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Though it was early spring, Toya felt like the days had grown shorter. The shadows seemed to stretch longer, reaching out at him from between buildings with slender, crooked fingers as he hurried his way home from school. With his head turned down, he could not see the sun still hanging languidly in the sky, and when he didn’t look, it seemed almost as if it didn’t exist.
He supposed this was what it was like, growing up. Maybe he had done so too quickly. Today was another day he had split from his classmates at the school gate, leaving them to their club activities or after-school karaoke, to head straight home for a long shift behind the counter of his family's mochi shop. It was a busy time of year for them. The head of the Hinomori family had passed away late last fall, and just like that, their greatest rival had fallen flat on their back. Father was never one to hesitate; when he smelled weakness, he aimed straight for the gut. Unfortunately, Toya had become an unintended casualty.
The gray concrete of the shopping center loomed before him. What had once appeared bright and welcoming now stood as a foreboding monolith, and Toya’s resentment stewed inside him, coiling around his belly like a serpent. Even from here he could smell the sourness of the dough and feel it rolling through his fingers, sticking to his skin. His bones began to ache. Was there nowhere else to go but home? Through the haze of his thoughts, he could think of nothing, and Toya stepped one reluctant foot in front of another, dutifully following the only path laid before him.
The shopping center was just coming to life for the afternoon. Flowers bloomed at the florist run by the Yoisakis, and the crackle of sizzling meat could be heard from the Hanasato butchery. A few students from another school had just bought a batch of croquettes straight from the oven, and fretted as they tried not to get crumbs on the pale gray fabric of their uniforms.
They all seemed so far away. Toya turned a corner, ducking down an alley to skip to the other end of the shopping center. There were fewer people here. On one side, the Mochizuki bakery had already shuttered its doors for the evening; on the other, the Kusanagis’ izakaya had not yet opened, and the seating area out front was nearly empty. The only occupant was a boy sitting on a bench facing the walkway, and his eyes swiveled towards Toya as he approached. They were emerald green, and combined with his fierce orange hair, he seemed to be too saturated for shaded gray hues that Toya had become accustomed too, like graffiti sprayed onto the wall of a dreary subway station. His outfit—a brightly patterned kimono vest and a fox mask fastened to the side of his head—was also eccentric, and Toya deflated a little when he recognized it as festival attire. If there was a celebration going on nearby, the mochi shop would be even busier than usual this evening.
It was difficult to look directly at him, and Toya tried to turn his eyes down and walk swiftly past. He was already tired. Small talk with a stranger was the last thing he wanted right now.
But of course, he wouldn’t be so lucky. When he was directly in front of the bench, a sharp voice cut through the silence. “How long are you going to keep bothering him?”
Toya jumped in surprise and turned to see the boy glaring at him. Now that they were closer, he looked a bit familiar, though Toya didn’t think he would forget someone with such a garish color palette. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you’re talking about. I don’t want any trouble.”
The boy sighed, then hopped up from the bench and pointed at Toya. “Not you.” He shifted his finger slightly to the left of Toya’s head. “I’m talking to your little friend there.”
Even before he turned to look, Toya knew what he would find. Still, he was startled to see the beady eye of a giant black bird mere centimeters from his face, looking over him coldly. Specks of greenish-gray hue shimmered off the inky surface like scum on the surface of a pond, only to be blinked away by dark eyelids. He could suddenly feel the weight of a set of heavy talons resting on his shoulder, and the tips of the claws dug into the fabric of his shirt, just lightly enough not to pierce his skin.
SO YOU FINALLY NOTICE ME, TO~YA, the bird croaked out, dragging out the syllable in his name mockingly. Its raspy voice echoed in the back of Toya’s head, as though the sound were coming from inside of him. It was unsettling. YOU WERE BEING SUCH A GOOD BOY, A GOOD, GOOD BOY. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO SUCH A THING?
Toya shuddered, because for a split second, the bird resembled his father; then it turned towards him and its face entirely changed. Its beak curved into a frightening smile, giving it an uncannily human expression, and a third eye stared down at him from the center of its forehead.
He recognized the way it looked at him, but he couldn’t place the memory. Why couldn’t he remember? When had his thoughts become so muddled? He was scared that if he looked away from the bird, he would lose track of it again, and yet he felt an uncontrollable urge to avert his eyes. It would be easier that way, his mind rationed. It whispered to him softly, luring him back into the haze. You weren’t supposed to look. Turn away, and everything will go back to normal.
Obediently, Toya turned his head forward. To his surprise, a boy was standing directly in front of him—where had he come from? He had emerald green eyes and fierce orange hair, and he looked eerily familiar, though Toya could not imagine forgetting such a vibrant sight. His hand was stretched out in front of him with three fingers pinched together towards the center.
“Don’t move,” the boy commanded. “Kin, now.”
A streak of gold shot past his face, so fast that if Toya had blinked he might have missed it, and the sensation that followed was nearly enough to knock him off his feet.
It was like he had been laying at the bottom of a deep, deep lake for a long time, only to suddenly be jerked to the surface. The fog engulfing his mind had been ripped away, and the small tendrils that remained were quickly dissipating. A tremendous weight had been lifted off his shoulders, one he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying.
A bizarre scene was laid out on the shopping floor before him. The bird—he could remember its presence clearly now—had collapsed on the ground, though it looked different once again. It was more like a person, Toya thought, but everything slightly off, like its proportions had been modeled by a child sculpting a clumsy clay figure. Its nose was too long, left to droop lazily in front of its mouth, and its body was far too fat for its stubby legs. A heap of black feathers made up its hair and eyebrows, giving it a disheveled appearance.
Sitting to the side was a sleek fox with golden fur. It looked bored, and as Toya watched, it reached a foot up to scratch behind its ear like a dog. A silver chain hung in its mouth, with one end buried into the ground and the other culminating in the center of the bird-person’s chest.
Toya stared down at the bird-person. Its face had become even more recognizable than before, but he still couldn’t place it. The answer danced at the edges of his memory, lurking in a corner where the fog had not yet been fully cleared. “What— no, who are you?”
“It was Shinji Hinomori,” the boy answered, and Toya’s eyes widened. Yes, of course. Mr. Hinomori. He had not seen him in several months—not since the funeral—but as soon as he heard the name, the old man’s face sprung clearly into view. His eyes remained just as piercing in death as they had been in life, carrying enough ambition to stand his ground even against Toya’s father.
“Not anymore, though,” the bright haired boy continued. “He succumbed to his pride and transformed into a tengu.”
Toya turned to face the boy again. With his mind cleared, he could finally place where they had met. “You visited the shop the other day,” he said. “I remember now. You tried to help me, even though I couldn’t accept it at the time. And you told me your name…” He paused, trying to remember.
“Akito. Akito Shinonome,” the boy replied with a smile. “I’m glad you remember now. You’re strong to have recovered so quickly. The trickery of evil spirits can be difficult to overcome even after they’re dispelled.”
“If you say so,” Toya replied. He felt a little embarrassed at the compliment, because he didn’t feel strong. In the end, he still needed Akito to save him.
STRONG, INDEED, the tengu chirped in agreement, though its voice did not reverberate through Toya’s body as it had before. TO~YA IS A STRONG BOY. EVERY DAY, I WATCH HIM, WATCH HIM ROLL THE DOUGH. A VERY STRONG BOY.
“Quiet,” Akito barked, and it chittered amusedly in response. He reached beneath the folds of his kimono and retrieved a small dagger with a fine wooden handle. “Kin, ready the chain.”
Toya watched as the fox pulled its jaw back, holding the silver chain taut between its mouth and the tengu’s chest. “What are you going to do to him?”
“Forcibly sever its connection to the world of the living,” Akito replied. “That’s what this chain represents; lingering resentments, memories of loved ones, unfulfilled duties. How these connections take form shapes whether a yokai will transition into a calm or violent spirit once the link disappears. Some overcome their bindings right away, while others must wait a long time for the connection to fade, and even then, the feeling never really goes away. The other option is for someone like me to cut them free.”
“And that forces them to overcome it?”
Akito pursed his lips. “Not exactly. Rather than overcoming, I’d say it’s more that their ties are stripped away from them, and with that, the substance of their being. They’ll become a lesser spirit, drifting aimlessly until they are eventually absorbed by something greater.”
“Oh.” Toya frowned. “Isn’t that a bit cruel?”
“Yes. It’s sad, but it’s less risky. The longer it takes for a yokai to leave its connections behind, the less likely it is to change its disposition. An evil yokai will almost always become an evil spirit. If given the chance, it’s better to dispel them into nothing.”
Toya gazed down at the tengu, and Akito followed suit, his expression resigned. Despite the months of suffering that he had been made to endure at the hands of its twisted emotions, Toya couldn’t help but pity the poor creature. He had admired Mr. Hinomori in life. He’d been a determined man, and the few times they had spoken, Toya could feel the fire burning behind Mr. Hinomori’s eyes begin to spark in his own chest too.
“May I talk with him? Before you…” Toya trailed off, but Akito understood what he meant.
“If you’d like. I think you’d be putting yourself at risk again—tengu are awfully tricky creatures—but I won’t stop you.”
“Thank you.”
Toya took a step closer to the tengu. It blinked up at him lazily. He wondered whether it was cognizant of the fate that awaited it. How much of the human he had known remained in this peculiar creature? What words could he even say to it? To Mr. Hinomori?
Finally, he settled on, “Why have you become like this?”
The tengu seemed to recognize the question, but it did not immediately reply. It swiveled its head several times, as though thinking, and then asked, LIKE THIS, LIKE THIS. I WAS ALWAYS LIKE THIS. I ALWAYS CARED.
“What do you care about?”
MOCHI SHOP, it squawked back at him, so loud and sudden that Toya jumped back in surprise. MUST KEEP IT ALIVE. KEEP IT RUNNING. THE BEST MOCHI SHOP IT IS, THE BEST. WE KEEP IT ALIVE, TO~YA. WE KEEP IT RUNNING.
Toya stared down at his feet. He felt as though he had heard those words before. Perhaps from his own father; perhaps from the voice that had permeated his head for the past several months; perhaps even further back, from before Mr. Hinomori had died. They suffocated him, and even without the bird perched on his shoulders, he could feel a weight starting to press down on his back. He knew it was not his own. This borrowed sense of duty and pride was foreign to him, and he fought against it, struggling to stand up straight.
The tengu smiled again. WE COULD GO BACK, TO~YA. WE COULD GO BACK.
“You don’t need me for that battle,” Toya countered, defiant. “I have my own duties with my father’s shop, and besides, the Hinomori family business is in good hands. Your daughters have been doing a good job in your stead.”
This seemed to give it pause. It rolled its head around slowly, taking it in. DAUGHTERS? YES, MY DAUGHTERS. WHO ARE MY DAUGHTERS?
“Don’t you remember? Their names are Shizuku and Shiho. They were at your funeral, and I see them every day across the street, manning the counter and working in the kitchen. Haven’t you noticed? They’ve been working hard in your memory. You should work hard for their sake, too.”
MY DAUGHTERS, YES. SHI~ZUKU. SHI~HO. YES, YES. The tengu reached a hand up to stroke its chin thoughtfully. VERY GOOD GIRLS, THEY ARE. VERY GOOD. I REMEMBER. THEY KEEP IT RUNNING?
Toya nodded. He was close now, he could feel it. Just one last push would be enough. “The shop is in good hands now. It’s okay. You can let go.”
LET… GO. The tengu chittered with glee. YES, YES. TO~YA IS RIGHT. IT’S OKAY. I CAN LET GO.
As it spoke the last words, the chain protruding from its chest started to glow faintly. In the middle of its length, a small crack began to appear, and a small growth of leafy green moss began to sprout from between the silver links. It began to work its way down the chain, and the gap grew wider and wider, as though the greenery was eating it away, before finally disappearing into the tengu entirely. Toya watched, wide eyed, as the chain was swallowed up; then he blinked, and the tengu had vanished.
Beside him, Akito let out a low whistle. “Wow. You know, I’ve never gotten to see that in person until now.”
Toya turned to him, shocked. “What happened? Where did he go?”
“Something you said was enough to help it move on. It overcame the feeling that was tethering it here.” Akito smiled and sheathed his dagger back beneath the folds of his clothes. “From what it said before it left, I get the feeling it will become a peaceful spirit. Good work, Toya.”
“I don’t think I really did anything worthy of praise,” Toya mumbled, but he couldn’t help but smile at the surge of relief that came over him. For the first time in his life, he had been brave, and it had saved Mr. Hinomori from a terrible fate.
“Are you kidding? You showed some serious potential there.” Akito paused for a moment, then grinned. “It’s a shame you already have your future laid out for you—”your own duties”, as you said. Otherwise, I would’ve asked you to be my partner.”
Toya blinked in surprise. “What do you mean, partner?”
“Come with me. Find troublesome yokai, restrain them, and either give them the push they need to move on or sever the connection ourselves.” He gazed off into the horizon. “One day, I’m going to get rid of every evil spirit in Shibuya. I don’t want to see anyone else suffer from something they can’t even understand. It’s unfair.”
Akito’s voice had grown bitter, and Toya wondered if he’d encroached on a subject he maybe shouldn’t have. Despite that, he marvelled at Akito’s goal. Having been a victim of a yokai’s influence himself, he could empathize with wanting to protect other people from having to experience that; actually undertaking such a mission was another thing entirely.
Was Toya even capable of that level of self-sacrifice?
A moment of silence passed between them, and then Akito spoke. “Well, I’d better get going. It was nice meeting you, Toya. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.” He clicked his tongue. “Come on, Kin.”
The golden fox stood and bounded forward. He slinked behind Akito’s legs, but then didn’t come out the other side, disappearing just as quickly as the tengu had. Toya watched him go longingly. He did not want to return to the mochi shop. The tengu had been to thank for much of his fatigue the past few months, but not all of it; Toya knew the job was not something he wanted to do forever.
This was something he could do. Akito had said so himself. The sensation that had filled him when the tengu had moved on was far more fulfilling that anything he had ever accomplished in his life.
Was he strong enough to take this path?
“Wait,” Toya called out, and Akito’s footsteps paused. He glanced over his shoulder, expectant, and Toya had the feeling Akito knew what he was going to say. He tried not to hesitate. “Take me with you.”
Akito’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure? It won’t be easy. This job is dangerous, and a thankless one too. Are you prepared for that?”
Toya took a deep breath and steeled his nerves. “Yes. I want to do this.”
Like the morning sun breaking over the horizon, Akito’s mouth stretched into a sly grin, and Toya realized that this was what he’d wanted all along. Dealing with a tricky spirit had not been enough to prepare him for the deviousness of a fox; still, Toya found he didn’t mind. The color had been returned to his world, and that head of hair still flickering in front of him like a torch, beckoning him forward.
“Come on then, partner,” Akito called, and Toya leapt after him, taking his first step into a brand new world.