~~~

Dinner was chicken strips and a local Suwa soup that Miho had never seen nor heard of before.

However, after surviving the blue enigma of Kumamoto chicken, he was pretty flexible on food and finished everything in his bowl before Aya had even picked up her chopsticks.

And when, after twenty-odd minutes of staring at a fairly busy Reiko on the other side of the room, she finally did dig into the meal, it was more a nursing of the chicken instead of an actual, focused attempt to eat it.

‘I don’t think she’s going to talk to us,’ said Miho, following her line of sight. ‘Too many customers.’

Aya held up a clump of rice and then did nothing as it slipped and fell back into her bowl. ‘Far too many.’

‘Not sure how she copes with it all…if it’s like this every evening.’

‘She can’t, it’s impossible.’

‘And the kitchen staff are like ghosts, just bring in the food then gone. In fact, I think it’s the same guy each time. Sometimes in a hat, sometimes not.’

Aya muttered yeah and picked up a long strip of chicken, dipping it with a bit more attention into the spring onion sauce.

Miho looked around the rest of the izakaya, slouching back in his seat when he saw that none of the other customers looked like ashigaru. There was one guy who looked quite tall and muscular, but he was on his own and seemingly busy scribbling something on rice paper.

Probably a poet. Or a novelist. Trying to write the next Genji Monogatari or, if he was a traveller, Fuji Kikō.

Not that Miho had read either of those.

He’d tried Heike Monogatari once, when the local daimyō had authorised a book tour of the provincial villages and a copy of the text had sat in the Solitude Temple for a week and a half, but there’d been a queue behind him and he hated it when there was that kind of pressure…

Still, one page was enough to know it wasn’t for him.

As in, he didn’t understand what the author was going on about. Descriptions of tree bark and the different humming sounds of birds, okay, but how did that connect to the vibrations of human thought? And what the hell were ley lines and rhizomes?

Visibly shaking his head at the memory, Miho returned to his green tea and checked in on Aya.

Wah…

She wasn’t there, the seat was-…

For some reason, he looked out of the window first, using the hanging lanterns outside to aid his search of the street shadows.

Then, rationalism kicked in and he readjusted to a narrower range. The interior of the izakaya, specifically, the counter where Reiko was pouring out drinks.

Ah, there she was, hanging off the arm of her new idol.

He thought about shouting out, to ask what she was up to, but by the time the idea had fully gestated, Aya was already glaring his way, waving her hand in a signal that either meant spin-dance on the table or get over here.

Going with the latter, Miho wriggled out from the bench and weaved his way past tables of customers without katanas until he was parked on the stool next to her.

‘Here, take these…’ said Aya, holding out two bowls of Suwa soup.

‘What?’

‘We’re using our expertise to help out.’

‘You mean work?’

‘Volunteer shift.’

‘Paid,’ corrected Reiko, glancing over from the eight cups of shōchū she was pouring out.

‘But…you haven’t finished your dinner yet.’

Aya patted her stomach and said she’d had enough already, and it was more important to repay the debt from earlier.

‘You are a strange girl,’ said Reiko, putting the eight cups on a tray and then picking the whole thing up without any sense of caution at all. ‘Ashigaru in here is bad for business, it had nothing to do with you.’

‘They were standing next to our table, leering…’

‘Happens to all young girls. Young boys too.’ She glanced at Miho, stopping just short of winking, then walked off to one of the tables on the far side of the izakaya. After chatting for a minute, she came back, patting both Miho and Aya on the shoulder. ‘Still, if you really want to spend your leisure time serving drunk locals and salt merchants here, I won’t stop you. And you will get paid for it, I insist.’

Aya opened her mouth to protest, but Reiko wasn’t finished.

‘Of course, if all you do is stand there gawping while that soup gets cold then you won’t get anything…’

Miho looked down at the two bowls in his hands and…almost dropped them when Aya nudged him in the side and said to get on with it.

‘Where? Which table?’

‘The couple who look sleepy.’ She pointed at an old guy and a thirty-something year old woman, both in matching pink yukatas. ‘Or the father and daughter. I’m not sure.’

‘Wife and husband,’ said Reiko, this time winking for real.

‘Oh.’

‘Don’t ask how old she was when they got married…’

‘Err…’

‘Soup. Go,’ she said, pushing Miho towards the table and laughing when he tripped on his own zori and almost dropped both bowls onto the wife’s lap.

‘He’s better at cooking,’ said Aya, launching a soft defence.

‘Yeah?’

‘A lot better.’

‘Sounds like a good catch.’

Aya made a gah sound, looking down at her hands and being momentarily confused when she couldn’t see any soup bowls.

‘Of course, we won’t tell him that,’ added Reiko with a smile.

~~~

The impromptu, definitely paid shift lasted another two hours before Reiko finally called them over and said that all the food was done for the night.

‘Still looks quite busy,’ said Aya, looking around the izakaya and scratching her arm under the yukata sleeve.

‘Because we close at 1am.’

‘What, that late?’

‘It’s what we’re famous for. Open at one, close at one.’

‘You mean…you do a twelve hour shift, every day?’

‘When you say it like that, it makes me sound heroic. No, most days are pretty lethargic, it’s just that it’s festival season now and we get a lot of travellers from around the province. Other provinces too.’

‘Like us…’ replied Miho, glancing at Aya to see if she would add anything to their background narrative.

Nope, she was too busy scratching herself and seemingly counting out the number of remaining customers, or guessing the amount of shōchū left in their cups.

‘I suppose I should ask…what are your plans? Are you staying here for the Onbashira festival?’

‘Not sure yet,’ answered Miho, adding a redundant shrug ‘I have to continue north, to Shinano.’

‘Is that where you’re from, Shinano?’

‘No, no…it’s where my girlfriend is. Or where I hope she is.’

‘Ah, girlfriend,’ Reiko said quietly, looking at Aya, who was still occupied with her shōchū calculations. ‘Always nice to have one close by.’

‘Err…yeah. I think so.’

‘What about you, young lady? Are you off to Shinano too?’

Aya heard the young lady part and turned back, mentally sketching out the two faces staring back at her then saying, ‘what?’

‘Are you going with your friend here to Shinano?’

‘Friend?’ She looked at the vague outline of Miho and slowly shook her head. ‘No. I don’t know. Maybe.’

‘You seem unsure…’

‘Actually, I might just stay here. For a while.’

‘Well…if that’s the case…if you’re serious about it…then there’s a job here for you any time you want. In fact, starting right now, if that’s not too sudden?’

Aya pulled her hand out from her sleeve, rubbed the ends of her nails then stuck it back in again and resumed scratching.

‘Why don’t you take a rest, think about it for a while?’

‘The same shift?’ she said sharply, pulling Reiko back from her attempt to leave with the shōchū bottle.

‘That’s right. One to one.’

Aya pushed her bottom lip over the top one and nodded like an arthritic rock dove. If Miho hadn’t known her a little, he would’ve thought she didn’t understand Japanese, but he did know her and based on her intensive arm scratching, he was guessing the slowness had something to do with Himiko.

Perhaps the idea of working for another employer so quickly, a woman who seemed like a replica of the last one, albeit a bit more gregarious?

It seemed like a solid theory and, as they returned to their table by the open window, he briefly thought about saying it out loud…but then Aya stopped scratching and put her face flat on the table.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Open to one in the morning…why? For who?’

‘I thought it would fit you quite well. Your trouble sleeping…the laidback customers and environment.’

Aya turned her face side-on and showed a barely existing eyeball to Miho…then a moon-sized one as she shot up and said, ‘kuso…’

Miho turned fast, picking up a chopstick to fend off the bird or bear or ashigaru he expected to see coming through the window.

Then dropping it when he saw the grinning face of Akira staring back at him.

‘No need for kuso, you little thieves,’ he said, the jovial tone not at all matching his words. ‘I come in peace and benevolence. And with a shit load of new coins.’

‘How did you-…’

‘Find out where you were? Walked past, saw Miho’s oblivious fat head and…magic, here I am. Point of advice by the way. Never take the window seat. It’s borderline suicidal.’

‘We’re not in Kai Province anymore.’

‘Kai, Suwa, Echigo, they’re all the same on some level. Spies everywhere. Which reminds me, I better get inside. Wait here…’

Akira vanished from the window and re-appeared a few seconds later at the entrance. He managed to get two steps in before Reiko yelled at him to turn back round and get out.

‘Excuse me, there seems to be a mistake. I am but a simple salt merchant passing through from-…’

‘A salt merchant with a sharp-looking katana.’

‘Protection,’ Akira said quickly, moving his hand onto the guard…with the splint he’d made nowhere to be seen.

Reiko left the bottle of shōchū on the table she was positioned next to then marched over to the entrance. Just as earlier in the day, there was no hesitation, no fear, she just put out a pointed hand and jabbed Akira in the chest.

‘Gods in fresh shit…what the fuck are you doing, woman?’

‘Out. Go.’

‘I told you, I’m a salt merchant from-…’

‘You’ll be a pile of salt on the floor if you don’t get out. Move, come on. And tell your ashigaru friends to stop pushing me or the shrine will hear about it…understand?’

‘Not a word or syllable…’ Akira tried to grab Reiko’s hand to stop her jabbing, but she was surprisingly fast, her fingers slipping out of his grasp each time. ‘Will you stop…for one second?’

‘It’s okay,’ said Miho, rushing over. ‘He’s with us.’

‘You see, my guarantor,’ said Akira, stretching his arm out to point at Miho and immediately having it swatted aside. ‘Kuso…’

‘Really, he’s our friend.’

‘What, a salt merchant?’

‘Yes.’

‘With a katana?’

‘Defensive only…he’s been attacked on the road before, several times. Last time, they beat him so bad, he was in bed for a week.’ Miho edged round the side of Akira and brushed away some of his hair. ‘Look, you can still see the wound.’

Reiko moved round the other side of Akira and squinted at the dried blood on his scalp. Then looked over at Aya, who may have nodded, it was too hard to tell, but it was apparently enough to earn the ashigaru a reprieve.

‘You can stay as long as they do,’ she said, putting her hand on the guard of his katana. ‘But this goes in the back room with me.’

Looking down at her hand, then at the customers in the izakaya, Akira muttered, ‘should’ve gone straight to Suwa,’ and relented.

Reiko took out the katana and said, ‘good boy,’ then made her way over to the stairs by the counter.

‘I preferred the weird couple,’ Akira said to himself, following Miho back to the table and sitting down next to Aya. ‘What’s up with you?’

She shuffled away from him, her hand moving to one of the chopsticks still in her rice bowl.

‘Relax, I’m not gonna do anything. Here in peace, remember?’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Good, good, scepticism…you shouldn’t trust anyone. In fact, if that couple hadn’t taken me down to their weird little shrine room and given me a whole bowl of coins…and rubbed some fucking miracle cream on my wrist…then I probably would be beating you right now. But they did. So I won’t.’ He paused, taking some of Miho’s green tea. ‘Besides, there’s still an off-chance that I’ll need to use you as a human shield at some point.’

‘Hey…’ said Miho, frowning.

‘Joke. I wouldn’t do that. Got my fighting hand sorted now so there’s no need. And then there’s all the bonding we did on the road here...’

‘All the arguing, more like.’

‘Exactly. Very enjoyable. Now, where’s the shōchū?’

~~~

It took just over an hour for Akira to reach the slurred speech, I love all of you even Himiko level of drunkenness and that was probably cos he’d already drunk half a bottle of shochu earlier, on the road down to Uehara, in plain sight of everyone.

‘Not bad as you think…’ he said, words mangled, his hands moving over to slide the window panel shut for the seventh time since he’d got there. ‘Suwa province now…no need to be all wary…scrutinising things. But a little bit…okay…spies are here, can report back…’

He stopped, studying his audience; Miho with his cup of green tea, and Aya toying with the dregs of her cold soup.

‘Reminds me one time long back…long ago.’ He burped, quickly grabbing the bottle and pouring out another shot of shōchū. ‘A friend of me, two of us in the mountains…and a woman appears next to the fire. She’s sitting there, eating, stoking the fire and…looks innocent, very nice and…no knife or complick…accomplice, bandit, that kind of thing…’

Another break as Akira downed the shōchū, his hand already gripping the bottle for the next shot.

‘I think it’s empty,’ said Miho gently, watching the ashigaru tip the bottle upside down.

‘Too fast...’

‘Maybe it’s a sign.’

‘Yes, big sign.’ Akira raised a hand and shouted out ‘dragon lady’ across the izakaya. A few curses came back at him from the other patrons, but he didn’t care much as Reiko had got his signal and was coming over. ‘Where was it…the fire, woman eating…no accomplice, bandit. And my friend…he was a wild kind, bear like…and he goes to her and…her hair, just strokes it…grabs it and strokes it…and does she likes it? Maybe, who knows, cos next thing he’s falling on her and…ah, sorry, accident, didn’t mean to land on top of you and…she looks at him, eyeball into soul, death stare…’

‘What is it?’ asked Reiko, stopping on the opposite side of the table and resting her hand on the bench behind Aya.

Akira looked up, his mind clearly years back in the past, the face of Reiko merging with the woman in his tale.

‘Okay, I think you’ve had enough for the night.’

‘Katana…’ he said, the word riding out on shōchū breath.

‘It’s upstairs, in one of the vacant rooms.’

‘Need it.’

‘Are you leaving?’

Akira responded by standing up, stumbling across to the next table [which was empty, fortunately] and then falling sideways onto the floor.

‘He has money, right?’ Reiko asked, turning to Aya and Miho.

‘Yes,’ replied Miho, nudging Aya in the side.

‘Lots of money,’ she added, a little dazed.

‘Well, if he can make it up to the room where his katana is, he can sleep there. The two of you as well, if you don’t have somewhere else already?’

‘No, thank you. We’ll stay.’

Reiko nodded and moved over to Akira, kicking him. He slurred a response then pulled himself up using the table leg, telling her he’d changed his mind, it was too early to sleep and what he really needed to do was go for a peaceful late night stroll. With his katana.

‘Fine, I’ll go and get it…but I won’t hand it over until you’re standing outside.’

‘Outside. Inside. River.’

‘Okay, well…you just wait over there. Try not to fall down again.’

Shaking her head at the swaying form of Akira, she headed up the stairs and returned a minute later with the katana. Gesturing at him to come over, she then proceeded to walk outside.

Then came back in two minutes later and told Akira to stop hassling the young woman in the pink yukata, she was already married.

‘So am I,’ he slurred and zig-zagged over to the door, disappearing outside along with Reiko.

‘You think he’ll be okay?’ Miho asked Aya, who was leaning across to open up the window again.

‘It’s pretty quiet out there.’

‘Could be some bandits hiding by the river, beyond the treeline.’

‘Should be okay.’

Miho nodded, taking more of his green tea. Aya’s tone was quite distant, as if she were one of those festival psychics channelling a dead person’s voice through her own, and the more he thought about the comparison, the less comfortable he felt about Yuki being alone out there.

Unless she’d found someone else to protect her?

A stronger, more experienced man?

Turning back to the table, he tried to focus on the soup bowl, the chopsticks, the other customers in the izakaya, but all of it had the faint image of Yuki’s face laid out on top, and, as his mum always told him, if you want to stop worrying about a thing then it’s better to talk about it, use it up, get tired of hearing its name.

Following this advice, he put Aya in frame again, shivering slightly as for a brief moment he saw himself pushing forward and kissing her, then the two of them naked, entwined, her body slowly morphing into the whiter form of Yuki and-

‘I’m going to bed,’ said Aya, dropping the chopstick on the table.

‘What?’

‘Bed. Upstairs. You can stay here.’

Miho watched her stand up and walk away from the table, choosing a route across the izakaya that evaded all other customers and then, finally, getting eaten up by the stairs.

‘Yuki…Yuki…’ Miho mumbled to his cup of green tea. ‘Please don’t be out on the road at night.’

The entrance door slid open and Reiko came back in. She looked over at the table and frowned, then decided to investigate.

‘Aya gone to bed?’

Miho nodded. ‘Just now.’

‘Odd. I didn’t tell her which room you were in.’ She looked across at the stairs, then back at Miho. ‘It’s seventeen, by the way. I’ll give you the spare key when I come back down.’

‘Okay.’

Reiko hurried off, wiping something on her yukata as she went, and Miho went back to sipping green tea.

Now that Akira and Aya were gone, the place felt empty, even though there were at least ten other customers on the nearby tables.

Reminded him of the first week away from Nambu, when he’d sat alone in the cheapest ryokans he could find, crying himself to sleep the first night then just lying still and staring up at the ceiling, painting imaginary scenes of him and Yuki chasing each other around the snowy mountains, drinking warm shōchū, snuggling up next to an acceptable fire, having sex for at least twenty minutes, her cold breath making him tingle…

A shout of ‘Moooooove’ from the street outside snapped him back, his hand moving to slide the window firmly shut.

He looked at the empty seat next to him, at the stairs farther across.

Tried to suppress the demon voice inside his brain screaming to get up there, kiss her, rip off her yukata, she’s a dozen times better than that weirdo cold witch, a dozen, dozen times, infinite.

Then pushed himself up and muttered, ‘she is quite funny,’ and headed over to the stairs.

It was only one floor up and, as he checked the number on the first door panel, another one slid open farther down the passageway, with Reiko coming out and saying, ‘key time.’

Handing over a small metal thing that would be incredibly easy to lose, he said good night and waited until she was a third of the way down the stairs, then slid open the door panel next to number seventeen.

The room was empty, as was the futon. But Aya’s bag was there.

Which meant, somehow, she’d come up and gone out again. Or she’d gone to the bathing room.

He leaned against the wall, and breathed out in relief. Or frustration. Possibly a mix of both.

‘Probably for the best,’ he mumbled, taking out the yellow-skinned demon stone from his bag.

Company or sleep?

He rotated the stone in his hand and looked at the door panel, wondering if Aya would come back in with a towel wrapped around her chest.

Or if she’d go missing for the whole night again.

He sat down on the futon, keeping the stone tight in his hand.

If he’d actually do anything when she did come back.

If this was just loneliness

the absence of Yuki

or another?

If it was just

His eyelids sagged and his body went down, spreading out over one clear half of the futon in case she did come back.

Which had to happen at some point

her or Akira.

Hopefully her.