~~~

There are times when tiny creatures are smart and times when they are outright suicidal, as was the case when a single mosquito [big for its age] decided to sneak through the gap between Miho and the sliding balcony panel, and make its way over to the exposed neck of the unconscious samurai.

Fortunately for the little insect, Akira was too far out of it to notice, and Miho was distracted by the fairy tale landscape around the ryokan.

Snow-capped mountains, a gentle stream, cabins tucked away discreetly on the slopes and this little balcony to enjoy it all from.

The Jewel of Kai Ryokan.

Could this be the paradise Yuki had talked about?

He closed his eyes, sharpening the memory.

The two of them laying on the local hill, overlooking his village’s main landmark; a rock formation shaped like a line of upturned rice bowls. Him wrapped in two blankets, her wearing the thinnest possible kosode.

Lacks snow.

That’s what she’d said, placing her cold hand on his neck and forcing him to suppress a reflex spasm.

And then she’d described her home; a place of endless white, of cabins dotted arbitrarily around mountaintops, of rivers that flowed off the edges of staggering cliffs and seemed to hang there indefinitely.

Well Yuki, he thought, looking at the stream below, one and a half isn’t bad. Or one and three quarters depending on how she judged the snow level. Most of it was higher up, spread over the slopes of the mountains leading up to Nagano, not exactly endless, but not too far from-

He stopped, spotting something odd on the slope to the left. Some kind of green light was coming out from the main balcony of the cabin.

Wasn’t that the one those two samurai were going to?

He thought back, shivering slightly when he recalled the fat samurai advancing on him with his katana drawn. All because he'd said hey about the guy punching a girl on the back of the head.

Definitely not typical samurai behaviour. Not the type his father described anyway. More like that of a couple of drunk bandits, if he were being honest. And they seemed to know the samurai he was with. Greeted each other like friends. Kōtoku…that’s what they’d called him.

Was he a thug too?

And what the hell was that green glow?

Miho leaned forward over the wooden railings and tried to pick out some details, but it wasn’t easy; it was a green light, like an outline around the frame of the balcony door panels.

Behind him, there was a groaning noise, followed quickly by a kuso.

Miho turned to look and saw the samurai – Kōtoku – swatting at something in the air like a blind man.

A mosquito probably.

Must’ve let one in when he opened the door panels to the balcony. Or it had been camped out in the room all day, waiting for new blood.

Putting his hand on the edge of the panel, Miho turned back to the cabin on the slope and muttered ‘okay then.’ The green glow had gone, and everything was dark, as if no one was even staying there.

Maybe they were in a different cabin, he thought, going back inside the room and closing the screen behind him.

There was only one okiandon but it was enough to light up the four walls, the two futons, the wisteria bonsai tree on the desk and the obligatory painting of mountain landscape, in this case, Mt Aino. A smaller lamp with a handle lay by the balcony panel, presumably for impromptu, and possibly erotic, midnight trips into the solitude of the nearby slopes.

Not much chance of that, thought Miho, looking over at the occupied futon.

The samurai was still swiping at the mosquito, in a very haphazard manner, the sleeve of his kosode constantly getting in the way. It was quite hard to watch, so Miho walked over and tried to help him out; standing very still over his body and scanning each molecule of air for movement.

‘Got you,’ he said, a little bit too loud, and clapped his hands on what he hoped was the blood-sucking insect.

Hope died fast as he opened up and saw that his palms were clear. Except for the fruit knife scar his mum had given him.

To celebrate its escape, the mosquito buzzed near his ear, three separate times, before flying off to hide somewhere else in the room.

‘Kuso…’ he spat, sitting down on the futon and almost jumping backwards through the wall when he saw the samurai sitting up, staring right at him with death herb eyes.

‘Who are you?’ he burst out, so sharp it was almost in one single syllable.

‘I carried you here…meijin,’ said Miho, holding up his hands flat in the peace pose. ‘To this ryokan.’

‘The demon woman…purple smoke…’

‘She’s gone. I told you, when you woke up before. Remember?’

Akira rubbed the back of his head, his eyeballs returning to normal size…and then narrowing further as he sized up Miho. ‘You carried me here?’

‘Yes, meijin. Seven kilometres, with several stops.’

‘Name?’

‘Err…Miho.’

Akira instinctively looked from Miho’s face down to his chest, then rubbed his eyes.

‘It’s true, meijin. My father wanted to call me Mito. But there was a mistake at the birth signing.’

‘Gods in a beach hut…’

‘After that, he said it was destiny. And changing it would bring a curse on our family.’

‘Miho. Mi-ho.’

‘I’m used to it now.’

‘Your father must be laughing his ass off…’

‘I don’t know. He’s dead.’

Akira straightened up, losing the smile fast and coughing. ‘Lucky man. I came pretty close myself.’

‘The ryokan owner said she would bring some herbal tonic up soon. That should help you recover.’

Akira grunted in acknowledgment, and took in the room around them. The fresh kosode around his body didn’t appear to surprise him much, probably as he was too busy reaching for his katana. Miho had laid it out carefully beside his futon, making sure not to damage it in any way.

‘Don’t know if it was a dream or not,’ he said, running his finger along the flat side of the blade, ‘but I recall seeing an acquaintance of mine outside. Another ashigaru…’

‘You mean the samurai?’

Akira laughed and quickly turned it into a hacking cough.

‘Sorry, meijin, he had a katana, I thought-…’

‘Ashigaru. Default name. And no more meijin shit…it’s annoying.’

‘Sorry…err…’

‘Akira.’

Miho’s face performed what could only be called maze within a maze sponsored by maze, hearing the costume of a first name but refusing to accept that’s what was actually said.

‘You can skip the shock, I tell everyone to use it.’ Akira pulled himself up higher onto the pillow. ‘What was the ashigaru doing?

‘Well, the fat one…’ answered Miho, looking back towards the balcony. ‘…I think he was moving his luggage. And the other one-…’

‘There was someone else?’

‘Yes. Him and another samu-…ashigaru. Not fat. Actually, they weren’t very friendly…the fat one punched a female staff on the head.’

‘The second one…’ Akira said, darting forward and grabbing Miho’s yukata sleeve. ‘Did he have a blue piece of cloth wrapped round his wrist?’

‘Err…’

‘Think. Light blue cloth, quite thick.’

‘I’m not certain, but…there was something blue, on his arm…maybe cloth.’

‘Kuso. Are they still here now?’

‘I think so.’

‘Where? Which cabin?’

‘I’m not sure.’

Akira let go of the sleeve and pivoted back to his katana, attempting to seize its guard and leap up to his feet in the same movement. It was an ambitious move, and failed quite swiftly as his head started to sway and, before he could get a firm stance with his right leg, he was toppling backwards onto the futon.

As his head hit the pillow, there was a knock at the door.

‘Donopenaa…’ Akira slurred, before falling back into his traditional comatose state.

Miho took two deep breaths then got up and slid open the main door panel. Part of him expected a blade to run him through, but that was clearly a small and silly part as it turned out to be the ryokan owner standing there, not the fat ashigaru.

‘The herbal tonic for your friend,’ she said, holding it out for him to take.

‘Thanks.’

‘Is he awake yet?’

Miho took the drink back inside the room, performing the act of checking even though he knew Akira was clean out. ‘Not yet,’ he replied, coming back to the door.

Himiko bowed slightly, the green necklace around her neck hanging forward and revealing something else green behind it; a spiral tattoo…on the top part of her breast. Miho tried not to look, but the colour pulled him in and he was still squinting at it when she lifted herself back up.

‘We’re not that kind of ryokan,’ she said, pushing the necklace over to cover her tattoo.

‘Sorry?’

‘That applies to the other staff, too.’

He blinked, his brain catching up to her words. ‘No, I wasn’t looking at-…there was a-…on your chest, the tattoo…cos your necklace was hanging down, it looked weird and…sorry, I didn’t mean-…it was an accident, really.’

It was a stumbling sentence and did nothing to change Himiko’s stone-like expression. She placed one hand on the sliding panel door and the other out flat.

‘Payment,’ she said, gesturing at her palm.

‘I really am sorry, I wasn’t trying to look at you…in that way.’

‘Eighty mon.’

‘Yes. Payment. Of course, I’ll get it now. Just a second.’

Miho hurried back inside the room, calling himself a fucking fool internally and trying to think of a way to correct the mistake. Ask about the tattoo? Make it clear that he was looking at that, not anything else? But the tattoo was on her breast, so he was looking at that too. Kuso, it was a mess. Maybe if he just went back to the necklace, asked about that instead?

Untying the coin bag from his belt, he opened it up and…pretty much had a heart attack on the spot.

Flat pebbles.

The whole bag was-…it was empty. No coins at all, just a large pile of flat, fucking pebbles.

‘Is this a joke?’ asked Himiko, her voice-box seemingly perched on his shoulder.

He spun round, shouted, ‘wah!’ and spilled the bag of flat pebbles onto the tatami mat.

‘These pebbles are your money?

‘It doesn’t make sense, it was full of coins…’

‘Hmm.’

‘It’s true, you have to believe me. I used some in Nirasaki, buying food…the chicken bun…’

‘You’re either a con man or a fool. Either way, the punishment is the same.’

‘Punishment?’

Himiko looked right, at the sprawled figure of Akira on the futon, then back at Miho, her arms folded. ‘Your friend is useless. Which means you’ll have to work off the debt on your own.’

‘Work it off?’

‘Menial work around here. Cleaning the rooms, scrubbing the floor. Helping Chef Amo in the kitchen.’

‘Okay…that doesn’t sound so bad.’

‘By my calculation, assuming you’re staying in this room, the total debt will be settled in two and half months.’

‘That long?’

‘If you sleep outside, you can be clear in a week.’

Miho turned to the balcony, feeling the slight chill seeping through the minute gaps between the window panel and the wall.

‘Your friend too.’

‘Friend?’

‘The ashigaru lump over there.’

‘He can’t sleep outside, he’s injured…’

‘It’s up to you. Either way you’ll give me at least a week.’

Turning back, Miho stared at Akira on the futon, knowing he didn’t really have a choice and the thinking time was just a gradual, seeping depression at having had all his coins stolen. Somehow. Without him knowing anything about it.

‘Okay, I accept,’ he said, bowing to Himiko.

‘It was not an offer,’ she replied, taking a last look at the prone ashigaru before turning and walking out of the room.

Kuso multiplied by infinity, Miho thought, watching her leave the door panel open. How did I end up in this mess?

~~~

As the moon emerged from behind a stubborn collection of clouds, the light bouncing off its surface sailed again without obstacle through the atmosphere and down onto the forest clearing/massacre site, illuminating the scratch marks on the lid of the demon’s box.

No human would be able to read it, but it roughly translated as ‘FUCK YOU ATTA KA YUKIO.’ The demon, who was in human form down to her waist, consolidated the message by throwing little twigs at the side of the box.

This kind of stillness, the complete lack of forward momentum…it was the worst kind of hell.

All the pedantic rules of this cursed place…

Stuck with the box.

Can’t move it with your own force.

Can’t possess dead animals as their little brains would explode.

Atta Noe knew them all well, had been told them multiple times, had even been warned against coming to the humans’ side, but still she had felt compelled to challenge each one of them.

Six foxes, three birds and several hundred ants later, and she had to admit that the teachers were right.

About that particular rule.

Nothing else.

She picked up a twig and threw it at one of the hinoki poles, falling short by a few inches. These hands, she thought, looking at them with disgust.

‘… … … … …’

Turning them to purple mist, she imagined all the things she would do when she got those two incompetent water carriers back to Shingen’s castle. Making her wait this long, in such a quiet, tedious place. Probably on the orders of that snake Atta Ka Yukio.

Don’t worry, we’ll send two of our most reliable men.

You’ll be back in no time.

Her hands came back, picking up a twig and snapping it in two. Then dispersed into frenetic purple again.

Yes, those two reliable dogs…their dismembering would be done by her personally, not the specialists. She would make them suffer for the same exact time she’d had to sit there, feeling the same pain she felt now.

Assuming they were still alive…

The purple vapours snaked up and around her arm, her eyes following their trails.

There was a chance they’d met some kind of accident on the road, or bumbled their way into a fight with the wrong people. Or simply got jumped by bandits.

That would be disappointing.

She smiled, watching two streams of purple spark against each other.

But then, she still had the other two, the coward ashigaru and the idiot boy. They were the priorities. If she could ever catch up to them.

‘… … … … … …’ she hissed in her own language, the rest of her torso turning to purple mist and drifting rapidly over the hundred metre stretch of canopy, curving into a small cloud when she reached the edge of the steep slope.

The scene of her failure.

No, she corrected in her own thoughts. Temporary setback. Not failure. Never that.

She reformed her human head and looked down at the precise spot where the idiot boy had defied her. A random human, coming along at that exact moment, utterly gormless. And she’d walked down the slope like she was out for an afternoon stroll.

Yes, bad tactic. She knew that now.

And she knew how to correct it.

A fox made a mewling sound somewhere in the trees behind her, probably coming across the other six foxes she’d accidentally exploded earlier.

Atta Noe ignored it and focused on the path below.

All she needed was another stranger to appear down there. Preferably in the morning.

Then she’d be able to fix things.