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On a dim, chilly autumn afternoon, Migiwa reclined in his office and made a high-stakes call to his supplier.
“Oh ho ho, we’ve got lots of books on tanuki,” Mr. Honda crowed. His zeal for literature, admirable though it was, made him sound a bit unwholesome when he really got going. Maybe the drug dealer vibes put other customers off, but he made Migiwa nostalgic for his misspent youth. “Real top shelf stuff. Got any specific requests? I want to set you up right.”
“I would like the book to be gentle enough that it wouldn’t scare a child,” Migiwa said. “But complex enough that a child wouldn’t understand it.”
“Ooh, that’s a tricky one. What’s the deal?”
Migiwa considered how much information to give away. He trusted Mr. Honda, but that only took you so far in their in the shadowy world of international bookselling. “I am shopping for a colleague with a short serotonin transport gene, but I do not want to condescend to her.”
“Aah,” Mr. Honda said. “And we’re okay with melancholy, anger, ennui, other bad stuff?”
“That should not be a problem. My colleague is well-acquainted with such things.”
“Alright! I can work with that. Give me two days, and I’ll have a list of options for you.”
“That will give me more than enough time to make my selection. Thank you very much.”
“You’re my favorite customer, you know that, man?” Mr. Honda said, laughing. “You’re always so polite, and asking for the wackiest shit!”
Migiwa chuckled. That was his life these days.
Kozakura was difficult to shop for, though it was hard to blame her. She loved to be pampered but hated to be fussed over. She got embarrassed when gifts were too big and yet insulted when they were mere tokens. Most of her own interests frightened and repulsed her. She was a real puzzle of a woman, even to herself.
Over the years they’d worked together, Migiwa had worked out a strict protocol – a yen amount that wasn’t too low or too high, a short list of safe types, and the same careful attention to her interests and needs that he gave to all of his close colleagues. Maybe a bit more attention, being honest. He enjoyed the challenge, and…
…well, he was allowed to have favorites, wasn’t he?
Books were always a risk, however. Lacking expertise in the subject of folklore, he could only trust Honda’s recommendation, and it would be an empty gesture if it went unread. Oh, you like tanuki? He would need to consider something to supplement it with.
Jewelry? No. That would send the wrong message.
Food? A one-shot gift was even riskier. Better to go with something lasting.
A figurine or stuffed toy? That would take him back into condescending territory, and she wouldn’t want to replace Ponpoko.
A tiny knot of stress formed under Migiwa’s scalp, but even with no audience in his dark office, he didn’t let it show. He wasn’t used to lacking information. This should have been a small thing – a birthday gift for a woman who’d need to be reminded of the occasion. For him, though, this was a rare opportunity.
Migiwa’s hands were not made to caress. His praise would always hide behind layers of sarcasm and formality. No matter how softly he smiled, he would always show fangs. Diligence and attention to detail was the only way he could show that he cared. His services still carried implicit threats and promises, of course, but he wasn’t churlish enough to complain about that. He’d spent years cultivating himself into an imposing figure, and he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t enjoy it.
Though, come to think of it, his gifts could lack sinister subtext if the recipient were an oblivious sort, like the DS Lab’s newest freelancer. Migiwa sat up and snapped his fingers. Of course! Young Ms. Kamikoshi had been spending a lot of time with Kozakura lately. Some of it had even been pleasant! And thanks to all the complaining, he knew Kozakura was fond of her.
I am gift shopping for Ms. Kozakura’s birthday, he texted. Would you care to join me at Teppan Kaiseki Kurama tonight at 6pm to discuss the matter?
Sorawo started to type a reply and fell silent. Started again. Silence.
I will treat, of course, he added.
I’ll be there! Sorawo replied instantly.
Too easy.
It had been a long time since Migiwa had last eaten out, and he suspected that he’d overdressed for the venue. It just didn’t feel right to go out on the town without a suit jacket. He’d even gone with his simplest cufflinks.
Sorawo had dressed up a bit herself, though to a more reasonable degree. She wore a deep blue dress with a black jacket, and a small pendant she’d apparently gotten from Toriko for a recent occasion. Flat shoes and a practical handbag, of course. Even in formal attire, she was ready for action at a moment’s notice.
Migiwa flexed his wrist, testing the mount for the collapsible baton. It was something they had in common.
“Thanks for the reminder,” Sorawo said shamelessly as they sat down. “I completely forgot Kozakura’s birthday was coming up, so I had to hurry up and pick something out myself.”
Migiwa had expected as much. “What did you decide on?”
“I’m paying to cater the party. I ordered a spread of cheeses, fruits, and wine, and Toriko and I are going halves on Kozakura’s dinner.”
“I see.” Migiwa considered. “You seem to have a good instinct for such things.”
“How do you mean?”
“In all the times I’ve heard her complain about you, Ms. Kozakura has never once impugned the quality of your bribes. It seems that she’s always satisfied with the food you choose.”
Sorawo’s brows knit for a moment, then she gave an uncertain smile. “I’ll take it.”
Migiwa nodded. He had to be honest, but he was glad his compliment was received in the spirit it was given. “Has Ms. Nishina made her selection?”
“Hm?
“I don’t want my gift to overlap with hers, after all,” Migiwa clarified.
“Oh, right. Let’s see. Last I heard, she wanted to get this really nice Polartec hat, and then order a little matching hat from Build-a-Bear or something for Ponpoko.” Sorawo’s mouth quirked a little. “So you probably weren’t going to have the same thought.”
“That’s very cute,” Migiwa observed neutrally.
“I think she can get away with it. Kozakura takes her a little less seriously, right?”
That was a point. “It’s good to have a range of attitudes among gift-givers, isn’t it? Ah, hello.”
Migiwa ordered his usual and then settled in to see what Sorawo would do. It would be another piece of the puzzle.
After a moment’s thought, Sorawo made an extravagant order that made Migiwa sit up in surprise. How much meat? Another few hundred yen and he might have politely objected. However, he was 90% sure she had no idea she was doing it. In fact, he suspected that her particular childhood had given her an instinct for taking just exactly as much as she could get away with – after all, she’d never know when the next windfall would come.
“But I haven’t thought of anything more specific,” Sorawo said, once the waitress was gone. “I usually aim for things I think just about anyone would like. It almost seems like it would be too dangerous to be more specific.”
“Dangerous?”
“I feel like I’d just piss her off if I tried to think more,” Sorawo admitted. “Like she’d take whatever I thought of as an insult. I did think, ‘what about a stuffed fox to go with Ponpoko?’ but I could just see her accusing me of treating her like a child. Maybe I’m a little too risk-averse, huh? So offhand, I don’t really have any ideas.”
Migiwa’s eyebrows rose. That was the kind of risk their star Ultrablue Landscape explorer worried about? “In that case, I’m sorry to have troubled you.”
“You’re ‘troubling’ me by buying me a nice dinner, so it’s no trouble,” Sorawo pointed out. “What did you get for her last year?”
“Noise-canceling headphones.”
“Those nice gray ones she has around her neck all the time?” Sorawo asked. “She loves those things. Especially when Toriko’s around.”
How gratifying. “It is a skill of mine,” he said modestly. “It seems to have deserted me this year, unfortunately.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Sorawo said aimlessly.
“Hm.” Migiwa rested his elbow on the table and looked out over the other patrons. A few were shooting them odd looks, and he realized that he was a dangerous-looking, no-longer-young man dining out with a college-age woman. Belatedly, he hoped that this interaction wouldn’t affect Sorawo’s reputation. Her peers would be unlikely to come to a place like this, of course.
“Anything to do with tanuki?” Sorawo mused. “She seems to be on a tanuki kick.”
“I have a bookseller looking into it for me. I hope that he will be able to find something to her taste, but I know very little about them. Given the nature of our work, perhaps I should do some research on the subject myself, as well.”
Sorawo frowned. “We haven’t been seeing old – ah – classical folklore creatures.”
“That could change at any time,” Migiwa said. “Each explorer seems to encounter entirely different entities, and they seem to be based on expectation, to a degree. We should prepare for likely contingencies in case others manage to slip through.”
“I guess that’s smart,” Sorawo agreed reluctantly. “And we’ll let you know if we see anything weird. Weirder. You know, now that you mention it, the fact that we saw a Mayohiga—”
Their food had arrived. (Impressive speed… almost suspicious.) For a time, they ate in companionable silence. At least, that’s how Migiwa felt. Sorawo seemed to be lost in her own head, as usual. Sometimes, without worrying about it too much, he wondered what she made of him. Did she think the DS Lab was run by an unrepentant yakuza? She wouldn’t be too far off…
Sorawo suddenly scowled. Migiwa waited for her to elaborate, but then realized that she probably didn’t realize that he would notice. Shaking his head, he asked, “Did you think of something?”
“Well…” Sorawo said reluctantly. “I was trying to think of other presents I know Kozakura got, and I remembered that shotgun of hers, with the GATOR spreader. What was Satsuki thinking? She looks ridiculous swinging that thing around, and she can barely fire it. Almost seems like a prank on her.”
“Ms. Kozakura is not built for combat,” Migiwa agreed. “She would have difficulty with any firearm. I imagine that Satsuki judged the spread and stopping power to be more helpful for her than comfort or ease of use.” He considered for a moment. “While she was a brilliant researcher, we could question her tactical assessments.”
Sorawo’s mouth puckered briefly at that. “Well, it looked like you had fun with the spreader, anyway. I asked Toriko if she could use a smaller shotgun, but she said being lighter gives guns more kick.”
“It is only one of many factors, but that’s true. Some companies make compact weapons similar to Ms. Kozakura’s shotgun, but they’re notoriously difficult to handle.”
“Hmm.” Sorawo shrugged. “It was a thought. Sorry I’m not being more helpful.”
“It’s quite alright. You’ve given me a bit to think about, and it helps to learn what you and Ms. Nishina are planning.”
Sorawo nodded, actually looking relieved. That was the funny thing about her: she seemed perversely proud of her disinterest in other people, but she became strangely diligent when there was a task before her. It seemed that agreeing to this get-together had convinced her that aiding in Migiwa’s mission was important, and failing in that would have bothered her.
Migiwa smiled faintly. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who had roundabout ways of showing they cared.
“Well, thanks for the food,” Sorawo said as they stood to leave. “This was good.”
“It was my pleasure,” Migiwa said. To his own mild surprise, he meant it. “Please keep up your good work for us.”
Migiwa left Sorawo at a bus stop and strode off into a sudden, pounding rainstorm, snapping out a gray umbrella. Now he had a direction.
Maybe she’d just wanted to complain about Satsuki, but Sorawo was on to something. Even if simply handing Kozakura a smaller shotgun wouldn’t do, there was no reason he couldn’t look into a more suitable weapon for her. He could justify the expense as an investment in her ability to keep researching for the DS Labs. She wouldn’t believe it, but she’d pretend to.
What an odd relationship they all had.
There weren’t many places to get guns in Saitama. If he were thinking efficiently, he would have gone back to his office and made a call to one of his many contacts, but maybe it was time to visit an old haunt and see if they had anything for him.
Perhaps he was in a sentimental mood…
The rain was clearing as he neared a dingy laundromat on a nondescript side-street. Shadows deepened as he left the traffic behind, and he folded his umbrella away. Around these parts, he might need both hands free.
“Oh, hey, look who’s slumming it!” a raucous voice called. Migiwa turned to see a muscular man in a tank top and jeans swaggering up the street towards him. Was that Sosuke? The voice seemed right, but why would he still be lurking around here? It seemed his old friend was not happy to see him. Given the circumstances of their last meeting, Migiwa had to admit that was fair.
A slender man with bleached hair sprang up from beside the door – Yuto was in his late thirties, but he still dressed like a young gangster, with a bright suit jacket and snakeskin shoes. Unreal. “Did you think we forgot about you, you little pissant?”
“I’d rather hoped,” Migiwa admitted. He genuinely hadn’t expected to see Yuto and Sosuke here. Didn’t they have anything more interesting going on? Apparently not.
“Why are you showing your ugly mug around here, huh?” Sosuke asked, and when Migiwa started to answer, he leaned in and yelled, “HUUUUUUH?”
Migiwa casually brushed some spit from his face and tried again. “Gift shopping.”
Yuto scoffed. “Cute, old buddy, real cute…”
The three stood in a loose triangle at the laundromat entrance as the rain picked up again. Migiwa looked between them calmly, calculating. He could probably avoid a fight if…
Yuto went for a knife and two of his teeth skipped off of the wall as Migiwa’s baton caught him first.
Well, there were worse ways to spend a Friday evening.
Surprisingly, Kozakura had remembered her birthday this year, and arranged the party herself. Owing to recent world events and an uptick in DS Lab business, most of her acquaintances and colleagues from the lab had to settle for a brief Zoom session where they all caught up and she opened some gifts. Practically everyone had sent alcohol; she would be set for another year at this rate.
A much larger pile of offerings from the Big Sister Yozakura fandom teetered in the background of her Zoom window, waiting for her late-night stream. They were mostly small items; Kozakura had set aside and marked a few larger boxes to lead the stream with.
Migiwa had attended the Zoom session to see everyone, but he made a point to put in a personal appearance before his professional obligations would take him away.
“Good to see you!” Toriko cried, answering the door. “Come on in!”
She was practically glowing. Sure enough, once he’d removed his shoes and stepped indoors, he saw Ponpoko nestled in the corner of Kozakura’s office chair with a tiny red cap on his head, and Kozakura pacing the living room with a matching cap and a glass of wine. A successful gift! Sorawo was sitting at the dining room table with her hand on her cheek, nominally listening to Kozakura’s story, but really watching Toriko with a dreamy expression.
“Oh, and,” Toriko muttered, lightly tugging him aside before Kozakura noticed him. She spoke in a chipper tone through a fixed smile. “There’s a little ituation-say that me and Sorawo are trying to clean up before she notices, so don’t let on.”
It would have been easier not to let on if she hadn’t told him, but Migiwa appreciated the candor. “An entity?”
“Yeah. We’re taking care of it, though.”
“I will trust your judgment,” Migiwa said. “But if Ms. Kozakura is in danger…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’ll be fine!” Toriko swung her hands like she was slapping him on the arm, but stopped short. “Anyway, go say hi to the birthday girl!”
Migiwa stepped into the open and cleared his throat.
“Oh!” Kozakura said, jolting to a stop at the sight of him. “I—didn’t expect to see you! Don’t you have a big meeting today?”
“I am indeed needed in Chiba this evening,” Migiwa admitted. “But I wanted to present you with my gifts personally.”
“Sounds like you’re excited,” Kozakura observed, perking up. Her expression hadn’t changed, but he could see her eyeing the case sideways.
“I am,” Migiwa confirmed blandly, ignoring Toriko’s snicker. “This is something a bit different from the usual, but I think you’ll be very happy. First, Mr. Honda helped me to pick out a book for you. It’s a scholarly account of Tanuki legends from the Kanto region through the centuries. I thought you might appreciate learning more about Ponpoko’s people.”
Sorawo smiled at that, briefly. Cute, she mouthed.
A bit, Migiwa was forced to admit. The hat’s success had inspired him.
Kozakura accepted the book and trepidation flitted across her face. Hmm… seeing her reaction, Migiwa realized that such an account might threaten the comfort she got from her little plush friend. Good thing the book was only plan B, then.
“As for the main present,” Migiwa continued, swinging the case up onto the table. Sorawo quickly shuffled the cheese plate aside to make more room. “This is a little outside of our usual budget, but I’m considering it an investment.”
The others gathered around as he opened the case, revealing a compact firearm nestled in a foam insert amid an array of accessories and shells.
“A Tac-13,” Toriko said, sounding skeptical. “Looks pretty nice.”
Sorawo straightened up and smiled proudly. Migiwa would have been a little irritated if it were anyone else, but he could tell she was just happy that she’d managed to help.
Kozakura opened her mouth to comment, but reconsidered, brows lowering thoughtfully. “What’s on your mind?” she finally asked. “You’re not sending me into the field, are you?”
“Never,” Migiwa promised. “I just thought you would appreciate a new weapon for home defense. As Ms. Nishina indicated, this is a Remington Tac-13. Essentially a shotgun, though not technically considered one for obscure regulatory reasons. I’ve had it fitted with a custom stock, and a weight at the end of the barrel to help you to manage its kick. The Versaport should also make the recoil less intense, though I’ll warn you that it will be stronger than you expect. You will need to practice with it, but I think you will find it quite manageable.”
“It’s heavy,” Kozakura commented, hefting it. She planted the stock against her shoulder and pointed it away from everyone else, resting her finger on the trigger guard. “Feels good, though.”
“There's a lot of gun crammed into that little… gun…” Toriko laughed unsteadily. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right.”
Was she drunk? It was honestly hard to tell with her.
Sorawo dragged Toriko into the next room and started whispering to her, pointing to the corners of the room, and then towards Kozakura’s bedroom. Migiwa watched them, wondering if he was supposed to be distracting Kozakura, but disinclined to.
“What are you two hiding?” Kozakura suddenly asked sharply.
The explorers whirled as though they expected to find the gun pointed at them, but obviously Kozakura was too disciplined for that. She did casually start loading the Tac-13 as they gazed back at her in trepidation, though.
“Is there something going on we should know about?” Kozakura pressed. “Or are you just kissing over there?”
“There’s an… entity,” Sorawo admitted, sagging.
“That’s stupid of you,” Kozakura said, strangely calm. She racked the Tac-13 and drummed her fingers on it, keeping it pointed at the floor. “What if I went off to the bathroom and got spirited away?”
Toriko opened her mouth, no doubt to make a crass joke, but her indigo eyes darted to the gun and reconsidered.
“I’m not threatening you,” Kozakura clarified.
Migiwa had been confident of that until the moment she felt the need to say it. He really needed to get going to that meeting, but he obviously couldn’t leave them dealing with an entity. They would just have to resolve the situation.
“Alright, so, Toriko’s been seeing the entity around town,” Sorawo finally explained. “But only when she was alone, so we thought it wouldn’t follow her here.”
“But it did?” Kozakura asked. Her gaze was level and her breath even. Something weird was going on with her.
“Kind of dumb of us,” Toriko said with an awkward laugh. “I’m usually alone anyway, so…”
“It’s from a pretty lame net lore story where a guy keeps seeing a woman staring at him from impossible places, and then commits suicide.” Sorawo shrugged. “We don’t know what it plans to do to us; Toriko’s been feeling fine.”
“Where is it now?”
“I’m not sure, but I think… it might be in your closet?”
“Creepy,” Kozakura said coolly. “Let’s go see.”
Migiwa and Sorawo exchanged a look. Okay, good. She was seeing it, too. Could it be the entity’s influence? That would be against the Ultrablue Landscape’s MO so far, but if they had the capacity to hack the human brain to feel fear, then perhaps…
The four moved into the dim bedroom, almost gloomier with the sun filtering in around the heavy curtains. Toriko drew her Makarov, Migiwa took up Kozakura’s old shotgun, and Kozakura stood at the ready with her birthday present as Sorawo carefully gripped the closet door, then darted back, throwing it wide open.
A woman’s face was in the closet, impossibly lit, grinning out at them from between two of Kozakura’s blouses like they were all the butt of some impish joke. The rest of her body should have been visible, but there was nothing but shadow and wood paneling below. Migiwa felt a tiny, hidden twinge of dread. It was one thing to deal with the Fourth Kinds the DS Lab had been caring for and studying for years, and quite another to face an unknown entity in “the wild.” And if he was afraid, then how was Kozakura handling…?
“You wanna go!?” Kozakura screamed.
BOOM!
Half of her wardrobe was blown into the next room in a blizzard of shredded fabric and sawdust, and sunlight poured in. Kozakura mouth fell open and her eyes flew wide… then she broke into a grin, racked, and fired again. And again! With a yell, Kozakura pelted forward and shouldered through the ragged hole, then swept the next room with her gun.
“You’ve created a monster,” Sorawo moaned.
Migiwa chuckled. He sounded a little unhinged even to his own ears.
“Did I get it?” Kozakura yelled back to them.
“Uh…” Sorawo’s gaze flitted from the closet down across the floor. She pointed hesitantly. “Uh, well, I think—”
BOOM!
12-gauge pellets slapped across the floor where she was pointing and she flinched back. “Oh for—it’s not that powerful!”
Silence stretched for a moment as everyone waited for their ears to stop ringing.
“Is it—ah—safe to come back?” Kozakura called, with an air of suddenly remembering herself.
“It’s not in the room, no,” Sorawo confirmed, shaking her head. “Just… be careful with that thing, will you?”
“That was your last shot,” Migiwa added. “You’ll need to reload.”
“I remembered,” Kozakura grumbled, picking her way back through. She didn’t seem to mind that she’d just blown half of her clothes to kingdom come. Maybe it was laundry day.
Migiwa carefully put his hand on Kozakura’s shoulder and said, “The experience of firing a powerful weapon can make you feel invincible. I’ve seen it before. Don’t let it make you reckless.”
“Right…” Kozakura muttered. She’d come down from her high, and now looked a little dazed. “It feels great, though…”
“So was that just a little floating bug or what?” Toriko asked, peering through the ruined closet. “What did you see with your eye, Sorawo?”
“It’s kind of like an octopus,” Sorawo explained. “The face was at the end of one of its tentacles. I think the body is somewhere down in the basement. We’ll have to go and shoot it there.”
“I hope it’s not like a hydra!” Toriko said brightly. She didn’t seem to appreciate the gravity of the situation, but maybe you got used to these things. And, yes, she was definitely a little drunk. “Imagine if all the tentacles wiggled away.”
“There’s a giant Ultrablue Octopus in my house?” Kozakura whined. Suddenly, she looked drained and nauseous. “Th-that’s disgusting! Get rid of it!”
“That’s the plan,” Sorawo assured her, then looked pointedly at Migiwa.
He nodded. “Ms. Kozakura, would you like to come with me to Chiba? I suspect our field agents will have an easier time dealing with the entity without worrying about us. We can have dinner at Bella Russa after my meeting, if that would be agreeable.”
Kozakura looked between them uncertainly. “Believe me, I’d like nothing better than to get out of here, but…”
“We’ll still owe you dinner,” Sorawo added. “Toriko and I, I mean.”
“Like I’m even worried about that!” Kozakura snapped. “It’s more—I mean—you’ll be okay? I don’t want to leave you idiots to your own devices.”
“Oh, we’ll be fine,” Toriko said airily, unfazed by the insult. “We deal with this stuff all the time!”
“And we’ll try not to destroy too much of your house,” Sorawo added.
“Ha ha,” Kozakura said. “Alright. That makes sense. I guess. We’d better clear out.”
Sorawo and Toriko stood guard while Kozakura quickly packed, and then came to the door to see her and Migiwa off.
“Also…” Kozakura drew herself up, firmed her lips, and breathed a sharp sigh through her nose. “Also, thank you. All of you. Even Toriko.”
Toriko giggled softly and threw a salute with two fingers.
Kozakura bit her lip and looked around at them, grappling with herself. Migiwa could see her struggle; it was, objectively speaking, an infuriating situation to be in, rousted out of her own house on her birthday. But she was surrounded by people who were there to help her…
“You still owe me dinner,” she finally said. “But I owe you two a drink, at least.”
“Oh, we’ll help ourselves!” Toriko said.
Sorawo groaned. “You’ve had enough already!”
As Migiwa eased into traffic, Kozakura levered herself around to watch the house slide away. “Do you think they’ll be okay?” she asked.
“They always have been so far,” Migiwa replied. Oddly, he found he didn’t have any second thoughts about leaving them to it. He’d really come to rely on them in the past few months. “I doubt they will have any difficulty seeing to it.”
Kozakura nodded and then crossed her arms. “They’re so weirdly casual about this stuff. I mean, really! Sneaking around me at my birthday party, trying to fight a monster in the background?”
“Unwise,” Migiwa agreed.
“Thanks for the gun, though. I’ll try not to let it drive me too crazy.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Migiwa assured her. And it was. In fact, maybe he’d done too well this time.
Kozakura gave him a smile and then settled in with her laptop. Migiwa considered putting some music on, but instead relaxed to the sound of her typing, and turned his mind to the future.