Chapter 4: The Mother and Child from Adachigahara

Chapter 4:
The Mother and Child from Adachigahara

 

FOR SOME TIME after hearing Nyaa-san’s story of my mother, I was unable to concentrate on anything.

Joy that I had found out about her. Pity for her situation. Shinonome-san’s struggle to look after me. The things Nyaa-san had done for my sake. And, more than anything, the wish my mother had cherished.

“Kaori, are you happy?”

I wondered how many times Nyaa-san had asked me that question. I’d thought it was simply a pet phrase of hers; I’d had no idea that her inquiry contained my mother’s feelings.

Besides, there was the fact that Nyaa-san had eaten my mother’s remains. I knew it was how spirits mourned, but the fact that it had happened to a family member gave me a slightly odd feeling.

“Hey, Kaori, could you forgive someone who ate one of your parents?”

Suimei had said those words to me not long after I met him.

If I were a normal person, I suspected I would probably harbor negative feelings, the way Suimei had. But I had been brought up in the spirit realm, and I felt only gratitude toward Nyaa-san for giving my mother a proper funeral. As you might expect, my feelings were out of sync with those of the average human.

Ahh. My mother loved me…

Now that the suspicion I had nursed for so long had been swept away, I was exhausted. Perhaps this was why, although I did go out to my part-time job, I ended up shutting myself away in the house a lot.

That suspicion I had harbored was that my mother had abandoned me.

Shinonome-san, Noname, and Nyaa-san had watched over me, and I had grown up wanting for nothing, but this suspicion had always followed me—to the extent that I had been jealous of a baby who was yet to be born.

There was no feeling as desolate as being unable to honestly rejoice at someone’s birth, so I was grateful to Nyaa-san for telling me the truth. I also felt as if my best friend had at last recognized me as an individual adult, which made me happy.

But then there was the fact that I had no blood relatives left in this world. That would take some time for me to accept. At the very least, I spent whole days gazing distractedly at the garden. For some reason, I needed to be with Nyaa-san; she sat right next to me. Although she usually hated to be touched any more than necessary, she stayed by my side without saying anything, her concern evident in her generosity with her time.

“Akiho said she loved big snowflakes. They looked tasty, she said.”

“Whaaat?”

I spent time with my best friend, watching the snow, my heart growing warm at the occasional memories of my mother that Nyaa-san shared with me.

That winter was like it always was, and yet it was completely different.

Meanwhile, New Year’s arrived in the blink of an eye.

Around this time, the spirit realm’s winter slumber began to break as the spirits who lived in town held a humble festival to celebrate the new year. They would play flutes, thump taiko drums, and prepare amazake, sweets, and dango dumplings. Spirits told one another of the dreams they had during hibernation, and they laughed about how much they yearned for the spring… New Year’s in the spirit realm was very peaceful.

Ordinarily, I would have gone to the festival with Nyaa-san. But this year, I didn’t feel like it, so I planned to stay at home.

“Hey, Kaori. Wanna go out with me?”

However, to my amazement, when Suimei came to wish me a Happy New Year, he invited me to head out into town with him.

I was so shocked that I couldn’t reply straightaway.

“You’ve seemed kinda down recently,” Suimei continued, his face still turned away from me. “Why don’t you have a bit of fun?”

“Have you been worrying about me?”

“It’s only that every time I come here to sleep, you’re in an annoyingly gloomy mood.”

He’s not being honest. I let out a laugh. Suimei was the same as ever.

Blushing right up to the tips of his ears, Suimei turned his back to me.

Oh. I can feel my heart pounding. …Oh yes, that’s right—it’s because I’m in love with Suimei.

I was so happy that the person I loved had shown consideration toward me that my body felt as light as if it had sprouted wings.

How self-interested of me. I was down in the dumps until just a minute ago.

Just then, I suddenly thought of my mother. My father had died before Nyaa-san and my mother met.

Before they got married—when they were dating—did my mother’s heart flutter like this, I wonder? I wish I’d been able to talk to her about it.

All at once, I felt deflated, and my shoulders sagged.

Suimei peered at my face. As I glanced up at him, he said with a sullen expression, “Do you hate the idea of going out with me that much?”

He’d grown tired of waiting for me to accept his offer. I shook my head vigorously at his look of discontent.

“N-no! I was thinking of something else, that’s all!”

“Then hurry up and get ready. Kuro’s waiting outside.”

“Okay, hang on a moment.”

Running to fetch my coat, I peeked next door into Shinonome-san’s room. My adoptive father was thoroughly drunk, clutching a tall sake bottle. I couldn’t help sighing.

“I’m just heading out with Suimei!”

“Huh?! Okay… Take Nyaa with you,” he slurred.

I glared sharply at him. “You shouldn’t drink too much. I told you, Tamaki-san might come round to collect your manuscript.”

“Ack!” Shinonome-san choked.

“Just kidding!” I told him with a smile, and I headed out to the entryway.

As I was putting on my shoes, Nyaa-san leapt nimbly onto my shoulders.

“Wow. You’re coming with me willingly, even though it’s so cold? That’s unusual.”

“It’s just that even resisting would be too much of a bother.”

Laughing, I left the bookstore.

When the sound of merriment struck my ears from afar, I stopped in my tracks.

The lively song of flutes, the thumping of taiko drums, smiling spirits going back and forth. For the first time since autumn, I laid eyes on this sight that I had missed so much, and I felt an unexpected pang in my chest.

If my mother hadn’t left me with Nyaa-san, I would never have been able to see this spectacle. If I had lived in the human world instead…the scene that met my eyes now would have been extremely different.

I had been a small child who couldn’t do anything for myself. My fate had been entirely up to others. First my mother, then Nyaa-san, then Shinonome-san and Noname… If any of them had let go of my hand, my life would be unrecognizably distinct from the one I led now.

I had grown up, and now here I was, leading a happy life. Instead of abandoning me, the people who raised me had ensured this outcome.

Wasn’t it amazing that things had turned out the way they had?

“Kaori? What’s wrong?”

As I sank into a reverie, Nyaa-san peered at my face. My friend seemed worried. I hastily wiped away the tears that had welled up.

“Nothing. Winter always makes me think too much, and I need to stop that. I hope spring comes soon.”

Smiling slightly, I called out to Suimei, who was waiting for me outside. At his feet, Kuro wagged his tail happily.

“Hey, there’s a food stall over there!”

“What kind of food?”

“Yakisoba!”

The scent of the savory sauce irresistibly rushed toward me.

“Great, let’s go and get some! I’m having a large portion. With extra pickled ginger!”

“I want mine with extra meat!”

“Good grief… You two are so greedy.”

“It’s because I haven’t had lunch yet. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“Don’t come crying to me if you get fat…”

As Nyaa-san and I bantered in our usual fashion, I realized that Suimei was watching me intently. Tilting my head, I smiled at him.

“You seem to be in better spirits,” he said.

“Yeah. Thanks to you inviting me out, Suimei.”

If I had been left to my own devices, it probably would have taken me much longer to put those feelings behind me and move on.

Probably—no, certainly, from now on, whenever I happened to think of my mother, I would feel a little down. Now that I knew her fate, I couldn’t avoid it. I couldn’t return to the me I’d been before I had found out, however hard I tried. I had to quickly put my feelings behind me and move forward. Anyone could see that.

But I was a coward, and I had hesitated to take that step forward. Suimei had given me the push I needed.

Yeah, I really do love him after all.

The simple act of leaving the house where I’d shut myself away—to someone else, that wouldn’t seem like anything much. But the companion who had provided me with that small impetus was precious, and because that companion was someone I loved, this seemed like a priceless thing.

“Thank you.”

When I smiled gratefully at Suimei, he turned his back. Clutching Kuro with one arm, he held his other hand out toward me. I hesitated, unsure of what he wanted me to do.

“Our path to the food stall is absolutely crammed with spirits,” Suimei said, still facing away. “It would be a pain if we got separated.”

In other words, he was telling me to hold his hand.

I startled, feeling my cheeks grow warm, but I gently took his hand. I grinned uncontrollably as I walked along behind him. Pulling the scarf around my neck up to my mouth, I watched Suimei as we walked along in silence.

Mom, I’m doing well. I’m having fun. I’m in love. There’s so much for me to be happy about. I miss you, but I’m living life to the fullest.

As I thought this, I walked through the spirit realm town, where the new year was in full swing.

 

***

 

After that, we ate yakisoba and drank amazake. As I stood around talking to the neighbors I hadn’t seen in ages, watching the spirits performing at the side of the road, I noticed that a crowd had formed in a particular place.

“What’s happening?”

“Shall we go and see?”

Along with Suimei, I wove my way through the crowd of spirits. In the middle of the crowd was a familiar face. I called out to her.

“Otoyo-san!”

“Oh, Kaori-chan. Happy New Year!”

It was Otoyo-san, the onibaba who lived next door. She was wearing a gorgeous outfit: a kimono patterned with pine, bamboo, and plum—perfect for New Year’s. Her belly jutted out even farther than it had the last time I saw her, and she seemed to be having some trouble moving.

“Happy New Year! Are you all right in this crowd, Otoyo-san?”

“I’m fine, thank you. And never mind that, Kaori-chan—look!”

Otoyo-san pointed excitedly to a certain place. Stretching up on tiptoe, I peered at where she was pointing.

It was at the heart of the crowd. I could see someone sitting with their back to a house.

Ta-wang. Twan twan twannng…

I heard the timbre of a biwa. The performer was a woman in an amigasa straw hat and a striped kimono.

Placing a bamboo basket next to her, she skillfully strummed the biwa strings. She was dressed in simple traveling clothes and wasn’t pretty by any standard, but the sound she drew from the biwa was astonishing. Her playing was truly incredible, and I listened, spellbound, to the pleasant low tones of the instrument.

Then I saw her face. Beneath the braided hat was the face of a cow.

“Ox-Head?”

“No, she’s not one of the demons from hell, she’s an Ushi-onna. But never mind that, look what’s next to her!”

“Huh?”

Otoyo-san thumped my shoulder several times in excitement. Puzzled as to why this might be, I realized that the spirits around us were gazing eagerly at the bamboo basket. It seemed to be the reason why so many spirits had gathered.

The basket was about the right size to be carried in both arms, and it looked very similar to a kind of straw house for cats called a neko-chigura. It was dome-shaped; the inside was hollow, and I could see a soft, fluffy cushion laid out within it.

But the creature inside the basket wasn’t a cat—it was a tiny little spirit.

I gasped in surprise. “Is that a kudan?!”

Otoyo-san nodded vigorously.

A kudan is a strange-looking spirit with the body of a cow and the face of a person. These spirits come up in legends from China, Shikoku, and Kyushu, and they’re said to appear at times of great social change, such as wars and natural disasters. They die soon after they’re born, leaving behind prophecies. And these prophecies always come true.

“That’s ominous,” Suimei said in a low voice. At some point, he had come to stand next to me without my realizing it. Kuro also looked nervous from his place in Suimei’s arms.

And to be honest, the prophecies left by kudan were often inauspicious. In the past, they had been said to have predicted plagues and world wars, as well as major defeats during those wars.

Otoyo-san laughed as she looked at the two of them. “Oh, my! Ominous? I suppose you might think so if you lived in the human world for a long time. Didn’t you know the kudan was originally known as a good omen?”

Pictures of kudan became popular as amulets around the time of the Great Tenpo famine.

A kawaraban newspaper from the seventh year of the Tenpo era had said, “The kudan is a beast that tells of abundant harvest… When one wears an image of this beast, one’s family will increase, and they will not be struck by evil or disease. This beast invites not disaster but summons great returns. It is truly auspicious.”

This trend died out in the Showa period, and instead kudan had come to be known for troubling predictions. That was probably why Suimei and Kuro thought it ominous.

But, in the spirit realm, kudan were still good omens. Moreover, the spirit realm was characterized by stagnation, and if any change occurred, it was extremely gradual. Great disasters and calamities rarely came about. As a result, the prophecies given by the kudan could only really be good things, and the appearance of a kudan was in turn an obvious good sign.

When I’d explained this, Suimei shrugged, slightly exasperated. “What kind of reasoning is that? That just means that’s how things have been so far, doesn’t it? A disaster might still happen.”

Nyaa-san laughed scornfully from her place on my shoulders. “Oh my. You’re more of a coward than I was expecting, Suimei.”

“I’m just pointing out that it’s a naive way of looking at it. Besides, I don’t understand how you can feel grateful for a creature that dies right after it’s born.”

“It’s all right. Souls circulate. It will die, but before very long, it will come back again.”

Nyaa-san and Suimei glared at each other as they argued, quietly but heatedly.

The source of their quarrel was a fundamental difference in opinion on the subject of death. However similar the positions of spirit and human on this subject might be, they inevitably differed.

For a human, life was something that happened only once, and death, well, that was the end. Ideas such as the circle of transmigration existed, but they were often thought of as fictional.

But it was different for spirits. As Nyaa-san said, they knew souls circulated and came back. To them, death wasn’t an end, but a departure. Spirits could always afford to wait until a certain soul returned. One could even say that they saw being able to wait as a virtue precisely because they lived eternal lives.

Chuckling, Nyaa-san glanced sidelong at Suimei. “Wow, people brought up in the human world really are delicate, aren’t they?”

“Weren’t you born in the human world in the first place?”

“That was so long ago, I’ve forgotten all that.”

As I listened to their back-and-forth, I gazed at the kudan curled up in the bamboo basket. Its face was the very picture of a newborn baby’s. But just as the folktales said, its body was that of a calf. It seemed to be sleeping, its breathing comfortable and even as it lay on the soft-looking cushion.

Although I knew that kudan were good omens, they appeared only rarely in the spirit realm, and this was the first time I had seen one. I wonder what it will predict. My heart throbbed with anticipation.

“A kudan appearing in the year my child is to be born… How auspicious!” Otoyo-san seemed to share my feelings. She rubbed her belly dotingly.

Ta-wang!

At that moment, the biwa rang out especially loudly.

Everything around us grew silent as the gathered spirits’ attention focused on the bamboo basket.

“On this auspicious day, when the new year has been safely reached… A kudan has appeared in the spirit realm, as you can see. Now, will the words that the kudan bequeaths unto us be omens of good or of evil?”

Ta-wang!

“Even I, an ushi-onna, do not know. And now for the prediction that this newborn infant will make in exchange for its life. Please listen to the end, everyone, so that you don’t miss a single word.”

With this, the ushi-onna put down her biwa and bowed her head. Swept up in the atmosphere—it was like a scene from a play—I watched so attentively that I forgot even to breathe.

The kudan who had been sleeping within the bamboo basket began to speak in a small voice.

Everyone gasped as they watched. Perhaps because it was still asleep, the kudan didn’t produce any words. Maybe because the woman had warned us not to miss a single syllable, everyone focused their entire attention on the kudan’s every single move.

That’s when it happened.

There was a loud thud. A pile of snow had fallen out of a pine tree that stood next to the eaves of a house. Under it was a spirit who had been watching the kudan.

“Whew!”

Letting out a wild cry, they jumped up and down, making a clamor—perhaps the snow had gone down their back. Because I had been bracing myself so assiduously, a sudden laugh burst from my throat.

“Oh, what a mess!”

“You’re ruining the tension!”

As the jeers flew about, the spirit who had taken a direct hit from the snow smiled awkwardly, embarrassed. Everyone else broke into a grin, their attention diverted from the kudan.

Then it spoke.

“The spirit realm’s winter will never end,” the kudan said.

A dead silence fell. Faces drawn with shock, we all stopped moving and turned only our eyes toward the kudan. When I saw the kudan’s eyes, I bit back a scream.

In the eyes of that newborn’s face, I saw the entirety of the cosmos.

They had no pupils or irises, let alone white sclera. Beyond their eye sockets was the limitless sky, teeming with glittering stars. Their eyes crinkling with delight, the kudan spoke fluently with a mouth that had never even suckled at a teat.

“However much time might pass, no warm wind will blow. Though they long for the brighter seasons, the buds will stay closed up tight. The water will freeze over and will not flow. The infants will die, and the mothers will shed tears of blood. These red tears will make the spirits forget themselves, and unable to bear the cold, they will pour out into the human world.”

The kudan twisted their neck around. Those bottomless eyes… I felt they were looking straight at me, and I almost screamed in fright.

“If you wish for the spring to come, you must bear a child. That child will pray for the world’s well-being and will bring the warm winds into the spirit realm. This child, born into this realm, will cleanse it of the impurities of sin. The child’s birth will not be easy. Pardoning your hateful mother, you must love the child, and work together for its sake. If you do not…”

The kudan stepped out of the bamboo basket. Slowly, sluggishly, it walked over the trodden snow and gazed around at the gathered crowd. “If you do not, the child will die, and its corpse will keep the spirit realm locked in winter. Spirits who would summon the spring… If you do not do this, the end of the spirit realm is near.”

With this, the kudan slowly lay down where it was. The regular rise and fall of its belly became slower and slower, until it stopped altogether. Its life was over.

“Agh…”

Otoyo-san cried out in pain. Averting her eyes from the dead kudan, she clutched her swollen belly and began, silently, to weep.

 

***

 

After the kudan finished its prophecy, the gathered spirits scattered in all directions. During this time, I led a sobbing Otoyo-san back to the bookstore.

“Where’s her husband?”

“He’s at work right now. I’ve sent Nyaa-san to tell him.”

I made Otoyo-san sit down next to the brazier in the living room as Suimei and I spoke quietly to each other.

When I told Shinonome-san about the kudan’s prophecy, he instantly sobered up from his drunken haze, his face growing solemn.

“I heard! About the terrible prophecy,” Noname said as she appeared. Throwing her fur coat to one side, she knelt to embrace Otoyo-san, who was hanging her head. “It’s all right. It offered a solution at the same time, didn’t it?”

“But… But…”

“Calm down. If a mother cries, the baby in her belly will be sad too, won’t it?”

“Yes…”

As Noname gently rubbed her back, Otoyo-san closed her mouth tightly, trying to hold back her anxiety.

Noname’s eyes had softened as she turned to me. “The kudan said that a child had to be born in order to bring in the spring, didn’t it? I wonder how many spirits in the spirit realm are due to give birth this winter…”

“Ho ho, not all that many,” said the hoarse voice of an elderly person.

Glancing toward the sound of the voice in surprise, I saw a beautiful gray-haired girl drinking tea. A half-transparent jellyfish floated lightly around her, and she was wearing a lacy dress in the gothic style. When she noticed my surprise, she smiled. “Excuse me.”

“Nurarihyon?” Shinonome-san casually identified them.

When I realized who this beautiful girl really was, I let out a sigh of relief. “You always show up suddenly. So you’re a beautiful girl today? Please don’t startle me like that.”

“Sorry, sorry. I like seeing surprised faces.”

“I told you, that’s in poor taste.”

As my shoulders slumped in defeat, Nurarihyon laughed.

Nurarihyon was also depicted in Toriyama Sekien’s The Illustrated Demon Horde’s Night Parade. In the picture, the back of his head is elongated, and he’s dressed in an expensive-looking kimono. He is shown alighting from a palanquin, about to enter someone’s house.

He’s also depicted in the Bakemono Zukushi “monster scroll” and The Illustrated Volume of a Hundred Demons, but no explanatory text accompanies the pictures. Therefore, few details are known about Nurarihyon, and as a spirit, he remains shrouded in mystery.

The Nurarihyon that I knew was the foremost leader among the spirits. His appearance was different every time I met him, and he was a regular at the bookstore. Before you knew it, he’d be mingling and chatting along with any group of people. He was a walking encyclopedia, and everyone adored him.

“To get back to the topic at hand… Most spirits are of the nesting kind; they’ll already have given birth to their children. The only spirits giving birth at this point are the ones who live in town. There are two in the tenement houses and two on the main street. I think that’s it.”

Nurarihyon slurped his tea and let out a long breath.

“Luckily, many spirits have easy deliveries and lots of young, like cats and dogs do. Toochika is making preparations with a doctor in the human world for all of them. Giving birth certainly isn’t easy…but if we’re prepared, we can avoid an unhappy outcome. We have the medical advances in the human world to thank for that,” Nurarihyon smiled brightly.

“But they’re spirits, right?” Suimei asked, frowning slightly. “Are you suggesting we get them examined by a human doctor?”

“No need to fret, boy. The worlds of spirit and human are closer than you think. There are spirits who have become doctors, and human doctors who look favorably on spirits. Just leave it to me. Connecting people and spirits is the duty of their great leader.”

Striking his slight chest with his fist, Nurarihyon picked up a winter tangerine from on top of the kotatsu.

Realizing how relaxed Nurarihyon was, I let out a sigh of relief. If the guy in charge was so nonchalant, the situation couldn’t be so terrible.

But my naive assumption was instantly destroyed by the very person who had given me such confidence.

“The problem is you, Otoyo. Are you still estranged from your mother?”

Otoyo answered Nurarihyon’s question with silence.

“If you do not forgive your hateful mother, love this child, and work together for the child’s sake…the child will die, and its corpse will keep the spirit realm locked in winter.”

I shuddered at my memory of the kudan’s words. Did they refer to Otoyo’s child?

Clenching her fists, Otoyo glared at Nurarihyon, who was idly peeling the skin off the tangerine. “Do you really think I can forgive her? The birth mother who dragged my child out of my swollen belly?”

“Well, it won’t be easy,” Nurarihyon said with a philosophical expression, only chuckling at her shocking question. “But a long time has passed since then. I understand why you’d be unable to forgive her, but aren’t you tired of being at a standstill?”

He tossed the tangerine into his mouth and screwed his face up tightly.

“Ugh, that’s sour. Listen, Otoyo. There’s still some time before your child is born. You can think it over until then. Don’t grapple with this by yourself, okay? There’s a chance that the child in the kudan’s prophecy could be someone else’s.”

Pointing at the rest of us, he smiled prettily, as if he really were a beautiful girl.

“The quiet winter is the best time for talking to someone. If you’re worried, that could have an impact on the birth. Luckily, there are plenty of good-natured people in the spirit realm. Pass the time peacefully with someone. That is my request.”

 

“Thank you for looking after my wife.”

“If anything happens, please tell us at once.”

“Of course. Thank you, as always.”

Once Otoyo-san’s husband came to pick her up, we left her in his care and returned to the living room.

Nyaa-san had come back with him. Thanking her, I prepared some tea.

“I never knew that Otoyo-san was dealing with that,” I murmured.

Noname and Shinonome-san looked terribly pained.

“Humans who become spirits are always dealing with something,” said Shinonome-san.

“I did know,” Noname admitted. “But I thought it had already been settled a long time ago. So when I heard she was going to have a baby, I thought everything was all right. I was so relieved…” She sighed.

“Noname, can I ask you…about what happened to Otoyo-san?” I asked timidly.

Noname looked torn for a moment and then turned to Nurarihyon for help.

Peeling his third tangerine, Nurarihyon nodded serenely. “All right.”

“Understood. It’s a fairly well-known story. You’d have heard it sooner or later anyway.” With a deep sigh, Noname looked down and began to tell me the tale.

It was an unspeakably tragic account, the story of a mother who became an oni and a daughter who was killed; no one was saved.

“A long time ago, in a noble’s mansion in Kyoto, there was a servant—a woman named Iwate.”

Iwate was the wet nurse of a princess named Tamaki-no-miya. But the princess suffered from an illness without remedy that no doctor could treat, and this grieved Iwate terribly. One day, Iwate embarked on a journey to find a remedy for this illness that could not be cured. Leaving behind her own young child, she traveled to the east and to the west. Then she heard a rumor that the princess’s illness would be resolved if only she ate a liver taken from a living fetus. In order to obtain one, Iwate settled down in a cavern in Adachigahara to wait for a pregnant traveler to pass by.

“She believed such a preposterous rumor? There’s no way something like that would work.” Suimei sighed.

Noname slowly shook her head. “The Heian era tanka poet Taira no Kanemori composed a poem that says: They say that in Adachigahara of Michinoku, in Kurozuka, some oni live in hiding, but is this true? This took place before even that. Medical treatments weren’t as developed as they are today, and since the liver of a fetus was extremely hard to get a hold of, she might well have believed that it would cure an otherwise incurable illness.”

She must really have felt cornered if she decided to try and get her hands on a fetus’s liver.

Although she had only been trying to help her ailing princess, Iwate’s heart had probably already become inhuman by the time she transformed into an oni.

“Iwate waited and waited for a pregnant woman to pass by. At last, one day, a husband and wife came to the cavern and asked for lodging for the night. The wife was pregnant. Iwate was delighted, and she gave shelter to the couple. Then, while the husband was absent for a moment, she strung the woman up and cut open her belly.”

“Ugh…” That was so sickening, I thought I was going to throw up. Suimei rubbed my back.

Dropping her gaze to the floor, Noname continued her story, looking pale.

“Iwate dragged out the fetus, and when she had removed its liver, she realized something. In the luggage belonging to the woman she had killed…was an amulet she had given to her own daughter before leaving on her journey. The woman was the daughter whom Iwate had left behind in Kyoto.”

She had killed both her daughter and grandchild. When Iwate realized this, she lost her mind.

“Because of this, Iwate transformed into an oni. She became an onibaba who preyed on travelers and ate their livers, tearing them from their bodies while they were still alive. Many things are said about her end—that she was defeated by a traveling monk, or that she herself became a high-ranked priestess after repenting her sins and entering the priesthood…”

Finishing her story, Noname fell silent.

The daughter Iwate had killed was probably Otoyo-san. How could Otoyo-san not hold a grudge against her birth mother for killing her and her unborn child? That must have been why she herself became an oni as well.

“Hey, Noname.” Kuro, who until now had been sitting silently by Suimei’s side and listening, spoke up. His eyes were wetter than usual as he stared up at Noname. “What happened to the sick princess?”

Noname shook her head slowly. “I don’t know anything more than what the folktale says. But Iwate wasn’t able to bring medicine back to the princess. That much is certain.”

In the end, it seemed no one ended up with a happy ending.

“That’s too sad… Why did that happen? Why?” Kuro sobbed, large tears falling from his eyes. His pointed ears drooped, and his tail flicked anxiously back and forth.

Suimei scooped Kuro up in his arms and stroked his back. “Everything started out with good intentions. But because she happened to believe that stupid rumor about the liver of a fetus…she was doomed.”

Iwate killed her daughter and grandchild for the sake of her dear princess. Otoyo-san lost everything because it was taken by her birth mother. Is there any chance at all for these two to reconcile?

My heart throbbed, and I frowned.

“At any rate, all we can do is support her until the baby is born,” Shinonome-san murmured. “We have to resolve to do this much amongst ourselves.”

“You’re right.” I happened to glance out of the window, and I sighed at the sight beyond it.

It had started to snow again. The snow falling ceaselessly from the sky blanketed everything in white and brought stillness back to the spirit realm, which had been so excited about the new year.

“The spirit realm’s winter will never end.”

This was kudan’s ominous prediction. They said a kudan’s prediction always came true.

I wrapped both arms around myself and longed from the bottom of my heart for the bright days of spring.

 

***

 

The winter will never end. As if to prove the prophecy true, large snowflakes continued to fall for several days.

There was so much snow that if we’d let it be, it would have buried the bookstore up to the windows. Even Shinonome-san, who usually lazed around all day, worked diligently to clear the snow.

Now that she was in the final stretch of her pregnancy, Otoyo-san’s stomach grew larger by the day. Someone went to the house next door to visit her every day. For instance, Noppera-bo from the confectionery shop delivered various treats so she could keep up her strength. Sometimes Otoyo-san would come to share them with us, assuring us she’d been given more than she could enjoy.

Noname and I went to her house often so that we could make help Otoyo-san make diapers, swaddling clothes, and socks. Noname was the one to teach us, of course. As an apothecary, she came into contact with spirits of all kinds on a regular basis, so she was excellent at looking after babies.

“You can never have enough diapers. Let’s make lots. In the spring, when you hang them out in the garden, you’ll have a whole curtain of them.”

“Really?! That’s going to be tough…”

“It’s all right. I’ll help you, and all the women in the neighborhood are ready and waiting to care for your darling baby.”

As she talked, Noname continued sewing a diaper, her hands not stopping for even a moment. She was amazingly skillful; in a flash, she had finished one. In contrast, the cloth I was supposed to be turning into a diaper was a complete disaster. Ugh, I hate how clumsy I am…

Like me, Otoyo-san was locked in a struggle with the diaper she was making. “What should I say?” she murmured. “I’m grateful, but is this really okay?”

“We’re all in the same boat, aren’t we? The next time a child is born, you can help their mother too, Otoyo-chan. That’s what we’ve all always done. You don’t have to worry.”

Otoyo-san stroked her belly nervously with a shy smile. “That’s true, isn’t it? There’s nothing to worry about…”

On the surface, Otoyo-san didn’t seem particularly bothered about the kudan’s prophecy. She had also been checked by a doctor, as arranged by Toochika-san. According to the doctor, there was a lot we wouldn’t know until the baby was born, but for now, he couldn’t detect any abnormalities in her unborn child. That was welcome news.

“This is none of my mother’s business. I can give birth to this child by myself,” Otoyo-san grumbled.

However, I couldn’t help feeling uneasy. If, by some chance, Otoyo-san’s child was the child from the prophecy…

But there was little we could do. I was frustrated that I could only stay by her side, but I carried on steadily preparing for the birth.

In the blink of an eye, two months had passed. Before I knew it, it was the month in which Otoyo-san was due to give birth.

I wonder what happened to her mother? I had questions, but I couldn’t ask her straight out.

Thoughtlessly barging into someone else’s affairs would have been rude. I felt Otoyo-san and I had become close by this point, but we were only neighbors. It would have been different if we were good friends, but I wasn’t sure someone like me should butt in.

In the meantime, other pregnant spirits had given birth one after another.

Winter in the spirit realm had grown a little livelier, but by March, there was still no sign of spring, and everyone was worried.

On one March night, a strong wind battered the bookstore, making the glass doors rattle. We had covered the windows with boards so that the glass wouldn’t be shattered by miniature avalanches of fallen snow, but wind blew in through the cracks and shook the doors powerfully, and my anxiety was mounting. And on that night, someone knocked at the door to our entryway.

“I’ve come to share this with you.” Otoyo-san had appeared in the middle of the furious snowstorm.

I quickly invited her inside. It was awfully dangerous for a pregnant woman, due to give birth any day now, to be walking about on a day like this.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Has something happened? You look a little…”

“I’m not ill. Don’t worry. I was given too much again.”

Otoyo-san held out a parcel of meat. I was pleased to be given a share, but I was more worried about her tormented expression.

“Is your husband at home?” I asked.

“He’s on the night shift tonight. He’ll be back at noon tomorrow.”

At that moment, there was an especially strong gust of wind and a loud bang that made the whole bookstore shake. Otoyo-san clung to me. Trembling slightly, she hung her head and tightly closed her eyes.

The wailing of the wind sounded just like a vengeful ghost. Being alone on a day like this must have been frightening for her. I ran my hand in circles over Otoyo-san’s back, massaging it gently.

“That startled you, didn’t it? Otoyo-san, would you like to stay with us tonight?”

Looking up in surprise, Otoyo-san nodded repeatedly, her eyes overflowing with tears.

“Thanks for turning to us.” I smiled.

Otoyo-san shivered violently—and gently sniffled.

The snowstorm outside showed no sign of abating. In the meantime, Otoyo-san and I cooked and ate dinner together, then bathed. Laying out two futon in my room, we lay down to sleep.

“Aren’t you cold, Otoyo-san? Do you need another futon?”

“I’m all right. Thank you, Kaori-chan.”

“If you get cold, you can borrow Nyaa-san instead of a hot water bottle.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’d probably handle her too roughly.”

We chuckled as we waited to fall asleep. Outside, the storm continued to rage. The rattling of the glass still startled me, but with three of us there, I wasn’t at all afraid.

“You really helped me out, Kaori-chan. I was so, so worried. I was terrified of going into labor on a day like today. It’s bad enough already with the kudan’s prophecy, you know?”

“Yeah. Of course you’d be worried.”

“Besides, recently I’ve felt like someone’s watching me. It’s frightening.”

“Huh?”

When I lifted myself up to look at her, Otoyo-san let out a slightly troubled laugh. “I think I’m just sensitive because I’m waiting to give birth. I feel someone’s gaze on me, but then it disappears straightaway. I must just be imagining it.”

“Well, I guess that’s okay, then…” Exhausted, I lay back down. Petting Nyaa-san, who was curled up next to my stomach, I looked intently at Otoyo-san. “If something’s bothering you, tell me straightaway, okay? Otherwise, I don’t know if there’s something on your mind.”

“Thank you. It’s reassuring to hear you say that.”

Suddenly, Otoyo-san looked straight at me. As our eyes met in the gloom, my heart pounded, and I averted my gaze. Otoyo-san said abruptly, “Hey, Kaori-chan. Could I ask you a…difficult question?”

“Huh? What…?”

“You don’t remember your mother at all, do you?”

This perplexed me. Nyaa-san squirmed about inside the futon; stroking her back slowly, I spoke, choosing each word carefully. “Yes, that’s right. I only have memories of the time I’ve spent in the spirit realm.”

The time I had spent with my mother, the warmth I’d felt from her, should by all rights have been a part of me, but I remembered none of it. I could listen to Nyaa-san talk about her, but I couldn’t feel those things for myself.

I had a mother. That person used to exist. The “mother” inside me is nothing but information. Her smiles, her tenderness, her warmth, her kindness—none of these things have stayed with me.

A pang of sorrow lanced through my chest. All the love that she had devoted to me had trickled through my fingers. Things that slip away from us like this never come back.

Well, there’s nothing I can do about it. I was too young back then. And I understand that, but human emotions are beyond our control…

However much time passed, this would stay with me, like a lump in my heart.

“Why do you ask?” I said to Otoyo-san, gathering my thoughts.

She was silent for a little while. “If, hypothetically, you were reunited with your dead mother, are you confident that you’d know straightaway that she was your mother?”

“Uhh…?” I hesitated, unsure of what she meant by that question. Tipping my head to one side, I imagined the situation Otoyo-san had just described. “I’m pretty confident that I wouldn’t recognize her at all.”

“Pfft…”

I realized that Nyaa-san, inside the futon, had burst out laughing. Indignant, I stroked her harder on purpose.

“You’re completely different from Akiho,” Nyaa-san said. “That girl… When you went missing, Kaori, she was full of confidence. ‘We’re parent and child, so I know she’s alive!’”

“I can’t stand the thought of that. If by chance I got it wrong, the regret afterward would probably kill me,” I protested.

“Wouldn’t you know her because her face was similar to yours?”

“Huh? I don’t even know whether or not she looked like me. It would be different if we were like two peas in a pod,” I pouted.

Nyaa-san chuckled. “I bet Akiho would cry…”

“In which case, I’d apologize to her. Just because we’re parent and child doesn’t mean we’d understand everything about each other!” I said despairingly.

Just then, I met Otoyo-san’s gaze by chance, and I realized that her eyes were wet. I hastily sat up.

“O-Otoyo-san?! Did I say something wrong…?!”

“S-sorry. It’s not that…” Brushing away her tears with her hand, Otoyo-san gave me a troubled smile. “Ahh… I was just thinking what a fool I am.” Sitting up, she stroked her swollen belly slowly. “Do you know what happened between me and my mother, Kaori-chan?”

I nodded.

Otoyo-san looked at the patch of scarlet spirit realm sky that we could see through a gap in the curtains. “My mother was a wet nurse. She was always looking after someone else’s child, and she never spared me a glance. All I remember is her back. I was so lonely when I was little, I used to follow her around and annoy her all the time.”

She probably doesn’t have many clear memories from when she was so young.

Otoyo-san scrunched up her face, pained. Looking down, she continued her story. “In the end, my mother set off on a journey to search for medicine. She left everything behind. Her household. Me. And then that happened. I hated my mother so much, it was enough to turn me into an oni.”

“I mean…”

“But!” Cutting me off, Otoyo-san looked up, smiling through her tears. “I really do understand. That was all just me being selfish. Being a wet nurse was my mother’s job; she was simply trying her best to carry out her role. She was wet nurse to the princess’s brother too. My own brother was able to get a high-ranking post because of my mother’s efforts. If the princess’s illness had been cured, I—as the princess’s friend—would have received good offers of marriage as well.”

Her tears fell in large droplets as she said hoarsely, “In the end, my mother did everything she could for me. If only I’d waited patiently for her to return, none of this would ever have happened. If only I had recognized my mother’s face when I met her in the cavern…”

Oh. So that’s why she asked me that question.

I finally understood the meaning of Otoyo-san’s question. Her mother, separated from her when she was little… Otoyo-san had only had vague memories of her. By the time she had grown up, found a partner, and become pregnant, too much time had passed. When she arrived in Fukushima after her long journey, Iwate’s appearance must have been quite different from when she was a wet nurse in Kyoto.

Her face crumpled in distress, Otoyo-san spoke as if to the baby in her belly. “But I wanted to show my mother the baby I was going to have. I wanted her to hold her grandchild. I wanted her to praise them and tell them how cute they were. I wanted my mother, who always had her back to me, to look at me.”

That was a very normal wish for a child. And yet this parent and child had ended up hopelessly at odds with one another.

A mother who had gone on a journey for her child’s sake and ended up forgetting that child’s face. A daughter who had followed after her mother, but who, by the time she left on her journey, had forgotten her mother’s face.

Neither was in the wrong. How had things come to this sad conclusion just because they had loved one another?

“It wasn’t your fault, Otoyo-san. It wasn’t anybody’s fault…”

Otoyo-san wiped away each falling tear with her sleeve. “No… Which is why what you said just now saved me, Kaori-chan.”

“Huh?”

I stared at her in puzzlement, surprised by her words.

Otoyo-san chuckled. “‘Just because we’re parent and child doesn’t mean we’d understand everything about each other.’ That feels exactly right to me. I… This whole time, I’ve been blaming myself. Telling myself that I didn’t love my mother enough as her daughter.”

We’re parent and child, so of course we should have understood one another. I ought to have recognized her at once.

Perhaps those were the kinds of words with which Otoyo-san had been cursing herself.

“That’s not true at all,” I insisted. “It’s not like you’re a god; there are some things you’ll never realize.”

“Yeah. That’s right. I think that’s true. Thank you, Kaori-chan.” Otoyo-san smiled peacefully, looking relieved.

“Um… Otoyo-san,” I said, wavering slightly. “Do you think you’ll be able to forgive your mother?”

Otoyo-san avoided my gaze for a moment, and then, slowly, she shook her head. “She killed my child; that’s a fact. If I could forgive her easily, I wouldn’t be so troubled.”

“Uh-huh,” I murmured.

Flopping back onto the futon, Otoyo-san looked up at the ceiling. “Why does the heart have to be so troublesome? If only it were less complicated…I would have been eagerly awaiting the birth of my child by now, with my mother to help me.”

She closed her eyes. A single tear rolled down her cheek, reflecting the starlight that filtered in through the window.

 

***

 

A few days after Otoyo-san had spent the night with us, her labor pains finally began. Noname and the women of the neighborhood ran about, preparing furiously for the birth. Suimei, Kuro, Shinonome-san, and I—and Nurarihyon—gathered in the bookstore to discuss Otoyo-san’s situation.

“So it was no use, then?”

When I told the others that Otoyo-san still hadn’t reconciled with her mother, Nurarihyon looked down at the floor, sipping his strong tea. Today, Nurarihyon was a bright-eyed, handsome youth. Dressed in a school cap and uniform with a stand-up collar, he had the air of a Meiji-era schoolboy.

“I didn’t think it would be easy. But this has become rather complicated,” he said.

“So, what now? The other pregnant spirits have delivered safely, right? In other words—the prophecy was definitely talking about Otoyo-san. If she doesn’t forgive her mother, her baby will die, and spring will never come to the spirit realm,” Shinonome-san said, irritated.

Gazing at the full moon hanging suspended in the sky, Nurarihyon spoke in a detached manner. “I’m not just waiting for the baby to be born. I have taken measures.”

“Stop putting on airs and tell us what you’re actually going to do, Nurarihyon. I trust you, but the baby’s going to be born soon. This is no time for lazing around!”

“Well now, hang on a moment. They say haste makes waste, don’t they?”

“But…!”

Shinonome-san was impatient, but all Nurarihyon said was, “Just wait, and you’ll see.”

The dent between Shinonome-san’s eyebrows deepened, and an extremely unpleasant atmosphere filled the living room. Just then, I realized that there was a commotion going on outside the front of the shop.

“Wh-what’s that?”

As I puzzled over it, I heard furious footsteps and realized that someone had come in. The sliding door was flung back, and several faces appeared, their expressions totally at odds with the atmosphere in the room.

“Hey! Excuse us!”

“Hello. We’ve caught him!”

“Ba ha ha ha ha, how run-down this place is! It’s even worse than I imagined it would be! I hardly think it’s worthy of Fuguruma-youbi, but she’s very good at concealing her displeasure!”

“Wow, there are so many books! I wonder how many love stories you have here that I don’t know? Kami-oni, take me over there.”

The ones who had just barged in were Kinme, Ginme, and—being carried bridal-style by Kami-oni—Fuguruma-youbi.

With them, they had Tamaki-san, who was being held by the scruff of the neck and seemed to have been dragged here against his will.

 

All at once, our ranks had swelled, and now we were all packed into the bookstore’s living room. In that horribly cramped space, Nurarihyon listened to the report Kinme and Ginme delivered.

“We went all the way to Fukushima, but there wasn’t really anything there.”

“Well, that’s because it was turned into a temple. I hardly thought that the onibaba would still be there.”

Nurarihyon had sent the twins off on an investigation. They had checked every place that had a connection to Iwate.

There is a temple in Adachigahara, Fukushima Prefecture, called Kanze-ji. A capstone kept there is supposedly the remains of the cavern where Iwate settled down—and a pool of blood is where she is said to have washed her knife. But even in Kurozuka, the place near to where Iwate is said to have been buried, they apparently found neither the remains of the cavern nor Iwate herself.

“You didn’t find even a trace of her?”

“Not the slightest sign. I’m telling you, no spirit has lived there for a long time.”

“We looked high and low for her throughout the spirit realm too. There wasn’t a single spirit who said they’d seen her.”

“I see… Where in the world has she wandered off to?”

At the twins’ words, Nurarihyon’s face took on a pensive expression, and he looked down.

Just then, a shrill voice piped up. “Wow, how wonderful you are, sir. My name is Fuguruma-youbi. Please look favorably on me.”

“Huh? Why, you’re a beauty, aren’t you?”

At some point, Fuguruma-youbi had started to lean against Shinonome-san, and now she was trailing her fingers flirtatiously across his chest. And wasn’t that my adoptive father laughing foolishly, not looking nearly as troubled as he ought to?

“Shinonome-san… Now isn’t really the time for that, is it?” I asked in a low voice.

Flustered, Shinonome-san avoided my gaze. “Ack! Ah…Kaori, I was just…”

“Oh, do stop it,” Fuguruma-youbi chided me. “Women’s jealousy is unseemly, don’t you think?”

“I’m not jealous. He’s my father!” I burst out, raising my voice.

“I was joking,” Fuguruma-youbi chuckled.

For some reason, Shinonome-san looked shocked.

This has gone off the rails…

The serious atmosphere from a few minutes ago had completely vanished.

Also, Shinonome-san didn’t realize it, but Kami-oni was glaring at him with bloodshot eyes.

“He’s seething!”

That’s scary… Earnestly pretending not to notice, I turned to Nurarihyon. “And why did you summon these three?”

“I was brought here against my will! Like a condemned man being sent to the gallows!” Tamaki-san declared, seemingly mortified.

“I caught him myself! Pretty good, eh?” Ginme said proudly.

Just when I thought the chaos had finally reached its peak, Nurarihyon laughed. “He may not like it, but he’s the best hope we’ve got to search for Iwate. You’ll come in handy, Tamaki.”

“Don’t talk about people as if they’re tools, oh great leader.”

“Ho ho. You’re telling me not to treat you as a tool because you’re a genius who’s painted countless yokai portraits? How stingy you are with your gift.”

Nurarihyon took a book out of his jacket. It was old and bound in the traditional Japanese style. The cover read The Illustrated Demon Horde’s Night Parade, Volume 2: Yang. It went without saying that this was a book of pictures by Toriyama Sekien; I had read it several times.

“Why did you bring that?” I asked.

“It’s here somewhere… Ah, here we go.”

Nurarihyon opened it at a particular page and showed it to me. Along with the heading “Kurozuka,” it bore the explanation: An oni from Adachigahara in Oshu, mentioned in old poems. There was a picture of an old woman wearing a ghastly smile while she stood in front of a bamboo basket full of severed heads and chopped-up legs.

It can’t be! Is this…?! I stared up at him. “A picture of Iwate?”

“That’s right. And I understand that this man drew the spirit himself. Isn’t that right, Tamaki…or rather, Sekien?”

Tamaki-san grimaced, silent but unabashed.

I, meanwhile, froze, open-mouthed with shock. Tamaki-san is Toriyama Sekien?

Toriyama Sekien was a master painter of yokai illustrations. In terms of modern-day artists who drew the same subject matter, most people would have thought of the mangaka Mizuki Shigeru. It’s true that he had an enormous influence on the way yokai are depicted these days, but many of Shigeru-sensei’s pictures were based on images by Toriyama Sekien. Given this, it could be said that the foremost creator of images of spirits in Japan was Toriyama Sekien.

To think that he was so close by… I stared at Tamaki-san in amazement.

“Stop it. Please, stop it. I’m not the same person now as I was then.” Shaking his head vigorously, Tamaki-san dropped his gaze to the floor in annoyance. “Now, I’m just the remnants of when I was Sekien. I am Tamaki; Sekien has already left the stage. So please, leave me alone…”

If I was remembering correctly, Toriyama Sekien had lived a full life as a human. Yet Tamaki-san only looked like he was in his forties, at the very oldest.

A human who’s died, being transformed into a youthful-looking spirit… Does that kind of thing happen?

“Nurarihyon. He doesn’t like being referred to by his original name,” I said. “We don’t really need to be talking about that now, do we? Let’s get back to the matter at hand.”

“You’re right. I did something I ought not to have.”

“Oof…” Shinonome-san fell silent, looking as if he’d just swallowed a bitter-tasting bug. I didn’t understand why, and it made me even more confused.

Just then, Suimei rounded on the grinning Nurarihyon. “Damn it. Why do all spirits talk so carelessly? Explain so that other people can understand you!”

Nurarihyon’s silver eyes were like the full moon, full of a cold light. “Think about it calmly. There have been many stillbirths in the spirit realm before this time. But the spring has always come.”

“Is that so?” Frowning slightly, Suimei looked away, perturbed. “I thought this was because…surely there would be changes in the spirit realm because dead children would trigger their mothers’ negative emotions. I was sure that was something like a natural phenomenon here.”

Nurarihyon laughed. “No, no, though that line of thinking is very suited to an exorcist. That didn’t occur to me at all.”

“No way…” Suimei seemed to have realized something. His face grew solemn again.

Nurarihyon took off his school cap and, tapping it lightly against his chest, turned toward us with an affected air. “All this strife in the spirit realm is likely an intentional attack, wrought by someone who bears ill will toward this world. It seems there is a group that wants to prevent spring from coming to us. But giving birth is already a game of life and death. Shouldn’t we be off to punish those who have thoughtlessly butted in?”

Putting his cap back on his head, Nurarihyon grinned, showing his white teeth.

 

We tidied the living room and spread out a sheet of washi paper as large as two tatami mats. Tamaki-san sat in front of it, having taken off his splendid haori. He knelt down and perched on the soles of his feet, staring at the paper. His right arm hung loosely at his side. The hand peeping out of the cuff of his open-necked shirt was inflamed and looked as if it didn’t move well. I realized then why, at the Christmas party a few days ago, he’d said, “This is my non-dominant hand.” This also had to be why he usually kept his right arm tucked inside his haori. I frowned.

“Darn, I wanted to go too.”

“Bring us back a souvenir!”

When the rest of us had made our preparations to head off after Iwate, the raven Tengu twins had been sent next door to help out. The birth was finally approaching, so someone needed to be on hand to assist. Smiling awkwardly at Ginme’s look of displeasure, I hoisted a sleepy, yawning Nyaa-san onto my shoulder. Suimei had just returned from replenishing his paper talismans, and he and Kuro watched Tamaki-san nervously.

Taking up the brush in his left hand, Tamaki-san muttered, “I’m just the remnants…I can’t guarantee the quality.”

Even so, he put all his strength into his arm holding the brush, from which ink began to ooze. With a bold stroke, Tamaki-san brought it down onto the white paper.

The brush danced smoothly across the surface of the paper with no hesitation, just as if he had input instructions beforehand.

The jet-black wall of a hovel, through which pillars and a central support were visible. A bucket with the dismembered head of a woman peeping out of it. An onibaba, suppressing an eerie smile, unconcerned that her kimono had fallen open. She was eating someone.

“This brings back memories,” Nurarihyon said softly. “Back then…all the spirits would gather around you, begging you to draw their portrait. You hardly took time to sleep, Tamaki, you were so busy drawing them.”

It seemed as though Nurarihyon’s words weren’t reaching Tamaki-san’s ears. His whole attention was focused on the movements of his brush. At last, he wrote, “An oni from Adachigahara in Oshu, mentioned in old poems.”

Then, mysteriously, those characters alone sank into the paper and disappeared, as if they had never been there.

Tamaki-san let out a long breath and stayed sitting where he was. Then, gazing at the finished picture, he called out, “Kurozuka.”

At that moment, the onibaba in the picture changed. The mask of a demoness appeared on her eerily smiling face. A knife, dripping with blood, manifested in her hand. Blood splattered here and there across her body. She trembled for just a moment, then looked up to the heavens and screamed.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh… Aaaaaaaaaaarrrggh!”

The next moment, she was gone, as if she had dissolved.

“Wh-what…?”

I was bewildered. Shinonome-san, Suimei, and Nurarihyon were likewise transfixed. Only one person among us was smiling.

“Well then, everybody. Shall we go? Not as a parade of courtesans, but as a parade of spirits?” asked Fuguruma-youbi. She looked at each of us with a charming smile.

Just then, a sweet scent tickled my nose. It was an elegant aroma, not overly sweet.

Oh… It’s the scent of wisteria flowers.

I had smelled that fragrance recently. I began looking around for the flowers. But those beautiful, bluish-purple blossoms were nowhere to be found; there was only the courtesan, blooming in her full glory.

“Well, now, everyone. Please come a little closer to me. Normally, it would be uncouth to approach someone with whom you are not intimate, but this is a special occasion. I am going to show you the whereabouts of all the sad feelings etched into this paper.”

Blushing, Fuguruma-youbi cast down her eyes, framed by their long eyelashes. Her gaze fell on the paper. “I am the spirit of a person’s feelings which were written into a letter but never delivered,” she said with a lilting sadness. “Concern for their friends, love for their parents, the feeling of missing someone, gratitude… People really do express all kinds of feelings on paper.”

Kami-oni picked up where Fuguruma-youbi left off. “They commit curses to paper too. Hexes, grudges, the intent to kill—they put feelings on paper that are so sordid, it makes you want to turn your eyes away.”

Fuguruma-youbi gazed fondly at Kami-oni, and a single tear fell down her cheek.

“Paper is the medium that connects everything. Dreams, feelings, stories; it catches everything on its snow-white body and conveys it to someone else… Ahh.” Closing her eyes tightly, Fuguruma-youbi wiped away her tears. Then, as if she were reciting a poem, she said, “What an unhappy creature a mother is. Because she is a mother, she cannot compromise at all, and with one mistake she can lose everything. Her child’s happiness or unhappiness—she bears it all on her back, but because she loves her child, she cannot give in. Ohh… Look, there she is, the demon who killed her own child. Right there.”

She clapped her hands together, and a dazzling storm of wisteria petals sprang up.

“Wha…? Wait…”

My vision filled with blue and purple. Automatically, I closed my eyes. It took a little while for the howling of the wind to die down. When calm finally returned, I timidly opened my eyes again.

They went wide with shock. We seemed to be inside the ink-wash painting.

There was no color anywhere to be seen. We stood in a monochrome world, represented through the light and shade of ink. The sky alone was the vivid red of blood. But I recognized the scene. It was the street in front of my own house, which I knew all too well.

“Hey, Kaori! You all right?”

Suimei came running up to me. Kuro was at his feet.

I looked around and saw that the others had been thrown into this world along with me. Apart from Fuguruma-youbi, Kami-oni, and Tamaki-san, we were all here.

Leaping nimbly down from my shoulders, Nyaa-san looked about warily. Her eyes fixed on one particular spot, and she said sharply, “Over there!”

I followed the line of Nyaa-san’s gaze. The instant I saw the scene unfolding there, my entire body broke out in goosebumps.

Birds.

Large birds with jet-black wings and bloodred tail feathers had lined themselves all along the eaves that faced the street. Their coloration alone wasn’t so different from that of birds in the human world, but one part of them was definitely uncanny. They had no heads. Instead, the torsos of naked women extended out from their chests. Full breasts, plump stomachs, and slender waists. Normally, these features would have emanated sexual allure, but they were as pallid as corpses, and instead they repulsed all who looked upon them.

“Kokakuchou…”

These birds, also called Ubume-dori, were said to have originated in China.

Many had lived in what was once Jing Province, where they had transformed between this shape and that of women; when they donned their feathers, they were birds, and when they took them off again, they were women. Furthermore, according to classics such as the Keicho Kenmonshu, the Honzou Kibun, and the Compendium of Materia Medica and the Dictated Compendium of Materia Medica, they were wrathful deities and often took human lives.

These spirits were also known to harm children.

“Waaahh… Waahh…”

With unsettling cries like those of infants, the Kokakuchou stared out from the eaves at a certain spot. They were gazing at the house next to the bookstore… Otoyo-san’s house.

They seemed to be lying in wait to steal the baby that was about to be born. Huddling together, they moved toward Otoyo-san’s house in fits and starts, as if to peer inside and see what was going on.

But they were entirely prevented from ever reaching it. As they approached the house, someone drove them all back.

“Iwate-san?!”

“Huff…hff…hff…”

It was Otoyo-san’s birth mother, Iwate. Panting heavily, she had no breath to respond when I called out to her.

Just like in Tamaki-san’s picture, her face was covered by the mask of a demoness. Her tattered kimono was spattered bright red with blood, and sweat beaded her exposed skin. In her hand, she held a knife; every time the Kokakuchou approached the house, her knife mercilessly slew one of those grotesque birds, which sank into a pool of blood.

Just how long would she stay there and fight? In this monochrome world, the only bright colors came from the redness of the sky and the blood shed by the Kokakuchou.

“So this is where you were, Iwate,” Nurarihyon muttered bitterly, watching her.

“Um, Nurarihyon…where are we?”

This monochrome world, the swarming Kokakuchou, Iwate fighting on, covered in blood. The whole situation baffled me. Nurarihyon stroked his beardless chin with a murmur.

“We seem to be in a dimension that someone intentionally created. You might call it the world behind the scenes.”

“Why is Iwate-san in a place like this?”

“She’s probably here to protect them from beings she realized were out to hurt her child and grandchild. This world is separate from the surface world, but the two are extremely close. If the child had been harmed before it was born, we wouldn’t have stood a chance. We have Iwate to thank for the fact that the child has made it this far.”

“Recently, I’ve felt like someone’s watching me.”

Otoyo-san’s words came back to me. She had also said that their gaze disappeared straightaway. I didn’t know whether that gaze belonged to Iwate or to the Kokakuchou who were trying to steal her baby, but either way, it meant that Iwate had been by Otoyo-san’s side this whole time.

“Here…all alone?”

While I spoke with Nurarihyon, Iwate slaughtered several more Kokakuchou. The blade of her knife was already worn; rather than slicing through them, it was more accurate to say she was mowing them down with all her might.

Iwate’s wounds were grievous and clear, but she made no move to leave her position in front of Otoyo-san’s house. Her posture said clear as anything: that which was behind her was more precious than herself.

Hers was the figure of a mother fighting, at the risk her own life, for the sake of a child. But a single, decisive error had left a deep gulf between this mother and her child, and they could not make amends. Even so, she kept on standing there, wretched to behold.

Just then, a voice spoke, one that sounded out of place.

“Argh… What a bother this has become. Ugh, now the master is going to be angry with me.”

The voice was languid, as if it came from a person holding back a yawn. It definitely didn’t fit this ghastly place where dead bodies were strewn all about.

The owner of the voice came slowly closer, trampling on the dead Kokakuchou without paying them any mind. “I thought this was going to be an easy job. Why did it go so wrong?”

It was a humanoid spirit with pale and bloodless skin to which her straggly, oily black hair was plastered. From the waist down, her body was covered by a blood-drenched kimono, and her deeply shadowed face held no vitality—it was corpse-like, and it seemed to produce a feeling of visceral disgust in anyone who looked upon it.

“Oh, but maybe it’s a good thing I got to meet such a lovely girl. Yes, this job isn’t completely without its charms.” With a sweet smile, the spirit turned toward me and waved.

“Kaori, get back,” said Suimei.

“Behind me,” Nyaa-san directed.

“Grrrrrrrr…!”

Kuro joined them to step in front of me, and before I knew it, Shinonome-san was also there at my side. This mysterious spirit frightened me, but now I felt a little relieved.

“You’re just like a princess, aren’t you, with everyone looking after you? I’m jealous.” Laughing low in her throat, the spirit turned and began to walk toward Iwate. “Well then, shall we finish this? It seems I was a little too careless.”

She raised a hand in the air and turned it suddenly toward Iwate. Then, as if she were suggesting they go for a picnic, she said, “Everybody! Kill her, please.”

At that moment, all the Kokakuchou lined up along the roofs took off at once. Wailing cries like those of newborn children, they rushed Iwate, who was still fighting alone.

“Iwate-san!”

“Damn! Hey, come on, let’s go!”

“I don’t need you to tell me that!”

Shinonome-san and Suimei broke into a run. Suimei’s talismans flew up, and Kuro snapped at the Kokakuchou. Shinonome-san leapt resolutely at them too. But all they could do was remove the Kokakuchou on the edge of the flock; they couldn’t sweep away the ones swarming Iwate. They were just wasting their time.

“Iwate-san!” I cried. Otoyo-san’s mother is going to die!

The more time passed, the more hopeless things seemed for Iwate, who was surrounded by Kokakuchou too numerous to count. I didn’t know what to do. Frantically, I tried to hold back my desire to start running. As if she’d read my mind, Nyaa-san instantly stopped me.

“You mustn’t, Kaori. You have to stay here!”

“I know! But…” I shook. Argh, why can’t I do anything?!

It was so frustrating. Nevertheless, wanting to do something, I yelled, “Iwate-san! The baby is going to be born very soon! This time…this time, for sure, please hold your grandchild! Please tell them how adorable they are!”

I channeled all my feelings into that shout. It didn’t matter if it didn’t reach her. It didn’t matter if she didn’t hear me. But if I could just support Iwate even a little… With that thought in mind, I shouted loudly enough to make myself hoarse.

Just then, something strange happened to the Kokakuchou.

“Eeeeek!”

Shrieking as if with the agony of death, the Kokakuchou flooding around Iwate were blown away. In the midst of those Kokakuchou, which fell like rain, a cheerful voice rang out.

“Ho ho. It’s just as Kaori says. The birth of a child is an auspicious event, but when the grandmother is in this state, we’d better worry about her first. After all, she should be the happiest of all.”

“Nurarihyon!”

It was the head honcho of the spirit realm himself. He had moved to stand by Iwate’s side and summoned a jellyfish twice the size of his own body, which completely blocked the attacks of the Kokakuchou.

“How deplorable. Kokakuchou steal people’s children, but there’s no reason it has to be Otoyo’s child. Hey, you, Ubume… No, something that looks like an Ubume.”

The thing he had called an Ubume frowned, the expression on its lifeless face full of wrath. “Wh-what are you saying? I only did what’s natural for a spirit to do. When there’s a child about, I hunt them down. That’s completely normal for a Kokakuchou.”

“What kind of logic is that? That’s absurd.” Nurarihyon sighed deeply and wrapped himself in the blue-white lightning of the jellyfish. “I don’t know what kind of misconception you’re laboring under, but spirits do not indiscriminately attack children. Oni who eat people, spirits who menace people traveling at night, even Kokakuchou who hunt children—they each have a reason for doing what they do. Spirits are not senseless monsters!”

Then he released the stored-up lightning. That blue-white flash lit the sky and landed a direct attack on the Kokakuchou who had regrouped to attack Iwate. The Kokakuchou let out their final death screams and thudded to the ground. All the color drained from the face of the spirit Nurarihyon had called an Ubume.

Nurarihyon turned his cold gaze on them. “Why, I’d say your way of thinking is terribly human. Where did you put on that Ubume skin?”

“Damn!” The Ubume leapt backward. “Ha ha. Of course I’d be at a disadvantage, going up against the spirits’ great general…”

Then they turned on their heel and fled, swift as a hare.

“Hey!”

“Wait, you bastard!”

But the Ubume stopped in their tracks immediately. Suimei was standing in front of them, blocking their path.

“Don’t you dare run away,” Suimei snarled.

“Hello. Could you let me through, if you don’t mind?”

“Don’t talk nonsense. There’s something I want to ask you.” Talisman at the ready, Suimei glared sharply at the Ubume. “Which exorcist sent you? Why the heck are you doing this?”

Scratching at their cheek, the Ubume gave a small shrug. “Well, I have no reason to tell you the truth.”

“Is that so? In that case, I’ll make you tell me. Kuro!”

“Understood! Leave it to me!”

As Suimei yelled encouragement, Kuro flew toward the Ubume like a bullet. Closing in on the Ubume’s feet in an instant, he swiped his long tail. They nimbly avoided it, but were hit by a time-delayed shock wave, and fine cuts appeared all over their body.

Red blood spurted forth from their wounds, and as the Ubume closed their eyes in pain, Kuro wasted no time unleashing another attack. His tail hit the Ubume right across the face. Crouching down, they clutched at their face, unable to bear it.

Suimei approached the crouching Ubume and looked down at them coldly. “If you don’t want to die, tell me the truth. Why were you after this spirit? Why are you trying to keep the spirit realm locked in winter? Bear in mind, if you do any further harm to any spirit, I’ll have no mercy left for you.”

The Ubume stayed silent.

“Hey…”

But just when Suimei was about to speak a second time, the Ubume suddenly burst out laughing.

“Ha… Ha ha ha… What the hell? If I harm a spirit, you’ll have no mercy for me? Ha ha…”

Startled, Suimei drew back slightly. Kuro let out a wary growl.

The Ubume slowly lifted their face. “What are you saying? Weren’t you a savage hunter of spirits mere months ago? You bathed in so much spirit blood that even you found it unpleasant. You killed countless spirits. So how can you stand there and say that as if you’re so innocent?!”

As the Ubume let out a heartbroken scream, their face split horribly. Their human skin tore away, leaving their insides visible. Anticipating a sight too painful to behold, I started to avert my eyes—but what was exposed beneath the skin was so unexpected that I couldn’t look away.

The skin of the Ubume had parted to reveal the face of a beast with red eyes and jet-black fur.

I froze in shock. The Ubume took advantage of our surprise to slip past Suimei and break into a run.

“Damn… Wait!” As Suimei was about to dash after them, there was a scream from behind us, and he stopped short.

“Aaaaaaagh… Ugh…gh!”

“Nurarihyon!”

Nurarihyon had screamed. He was crouching down, his face contorted with pain. Someone had cut him from behind.

But who would… When I looked behind Nurarihyon, I saw someone totally unexpected.

“Huff…hff…hff….”

Standing there, her shoulders heaving, clasping a blood-soaked knife in her hand, was Iwate.

“Iwate-san?! Wh-why…?”

“Ha ha…! Serves you right!” the Ubume snarled in a grating voice. Staying a safe distance away from us, they whined, like a dog running from a fight it had lost. “According to the plan, that onibaba was supposed to attack her daughter! The negative feelings that would have surged forth when mother killed child a second time—they would have been immeasurable! That’s why I put on this mask… But she defied us with an iron will and indiscriminately attacked anything that came near the house.”

A smile appeared on their half-torn face. They waved a human hand. “Well, do the best you can. It’s been quite a struggle for that one to stop us from breaking through thus far.”

“Wh-what are you talking about? How can you do something so cruel?” I stood stock-still, dumbfounded by their selfish, heartless plan.

If Suimei was right and this Ubume was the pawn of an exorcist, then the one plan was the work of a human.

Could a human wound someone so easily, so pitilessly? No. I don’t want to believe it.

“Kaori! Don’t just stand there!” Shinonome-san snapped.

I came back to my senses. As I looked hurriedly up, I saw someone running toward me. They held a bloodstained knife aloft as it gleamed a deep red in this monochrome world. Iwate.

“Kaori, run! Hey, you, protect Kaori!” Shinonome-san howled in a terrible panic. It looked like he’d been attacked by Iwate too; blood was pouring from his arm.

Nyaa-san, had immediately covered me from behind. “You let your guard down, Shinonome!”

“Shut up! What else was I supposed to do?! I didn’t think she would hurt—oh, damn it!”

During this exchange, Iwate rapidly got closer.

“I told you to stop!”

Taking on her gigantic form, Nyaa-san leapt at Iwate and tried to pin her down, but Iwate nimbly avoided her. Keeping her stance low, Iwate headed for me, getting faster and faster.

“W-wait, Iwate-san!”

“Damn it! Kaori!”

Suimei turned toward Iwate and threw a talisman. But before it could reach her, that bloodied knife was already staring me in the face.

I’m going to die! I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. I could feel my regret spiking. Was this really how my life was going to end?

But the pain never came.

Wondering what had happened, I timidly opened my eyes—and there was Iwate, still poised to attack me, frozen in place. But her face was turned to look behind her.

“Wh-what…?”

Desperately fighting my urge to sink to the ground where I stood, I followed Iwate’s gaze. She was staring at Otoyo-san’s house.

“Ouahh… Ouahh… Ouahh…”

We heard a tiny little voice, crying. Quite unlike the cries of the Kokakuchou, it was sweet and frail, expressing the shock of encountering this world for the first time as best it could.

“They’ve been born?” I murmured.

At that moment, there was a dry clang as something fell—the knife Iwate had been holding. It slipped from her grasp, damp with blood and gore, and stopped where it had fallen, trembling slightly.

Ahh.

Warmth overflowed from the depths of my heart, and I gently approached Iwate. I slowly reached out for the demoness mask and removed it from her face.

“Congratulations. Your grandchild is crying very healthily.”

The face that appeared from under the mask looked nothing like an oni. It was that of an old woman with completely white hair, and features very similar to Otoyo-san’s. The moment Iwate stared in the direction of Otoyo-san’s house, her lip began to tremble.

“Finally.” Then, slowly, she looked away, her eyes downcast.

The quiet tears that flooded down her face were almost completely clear.

 

***

 

We brought Iwate with us as we returned to the world from which we had come. I left the injured Shinonome-san and Nurarihyon to Suimei and Kuro, then headed for Otoyo-san’s house along with Iwate.

“I…will go home.”

But Iwate stubbornly refused to come with me and tried to leave, saying that she had already fulfilled her role.

“That won’t do. Please take a look at your grandchild’s face,” I insisted.

“But…”

Keeping a merciless grip on Iwate’s arm, I dragged her toward the house next door. “Hey, Granny, don’t you want to see the face of your grandchild?”

“Grann…”

“I think your grandchild will want to see their grandma’s face.”

Iwate fell silent. It seemed to me that she really did want to see her daughter and grandchild.

When we reached Otoyo-san’s house, Noname came out to meet us. “Good grief. Are you really going to go meet the baby in such a state?”

“Oh.”

Come to think of it, both Iwate and I were covered in blood and dust.

Borrowing a hand towel soaked in hot water, we hid ourselves behind the partitioning screen in front of the entryway and wiped our bodies down. As we did so, I heard the healthy crying of the baby, and my face naturally softened.

When we had finished our preparations, we headed for the inner part of Otoyo-san’s house, walking gingerly so that our footfalls wouldn’t make a sound. It seemed that Otoyo had given birth on a futon laid out in the living room. It was awfully noisy on the other side of the sliding door.

As I imagined the adorable baby, I excitedly put my hand on the door.

Iwate caught my hand in hers.

“Wait.” She was trembling, her face pale, and her eyes downcast.

Perhaps she was afraid of Otoyo-san’s reaction. There was no way around that. After all, Iwate had killed her own daughter and grandchild.

Just then, we heard voices on the other side of the door.

“At any rate, Otoyo-chan, I’m glad the birth went smoothly. It’s been two hundred years since you married your husband, hasn’t it? I wondered if you were ever going to have a baby.” It was one of the women from the neighborhood. Her tone was worried but curious.

That’s a bit too blunt, isn’t it?

Though I frowned at the impolite question, Otoyo-san’s laugh was unexpectedly pleasant. “We always intended to have a child. But I had to wait.”

“To wait? What for?”

“I decided to wait until my dead child came back.” Otoyo-san explained.

Souls circulate. To a spirit, that’s obvious—it’s common sense. Those who die go around, then return to this world. So no one in the spirit realm really minds death; that’s why they’re so relaxed about it.

“My husband is one of the demons of hell, so he made a special request to Enma-sama. He asked that my dead child be returned to me.”

“Then—you don’t mean…?”

“Yes. This child is the same child as the one before. It took two hundred years. But they’ve finally come back to me.”

At that moment, we heard a weak little voice. Otoyo-san instantly began to soothe it, her own voice gentle. “Good girl. There’s a good girl… This time, I’m going to make you happy.”

The baby stopped crying at once.

Exhaling deeply, Otoyo-san chuckled. “This moment has made me glad I was able to turn into an oni. None of this would have been possible if I’d stayed a human. With this…with this, I can start again.”

She sniffled slightly, but she spoke earnestly. “Now everything is as it was before. In this way, I’m alive, and my child has been born to me again. I no longer have a reason to feel bitter toward my mother. At last…I can forgive her.”

“Ahh.”

The moment she said that, I heard Iwate gasp. She stared at the sliding door as if she couldn’t believe it. Balling her hands into tight fists, she shook her head over and over, utterly unmoored by Otoyo-san’s words, which she couldn’t process.

Letting out a breath, I put my hand on the sliding door, and I called out in a soft voice. “Otoyo-san? May we come in?”

“Kaori-chan? You’re here? Please do.”

I opened the sliding door to see Otoyo-san sitting on the futon, holding her baby.

“Congratulations. May I see the baby?”

“Of course! Here, hold her.”

“Thank you! Also…” Casting a brief glance behind me, I moved to the side and sat down. “Can she come in too?”

Otoyo-san’s eyes went wide with shock. Reflected in those olive-brown eyes was an old woman whose features strongly resembled Otoyo-san’s. But her eyes quickly grew damp with tears, submerging the reflection.

“Of course. Of course she can. Thank you, Kaori-chan…” Though exhausted from the birth, Otoyo-san got to her feet, holding her baby in one arm. “Mother. Look, it’s my child… Isn’t she lovely? I did the best I could. Agh…”

Of course, she soon staggered.

Without a moment’s delay, Iwate moved to support Otoyo-san as she tottered. “You mustn’t push yourself! Silly. Don’t underestimate what you’ve just gone through.”

She patted Otoyo-san’s back gently. Otoyo-san blushed like a little girl and gazed at Iwate with sparkling eyes.

“Okay. Okay… Sorry, Mother. I just wanted you to hold her as soon as possible.”

“Good grief. You always were impatient, weren’t you? That hasn’t changed, even now that you’re a mother yourself.”

“Ha ha… I’m sorry. That’s no good. I’d better become more motherly.”

Giggling, Otoyo-san showed Iwate the baby in her arms. Iwate nudged the baby’s plump cheek with a wrinkled fingertip—and her face slowly began to soften.

“She’s lovely. Just lovely.”

Awkwardly, she hugged both Otoyo-san and the baby to her chest—and, in a quivering voice, she said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was desperate to get back to you as fast as I could, and to find medicine for the princess… I’m so, so sorry.”

Iwate pressed her cheek against Otoyo-san’s. Her voice was terribly hoarse. “I didn’t realize… I didn’t realize at all that my lovely Otoyo had become a splendid young woman. I’m sorry… I’m sorry for being such an awful mother!”

These were the same feelings of guilt that Otoyo-san had harbored.

Their faces captured the tragedy of a mother and child separated for so long that they no longer recognized one another. Until today, the two of them had been at odds, even as they held the same feelings in their hearts.

“It’s all right. It’s all right… I missed you, Mother. Mother, Mother… Ahh!”

Calling loudly to Iwate over and over, Otoyo-san clung to her mother—crying just like a newborn baby.