Yokai (3 page)

He frowned at her. “How do you know
this?”

“
I have heard stories
myself.”

He contemplated her for a moment, and
when she’d finished with her work, she looked up into the face of
the captain expectantly. “Seems to me, you were expecting The Funa
Yurei,” he said.

“
I’m making the most of a
bad situation,” she replied, noncommittally.

He looked up at the ghost ship, which
was almost upon them, and then back at Yumiko. “You’re that yokai
hunter.”

“
I’m here to keep the seas
safe for crews such as yours,” Yumiko told him. “Please, keep your
men back, and let me handle this.” She turned toward the ship as it
slid silently alongside them. It would have been better if the
ghosts moaned or shook chains at them. Instead, they worked in
utter silence, as if they had no tongues to work with, and their
bodies were but fog.

She heard the captain leave her, along
with his men, and Yumiko took a deep breath as she lifted her sword
in a defensive stance, gripping it with both hands. “Come to me,
tortured souls. It is time to end your rule of fear.”

A ghostly hand appeared on the railing
in front of her, and one of The Funa Yurei pulled himself onto the
ship. He floated over the deck by about an inch, no feet apparent
beneath his robe. His skeletal hand reached out for the buckets and
ladles that Yumiko had laid out, and he tilted his head in Yumiko’s
direction, as if mocking her, his jaw falling open in a silent
laugh.

Then she allowed him to leave her side
with a bucket. A moment later, he returned, splashing a few drops
of water onto the deck, before disappearing again.

And then ghosts arrived by the dozens.
Yumiko stood stark still as they swirled around her, grabbing for
buckets and ladles, and dropping over the side of the ship to
retrieve water. She didn’t move until all of the ghosts had vacated
the ghost ship. Then, when the captain stood before her, she looked
up into his lone empty eye socket. “I am sorry for your
suffering.”

The ghost lifted his head, as if
considering her words, before Yumiko sliced into his body with her
sword. The moment her sword connected with him, he
vanished.

And then she went into a feverish
dance, her sword flashing over the bodies of ghosts as they
reboarded the ship with their buckets, barely wetting the deck.
With every stroke of her sword against the ethereal body of a
ghost, another ghost vanished. They didn’t seem to notice what was
happening to their brethren. They were so caught up in their task,
in the anger that seethed within them, burning green through their
spirit bodies, that they didn’t realize what was happening until
they felt Yumiko’s cold steel. And by then, it was too
late.

It was a graceful choreography of
death that had her arms arc wide, as if to embrace the dead, her
body leaning into them without a shadow of fear flickering across
her features. She kept swinging her sword, like she sensed their
approaching presence rather than saw them. It was almost like she
could intuit where the specters would appear, and their actions.
Anyone watching would assume that she was calling them to her, as
if she was the very siren who had caused their untimely deaths
initially, come to finish the job.

When Yumiko cut down the last of The
Funa Yurei, the ghost ship suddenly pitched forward and began to
sink into the ocean once more. She stopped to watch the mermaid as
it penetrated the water, and was swallowed by it, the rest of the
ship following its lead. After the entire ship had once again
disappeared beneath the surface of the water, all was still and
quiet once more, as if it had all been a dream. Even the fog
lifted, bringing them back to reality.

Yumiko lifted her sword and stared
hard at the surface for a moment, watching the swirling green
figures trapped within as they roiled and protested. And then they
disappeared, and she was left staring back into her eyes
again.

Sheathing the sword, she turned to
find Mr. Watanabe standing behind her. “You used us,” he
accused.

“
I am sorry for any trouble
I’ve put you through,” Yumiko said, bowing deep.

Mr. Watanabe watched her for a moment,
then sighed. “I can’t believe what I just saw. You’ve made the seas
safe for us again.” He shook his head.

“
That was my intent,”
Yumiko said, standing straight and looking around at the buckets
and ladles left strewn over the deck. “I will pay for the damage
I’ve caused to your equipment.”

“
You do that,” Mr. Watanabe
said, crossing his arms. “Now, may I have the part you stole from
our autopilot?”

Yumiko reached into her pocket and
held out a small cylinder with wires coiling out from each end. Mr.
Watanabe accepted it, looking it over with a shake of his head. He
glanced up at her with a mixture of annoyance and appreciation. “I
am grateful for what you’ve done, Miss Sato, and don’t take it
personally when I tell you that I never want to see you again. You
put my crew in danger.”

“
I know,” Yumiko agreed.
“And you will never see me again.”

“
See that you’re true to
your word.”

Yumiko watched him as he rounded the
corner and disappeared, then turned to stare out over the calm,
dark water again. She reveled in the cool balm of the night air
following her fight, and felt satisfaction fill her chest. She’d
never desired gratitude for her work, hadn’t expected it, so the
captain’s cold treatment hadn’t come as a blow to her. But she’d
done well. No more sailors would suffer. No more families would be
steeped in grief after hearing of their loved ones’ deaths at sea.
She had made the world a little safer tonight. And she could be
happy with that.

Chapter Two

Yumiko dreamed of it often, the day
she’d been spirited away.

She was seven years old at the time,
drawing on the sidewalk with brightly-colored chalk. Sometimes in
her dream, she was drawing her mother and herself, other times an
elaborate image of the sun, and still others, large ogre-like yokai
called oni, with red skin and intimidating horns curling up from
out of their foreheads. Her mother had told her many tales of their
foul deeds, and they’d made an impression on her.

The rain came on suddenly. One minute
she’d been drawing peacefully under the sunny sky, and the next,
shadows had raced over the sidewalk, like a curtain being pulled
over the land, sending it into darkness.

She looked up just as the first rain
drop fell, hitting her squarely between the eyes and splattering,
causing her to close her eyes against the spray of shattering
water. When she opened her eyes again, the rain came full force.
She squeaked as she ran to the shelter her front porch afforded,
but then turned back to see her chalk lying on the sidewalk, the
rain beating the color from them until they bled rivulets of
crimson, gold and indigo. Unwilling to leave them behind to be
ruined, she dashed back out into the rain, squinting against the
onslaught of rain, her little blue dress quickly soaking
through.

She reached down to scoop up her
chalk, but something caught her eye, from up the sidewalk. A woman
was standing out in the open in a gray kimono that matched the
clouds overhead, her black hair loose and dripping. She didn’t seem
to mind the rain, but rather enjoyed it. So much so, that she was
licking the rainwater as it accumulated on her hands and wrists,
like Yumiko imagined a cat would do.

As if sensing Yumiko’s stare, the
woman looked up and met her eyes. “Hello, child,” she greeted
pleasantly, as if this were an everyday occurrence. “Come, you
should get out of the rain.”

She lifted a hand to Yumiko, but
Yumiko turned back to her chalk, scrambling for the pieces. As she
grabbed for one of them, it slipped out of her reach and rolled
away, up the sidewalk. She stood to give chase, and paused when she
saw it roll up to the foot of the woman, who stooped to pick it
up.

“
Very slippery when wet,”
the woman observed, lifting the chalk and turning it over, as if
appraising it. “What a wonderful shade of red. Almost like blood.”
She looked up at Yumiko and held it out to her. “Here you go. You
must want it back.”

Yumiko hesitated. The woman, sensing
her indecision, smiled kindly. “There’s no reason to be frightened.
My name is Ame-Onna. What’s your name?”

Shielding her eyes from the rain with
a hand, Yumiko considered the woman, and decided that she looked
harmless enough. She was just a kind lady returning her chalk to
her. “I’m Yumiko,” she replied, walking up to her and accepting the
chalk from her outstretched hand.

“
What a beautiful name,”
Ame-Onna told her, leaning down so that she was face-to-face with
her. “I love beautiful colors. Do you want to see more beautiful
colors, Yumiko?”

Yumiko looked down at the red chalk in
her hand, then back up at the woman. “My mommy will be looking for
me.”

“
It will only take a
moment,” Ame-Onna assured her. She held out a hand for Yumiko, and
the little girl took it instinctively. “That’s my girl. You’re
going to see wonders that few have seen. You are one lucky
girl.”

Seven-year-old Yumiko
smiled.

And seventeen-year-old Yumiko woke
with a start.

“
That dream again?” an old
woman’s voice inquired.

Yumiko blinked as she oriented
herself. She was sitting at a table, lifting her head from its
maple finish. Bookshelves lined the perimeter of the room, while
mats were rolled out over the hardwood in the large open space at
the middle of the room. Stands held katana and sword, sai and bo,
silently waiting to be picked up so that they could flash through
the air and do what they were made to do. She eyed a bow that hung
over a short bookcase. Yumiko knew that a quiver of arrows could be
found in a drawer at the bottom of that same bookcase. It was kept
locked, but she’d seen her teacher open it before practice
once.

Then she swiveled her head back to
look at a woman stooped over one of three desks in the room, her
face lit up by a small lamp. Her white hair was tied back in a
tight bun, her face lined with deep wrinkles that foretold a long
life. She wore a beautiful silk kimono with a floral pattern, in
vibrant pinks and oranges.

Yumiko sighed and stretched. “Yes. The
same one. Although, I didn’t get to the bad part this
time.”

“
Being kidnapped by a yokai
as a child isn’t the bad part?” the old woman raised an eyebrow at
her.

Yumiko scowled. “You know what I mean.
Ame-Onna was hardly the most frightening part of that experience.”
Not wishing to speak about it anymore, she stood and changed the
subject, gesturing toward the thick book open in front of the
woman. “What are you looking at, sensei?”

“
Nothing you need concern
yourself with,” the woman replied. “Why don’t you warm up with the
bo?”

Yumiko was till groggy, but she
complied. She felt the sturdy wood of the bo beneath her fingertips
and couldn’t help but begin to whip it through the air, test its
weight, and apply the attack and defense moves she’d used thousands
of times before. It felt natural in her hands, and made her feel
strong, like she could take on the world with that slim piece of
wood.

Her sensei, Madame Mori, drove her
hard because she knew that Yumiko had an uphill battle ahead of
her, and would willingly endure any training put before her if it
made her a stronger warrior. When her aunt had died and Yumiko had
had nowhere else to go, Mori, whom she’d been training with for
years, had offered to take her in, and Yumiko couldn’t have been
happier. It meant that she could concentrate on her training every
day for long stretches at a time, without the interruptions living
with her aunt had included. Not that Yumiko was ungrateful for her
aunt, but she’d been difficult to live with at times, and hadn’t
really understood Yumiko or her priorities.

Before long, Yumiko felt sweat
accumulate on her brow, and paused to look over at Mori. “Have you
had dinner, sensei?”

Madame Mori waved the question away.
“I’m busy at the moment. Go have dinner, if you’d like. I will
wait.”

“
Then I’ll wait
too.”

Mori looked up, then scowled. “Very
well. Tell Mr. Wada that we will partake in some rice tonight. And
look sharp.”

Yumiko bowed, then slipped from the
room, wiping her forehead casually with her sleeve as she left. She
slid into her sandals in the little foyer, where a beaded curtain
separated Madame Mori’s library from the hallway that led to Mr.
and Mrs. Wada’s sake bar. The hall was dimly lit, one of the
fluorescent bulbs overhead flickering in front of the ladies’ room.
Yumiko eyed the light as she passed beneath it, then stepped into
the bar, where she was met with soft, calming music. Half a dozen
patrons were already seated at the bar, with another couple at a
table, bowls of ramen in front of them. It was a small bar, but it
had its regulars, who enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere and Mrs.
Wada’s delicious food, if not Mr. Wada’s alcohol.

“
Yumiko!” Mrs. Wada greeted
from the little window to the kitchen where she set food out on a
ledge for her husband to bring out to patrons. “Are you and Madame
Mori going to be ordering anything tonight?”