by Jet Lupin
“Help me take her to her room.” Kaoru managed to sound superior even down on his knees in service.
Everything about him irked Phil. So much that it had to be intentional. Phil went along with his demands for Chiyo. He bit down on his annoyance, and the three of them carefully got her onto Jonquil’s back. He was the fittest of the three and the least likely to get winded. Plus, he offered, so there was that.
Chiyo’s room overlooked the garden from the east wing. Phil’s room was to the north. They walked across the length of the garden to reach a door like Phil’s leading into her bedroom. Chiyo weighed next to nothing, so that was fine. What made it a trial was the unending stream of criticism and instructions pouring from Kaoru’s mouth.
“Watch out for that rock. Don’t jostle her so. I could do better by myself.”
The only reason Phil didn’t let him try was for Chiyo’s comfort. He was so damn disagreeable. Phil wondered how he got stuck with the job of Chiyo’s caregiver. He didn’t have the temperament for it.
When they stepped into her room, Jonquil eased down onto her feet. “I won’t let you put me in bed, I can handle that myself,” she said in Japanese. “Though I might call on you for a ride again.” She patted Jonquil’s ass as she passed. He glanced at Phil, mouth agape.
“What did she say?” Jonquil whispered.
“I’ll tell you later.”
Kaoru cleared his throat. “I need to treat her. Go.”
Chiyo hid behind Kaoru’s back and waved them off. She looked better already.
This was the first time Phil had been this close to Jonquil since they arrived. Chiyo kept his days busy and his evenings now were spent asleep, but Phil saw him from time to time, waved to him, and on occasion, Jonquil waved back. Phil was lonely here, but it must have been worse for Jonquil. The only yokai who knew English were Kaoru, Gekko, and Nikko, and all were disagreeable in one way or another. He must have found Phil’s company disagreeable too.
No better time to find out than now.
“Do you have a minute?”
Jonquil avoided making eye contact with him. “I’m kind of busy, actually.”
“No, you’re not.” Phil cut him off. “You were drooling when I found you. Just give me 10 minutes. That’s all I want.”
He blew out a sigh. “Fine.”
Phil led them to the kitchen. Someone was always there working. There were a lot of mouths to feed, including his own, and prep work seemed to happen around the clock. He could barely muster the energy to feed himself and Hugo back home, and one of those meals consisted of pouring kibble into a bowl.
This time, he happened upon a girl, with eyes a little too long and set too wide apart to pass as human, cutting vegetables. Chiyo taught him the phrase to ask for a snack after their sessions. The fact that the kitchen worker didn’t cringe as she gave him a tray with cups of tea and cookies meant that he’d mastered it. He thanked her and took the tray to his favorite sitting room.
The floor was covered with tatami mats and was comfortable to sit on even when there were no cushions around. Phil’s favorite feature, though, was the big window looking out onto the courtyard between the buildings. Jonquil took the seat right next to the window. Phil set their treats down on the low table and sat on the other side.
This was so awkward. Of all the men at Shige’s disposal, why had he made Jonquil come along? They’d been getting close once, but that was months of silence behind them. Now that Phil had him here, what did he say? Where did he start?
“Like it here?”
Jonquil smoothed down close cropped hair on the back of his neck. “I guess? This place is so different from what I expected.”
Phil moved his tea and snack closer. Jonquil watched him warily, but didn’t move to put more space between them.
“What do you mean?”
Jonquil bit his lip, mulling it over. Phil laughed to himself. Though his sensitivity didn’t let him read the thoughts of shifters clearly, he didn’t need it for Jonquil’s mind. His thoughts always showed on his face. At the moment, he was troubled, hunting for the right words to say. Phil didn’t push, and his patience was rewarded.
“Back home before I came into Mr. Shige’s service, Taz and I lived in a shifter community. Or it used to be. When he first came across us, long before I was even a thought in my great-great-great-grandparents' minds—and don’t ask me how he found such a small town in the middle of Nowhere, North Carolina—the population was about three-fourths shifter. It used to be more. But they were happy that way. Everyone got along, though, it wasn’t always easy. We struggled a lot. Even with Mr. Shige’s help, it wasn’t possible to stay isolated forever. People left, outsiders found us, and we let them in, let them marry into our families. Now we’re lucky if we can get one baby who can fully shift every few years. My family got lucky and got me and Taz. But with all these mixed families and people who didn’t know about us, I could never do this.” He gestured out the window. Phil rose to his knees and saw two very inhuman yokai walking the path under the awnings, chatting, enjoying the day. “Walking around, looking like that, not human, but they’re so carefree. Changing in front of people back on the estate feels weird for me. They’re all shifters, but they’re not family. It’s not the same. I admit, I might be jealous. It’s still way better than being home, though.”
A sense of community, reminiscent of Midoriyama, hung over the inhabitants here, as if they all shared a secret. Jonquil had seemed happy there before Phil showed up.
Phil had to search for the words this time. He’d thought about what he’d say in this very position and now the words wouldn’t come. He took a deep breath and dove into it.
“I know we haven’t gotten the chance to talk much, but I wanted to thank you for trying to help me escape that night. I’m sorry if I fucked things up for you.”
Jonquil sat there stunned for a second. Sadness crept into his eyes, a lopsided smile on his lips. “I fucked things up for myself. I should have had more faith in Lord Shige. I should have been patient.”
No, that wasn’t true. Having him say that felt wrong.
“Shige should have been more forthcoming about the situation from the start—if not with you, then definitely with me.” Shige could have told him anything, a version of the truth that didn’t raise more problems or something to keep him calm. There were so many ways this could have gone down other than the way it had. There was blame to spread around, but Jonquil wasn’t a target.
But Phil was putting this so far behind them, it didn’t matter anymore. Making sure Jonquil knew the truth was as important as accepting it himself. “You did the right thing.” He needed to know that. He thought someone was in danger and helped them even at the cost of his standing with his employer. He was a good person even if that meant he wasn’t the best at following orders.
“Thanks for saying that.” He ducked his head, his cheeks burning a ruddy red.
Phil was glad to say it. He needed to hear it.
Jonquil’s mood brightened, and he seemed more like himself since they’d reconnected. For a little while, Phil felt less alone.
As the sun started its descent behind the mountains, Phil had just enough time to bathe and catch a nap before dinner. Usually he would meet Chiyo in the dining room, but tonight he’d eat alone in his own room. Being alone and awake had become such a rare treat. Phil would savor it.
In his room, he took off his training gi, folded it, and left it outside the bathroom door. Thank god for whoever left clothes that fit him here. His sweats had had it after two days. He hadn’t brought enough clothes to sit in the dirt half the day. He hadn’t expected their training to be so physical. All the yokai he’d met so far were small. He couldn’t imagine one big enough to leave behind clothes that were baggy on him.
In addition to the training clothes, he’d inherited a nice soft yukata to wear after baths, too. Getting to relax like this in the evenings almost made all the hard work worth it. Almost.
; That and the bathtub.
He sank into the tub after a quick scrub, the hot water covering every part of him, relaxing every muscle in his body. How would a western tub satisfy him after this? He didn’t get the urge to soak often, but the harder Chiyo pushed him, the greater his need for it grew. The tub in his apartment wasn’t going to cut it.
Heat, warm hands grabbing at him, needy. Memories of Shige’s last night here came into his head unbidden. He’d said some cutting things about Shige earlier, but Phil missed him. There were things they had to work on, but that didn’t mean he stopped caring. Phil wished he was here now.
These evenings alone made him wistful and lonely. Sometimes, like now, he got goosebumps. As if someone was watching him. But that had to be all in his head.
Chapter 8
SHIGE
Abby had warned Shige, thoroughly and repeatedly, that his decision to remove himself from the world at large was a mistake. “The world’s changing in ways you can’t imagine. If you don’t make an effort to keep up, you’ll be left behind.”
He blew her off. At that time, he found the idea of mingling with society, human or otherwise, repugnant, so her words meant nothing. He wished now that he’d listened to her.
Every time he stepped out of the house, he grew dizzy. The day Abby slapped a phone in his hand, and told him to familiarize himself, he was totally unprepared. Everyone was connected to everyone else at all times, but miles apart from those standing next to them. She expected him to assimilate. Through months of trial and error, he’d gotten it. Yet, being thrown into the deep end like that hadn’t prepared him for what coming back to a changed home would be like.
The streets were so tightly packed with people and buildings claustrophobically cramped together. It was all lights, noise pollution, internet, games, that distance. Dizziness. Loneliness. He wished he could go back to Ten no Mon already. They were isolated, but they hardly seemed lonely, despite what Kaoru said.
Azabu had grown since the last time he was here. Parts of it were unintimidating and familiar, reminding him of when he was last here in the early 50s, but even more of it had become garish and opulent. Azabu became a haven for Tokyo’s elite as well as wealthy expatriates, all people with no problems throwing their money around. Toshinori must fit in well here.
“That’s his house up ahead.” The shifter behind the wheel, Junpei, nodded towards the end of the block as he slowed the car to a crawl. Large, with more rooms than Toshinori would ever have use for, the house was the biggest structure on the block. Cars choked the street in front of it.
Daichi, who was in the back seat with Shige rolled down his window. He inhaled deeply, using his okuri inu senses. “Something’s happened. The air smells off.”
Junpei caught Shige’s gaze in the rearview mirror rather than turn around. “Do we keep going?”
Shige slid forward, looking at the crowd steadily growing larger in front of them. “Yes, but in a less intimidating fashion.” Until they knew what was going on, not drawing undue attention to themselves was best.
Junpei pulled over to the curb, and they continued on foot. Chiaki and the three other yokai shifters took up tight formation around him. Junpei, the burly koma inu took point directly in front of him, with Naoki, Chiaki, and Yuuto at his sides and back. Shige couldn’t have been in a safer place unless he left the country. The five of them moving in contingent would have stood out had there been more people on the street for the sake of gawking. Thankfully, there weren’t too many residents out at the time of night, even with the commotion going on.
“They all smell human,” Naoki said, a frown tightening his weasel like features that marked him as okuri tachi even in this form. All of the shifters with them were new. Except for Chiaki, Shige had been better acquainted their parents and grandparents. Though Junpei had been a baby the last time Shige was here. They were setting eyes on him for the first times in their lives and they still treated him with deference. “Are you sure this is the place?”
“It is. Toshinori’s second is standing right outside.” Chiaki led them to a willowy man standing apart from everyone else milling about the sidewalk wringing his hands. Chiaki separated from their band and got in front. She slowed her steps as she approached, but despite her best efforts, the man still jumped when he saw her.
“Tabata-san, what’s going on here?”
“Ah, Uchita-san.” He gave a hasty little half bow, the hair combed over his bald pate flapping as he did. He was too harried to notice and fix it. “I’m afraid you’ve come at the worst possible time.”
“What’s happened?” Shige stepped forward, wanting to stop the endless loop of niceties before it started. Tabata stared at him, confused.
Chiaki gestured towards Shige. “Shige-sama, this is Toshinori’s assistant and manager of his household. This is Uchita Shige. He has an appointment with Mishima-san this evening.”
Tabata’s eyes widened. “Uchita-san?” He looked between them, his movements growing more twitchy by the second.
They were all Uchitas. All yokai that lived under Shige’s care took his last name and were entered into the family registry when if they ventured out into the world.
“She’s my niece. These are my nephews.” And they were getting off topic. “Is Mishima-san in?”
Tabata’s face lost its color, making him appear more gaunt and sick. “That won’t be possible, Uchita-san. Mishima-sama is dead.”
It took some coaxing, but eventually Tabata agreed to let them into the house. Toshinori hosting meetings in his home was a rare enough event that he believed Shige when he said he and Toshinori were well acquainted. Chiaki backing him helped things go along faster.
The inside of Toshinori’s house matched the outside. A reproduction of Saturn Devouring His Son dominated an entire wall in the entry way, greeting guests as they entered the house. Expensive textiles in designs and patterns Shige couldn’t name were tastefully paired with sleek modern accents, chrome, steel, and juxtaposed next to ancient wooden tables and marble counter tops. It was a cacophony of textures and colors that must have cost a fortune. Whether viewed individually or altogether, the statement they made was clear. It wouldn’t have surprised Shige if his progeny and Pampa had become friends.
Toshinori had been an unremarkable man when Shige met him: quiet, always staying the path. When Shige turned him, it released Toshinori’s inhibitions.
Rather than clue in his wife and son, whom he could have had join him on this new path, he abandoned them. The last Shige’d heard, he lived a life of perversion. Abby refused to talk about it in detail. It must have been something to see.
The deeper into the house they went, the more questionable the decor became.
Tabata led them past statues of people in various stages of coupling. Huge blown up prints of shunga carvings depicting people pleasuring themselves or others hung on the walls behind the statues. Toshinori seemed obsessed with sex. He might have been that way before Shige turned him—he had no way of knowing—but more likely, it was due to the tumor putting pressure on his brain. Changing him had slowed its growth, but it might never stop.
They stopped outside a heavy door made of lacquered wood that didn’t fit with the mostly polished, modern decor rest of the house. It was the kind of door Shige had seen in movies hiding a Draconian horror on the other side. Not even that would surprise him now.
Tabata paused at the door, his hand still on the knob. He turned to Shige, his voice shaking. “Mishima-sama was a bit… He wasn’t exactly…”
“I’m the same.” Shige hurried to assure him. He understood Tabata’s reservation and admired the devotion to protecting his employer’s reputation even in death, but Toshinori was long past caring.
“Don’t judge him too harshly. He told me there are rules for this sort of thing. If he broke any of them…”
Tabata trailed off and unlocked the door with a shiny skeleton key he produced from the pocket of his robe. He pressed a handkerchief to his m
outh and turned away.
Naoki, Junpei, and the quiet Yuuto went in first. Chiaki stayed at Shige’s side. A few seconds passed before Naoki popped his head out of the door, his bleach blond hair falling in his eyes. “It’s clear, Shige-sama. There’s no one in here that’s alive.”
Toshinori’s body lay on the floor, bare from the waist up. From the waist down was…
“A diaper?”
Tabata’s wails reverberated in the hallway. “You said you were the same as him!”
Shige nodded to Chiaki. “Get him out of here.”
Baby powder lay spilt, choking the air along with the strong scent of plastic. Racks of clothes spanned the length of the room along one wall. Clothes with frills and lace, leather, things that barely qualified as clothes. Toshinori had really spiced things up since they’d last met.
“Was anyone else in here?”
Yuuto lifted his nose in the air. “A lot of people have been through here, left a lot of scents, but the strongest belong to a man and a woman. Those are pretty faded. They left long before we got here.”
Shige knelt beside the body and touched Toshinori’s shoulder. The skin was clammy and cold to the touch, but so was Shige’s if he didn’t move for a while. He rolled Toshinori onto his back and saw the gaping hole in his chest. The surrounding blood had caked up against the flesh. The wound had stopped bleeding a long time ago. No human could have done this.
He rejoined Chiaki at the door where she had Tabata taking deep breaths. “Can he talk?”
“For the moment, but he’s obviously still upset.”
Shige gripped the other man’s shoulder, doing his best to be patient with this shell-shocked human. He flinched at Shige’s touch, but didn’t back away. “How long was Mishima-san like this? Did you call anyone before we arrived?”
