迷い家
*** Mayoiga (Ume POV) ***
My knock on the manor’s lattice door disturbed the crickets in their cages, but nothing else happened. I knocked again, only to meet with silence from within.
“Shall we go in?” Shishi asked.
I nodded, and with trepidation, I slid the door open. Beyond was a small stone-paved entryway. Potted bamboo flanked the door just inside. On the right was a shoe cupboard with a cute porcelain puppy and a small bonsai pine. In the cupboard were an array of shoes in all styles and sizes. At the bottom were several sets of slippers like you would leave for guests. In one corner were worn boots that could have belonged to the house’s owner, dried mud flaking from their sides. A screen of knotty wood with an elaborate pattern of fans and butterflies that partially hid a hall that led into the house lay on the far side of the room.
“Hello,” I shouted. My fingers rested on the gun in my belt, a needless precaution, since the only reply we received was the echo of my voice.
“Ume, I think we are safe here. I just feel it. It makes me feel just like when you take my hand.”
I felt the same way. Something about the place tickled my memory, but I couldn’t place it. It wasn’t an ominous, foreboding feeling, but something I should remember. Not everything supernatural was bad; Hanayome-shin had helped me. Shishi had a kitsune friend. But I was still wary.
“Should we change to slippers? What if we need to run?” I asked.
“It’ll be alright. I can feel it.” Emphasizing her words, she reached down, selected a pair of pink slippers with cats embroidered on them, and handed them to me. Then she stepped back and watched me put them on.
“I’ll have to get you a pair like that,” she giggled. “They’re cute on you.”
“They are not,” I grumbled.
Once she had put on a similar pair, with rabbits on them instead of cats, we stepped over a raised entry and proceeded into a hall with a brightly polished wooden floor. The warm scent of cloves, plum, and cinnamon incense greeted us.
To the left was what looked like a reception room with white cushions around a low, round wooden table with a flower arrangement in the center. A thick red carpet of Chinese design covered the floor. Arabesque windows let the noon light fall on a well-stocked tea cabinet.
Across the hall, there was a traditional paper door, which Shishi slid open, revealing a tatami room. More cushions lay scattered around a charcoal fire in a sunken hearth. Over this was a kettle of boiling water.
“Would you like tea?” Shishi asked. The degree she had accepted this place as safe astonished me. Was she enchanted?
“Maybe later. Let’s check out the rest of the house,” I said. She shrugged and slid open a door on the far side of the room.
Like the room we were leaving, it had a tatami floor. This time, purple cushions were arranged around a sunken hearth. There was a lacquered, inlaid black table with a tray of Asian pears and tangerines. Shishi walked over and picked up a delicate plate and an Asian pear. With a bone-handled knife that lay there, she sliced the pear.
“What are you doing?” I said.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she replied and approached, picked up a sliver of pear, and offered to feed me.
All the pieces suddenly fell into place: a manor hidden in the woods; no one was present; set up to welcome visitors; and a friendly feeling. I turned to Shishi. “I finally figured it out. It’s a Mayoiga, a blessed place in the wilderness. You can only find it once. That’s why we feel so safe. If I’m right, we won’t find anyone here.”
Shishi’s hand had moved away while I spoke, but when I finished, she offered me the slice again, and I took it. The crisp crunch of the pear fit the place. The sweet taste spread across my tongue as she withdrew her fingers and moved closer. My heart pounded, and blood rushed to my face. If only I knew for sure what she was thinking. Was this her idea of loyalty? Serving me? She had referred to my owning her before. Or was there something more going on?
I stood frozen indecisively. Then the moment was gone as she turned, heading to the next door.
The next room was a small tatami prayer room with a blue Buddha in an alcove. In one hand, he held a jar. In front of it were fresh offerings and lit incense. The air was heavy with the smell of camphor. I bowed briefly and backed out of the room.
My eyes widened as we entered a library with leather-bound books lining the wall. The room had a comfortable couch and brown silk cushions scattered about. I walked to a rack of newspapers next to the couch and selected one. I recognized the picture on the front page, but the caption and articles were a jumble of indecipherable glyphs.
“Hay, Shishi, these are current newspapers,” and I showed her a picture of Kairaki-en with the plum trees in full bloom. “See, the people are wearing modern clothes.”
“And look what I found!” As she spoke, she held out a teak box. Inside were Golden Bat and Hope cigarettes on either side. Matches lay in between.
“Nice,” I said. Why wasn’t I more concerned?
“Too bad there aren’t Peches for you.”
I didn’t buy her sympathy, not with her tongue sticking out. She sure was in a good mood. It made me smile.
“Oh, well, I’ll make do with a Hope,” I responded.
“You got it,” Shishi said and took out two Hopes, put both in her mouth, and lit them Paul Henreid-style. Only she was cuter. Much cuter than Henreid-san.
We sat on cushions and enjoyed a smoke. The tobacco was fresh, and we wouldn’t have to ration it. I briefly considered our situation in the Mayoiga. Were we taking it too casually, but those worries drifted away in our smoke?
Each room contained new, wonderful sights. Eventually, we came to a room that looked like a changing room. There were vanities with cosmetics, brushes, and mirrors. The dressers were full of clothes, and kimonos hung on rakes. Shishi stood in the doorway, staring. “Kimonos, like in your story. And makeup. I haven’t had time to help you with that. Let’s change, and I’ll do your makeup.”
I could feel my face flush. “Why not?” I thought. “Shishi looks so excited. She obviously would enjoy it. — Who am I kidding? So would I.”
“Sure, I’m game,” I said.
We laid out several kimonos to look at when I heard her call my name. I looked over to see her hold up a kimono embroidered with dragons. It looked like something a villainess in a Fu Manchu movie would wear. I shook my head no. We laughed and went back to browsing.
With Shishi’s help, I ended up with a dark russet kimono embroidered with asymmetrical “vine and leaf” line art.
I had no idea how to put on a kimono, but Shishi volunteered to help, saying, “I used to wear one of these all the time. Not with all this padding, of course; we had to dance in them. But at some photo shoots, we do the whole nine yards. They had a woman do our hair, so I don’t know that part.”
When she was done, she looked at me critically and said, “Classy. The russet color sets off your hair, and the pattern works with your butch presentation.”
She had laid out three black kimonos to choose from. One with a whirling red pattern seemed to be her favorite. The one that caught my eye had a pattern of purple and white morning glories that contrasted nicely with the black fabric. The purple flowers reminded me of violets. Like the flowers she had picked or the way her hair smelled. She saw me looking at it and instantly put the one she had been looking down.
“I’d rather you wore something you liked.” I protested.
“You know I’d rather please you. Besides, I like what you’re holding. You have good taste. I’ll wear it.”
It took longer for her to get dressed. I tried to help, but my clumsiness slowed everything down. When I apologized, she laughed it off. “It takes practice.”
When we were done, it was my time to admire her. She stood solemnly, looking at me, as I ran my eyes over her. “Is it okay? How do I look?” she asked.
“You look wonderful.” It was unbelievable. She looked like a totally different person dressed like that. My dark goddess was now a classic beauty. “You should be in movies. You have ‘It.’”
“It?” she asked.
“An intrinsic, indefinable quality of alluring magnetism.”
She responded by putting her finger to her cheek, tilting her head, and bowing slightly.
“Kawaii!” I thought.
“Now,” Shishi changed the subject, “let me show you how to use makeup. This will be heavier than you’d normally wear. You’ll want to use just a touch of makeup in the future to accent your strong points.”
When we reached my eyebrows, she demonstrated how to use a brush to shape them. She smoothly did hers while I watched. She had lovely, lazy gray eyes, unusual and charming.
“Now you try.” She handed me the brush.
I peered into a small, ornate mirror and imitated her.
“No, no,” she stopped me. “You have rounded eyes, almost Western. So, do it like this.” She took my hands, and a thrill ran through me. I had held her hand before; why was this different?
I looked at her face. Her eyes slanted, very Japanese, a lovely 10/10.
If they had slanted the other way, I could have mistaken her for a kitsune maid like her friend.
“Shishi, tell me about your friend, Maiyoi-chan.”
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Note: That’s not the question I expected.
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Story by Nara Moore
Twitter/X:@nara_moore
Mastodon: sakurajima.moe
WordPress: Josei Yuri and Paranormal Romance
Art by Mai-sensei
Twitter: @Maiisheree
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