One of their group was quieter than the others and kept looking around nervously. It took Emi a moment to figure out why, but once she spoke, it was obvious.
“Hiroshi, are you sure we won’t get caught?”
The leader looked at her and snorted derisively. “Of course! We’ve been here plenty of times before - I’m telling you, there’s no one guarding this place between twelve and three. I’ve checked.”
The girl looked doubtful. “But…you could upset the spirits.”
He laughed at her - loud, without fear of being heard. “Spirits! Trust a girl from Iriomote to say something stupid like that.” She scowled at him but said nothing more, and he took it as a sign. “Come on! Keep an eye out for big, scary ghosts for us, okay Rie?” Emi grinned and shook her head. Stupid kids doing stupid stuff. She remembered being young, and even enjoying a few criminal adventures here and there, but that didn’t mean she was about to have mercy on this group of troublemakers. They were compromising her business relationship with Goro, and that, she couldn’t afford.
“You’re a jerk, Hiroshi.” She looked around nervously. “Haven’t you heard about the woman in blue?”
“Oh, come on,” the others groaned.
She frowned. “People don’t even know what she is! She might be a vengeful ghost!”
“Or she might be a crazy lady, or a stupid story. You’re such a baby!!”
Emi decided there was no better time to make her appearance. She crept up behind the group as the first clinking rattle of a spray bottle being shaken could be heard, slinking silently over until she was barely a foot away. Perfect.
“Or,” she whispered, “the woman in blue could be real…and she could be very, very upset with you.”
The teenagers screamed and turned to face her. Emi had no trouble looking terrifying. Her threadbare shirt, crayon-blue just like in the stories people told, was caked with reddish grime, and her face was twisted into a hungry grimace. She hadn’t fed since last night, and the need to eat was like a roaring lion in a tiny cage - angry, desperate, blind to all but its own need. She could smell dead meat, and she
wanted it, but it would have to wait until she cleared out the children.
Hiroshi was the first to calm down and laugh. “Okay, good job, guys. You got me.” Their continued whimpering made him frown. “Come on. This is a joke, right? It’s a joke.” Again, he was met with noises of fear, but rather than joining their panic, he grew angry. He pointed to Emi, snarling. “She’s not a ghost! Look at her, she’s just as real as any of us. Don’t be such cowards!”
“Leave,” Emi instructed coldly, indifferent to his tenuous bravado. “And don’t come back, not if you value your lives.”
He turned to face her, face sparking with a mixture of rage and terror. “You don’t scare me! You’re just some crazy homeless bitch!!” He grasped her shirt to shake her around and intimidate her a bit, and the worn fibers snapped and frayed as if they were no more substantial than cotton candy under his grip. Her shirt fell away
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