The Shinigami and the Ox named Pox

She only dared to squint her eyes ever so slightly, convinced it was enough to help her get her bearings, but it was still too dim to make out much. She felt herself on a soft surface. A bed? Most of her skin was bare, but she felt some sort of linen covering her top half.

But what unnerved her the most were the hands fussing all over her. A wet cloth brushed her skin. Arms, feet, legs, all over. Two… no, three pairs of hands moved in precise, fluid motions. Some hands felt icy and others warm, but all of them were wet; they felt like small hands women would have but her peeking only showed her dark silhouettes moving about.

Was she dead?

Were they preparing her body for the burial? That winged, horned kidnapper, was he a *Shinigami? He could have snatched her to the afterlife and she wouldn't know any better. That strange power he used…

No, this felt like something else. She tried to concentrate, but her panic persisted. This was preposterous! She was probably already giving herself away with her trembling and all the faces she was pulling whenever the hands touched her, but no one was saying anything. The hands just kept wiping; like she was a precious ancient jar or a relic, she was being handled with care.

There was a strong smell coming off of some cream they rubbed over her body. She couldn’t place the scent, but she could still smell it; the dead shouldn’t be able to smell, right? This was good. She couldn’t get enough of it. It was the fragrance of a damp forest just after heavy rains. It helped relax her somewhat, but like a nagging itch, the questions kept bubbling up: where was this? Why was she here? And why was she letting strangers rub things on her body? Someone had kidnapped her just a week before her exhibition! How could this be happening now?!

It would probably help understand things better if she just opened her eyes… She took another surreptitious peek, but again, she couldn’t make much. There was just movement; very precise and cautious movement.

She thought of her mother then. ‘Living just on Gyoza, Onigiris and Melon pan will get you nothing but a brief life! You must learn to cook! You must learn other life-skills! Locking yourself all day painting is not enough. How else are you going to learn to care for yourself?! And when you get a family? What then?’ She should’ve paid more attention to her mother’s obsessive teachings. Perhaps today, she would be more cunning and brave to face her current circumstances. Despite her mother’s incessant and impatient rants, the woman was a fighter. Making it to Japan as a refugee from North Korea, losing her parents at such a young age and still she made it on her own in a country that struggled to accept her… she was a true survivor. She would say it was all thanks to God, but really, Mara knew it was all down to her own wits and tenacity; there was no situation she couldn’t face.

But how could one face this situation? A horned guy appeared out of nowhere and then kidnapped her?!

No. There had to be more to this. She just needed to focus.

She peeked again after the hands move away. Three of them, as she had suspected, were women. Very slender, in grey clothes. The women turned to her again, and she shut her eyes and wondered how long she would have to carry this on. As if in response, a chilly hand reach under her lower linen piece and moved up to her naked stomach.

Unable to take anymore, she screamed.

Too late to back out now.

Immediately, like a wounded animal, she sprung up and crawled backwards towards the head of the bed. There wasn’t much of a distance between her and her caretakers, but she realised no one attempted to reach for her either. She quickly pulled the sheet to cover herself. All other movements ceased.

Mara blinked in disbelief. These women, or so they appeared to be, had their hands held up in the air in strange positions. They seemed to freeze up.

They appeared to be alive, but at the same time, they did not. Their skin was so ashen and grey, it seemed devoid of all blood. Mara gasped when she looked at one of them and she appeared to not have a mouth; another had bandages covering her neck and arms with dark-circled eyes, unnaturally wide, as if she had no eyelids; and the last one, the shorter one, looked the most human, but she was in some sort of trance, staring into space. This one had dark skin and no apparent deformities (that she could see); in fact, she seemed too human, too pretty and didn’t quite fit the scene. All of them had dark circles under their unfocused eyes. Somehow, even in their frozen state, they seemed aware of her. Their eyes did not follow their bodies as they faced her direction. It was disturbing how they waited with their arms lifted high, frozen in the air.

She didn’t move for what felt like an eternity. She even managed her breathing under control.

With a brief burst of courage, she got on all fours and crawled towards the women. She would need to go through them, anyway, to reach the door. Still, they did not move. Feeling braver still, Mara observed the one with no mouth. She was the most shocking one. She looked young, probably around her own age. But she was so gaunt that Mara feared her bones would poke through her skin at any minute. With a hesitant reach, Mara made for the woman’s face. She dared not touch her, and just let her hand hover over the place where her mouth should have been. The woman’s eyes were cornered elsewhere, and she was still as a statue. Mara looked closer. There had to be an old scar, a sign of a deformity even. She trembled with the realisation that there wasn’t anything of the sort. It was as if the woman had never possessed a mouth at all. How was any of this possible?! Up close, she saw the woman’s eyes had no irises and were a flat grey. Lifeless.

Mara pulled herself away but could not avert her gaze from this bizarre creature. In an instant, the woman’s enormous eyes flickered and fixed their gaze on her. A hand clasped Mara’s wrist so tightly she felt like they had shackled her with handcuffs. She screamed and thrashed, but the hand did not let go.

A small quivering voice tempted in her mind: ‘Please, please! She will not hurt you! We are not here to hurt you.’

Mara stopped, her eyes frantic and seeking. None of them seemed capable of speech. But there was no one else there besides them. And again, the voice only sounded in her mind. She could hear it!

‘I promise she will not hurt you. If you just let us finish our work, we will leave you in peace.’

Mara looked at these women again. Searching their faces, she found her: the dark-skinned one at the end; the girl’s eyes were pleading as they observed Mara. They were full of life.

‘Please, if you don’t come back, we’ll not be able to move from this position. It’s starting to hurt.’ The small voice was full of emotion.

‘I beg you. I don’t want them to know.’

Mara hesitated. But the poor girl seemed to struggle now.

She took a deep breath. Her body protested, but she laid herself back down. Only then did the mouthless woman let go.

‘Thank you. Thank you so much!’ The little voice came, charged with relief.

With exquisite synchronism, the women resumed their gentle cleaning work. Never looking down at her, never acknowledging her except with their hands. Only now, the dark-skinned one had a thin smile that coloured her pretty face.

Perhaps not all was lost.

Maybe, she wondered, she could try the same thing. If she just focused her mind…

‘C-can you hear me?’

There was silence, but a slight nod and a wider grin from the girl confirmed it. She had heard her in her mind.

Shock, anxiety, and disbelief all came at once. But the ecstatic relief that came after simply took over.

*Shinigami are gods or supernatural spirits that invite humans toward death in certain aspects of Japanese religion, tales and culture.