舞宵ちゃん
*** Maiyoi-chan (Shiomi POV) ***
Maiyoi-chan was a name that brought back memories. I hadn’t seen her in years, and her appearance at Himekawa Hospital had startled me. To think she was still protecting me after I abandoned her all those years ago.
I carefully blew the face powder off Ume’s nose and smoothed a wrinkle in her kimono while I thought about what to say. It needed to sound right. I’d never loved anyone like this before. I couldn’t help worrying, even though I knew she wouldn’t laugh at me or tell me I was an idiot.
It wasn’t like Mikawa at all. I’d served Mikawa but never loved her. Mikawa never let me forget she bought me. I served Ume now. I owed her that, and even if I didn’t, I’d serve her.
My thoughts spun off onto a tangent. “Do you love me back or are you just my White Knight? I hope it’s sometimes more. How can you call me something like, ‘An intrinsic indefinable quality of alluring magnetism,’ without following with a confession?”
Ume looked at me with concern. “Sorry if it’s too personal. You don’t have to tell me.”
“That’s just like her,” I thought. “Mikawa would never have given me a choice.”
“I was just thinking about what to say,” I explained.
I fumbled with a cig and thought, “How embarrassing. You want a story, and I’m daydreaming about love.”
I lit the cig, passed it to her, and began.
My parents were farmers: practical, hardworking people. Unlike my older brothers, I was a useless girl with no interest in farming. Worse yet, I loved frivolous things like dancing and singing. So, like you, my parents disapproved of me.
There was no shrine, however. Instead, I wandered the woods, gathering edible plants, which made me slightly useful, but mainly I sang and danced. Even then, I wanted to be an idol. I made up dances and listened to city pop when my family was in the fields. I liked to imagine having an audience.
There was one special place I enjoyed performing, a tiny island in the middle of a marsh with a fox burrow hidden in the rocks. I could see their eyes peering out, watching me. I learned to move smoothly so as not to scare them. They even yipped, “Kyan, kyan, kyan,” when I had to leave. I remember thinking they were my adoring audience applauding.
An old monk with an enormous belly sometimes stopped and watched, too. He asked once if I’d like to perform at his shrine. He told me he had lots of nice food there, but I refused. I was too shy; besides, he stank like an unbathed dog. I would wrap up my dance and leave when he appeared.
One day, fog rolled up the mountain, surprising me. I was confident I could find my home, but the path I usually followed seemed strange, and instead of heading downhill, I ascended. I wondered if I was on the wrong trail, but decided I must be confused and continued. The trail continued climbing, and the trees grew larger and larger. I occasionally heard a drum, “Pon, Pon, Pon,” from somewhere ahead. “I must be near the farms,” I thought. “Are they having a festival?”
But the rice field never materialized. Still, I kept hoping the fields would appear around each bend in the path. If I turned back, I would just miss the village. Whenever I was about to give up, I heard the drumming, “Pon, Pun, Pon,” luring me on.
Eventually, I emerged from the clouds and found myself in a terrace-like valley clinging to the mountainside. I didn’t recognize the place and when I turned to go back down the path, it wasn’t there. As you can imagine, I was in a panic.
“What should I do?” I thought. “Should I turn around or follow the valley, and which direction if I do?”
I peered around, but there was no sign that anyone lived there except for the booming drum from up the valley. “Thank goodness,” I thought. “People, I can ask them.”
I soon reached a path, almost an animal trail, leading up the valley. Topping a low rise, I saw a ramshackle hut with a man outside drumming, “Pon, Pon, Pon.”
As I drew nearer, he stopped playing and waved to me. It was the old monk. Relief washed over me. I was sure he could show me the way home, or at least escort me down the mountain.
“Psst,” a girl’s voice came from my left. “Don’t go there. Old Man Tanuki-san will make you his wife. You’ll never go home.”
I looked over, and in the forest’s shade stood a girl with long, rich-reddish amber hair. The first thing I noticed was that her kimono was impractical for walking through the forest. Then it struck me: she had tawny fox eyes that almost seemed to glow. My uncle had told me, “You can tell a kitsune from a real human by how their eyes slant.” He also warned me to avoid kitsune. “They like to play mean tricks,” he had said. So I moved toward the monk, who was beckoning me to approach.
“I’ll be sorry I can’t see you dance anymore,” the girl called. “Your songs are delightful, but Old Man Tanuki-san will beat you if you share them with anyone but him.”
That stopped me. “You’ve watched me dance?”
“Of course. You perform your lovely dances right outside my house, especially for me. — But enough of that; if you don’t come now, it’ll be too late.”
I heard the monk’s running feet slapping the ground, and when I looked up, he was so close I could see the sweat trickling down his face.
“Run!” the girl yelled.
The frightening look on the old monk’s face broke through my indecision, and I turned to flee after the girl. Behind me, I could hear the monk’s heavy breathing. I had barely escaped in time, or so I thought. I was about to plunge down the slope just inside the forest when I felt his hand on my shoulder.
“Got you now, girly!”
“Iyaa!” I screamed as my feet slipped on loose leaves and landed on my butt, feet dangling down the slope.
“Stall him,” the girl whispered from somewhere inside the forest. “I’ll rescue you.”
As the monk’s fingers dug into my shoulder, my thoughts spun, “Stall him, how?”
“Get up, girly,” the monk ordered.
Desperately, I said, “Let me catch my breath, Monk-sama. That kitsune almost tricked me. I’m so glad you stopped me.”
His grip didn’t loosen, but as I looked up, I saw the anger depart his face, replaced by a smirk.
“You need to be careful of those kitsune,” he said. “They’re full of tricks and mischief. You’ll be safe at my house. Come on.”
“Certainly. Just let me catch my breath. I’ll be happy to go to your house, and you can send a message to my parents. I am sure they’ll reward you.”
“Indeed,” he said, still smirking.
While we talked, a thick fog rolled up the valley, and out of the mist a third voice joined our “discussion.” “And what are you up to, Tanuki-san?”
The monk’s head jerked around, looking down the valley toward the voice. “Osho-sama, what are you doing here?”
Looking in the same direction, I dimly saw a man in an abbot’s robes. The fog was so thick, I couldn’t make out his face, but the robes were unmistakable.
“I might ask you the same thing. What are you doing with that girl?”
“She’s my wife, Osho-sama,” the monk answered, squeezing my shoulder so hard it felt like he might break it. In a lower voice, he ordered me, “Silence woman, don’t trouble Osho-sama.”
Despite the pain and the monk’s words, I screamed, “Help! I’m not! I’m not his wife!”
“She is too young for you, Tanuki-san. Let her go and let’s drink sake at your house.”
The monk’s grip on my shoulder loosened, and below me, I heard, “Run!”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I jerked away and plunged down the slope, crashing through the brush, ignoring how they tore at my clothes and face.
“This way,” I heard, and I saw a three-tailed kitsune headed off to my left.
I followed with difficulty, my feet almost going out from under me again. The fog was so thick it was a miracle I didn’t crash into a tree or fall over a hidden log.
Then I was on a stable path, racing through the fog.
Behind me, I heard an angry voice, “Maiyoi, I’ll get you for this!”
The voice grew fainter as I ran and then fell silent. I kept running until I breathlessly stopped in a ferny glade. The girl was sitting on a rock, laughing. “Old Man Tanuki-san gets lonely up there. Few people stop by and visit him. Just the abbot, who scolds him for not bathing and being lax with his sutras. They’re friends, though, and drink sake together after Tanuki-san promises to do better, the old fraud.”
She laughed some more, her three tails whipping about as she chortled.
When she was done, she said, “My name is Anazawa Yuka Maiyoi Sanbi no Kitsune, but my friends call me Maiyoi-chan. So you can call me that. And I want you to always come and dance for me.”
“You want to be my friend?” I couldn’t believe it. No one wanted to be my friend. My brothers certainly weren’t my friends, and the children at school teased and bullied me. Was this a cruel kitsune joke?
“Of course, I can tell you’re special. I’ll teach you new dances and songs if you come in the evening. I know lots of evening and night songs. And you can teach me your songs and dances.”
Hope rose in my chest. “You like them,” I said. “My parents call them a frivolous waste of time.”
“Do they now?” she said as her tails swished violently for a minute.
“They are fools then,” she said. As her tails grew calmer, she continued, “I love them. That’s how I got the names Yuka Maiyoi. We’ll have fun! What do you say, Human-chan?”
“My name is Shiori, and I’d love to.”
I could have continued telling Ume about the fun we had dancing in the moonlight or how Maiyoi-chan coached me on singing and dancing, but I thought it would sound boring, so I stopped.
Ume had listened intently to my story, and I was glad she liked it. I’d never told anyone about Maiyoi-chan. “That’s the story, Ume,” I said, finishing up. “Until I met you, she was my only friend. Now I have you.”
Something changed in Ume’s face, a look of determination.
“Shishi, I don’t want to be your friend.”
My heart sank. I could feel my world crumbling. What was the point of fighting Mikawa-san if I couldn’t have Ume?
But before despair overwhelmed me, she continued. “You think you owe me something, but you don’t. You need to understand that and respond honestly. I don’t want to be your friend. I want to be your lover. Please; I want you to always sing, dance, and be with me. Say yes, before I burn up in your flame.”
She had both my hands and was staring up at me. My terror melted.
“Oh, Ume,” I said and started crying.
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Note: Finally!
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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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