(Art: “The Rescue,” by Mai-sensei)
Shiomi broke off her story about Mikawa seducing her as I turned off the expressway onto Route 400. There was a pause, and then I heard, “I warned you. You shouldn’t follow the kitsune.”
Sure enough, there were pale blue phosphorescent lights moving north ahead of us.
“I’m not,” I replied. “Oogle Maps said to turn here.”
I looked at the app again and the route shown was definitely this way.
“This way is longer,” Shiomi continued. “It’s rural, narrow, plus you’ve got tunnels. I hate tunnels. You never know what will jump out at you.”
“You want me to turn back? The expressway isn’t far.”
“Fuck it, I don’t care. One way is as good as another.”
She closed her eyes and looked like she was going to sleep, so we drove on in silence.
I soon stopped and bought gas and smokes. Between the two of us, we could easily keep a small tobacco company in business.
While I filled the tank, I glanced in at Shiomi. She was sleeping, and I couldn’t help noticing how nice she looked in the black sweater she had put on. Her resting face also looked sweet. Her blue hair lay across her forehead in feathery drifts and made me want to touch it. She reminded me a bit of Clara Bow. They both had “It,” that certain appeal. I laughed at my own joke. Then I thought, I really should have my head examined for having such thoughts. She was not the woman I had dreamed of.
I pulled out of the station and soon left the lights of civilization behind. It was like Shiomi had warned; the road was dark and isolated. I wouldn’t see another car’s lights for several kilometers at a time. But I was happy when I did because they chased away the shadows. I don’t know who cast them, just something watchful.
I was unsure when the shadows first appeared, probably when we entered the first tunnel. I had been more focused on the kitsune lights that had drifted off our route onto the old 400. By the time we crossed the Hoki River and entered the Senryukyo Tunnel, I was convinced that there were malign things out there I couldn’t see.
Once in the Senryukyo Tunnel, the shadows flickered at the edge of my vision, sinewy shapes that evaporated when looked at. The sound of the car echoed eerily. Sometimes it sounded like someone talking, but mostly it sounded like distorted music. When I tried to bring the sound into focus, it resolved to the normal echo of a car in a tunnel.
The tunnel felt longer than it had appeared on the map, seeming to telescope strangely. I began feeling disoriented, the same way I had on the Rokudai Bridge. Then the sensation passed, but the tunnel stretched impossibly long in front of me. Endless lights with no end in sight.
I was relieved that I hadn’t heard voices or felt an urge to kill myself. As a precaution, though, I put a random CD in the player Tomo had installed.
Burst Girl blared out over the speakers, and both Shiomi and I jumped. Burst Girl was at the harder edge of my musical taste and would definitely cover up any supernatural muttering.
My passenger was staring at me and after a pause asked, “You like them?”
“Yeah,” I answered and waited for her to tell me how shitty my musical taste was. Nothing I ever did seemed to please her.
“Cool, I didn’t figure they were your type. I pegged you for rock, but not punk. I can see you going for idols, but I would have guessed glittering kirakira idols. You have that kind of personality. But wow, punk idols. — Are there any girls you like in particular?”
“Never thought about it. One girl was kind of cute and had a wonderful smile.”
She didn’t seem to pay attention to my answer and didn’t follow up on her query. Instead, she returned to reminiscing. “I once went drinking with a girl from Burst Girl.” Then she fell silent, thinking.
Which was just as well, because it allowed me to pay attention to the road. I was increasingly aware that things were messed up. The tunnel still hadn’t ended, and it definitely should have by now.
Once my full focus was on the road, I noticed irregular tunnel entrances on either side. I wasn’t sure how I could have missed them before. They were about a meter tall and showed signs someone had roughly widened them. And not an official road crew. The work was too primitive for that.
The next thing I noticed were drawings on the walls. They appeared to be cave drawings, not graffiti. When I looked directly at them, they would shift, fade away, or change shape. The effort left me feeling nauseous, but with a sense they contained a sinister truth I needed to know.
I tried looking at them out of the corner of my eye; in the rearview mirror; and finally found they remained stable if I peered at them at just the right angle in my side-view mirrors.
The first drawing I made out was of a serpent towering over some humans with severed limbs flying in all directions. I didn’t have time to examine it, but it left me feeling queasy. The next scene was of a woman tied to rocks with ocean waves up to her waist. Three towering old men stood gleefully watching. The knot in my stomach tightened.
None of the drawings were reassuring, and it occurred to me that maybe I didn’t want the secret they contained. With an effort, I dragged my eyes away from them.
By then, Shiomi was smoking again with an impassive look on her face.
“You notice the drawing?” I asked.
“Drawing? Oh, those. No, I hadn’t, but it doesn’t surprise me. Tunnels are always bad. I told you not to come this way.”
“No, you didn’t,” I snapped. The situation and her attitude were wearing my patience thin. “I asked if I should go back, and you told me not to bother.” I’m not sure which bothered me more, her casualness or being blamed.
“Right, my bad. Welcome to my world.”
I took a breath. She was infuriating.
I was thankful she continued before I gave voice to my displeasure. “It’s not usually this bad. It’s only gotten this weird a few times. When my life was really fucked up. Like now.”
A sarcastic remark came bubbling up, seeking to escape. But I forced it back down, unuttered. She seemed to know more about what to expect than I did and knowledge might be vital. Knowledge other than what was contained in mystical revelations. So, rather than let fly with a caustic remark, I remained stoic and said, “From your experience. Is there anything I should know?”
“If you see something on the road, don’t stop, don’t swerve, and don’t look at it any more than you can help. That includes tunnel drawings. It is also better not to look in your rearview mirror.”
She was so matter-of-fact; I was amazed.
“I was looking at them. They were almost irresistible. They wanted to tell me something. Is something bad going to happen?”
“Yeah, you didn’t want to know. It’s best not to be too curious. I’m not an expert, but you broke off looking, so you’re probably okay.”
“It’s hard for me to imagine living with this all the time. But it’s normal for you?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
There was a pause, “You like Guso Drop?” Her comment seemed to come from left field, and it took me a moment to register what she was asking.
“I don’t know who they are. Sorry.”
“I just thought you might. They were a great punk unit. Before I was an idol, I’d play their stuff at work to freak people out. When they broke up, some members formed Burst Girl. I thought you might know them.”
“I was in the US at school.”
“Wow, I’ve never been out of Japan. I haven’t even been to Okinawa.”
There was another pause, then she changed the subject again. “Why do you like me?”
That was a doozy. Why did I like her? Did I like her? It would be rude to say, “Because I wanted a girlfriend, and you were the first pretty face I saw.” Hopefully, that was untrue, but for the life of me, I couldn’t put my reasons into words. I certainly hoped I wasn’t that shallow.
She continued while I mulled it over. “You, Mika, and maybe Kuma are the only people who ever cared enough to actually try to help me. You know, I’m kind of a bitch. A pretty face, golden voice, and venomous tongue. Mika said I was stupid, vain, and selfish. She was probably right.”
I still didn’t have an answer. Why did I like her? I was still helping her, despite her spoiled behavior. Maybe stress made her act that way, but she hadn’t given me much reason to like her. Lacking a better response, I said, “You shouldn’t talk about yourself that way.”
At that point, the tunnel finally ended, and we drove out into a cloudless black night lit only by a yellow gibbous moon.
A bridge crossing the Hoki River was immediately outside the tunnel. The overhead supports cast long eerie shadows in the moonlight, but Burst Girl drowned any voices from the river. Then we were off the bridge and into what seemed, at first, a relatively normal setting, so I turned off the music. If I was going to play more music, it should be something more soothing.
To our left was an empty store parking lot, and I pulled into it to stretch my legs. Something I badly needed after the tension of the tunnel. Besides, nature called, and I figured an empty parking lot was safer than some dark building or the woods.
I climbed stiffly out of the car and looked around. There was a scattering of dark buildings illuminated by the moon and one dim flickering streetlight. Other than that, it was as dark as it was silent.
First, I stretched and then set off across the lot to ease the cramps in my legs. Underfoot, there was a crunching sound, like walking on frost. The ground was dark, so it must have been dirty frost or ash. I didn’t bend down to find out.
The next thing was to get out a cigarette. As I fumbled with the pack, I noticed the crinkling noise of the cellophane wrapper. It reminded me uncomfortably of the other night when I encountered the supernatural.
Instead of the river smells of that night, there was a faint but pervasive sulfuric scent of something burning. I lit my cigarette with a futile hope of covering up the smell. Instead, the peach mixed unpleasantly with the acrid odor.
My path took me to a dark boarded-up building. I walked along its front, examining the graffiti-scrawled plywood boards. It looked a little like Khmer, but I guessed it was probably some archaic forbidden language. I wondered what it meant, but decided I was probably better off not knowing the eldritch truths it might reveal. A thought perhaps inspired by the Lovecraft I had read while at university.
I stopped for a moment to kick a meter-tall plastic ice cream cone by the door. It rolled in a half circle, a surreal detail in a disturbing landscape. It was definitely a Lovecraftian scene. All that was required were unearthly lunar toads or fish-headed people.
I nervously glanced around looking for kappa and then snubbed out my finished smoke and did my business. Then it was time to go before my imagination finished the job this desolate scene had started.
I hurried back to the car and stopped outside. Something else was bothering me. A wrongness that tugged at my consciousness. It took a moment, but then I realized there were no stars, just that sliver of moon on a jet-black background. Another unsettling detail.
I shivered. How did one get used to this kind of thing?
I happily climbed into the car and started it. There was a sprinkling of gritty ash on the windshield that blew off easily as I pulled back out onto 400. It made me think, so I asked, “You think this is Jigoku?”
“Hell? Nothing terrible has happened the few times I wander in here? I just call it Muko, ‘the other side.’ — You religious? Do shrine visits and all that stuff? I never did, not since I was little.”
It was disconcerting how easily she switched from discussing our bizarre situation to mundane topics. But it was better than letting my imagination run wild, so I went with it.
“Me neither. I avoided doing things with my family and my friends weren’t into that kind of thing.”
Shiomi glanced at me speculatively. “All the girls I knew loved that kind of stuff. You, the type that hung out with the boys?”
“So she hadn’t guessed I’m trans,” I thought.
I answered, “Yeah, all my friends were boys.”
“Butch even then.” There was a note of approval in her voice.
I added, “I was a bit of a tomboy, but I always wished I could do girly things.” That was an understatement. In college, I had tried the whole femme look, but it never seemed to fit me. I was more comfortable in jeans and a hoodie. When my tits developed, I started wearing tank tops, but frilly lace made me feel silly.
“I can tell. Your makeup sucks. I’ll show how… wait, I won’t be there, have someone else show you or just skip it. You look nice without.”
“I would have liked that, and thanks.”
That was unexpected, I thought. There was a nice person under there somewhere, if only she came out more often. My response was also surprising. I actually would have liked her to show me makeup techniques. Maybe do some girly stuff. I had never had a chance to do any of that.
I almost asked if she had changed her mind and wouldn’t prefer coming back with me, but stopped myself. Remembering Tomo’s hint that I might have to choose between the two of them.
“Tests of courage?” she asked.
I jerked back to the present and focused on the question. “No, something always happened when we tried to go to a cursed or haunted place. One time I got sick. Another time, a tree fell on my bike. A third time, there was a branch in the road and I went flying; broke my arm.”
“That guardian of yours plays rough. Right, your wife. That must be an interesting story.”
I listened for derision in her tone, but there wasn’t any. The pleasant girl was still here.
“Could you light me a smoke? One of the flavored ones.” I asked. Sharing a smoke had become a ritual with us, bonding over nicotine. If only things had been different.
She lit two cigarettes at once and passed me mine. Lauren Becall again. I was moving up in the world. This time, she had given me a secondary kiss instead of my taking it. Yes, if only things had been different. It would have been wonderful if it had happened sooner before she alienated Tomo.
At that point, we both quietly smoked. I drove and Shiomi looked out at the dark foliage and abandoned buildings that lined the narrow twisting road. The buildings looked almost normal, and I recognized a tire shop and gas station, but couldn’t read their signs. Like everything else, they stood empty and dark.
We’d driven maybe a kilometer with the tires making a soft crunching sound as we sped alone, when Shiomi spoke, distracting me from the unease that had taken over again. “Want to hear some more of my story, or have I bored you yet?”
“No, go on. It’s interesting.”
*** Tamoto Suzume (袂雀) (Shiomi POV) ***
(Art: “Mikawa Kimiko,” by Mai-sensei)
“Arigato. Arigatogozaimashita,” I shouted over the din of the crowd.
I was flying. It had been a good night. All the regulars had mobilized and there were fresh faces. It was all I could do not to jump down among the waving arms and shining eyes.
Regretfully, I backed up. Management had warned me not to be so wild.
Mega took the spotlight next. It was her turn. They loved her too. She got messages from stans wanting to take care of her. Hard to begrudge her that. We all worked hard, and this was the reward: the love and rush of adoration.
I looked out as Mega plugged her next ShowRoom stream and studied the audience. Balding, Yamazaki-san stood, eyes glued to Mega. The huge Kuma was standing back in the crowd. He hadn’t gotten over my touching his hand today. The big guy deserved it. He was so generous when I streamed and never tried to put his hands on me. And of course, Mika-san was out there with her eyes glued to me.
Mega finished, and we ran off the stage. As soon as we were out of sight, Taka turned on me. “I’ve told you to stop that. You think you’re special, but when I’m singing, don’t upstage me.”
I smiled and held my temper. It wouldn’t help to protest. There was nothing she would like better than starting a fight, which I couldn’t afford. If there was a brawl, management would blame me.
To hold on to my high, I pictured the audience. I could count on Kuma, Mika-san, and other regulars to boost my mood later. That was if Mika was in a good mood. She had gotten increasingly moody and possessive since that night at the love hotel.
Mega jarred me from my musing. “Time to go. Cheki time. Don’t let it get you down. She’s a bitch.”
For a moment, I thought she meant Mika, but no one knew about my indiscretion. Then it hit me. She meant Taka. I gave her a thumbs-up and started for the door.
The crowd gave way for us, as we found places for pictures. Mega and I had a crowd of stans. That would burn Taka up. Fuck her. I had earned this. I had earned every bit of the love my stans gave me. They adored me and I adored them. I wasn’t alone when I was with them.
I dealt first with some foreigners who had pushed to the front of the crowd. We exchanged some phrases of broken Japanese and English. They were polite and thrilled to get an autographed cheki from me. I put a little extra effort into decorating their photo: black wings and hearts.
Kuma was next. He was gushing, “You were wonderful, Oshi. There’s no one like you. I got these for you.” He handed me a bag of black sesame cookies. He worked in a bakery, so I knew they would be fresh. I had told him one time I liked them, so he usually brought me some. But not always. For Tamoto Suzume’s six-month anniversary, he had brought me an entire cake with fresh strawberries. I had no idea how he kept it from getting crushed.
That had been a wild show. I had been out in the audience whipping them into a frenzy. The crowd had been as high as I was. That had been before management decided the crowds were getting too rowdy.—Fucking management, I hated them.
As usual tonight, Kuma had paid for several autographed two-shots and as we posed, I looked out and saw Mikawa glowering. “Shit,” I thought. “She’s pissed tonight.”
Sure enough, the first thing she said when her turn came was, “Why’d you have to touch him? You got something for him?”
I kept a smile on my face. I didn’t want anyone to see something was wrong. Fortunately, the club was deafeningly loud so no one could overhear us.
“It’s my job, and he deserved it,” I said. “You know I can’t play favorites. I’ll recognize you at the next show.”
“You had better,” she said as she pushed a present into my hands. Black cigs tied up with a red rose. “Gees, this woman was going to get me in serious trouble,” I thought. At the same time, it pleased me that there was a red envelope, which meant some money. I could use it.
“What pose would you like tonight?” I asked and took her first ticket for an autographed two-shot, of course.
“A hug,” she demanded.
I didn’t like that pose. If I hugged her, some guy would want the same pose and take advantage. Besides, while not strictly forbidden, management frowned on it. I couldn’t refuse, though. She could make trouble for me and looked in a mood to do it.
I put my arm around her, and she said in my ear, “You’re avoiding me.”
It was true, but I couldn’t admit it. When I was handing out fliers, I was careful not to get separated from Mega. If Mika was waiting for me after a show, I would be sure to be talking to someone, and then disappear backstage as soon as she wasn’t looking.
“No, I’m not.” I protested, “Please don’t make trouble. You know you could get me sanctioned or fired. Then you would never see me again.” It was my best argument, and I laid a heavy emphasis on it.
She ignored my warning and as I took her fourth cheki ticket, she continued, “We need to meet. If you don’t, I’ll make trouble. The address is in the envelope.”
I made myself smile while I autographed her cheki: hearts, no wings. Then I watched her walk off. Three rat-like shadows were running around at her feet. I shivered. They frightened me. She frightened me. But I would meet her, I didn’t have a choice.
—————————
Note:
Hearts, but no wings. Maybe it should have been wings, but no hearts.
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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