Yokai

by Dave Ferraro

  As they walked past the station and toward the compact town, Yumiko couldn’t wipe the grin off of her face. She spent so much of her time in Tokyo, especially holed up within a one-mile radius on the bad side of town, that it did wonders to have a change in scenery. It felt like a nice, quaint suburb, with wide open streets and lots of greenery. The air was fresh and clean, and the view wasn’t distorted by the harsh glow of neon lights, or disturbed by the incessant honking of impatient cars.

  “You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” Brian noted, watching her.

  Yumiko pursed her lips, then shrugged. “I suppose I am.”

  Brian looked happy at the admission, and led them down a street lined with traditional samurai houses. “This town in amazing,” he said. “It’s been untouched by war since it was built in the early seventeenth century.”

  Yumiko watched a man pulling a couple in a rickshaw as he passed them, before glancing up at one of the samurai houses, a sprawling estate beyond a tall wooden fence. “It’s beautiful here.”

  “Would you like to visit one of the houses?”

  Yumiko debated for a moment, but shook her head. “We’re here on business.”

  “But we can indulge ourselves a little since we’re here.”

  Yumiko chuckled. “Mr…Brian. Let’s take care of your business first, then we can determine if we have time to sightsee.”

  “I can agree to that,” Brian grinned at her. He touched her back gently to usher her forward, and she swallowed hard as a shiver of pleasure ran down her spine. She felt like a normal girl for the first time in a long while. It was easy to forget one’s self in a place like this, with a handsome man.

  But there were reminders of her quest everywhere, as well. A supernatural green glow emanated from one samurai house, while small creatures danced on the rooftop of another. Houses as old as these were bound to be infested with yokai, having seen so much history.

  At the end of the street, Brian took a left and Yumiko heard the Hinokinai River up ahead, and then she caught a glimpse of it through the trees. However, she was too distracted by the trees to focus on the water. She nearly froze at the sight of them. Cherry blossom trees, in full bloom, their branches overflowing with bright pink flowers, as if they held armfuls of beautiful bouquets in their arms.

  “Beautiful,” Brian breathed.

  Yumiko gaped at the trees, their branches hanging low, their trunks old and thick. “Yes, they are.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the trees,” he said softly, and brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

  Yumiko met his eyes, then looked away, knowing that her face was on fire. To save herself some embarrassment, she stepped forward so that she was in full view of the street. The branches of the trees formed a tunnel of pink, and without waiting for Brian, she walked along the tunnel, head turning up to take in the breathtaking scene. She felt surrounded by the flowers, their sweet scent invading her nostrils and making her think of spring. She caught another glimpse of the river through the trees and slipped between the trunks, hearing Brian’s footfalls muffled by the grass as he followed her.

  More cherry blossom trees bloomed near the river, the petals so pale they nearly looked white from where she stood, giving the trees the illusion that they’d been covered by snow.

  “Not everything in this world is ghosts and demons,” Brian said from behind her, so near that she had to resist her body’s impulse to lean into the heat he gave off. The scenery was so romantic that she didn’t trust herself around it; she didn’t think that she would remember herself and who she was if she looked at him again. But Yumiko knew that she wasn’t a normal girl, and she couldn’t give in to this temptation, to the illusion of…whatever this was. Because that’s all it was. An illusion. A respite from her real life, which was teeming with ghosts and demons.

  “Let’s get your book,” she said, her voice steady, although her heart thumped wildly in her chest. She tore her gaze from the beauty of the world around her and stared at the ground. It nearly brought tears to her eyes to turn her back on this, but this couldn’t be her life. She had less than twelve months to prepare for the upcoming battle, and she couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t going to arrive, that Kagami wouldn’t come for her.

  “This way,” Brian said, defeat heavy in his voice.

  Yumiko turned and followed, watching his back as he led her to the bookstore that was their destination, for fear that her eyes would wander and she would be tempted by the life that could have been, but wasn’t.

  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, how
ever. 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 qu
ickly 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-“