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“It’s interesting to think that two different
cultures separated by such a great distance could have some
folktales and mythology that are kind of similar to each other,”
Jeff commented and his eyes gleamed in interest behind his
glasses.

“It really is,” Akira agreed. “And yet, at
the same time, they’re also very different. Take the
Oni
and
the
Tengu
for example. There are many stories of both types
having interacted with humans on a regular basis, and there are
many tales of them disguising themselves in such a way that the
person the story is about doesn’t realize that they’re not human
until a much later date.”

“
Tengu
are . . .?” Kat asked. She and
Jessica had finished up their Tarot discussion, and now they were
both paying close attention to the conversation the rest of us were
having.

“
Tengu
are mountain dwellers and
another of the trickster types, though they’re getting a better
reputation nowadays,” Akira said and grinned. “They usually appear
as a Shinto Priest to people in their dreams but there are a few
times when they’ve physically appeared in front of someone, usually
to guide them. This is especially true for children who are lost in
the forest. It’s said that
Tengu
are most often called upon
to help them find their way back home. They’re much better at the
glamour magic and illusions than the Oni, though, and are far more
capable of hiding their true nature behind a human mask. In fact,
most people that have met a
Tengu
are never aware of it
because there’s never anything that gives them away like an
Oni’s
horns can.”

“Fascinating!” Jessica exclaimed.

“Wow, sounds like you both have you work cut
out for you,” Kat said.

“I’d like to hear more as you guys work on
this,” Jeff said as he scribbled down a few notes.

“Sure, you’ll hear me complain about it
enough,” I laughed just as the bell rang singling the end of lunch
period.

Akira reached out and caught my arm as I was
leaving.

“Will I see you at the library after
school?”

I sighed. I knew that if I said no he was
going to plead his case with me until we were both late for our
next class, so I reluctantly agreed to meet up with him once school
let out, though I made sure that he knew I was going to be majorly
pressed for time since I had to pick up my little brothers and get
them home in a timely manner so that Mom wouldn’t go back on her
promise to let me off of chauffeuring duty. He grinned at me and
walked with me to class over my protests. I would have liked to put
some distance between us (I did manage to keep him from grabbing my
book bag from me in a show of misplaced chivalry) before walking
down the halls with him because he drew a lot of attention to
himself by simply being, well, him. This, of course, resulted in a
lot of attention being drawn to me because I walked beside him. I
resigned myself to being the subject of more whispers, and hoped
that the story of me threatening to break little miss Sheryl’s arm
would be enough to protect me from some of Akira’s more volatile
fangirls.

The remainder of the afternoon passed by in a
blur of paper, ink and dry erase boards, and before I knew it the
final bell had rung and I made my way to our school’s library, a
decent sized two story building that was connected to the rest of
the school by a small, open air walkway that was nice during the
warmer months, but made moving from building to building difficult
in colder months, especially when it iced over. The walkway had
seen many bruised butts and other appendages in its time, and was
sure to see more this upcoming winter season.

I spotted Akira as soon as I entered the
building. He had sprawled his stuff out on one of the tables at the
far right, and when I say sprawl, I mean “taken over almost the
entire surface”. He had spread out papers, books, and a few stray
pencils across the tabletop, and I tried to move a few stacks
around in order to find a place for my own junk to sit. I gave up
after a stack of notebooks threatened to topple over onto the floor
and confined myself to a single notebook unearthed from the depths
of my “deadly weapon” and settled in to take a few notes.

“Find anything interesting?” I asked. I tried
to peer over the edge of the book that he had propped up and buried
his nose into.

“A little, but it’s mostly stuff that I know
already from stories I’ve been told,” he replied, his voice
sounding slightly muffled by the pages. “Though I’m finding some of
the Cherokee trickster stories highly entertaining.”

“What do you think about including other
stories that might be common from both cultures?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, most ancient cultures have some type
of Great Flood story,” I began, but stopped when Akira shook his
head.

“Japan doesn’t have a great flood story in
their mythology.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised. “That’s kind of
surprising, I figured that there’d be something since the country
is surrounded by the ocean.”

Akira shrugged and said, “Well, I mentioned
the giant catfish living in Lake Biwa that causes earthquakes, so
maybe the ancients felt that flood stories would be too far fetched
an idea.”

I groaned and sighed at the same time. “Maybe
there was never a great flood of any type in Japan the way there
seems to have been elsewhere around the world, or perhaps the
flooding was so gradual that people had time to move to higher
ground.”

“Perhaps. I just know that
Tengu
and
Oni
have never spoken about any type of flooding before that
I know of.”

“And you’re talking about them like they’re
real again,” I said as I reached over and picked up the book on
Cherokee mythology and placed it in my book bag with the intention
of returning it to Mr. Baker when I saw him on Saturday. I glanced
at the library clock and started to put my supplies away.

“Am I? I guess I’m just so used to their
general idea that I think of them as being here. Where’s your
friend Maria today?”

“She’s at home sick,” I answered
automatically, taken so aback by his abrupt change in topic that I
didn’t think to guard my answer. “Why?”

“I was hoping to ask her a question about our
history assignment that’s due Monday,” he answered blandly. I
couldn’t help but think that his question had been a little shaper
than his casual reasoning had warranted, but I decided to let it
drop. I had something else I wanted to ask before I left to go pick
up my brothers, anyway.

“Akira,” I fidgeted a little in my seat, then
met his curious gaze. “What you said about
Oni
hiding their
horns under hats, does that mean any types of hat? Even . . .
baseball caps?”

“Yeah, it does. That’s the only part of their
nature that they can’t hide with a glamour or transformation magic,
so they take great pains to keep them hidden when they’re around
humans.”

“Are there any other signs to watch out for,
any other physical characteristics that could give them away if
someone knew how to look for them?” I persisted. My hands twisted
together under the table and my fingers started to scratch at the
skin of my thumbs.

“Well, most of the time they’re rather large,
and I don’t mean height, but, well, everything really. I’ve often
joked to my brother that the American Body Builder reminds me of an
Oni
, only the muscles aren’t as well defined in an
Oni
the way they are a body builder. They’re more solid as
opposed to cut.”

My nails suddenly gouged into my thumb so
deeply that I ripped into a hang nail and let out a pained “ouch!”
as blood welled up and slid down over my skin. Akira gave me a
sharp look that wavered between concerned and thoughtful as I
pulled my hands out from under the table and stared as the red
liquid dripped off my thumb with a slight burning, throbbing pain.
I quickly stuck my thumb in my mouth to try and minimize the damage
and my nose wrinkled at the sharp, coppery flavor. Akira rummaged
in his stack of stuff and came up with a tissue that he handed to
me.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

I nodded and pulled my thumb out of my mouth
and grimaced when more blood welled up and I quickly pressed the
tissue against the wound. It had been a good year since the last
time I had made myself bleed, and my jaw muscles clenched as I
fought back a few choice words. Sure, I pulled the top layer of
skin off on a semi regular basis and had a few areas where the
wounds seemed deeper than others, but it was rare that I ever made
myself bleed anymore.

“I’m fine,” I said and watched as the blood
slowly began to seep through the tissue and stained it a bright
red. “It’s just a nervous habit that I have.”

“Making yourself bleed is a nervous habit?”
he asked and looked baffled. It was a good look on him, and my jaw
clenched even more when my heartbeat increased.

“If I’m stressed, yeah,” I grimaced as I
moved the tissue around so that a clean spot was pressed against
the wound. The small chore kept me occupied enough that I was able
to shake off the light feeling of fizzy bubbles in my stomach.

“So, the fact that we were talking about the
physical characteristics of a disguised
Oni
stressed you to
the point of making yourself bleed?”

My head shot up and I stared at him, stunned
into temporary silence that he had picked up on something so minor.
At least in my mind it was. The tone of his voice had been sharp
and suspicious, nothing like his usual relaxed, slightly teasing
inflections, and his entire expression was so serious that I almost
asked him who had died and when was the funeral.

“No, no,” I said and tried to laugh it off.
His voice and his expression sent warning signals throughout my
brain, and for some reason I found myself fighting off an almost
overwhelming desire to leap to my feet and run out the door. “It’s
just what happens when I have too much nervous energy. My Mom is
constantly yelling at me to stop picking at them.”

He looked like he didn’t believe my flimsy
excuse, and so I did what I always do whenever I get the warning
that something potentially unpleasant is lurking on the edges of my
awareness that I just didn’t have the desire or brain power to
confront. I gathered up my stuff, babbled about brothers, bid him a
swift goodbye, and gave into my legs desire to move and bolted out
of the library.

I nearly leapt out of my skin when a hand
grabbed my elbow and gently pulled me around. I shouldn’t have been
surprised that he came after me, but I was and reacted with swift
viciousness as I turned to face him. The hallways were deserted,
most of the students had already headed home or to their afternoon
sports commitments, so he was able to jump back away from me
without bumping into anyone when I kicked out in defensive
reflex.

“Do you always strike first and ask questions
later whenever someone tries to get your attention?” he asked,
staring at me.

“Do you always sneak up behind someone and
grab their arm believing that they’re not going to retaliate when
startled?” I snarked back as I glared at him. My breath wheezed in
short gasps from the scare.

“Look,” he said and eyed me warily,
“Something we were talking about upset you. I think it was our
discussion of
Oni
and I’d like to know why.”

I tried for a casual, dismissive laugh, but
only managed something that sounded like a hysterical giggle
fit.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said and winced at
how high my voice had climbed. The bruises on my chest throbbed
slightly underneath my shirt in vaguely remembered pain and fear
and I reached up to rub them gently.

“Am I really being ridiculous?” he asked. He
cocked his to the side as he folded his arms across his chest. He
looked so relaxed, confident in his assessment, conclusions, and
determined to get answers whether I was willing to cooperate or
not, that it immediately got my back up. I drew air deep into my
lungs until they expanded to their full capacity, all the while my
back straightened and my chin jutted out; “puffing up” as Maria
once called it when I went into one of my indignant snits, which
usually only happened when I was cornered and not willing to give
out any information that I felt someone had no right to. And right
now that someone was Akira.

“I don’t know, are you?” I asked. I knew it
was kind of stupid to answer a question with another question, but
I wasn’t quite able to help myself. I knew if I tried to leave
again he’d only stop me. He had the longer legs and the quick
reflexes of a star basketball player on his side while I just had
temper and a tendency to swing first and almost never apologize
later.

“Why did our discussion of disguised
Oni
upset you so much?” he asked, back on the offensive.

“What’s it to you if it did?” I snapped back
as I tried to twist the offensive back around to my side. I
wondered just why this was so important to him, and had a suspicion
that it was tied into the strange feeling that he was hiding
something.

“Look, something is bothering you, and I’d
like to know what it is since we’re going to have to work together
for a while and I was hoping to get know you a little better.”

“It’s nothing,” I said and bounced on the
balls of my feet as nervous energy coursed through my body. My
nails started digging into my skin again, and Akira’s eyes darted
down at the small movement.

“I don’t believe that. Tell me what’s wrong,”
he said. I cocked an eyebrow at him and he grated out,
“Please.”

Oh, so he does have a temper
. I had
begun to think he didn’t have one at all, since he almost always
came across and cool, flirty, composed, and in control of any and
all of his emotions and situations around him.