Onikoroshi

by Li, Augusta

  “Not me,” Harada answered. “I couldn’t accomplish it. I needed a magic-user.”

  “Alan?”

  “No. I found a young man online, and after talking to him I became convinced that he could conduct the ritual. His name was Akinari Yamamoto. He was so excited. He came to the house, and we gathered the things we needed. Twice he failed to summon the demon, but on his third attempt he accomplished it. He laid a circle of sutra scrolls on the ground, and the creature appeared within them. The poor boy. He just didn’t have the strength to hold the damned thing. It broke free and it—

  “It was awful. The demon ripped that young man to shreds. I’ve never seen so much blood. He was nineteen years old. Gods, forgive me. Nineteen. I think the only reason that thing left me alive is because it knew I was no threat. It saw me for what I am: old and useless.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it,” Graham said. Alan smiled. Graham’s compassion had defeated his outrage. He was such a good man, a better man than Alan felt he deserved.

  “And what do you need me for?” Alan asked.

  Harada’s yellowed, watering eyes met Alan’s. “I lied to you. I brought you here under false pretense, and—”

  “You put Graham in danger!” Alan snapped. “The rest of it I can forgive, but not that. I told you I was planning to bring him along, and you let me!”

  Harada rocked back and forth, and his hand shook around the tiny sake cup. “I had to get you here, any way I could.”

  “Why?”

  “To trap that cursed thing and make sure it can’t hurt anyone else! To destroy it! That young man’s blood is on my hands, and since that night four teenagers have disappeared from our village. You’ve seen for yourself what goes on once the sun sets! The demon is in the forest somewhere, calling up the dead night after night to torment these people. It has to be defeated! It’s taken me weeks of exhausting research, and I’ve strained every academic connection I still have, but I’ve found several rituals used by priests to banish demons. To imprison them! I cannot do it, though. I need a magic-user. I need you. Please.”

  Alan looked over at Graham, desperate for guidance. Graham stared out the grungy little window above the sink; Alan could see only his hair, cheek, and chin.

  “Young man,” Harada pleaded, “I do not deserve your help. I’m a foolish old man who toyed with things beyond his understanding and control. Curiosity compelled me. And the desire to vindicate my theories. It was wrong, and I’ve hurt people.”

  “Sounds all too familiar,” Graham muttered, crossing his arms and squeezing his bare biceps. Alan felt an icy stab in his chest.

  “Magic-users are not easy to come by,” Harada continued, until Alan held up his hand.

  “I have to talk to Graham. Outside.”

  Graham’s head whipped around to look at Alan, his face twisted with anger and betrayal. After a few minutes, he grudgingly followed Alan out into the litter-strewn yard.

  “Graham,” Alan said, taking a step toward the other man.

  Stepping away, Graham snarled, “Don’t. Just, don’t you even dare.”

  “Harada lied to me!”

  “And you lied to me!” Graham shouted. “Again!”

  “I swear to you, I had no idea! Harada told me he had the demon imprisoned. I just wanted to look at it. I should have told you. I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, coming here with you was all I really intended.”

  “Right.”

  “I can’t help myself, Graham. I just, I just need to know.”

  “And where does that leave me? Damn it, I trusted you! I was afraid to open up to anybody after Luke died, and then I met you and thought I had a partner! A man whom I could share my life with. Aren’t I the fool?”

  “Please don’t say that.”

  “You promised! You swore to me, Alan, after that disaster last year, that you wouldn’t keep anything from me ever again.”

  “And I never will,” Alan said. The thought of losing Graham scared him more than the undead creatures, or even the demon that commanded them. “Never. Never again.”

  “How can I believe you? I’ve heard it all before.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Alan felt defeated; tears rolled down his face. “The people of this village need me, though. Maybe I can redeem myself. I can get you a car to Kyoto. A ticket home. You can—

  “— box up my things. If I make it back—”

  “Damn it!” Graham kicked a broken bucket into an overgrown berry bush. “I’ve had to box up my lover’s things once before.” He turned and grabbed Alan’s shoulders, shaking Alan until his teeth knocked together and his brain rattled in his skull. His red-rimmed, streaming eyes pierced Alan’s heart like a spear. “You think I’m going to leave you here to die?” He drew Alan close, squeezed him so hard Alan could hardly breathe, buried his face between Alan’s neck and shoulder, and sobbed.

  Seeing how badly he’d hurt the man he loved, Alan choked back his own tears. He could think of nothing more profound to say than, “I’m so sorry. Graham, I love you.”

  “Curse me for an idiot, but I love you, too.” He grasped Alan and held him at arm’s length. “And if you cast so much as a spell to wipe your ass, I want to know about it. I simply can’t abide this a third time, Alan. I won’t. This is the last chance I can give you.”

  “I don’t deserve you.”

  “No,” Graham said, smiling at last. “Probably not. Now, if we’re going to be sitting in that filthy hut all day while you decide how to kill this demon, I’d like to go back to the inn and wash up first. Have a spot of breakfast. Put on a clean shirt, if that’s not too much to ask.”

  Sniffling, wiping his eyes and nose with his knuckles, Alan said, “Anything you want.”

  Chapter Three

  “Translate this one,” Alan said, passing a sheet of hand-written kanji to Professor Harada.

  On the way from the inn back to the professor’s riverside hovel, Graham had insisted on stopping at the local general store. Much to his delight, he’d been able to purchase a tin of tea—real black tea, not the watery green kind preferred by the Japanese. After washing Harada’s filthy kettle, he’d made himself a cup. Funny, he thought, how such everyday things can soothe one’s soul. As he inhaled the fragrant steam and sipped at the hot liquid, he felt calmer and more confident than he had all day.

  “It basically gives a list of ingredients that can be used to trap the creature within a circle,” Harada said. He sat cross-legged, smoking and studying dozens of papers through a pair of round spectacles.

  Alan nodded. “A common technique, and effective. What will we need?”

  “Nothing too extravagant. Dirt from a holy man’s grave. There are temples all over the mountainside. A few grains of rice blessed by a priest of Inari, and there’s also a fox shrine in the woods were we can get it. Oil of clove, dried cherry blossoms, Maplewood ash, a few kinds of mushrooms, a pinch of hair from a badger’s tail. The feather of a tengu.”

  “Nothing extravagant?” Alan said.

  “What’s a tengu?” Graham asked.

  “A creature that dances on the mountain,” Harada said with a trace of condescension. “A bit like a man and a bit like a bird. They like to watch travelers from the trees. They are tricksters rather akin to your fey.”

  “Has anybody ever seen one?” Graham took his turn at sounding disdainful.

  “Of course,” Harada and Alan said in unison.

  “Oh. Drop their feathers often, do they?”

  “No,” Alan granted him. “It will be next to impossible to get this.”

  “No it won’t,” Harada said. “Akinari’s things are still here.” He pointed to a battered suitcase covered in stickers from different anime, manga, video games and musical groups.

  It occurred to Graham just then how young this dead magician had been. Akinari probably hadn’t even left his parents’ house yet, and now he never would. Had the same thing happened to the other village children? How many more would die? For t
he first time, Graham felt a burning desire to see this creature beaten.

  “Most of the sutra scrolls are in there, too,” Harada continued. “A few caught on fire when the demon passed into this realm, but there are many old and powerful spells remaining.”

  “Excellent,” Alan said.

  “Except for one thing.” As Alan and Harada strategized, Graham had found little he could add, until now. “The demon isn’t just going to stand still and let us sprinkle this concoction around his feet. Didn’t the story say he floats? I’m sure he has ways of defending himself. All of this assuming we make it through the hundred zombies he conjures up.”

  “Damn,” Alan muttered. Graham knew he’d been fantasizing about tengu feathers and sparkly spells, completely oblivious to the most obvious obstacles. “I can make fire,” he said weakly.

  “It won’t be enough,” Graham said. “We need to figure out a way to lure those creatures away from the demon. Cut them off from it long enough to capture it. Last night, the noise attracted them. I hate to say it, but we need a person to act as bait.”

  “I will be this bait,” Harada offered.

  “With all due respect, Professor,” Graham said gently, “It might be a job for a younger, faster man.”

  The doctor shook his head. “I absolutely refuse to put another person in danger. All of this is my doing, and I will do my part to put it right. I am old, and I may not look like much, but I can still run if I have to.

  “Yes, but run where?” Alan asked.

  More deep creases appeared around Harada’s eyes. Suddenly he sat bolt upright and said, “There is a warehouse not far from the cemetery. It was once used to store rice, but now it is full of the fireworks meant to mark the end of the Bon Matsuri. I can lead the creatures inside, and light a bottle of oil. They’ll be incinerated. The two of you can hide somewhere near the back side of the graveyard, and, well, you’ll certainly be able to tell if I’ve succeeded.”

  “That could work,” Alan said.

  Graham worried, though. “Will you be able to get away, before the place blows up?”

  “I’ll have to.”

  “So, Alan and I are to hide in the shrubbery until we see the fireworks. What then?”

  “We attack the demon,” Alan said.

  “I’d like a better plan,” Graham said. “Even with the creatures gone, how do we stop this thing?”

  “Camphor wood,” Harada said. “Many accounts mention it as a weakness of this particular demon. There are a few fine old camphor trees growing in these woods. I would recommend fashioning some stakes or spears from their branches. Striking a surprise blow, before it senses your presence, will be a tremendous advantage. Knock it to the ground. Fill some bottles with water from the Amagi Inn; it comes from a sacred wellspring from beneath the mountain. It should scorch the skin of the creature. Use the sutras. Use the powder. Use any spells of your own that you can. I cannot pretend it will be easy.”

  “Isn’t there anywhere around here I can get a machine gun?” Graham groaned.

  “So,” Alan said, his long, graceful fingers tapping the table, either from fear or excitement, Graham couldn’t be sure. “We weaken it, and then we kill it. How? Stake through the heart? Decapitation?”

  Harada shook his head. “I wish I could tell you. Obviously it has not been killed, and so there are no accounts of how to accomplish it. The stories tell only of the Warlord who bound it with silver bracers and a collar.”

  “Great,” Graham said. He stood and stretched. They’d been sitting for hours, and his back and knees felt stiff. They hadn’t eaten since the previous night, and there was still so much to do. “We’ve got preparations to make, then. We should get going. We can meet before dark, in the village square.”

  Harada got to his feet, and Graham could see that he was rather sprightly for his years after all. He bowed very deeply to Alan and Graham. “Thank you, thank you both. I will pay some of the village youth a few yen to gather the things from the forest, and I will pray to my ancestors for our success.”

  * * * *

  Breakfast had been served at the inn hours ago, and dinner was not for some time. Alan was too acute to be hungry; food was the furthest thing from his mind. Graham complained about the missed meals, so Alan purchased a variety of things from the shops and stands around the village. He still felt a little skittish, like Graham might lay into him again at any moment. He also knew he deserved whatever he got. Just in case, he went out of his way to humor his lover, thankful to all the gods he could name that Graham was here with him still, instead of on a plane back home.

  Alan found a secluded, grassy patch near the edge of the village and set down the various bags and containers he carried. Some slender trees grew around the clearing, and the late-morning light filtered through their leaves to lie on the ground in warm, golden pools. Purple flowers no larger than dimes dotted the soft, verdant carpet.

  Graham sat down, inhaled deeply of the sweet, pure smell of the forest, and turned his face toward the sun. The light kissed his face, and his eyes closed. He looked almost tranquil, until his stomach growled, and he pressed his hand to it and groaned.

  Quickly Alan began unpacking the food. “Soba noodle salad,” he said, “with nori and river prawns. This sushi is called kappa, after the water demons who love cucumbers. And these are Inari rolls, because Inari’s servant, the fox-spirit, can’t resist deep fried bean curd. Natto. Watermelon. Pickled plums. Tofu and three dipping sauces. Yakitori, of course. I got soda and water and tea and sake and beer.”

  “Planning to feed an army?” Graham teased, though he picked up his chopsticks and shoveled noodles into his mouth so fast he hardly had time to chew between bites. He finished half a bowl before he stopped to sigh with contentment. With the hard edge gone from his hunger, he sampled each of the foods in turn, stopping to twirl them around his tongue and savor their exotic tastes.

  Alan poked at a bit of fruit. He sucked the sweet juice away and slowly chewed the pulp. He knew neither of them wanted to say what they both thought: that this might be the last meal they would ever share.

  “Are you scared?” he asked Graham.

  “Not as much as I thought I’d be. It’s really all on you, isn’t it? And I kind of hate to say it, but you’re good at what you do.”

  Alan chuckled. “You swing a mean bamboo pole. Seriously, Graham, if it starts looking bad, I want you to get out. Just run.”

  “What, you mean leave you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Out of the question. If I was planning to leave you, I’d have done it by now.”

  Alan took Graham’s hand and squeezed his knuckles. He had such beautiful fingers, and his skin was perfectly smooth except for the callous between his first two fingers, where he held his brushes and pens. Raising the hand to his lips, Alan kissed the four knobs of bone along the back. He pressed his cheek against Graham’s flesh, and the tears he’d dammed so long refused to be held back. He could smell Graham’s skin and hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whimpered.

  “I know.”

  “How? How do you know? I dragged you into all of this and if anything happens to you it’s all my fault.”

  “You’re tired,” Graham said, petting the side of Alan’s hair. Alan felt more secure and loved than he ever had, and he never wanted to lose that warm feeling. “You stayed awake all night, didn’t you?”

  Alan nodded.

  “We should get some rest,” Graham said. “We’ll need it. We’ve still got spears to sharpen and whatnot. God, it all sounds so ridiculous.”

  “I have shopping to do, first,” Alan said, a fresh wave of hope and energy bubbling inside him.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  He kissed Graham hard on the lips. “I’m getting you a lantern. That way, when we go home, you can put it on the stand with the others in our room.”

  Graham smiled, and they finished almost all of their huge meal before setting out for the shops. Ala
n ended up buying three different lanterns. He also bought quite a lot of inexpensive, silver jewelry from a dubious Indian man on the street. When Graham questioned him, Alan said, “If I can’t kill this thing right away, you can bet I’m going to bind it’s sorry ass until I figure out how.”

  “Good to have a back-up plan, I suppose,” Graham agreed.

  They made their way slowly through the village, and finally up the stone staircase to the Amagi Inn. By the time they reached their room, Alan could scarcely mask his exhaustion. He let his bag fall from his shoulder. It landed on the floor, glass and metal clinking. He went to the closet and pulled one of the sleeping mats out, spreading it on the floor before collapsing.

  “I don’t feel like I can even move,” he said, fighting against his eyelids for consciousness.

  “It’s not even noon,” Graham said, stretching out beside him on the single futon. “Sleep for a few hours.”

  Alan’s last thought was that he hated to spend possibly his last day on earth asleep, but he was still only human, and it took mere moments for him to succumb.

  Chapter Four

  Alan and Graham slept longer than they’d intended. By the time Alan stirred, his phone told him three o’clock had already passed. He shook Graham’s shoulder, and smiled as he watched Graham rub his eye with his fist like a child. Graham’s pouty lips parted in a yawn, and he stretched his arms over his head. Looking around the room brought a sad expression to his face.

  “I was just dreaming we were home,” he said wistfully. “Sitting on the porch swing, having some tea and biscuits and watching the old, familiar houses and people and dogs.”

  “We’ll be back there soon enough,” Alan reassured. He wished he felt as confident as he sounded. “Now, get out of those clothes.”

  “Alan,” Graham said, sitting up. “Do you really think there’s time?”

  Chuckling, Alan reached for his bag and fished around inside until he found a large canning jar full of shimmery, silver gel.

  “What is that?” Graham asked, eyeing the concoction suspiciously.