Paul floated up from the depths of slumber, strange fragments of memory intermingled with blurred remnants of dreams drifting through his consciousness like bubbles rising from the Stygian depths of the abyssal unconsciousness. He felt a weight leaning against, his back propped up against something rough, and a jolt of remembered grief ran through him like lightning in the night as, for a moment, he was back on the roof of the world, sitting with Kate as she slowly slipped away from him.

A cool hand seemed to press against his cheek, and he heard her murmur in his ear.

“Shh beloved… all is well. But you’d better wake up now.”

Paul opened his eyes, squinting against the sunlight, and glanced down. Inari was napping, using his chest as a pillow. Glancing around he saw Tamamo equally drowsing with Izumi nearby resting as well. Paul ruefully smiled to himself, they had all rather been burning the candle at both ends of late.

Paul carefully moved, so as not to disturb the sleeping goddess tucked up under his arm, her head resting above his heartbeat. From his pocket he extracted the antique pocket watch he’d taken to using, since mana generators had deleterious effects on electronic watches. He sighed in relief as despite their unplanned nap time, they still had just about enough time to catch the train home.

Paul smiled slightly to himself at that thought. Finally he had somewhere he could call home, and actually wanted to return to.

Stretching he glanced round, and stilled.

There was a considerable crowd gathered, albeit at a respectful distance away upon the path that defined the area of grass under the cherry trees. There were cameras, both still and video, pointing at them, and what appeared to be several news teams waiting… all held back by a police cordon.

Paul blinked in surprise, then sighed. It should have occurred to him he thought ruefully, that without the disguise spells Inari wore normally, they would rather attract attention. Evidently a goddess taking a nap under the sakura blossoms in the middle of Tokyo was somewhat newsworthy…

He glanced back down at the sleeping Inari, and then up at the crowd who were beginning to clamour for attention as they realised he was awake. Frowning at them, he placed his finger against his lips, and as a hush fell he carefully extricated himself from his position as Inari’s pillow, got up and walked over to the knot of reporters.

The noise of the crowd swelled again as people started to call out questions. Paul gestured for quiet, glancing back over his shoulder. Then beckoned the media ‘spokespersons’ closer. Once they were within easy conversational distance, he smiled and put on his ‘professional public speaker’ face as he thought of it.

He’d be the first to admit he wasn’t a professional, not really, but thanks to a number of book tours he was at least somewhat conversant in the art of public speaking. He’d also read a book or two on it since becoming Inari’s Herald, figuring sooner or later they’d have to be more publicly visible.

“Afternoon everyone, and thank you for not disturbing our Hanami party. As you might have guessed, Inari is somewhat in need of a rest.”

A rather intense looking male reporter with a microphone carrying the NHK logo thrust forward asking;

“Can you tell us what Inari has been doing? There are reports of her boarding a train at Kurodahara station. Does this have anything to do with the splitting of the Killing Stone and is that other fox spirit the notorious Tamamo-no-Mae, considered one of the Three Evil Yokai?”

Paul grinned.

“Excellent detective work Mr…?”

“Kohi, Isuki Kohi with NHK.”

“Well, to answer your question, yes and yes that is Tamamo over there… who’s reputation is somewhat misunderstood. To put it in rather simplistic terms, her views and attitude are rather more in line with modern progressive thinking, regarding women’s rights, and the rights of common people. Of course, back then they earned her a reputation as a dangerous heretic, threatening to destabilise the ‘Natural Order of the Empire’ and so on... But then again, the people recording history were the very same oppressive regimes she was trying to subvert, so that’s hardly surprising.”

“Can you tell us what happened?”

Paul shrugged.

“A bunch of misunderstandings, resulting in a short fight that didn’t need to happen, and an excessive expenditure of magic. Followed by a lot of talking to clear up misunderstandings. Hence the impromptu nap time… we’re all rather tired as a result.”

“Is Inari planning on staying in Tokyo long?”

“Sadly no… we decided to break our journey back to her mountain temple. Nice as Japan’s bullet rains are, the journey has been rather trying. So the idea of a small viewing party sounded like a good way to refresh and recharge our metaphorical batteries.”

At this point several other reporters tried to jump in, but Paul held out a hand to stop them.

“I’m sorry… we really don’t have time to turn this into a general discussion. We literally have a train to catch. Inari is still somewhat unused to the modern world, finding crowds rather on the stressful side, and she would really like to get back home now and see her daughter. Might I suggest we schedule a proper press briefing at a later date? You can contact Inari via Fushimi Inari-taisha shrine in Kyoto. No prayers necessary, she has an email address now.”

Paul’s small joke caused a ripple of laughter among the gathered reporters. Then one blonde haired woman reporter shoved her way to the front, thrusting her microphone at Paul.

“Before you go, one last last question. You seemed quite close to Inari just now. How would you describe your relationship?”

Paul raised an eyebrow, and directed a cold stare at the brash person.

“I am Inari’s Herald, and she is my Goddess… anything else is private.”

“But surely as a foreigner..”

Paul cut her off, projecting his voice to override hers.

“Nationally and ethnicity are irrelevant. We are more than mortal flesh, but beings of spirit made manifest. Inari chose me to be her Herald based on what she saw in me, not on the shell of mortal clay I wear. And that is all I am saying on that subject, and I would suggest you refrain from speculation lest you intend to call into doubt her choice.”

“But.. how could she choose someone who’s not from..”

“Tell me Ms, are you some kind of racist bigot? Is that it?”

The woman reporter blushed all the way up to the roots of her bottle blonde hair and shook her head. Paul took shameless advantage of his height and literally stared down his nose at her disdainfully.

“No? Well then consider this… Inari has said that reincarnation is real, at least for those who choose it. I don’t pretend to understand the details, and frankly I was agnostic on the whole business of religion until recently, so I’m still catching up here. However, who is to say in prior incarnation I wasn’t Japanese? Certainly I feel more at home here, than I ever did in England. Although perhaps that has more to do with finding myself in the company of good friends here. However, none of this is a matter for public discussion, and I find your line of questioning offensive. If your particular network wishes to take part in any further press events, I’ll make a point of asking they send someone less... biased... if one is being polite.”

The young woman, bowed deeply while apologising, surrounded by her colleagues who were viewing her as if she was something that had just crawled out form under a rock.

Paul sighed.

“Oh... very well, apology grudgingly accepted. But do try to think of how you might sound in future. Now, forgive me everyone, but we really must be going. I look forward to seeing you all and answering your questions.”

Paul strode away, back to the sleeping Inari, with sour taste in his mouth from the encounter. Before coming to Japan, he had read that some people there could be somewhat on the xenophobic side, but his personal experience up to that point had been fairly amicable in that regard. The reporter’s attitude had rather blind-sided him as a result.

Pouring a cup of tea from the insulated flask, Paul knelt beside the still soundly sleep Inari and wafted the scent under her nose.

“Inari, time to rise… we have company.”

Sleepily Inari blinked herself awake, and seeing the crowd behind him, murmured.

“Oh.. my! So we do. Well, that was to be expected I suppose. Are those news reporters I see?”

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“They are, and I took the liberty to already talk to them briefly on your behalf. So you need not concern yourself with them if that is your wish.”

Inari accepted the cup of green tea from Paul, arching an eyebrow at him.

“You’re being rather formal, stiff even? Did something happen?”

“I.. would rather discuss that later, in private. But suffice it to say for now I had to serve an impudent reporter something of a set-down.”

Inari smiled impishly at him.

“That would explain the Aristocratic Englishman tone...really Paul-san, you sound like a character from a romance novel set in some fantasy world of Nobles and Aristocrats.”

Paul raised an eyebrow.

“I can’t imagine what you mean, nor when you would have read such a thing.”

Laughing at his slightly exaggerated tone Inari replied.

“Oh you know, Kiko reads light novels like that...but please don’t let her know I told you. She finds it terribly embarrassing.”

“My lips are sealed… and although I can’t think why she’d find it embarrassing. It’s a harmless vice after all. That is, unless her tastes runs towards the more torrid sort, instead of the usual brainless fluff that fills that genre.”

Inari shook her head.

“No… but I think she thinks people would take her less seriously if they knew.”

Paul shrugged.

“Can’t think why. A questionable literary choice is hardly a defect in character, and given the seriousness of her work, giving her brain a break is more a healthy sign I’d say. Anyway, I’d better wake those two and we had best get moving if we are to catch our train.”

Inari shuddered slightly at the thought of another packed carriage. Seeing that Paul rested his hand on her shoulder for a brief steadying moment.

“Courage Inari. I took the opportunity earlier to change our booking as we waited. I’ve upgraded us to first class and reserved seats in the ‘quiet’ carriage. That should be less stressful for you.”

Inari smiled up at him, resting her hand on his briefly.

“Thank you my Herald… your consideration is appreciated.”

Paul inclined his head in acknowledgement, and stood up to go and wake the other pair of their party.

The walk to the train station proved to be less stressful than the walk from there had been. The crowd was kept at discrete distance by the half dozen police officers, who acted more like sheep dogs than anything. Paul was pleased to note that there were few yokai among the crowd that he could see… and that as far as he could tell, they were treated no different than anyone else.

However, Inari didn’t really relax until they were aboard the train and pulling out of the station. Paul was mildly impressed, he’d thought the ‘quiet’ carriage would be like those of his experience in England, where ‘quiet’ was nominal only.

However, Nippon Rail took themselves seriously, and the carriage was genuinely quiet, not even hushed conversations or the tak-tak-tak of fingers on laptop keyboards broke the silence. More than a few individuals were wearing light-blocking masks and taking the opportunity to catch a few hours sleep while they traveled.

Once they were seated Paul adjusted the variable tint of the window, dialing it up to it’s maximum and plunging their section into a restful semi-shade, earning him a grateful look from Inari, as she and Tamamo settled down to resume their interrupted afternoon nap. Paul smiled, thinking that both would probably sleep until they arrived, he took out his notebook and pen and started to write, organising his thoughts for the next novel he was planning.

----------------

Paul woke in a cold sweat, jolting to full awareness with the chill sense of something being dreadfully wrong. Caution born out of years of living in some of the more deadly parts of the world stopped him from jerking upright, even though every sense screamed at him to move.

Carefully he opened his eyes just a fraction, still playing at being asleep as he glanced around, assessing the situation with crystal-edged clarity fuelled by adrenaline. The carriage was silent, without even the normal sounds of the train in motion. There was nothing but an unnatural flat featureless blackness outside the windows, no city lights or stars, nothing illuminated by the dim carriage lights in passing, despite the fact the sun should be only just touching the horizon.

Paul could see no sign of any other passengers either, not directly nor reflected in the blank black windows. Apart from the four gathered around the table in their section, the entire carriage seemed to be empty.

Paul distinctly felt the prickling sensation of the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He feigned a yawn, startled to notice his breath forming a cloud in the chill air and moved slowly, still pretending to be asleep, his hand drifting to rest on the butt of his pistol in it’s concealed shoulder holster.

For several long moments nothing happened, except for it getting colder and the lighting dimming until a shadow-filled purple twilight filled the carriage.

Then just as Paul was about to move and wake the others, an incongruously high pitched and girlish voice came from the knot of deepest shadows at the far end of the carriage.

“I can tell that you’re not asleep.”

Paul sighed, and sat up, leaning slightly to stare down the aisle. At the far end, wreathed in a smoke like pitch blackness that seemed to coil and twist with a life of it’s own, stood a young girl. Her hair was a flat dead white, reaching to her waist, almost the same shade as her slightly greyish hued skin. She was dressed in a ridiculously frilled anime-styled Gothic Lolita dress, it’s black satin relieved at the neck and wrists with accents of white lace. The only colour at all about her were her eyes, which were an unnatural shade of deep purple, and her lips which were painted the exact shade of arterial blood.

Paul raised an eyebrow at the entirely too overdone Gothic look.

“Well now… what are you? A vampire or a fan of some anime?”

“Well that’s rude! We haven’t even been introduced.”

Paul sighed… as long as he could keep her talking, she wasn’t doing anything dire. He really would prefer if she kept talking as every instinct he had was screaming at him that this person was far more dangerous than she looked.

“My apologies young miss. Paul Holmes, Herald of Inari and somewhat successful author.”

The young girl twitched her frilly lacy skirt upwards as she curtsied.

“Angelic D’Eath… not my real name of course, but you may think of it as my stage name.”

Paul couldn’t help himself remarking.

“Angel of Death, really?!”

‘Angelic’ pouted slightly, glaring at him.

“I’m not here for you, however if you continue to be rude…”

“Sorry… I suppose I expected a Shinigami to be a little less obvious.”

Angelic shook her head.

“Oh, I’m no mere so-called Death God. I am Izanami no denrei, Izanami’s Herald.”

Paul swallowed against a dry throat.

“I see, my apologies then. However as one Herald to another might I ask what your business here is?”

Angelic smiled, coldly, and placed one small forefinger against the corner of her mouth.

“Well…. I wasn’t supposed to say, but out of professional courtesy I suppose I can tell you. I’m here to collect Inari’s soul and bring her to Izanami.”

Paul nodded, slowly.

“I see. Well then that puts us somewhat at odds, as I am duty bound to protect her. I don’t suppose we can resolve this amicably, say over a game of chess perhaps? Maybe even a small wager, my soul instead of hers?”

Angelic laughed, shaking her head.

“Oh I would love to normally! I am such a fan of the classics! But I’m afraid it’ll have to be some other time. I was specifically ordered not to play any games, and besides I really don’t think My Lady would be happy if I brought the wrong soul to her. No, I only released you from your enchanted sleep out of curiosity. I haven’t met any other Heralds before, not since I became My Lady’s servant.”

Paul nodded, and slowly stood up, stepping out into the aisle.

“Well then, I suppose there’s nothing else to say. Shall we get to it?”

Angelic nodded, and almost before Paul could react, she was hurtling towards him, a sword made of pitch black nothingness in her hand.

Paul was rather glad of the number of years he’d spent practising his quick draw, managing to get his gun out of it’s holster and aimed in her general direction before she was upon him. The modified colt python spat fire with a thunderous burst of noise, and although Paul saw the bullet pass through the body of the young girl she barely even flinched, much less was stopped.

Paul dropped, sliding under the ebony blade as it parted the air where he’d just been. Desperately he kicked out, and was somewhat shocked when his foot connected with the solid flesh of Angelic’s knee, causing it to bend backwards unnaturally.

Angelic toppled backwards, giving ground, before she managed to catch hold of a chair back and hold herself up. Frowning she looked down, and shook her leg. There was a dry sounding crunch as her knee snapped back into place, and she tentatively tried putting weight on it again.

Paul stood up, frowning. She’d shown no sign of pain or even discomfort. Nor was there any sign of blood despite the bullet hole in her front, and rather larger exit wound in her back.

“Let me guess… you’re a zombie?”

“Please! Do I look like some brain-dead shambling corpse? My Lady took my spirit and clothed it in the perfect body, ageless and undying.”

“And apparently made of plastic or some sort of preserved flesh… you’re a haunted doll basically.”

Angelic nodded.

“Just so. You can’t kill me.”

“Perhaps… shall we test that theory?”

Angelic rushed forwards again, but Paul this time was ready. Twice more the pistol spat fire and metal before he was forced to dodge. But this time his aim had been less random. Angelic toppled forwards as her knees were blown to smithereens. Paul took aim for her head, but as quick as a cat she rolled out of his line of sight under some chairs, leaving a lower leg and foot lying on the floor behind her. Paul was somewhat nauseated to note that Angelic was indeed a a well preserved corpse.

“Damn you! You broke my leg!”

“How many rounds do you think it’ll take until that perfect doll-like body is a pile of broken bits fit only for trash?”

Angelic didn’t reply, but her leg of it’s own accord slid across the floor towards where her voice had some from. Paul raised an eyebrow, apparently it wasn’t going to be that easy then. Weighing the odds, he glanced at Inari, still slumbering in enchanted sleep, oblivious to all around her.

He frowned, something about what Angelic hadn’t rung true… he doubted that she’d roused him alone, just out of curiosity. But even if she had, out of an excess of overconfidence perhaps, why not simply knock him out again now? Unless she hadn’t and couldn’t?! Perhaps something had prevented the spell working on him? But what then?

He stilled suddenly, as a thought occurred to him. He still had a couple of the anti-magic rounds in his pocket, a contingency re-load from earlier, lying there forgotten until now!

Working quickly he took them out and tossed one into Inari’s lap, and slipped the remaining one into an empty chamber, just in time as Angelic re-emerged, her leg reattached to her body… albeit not perfectly judging by her limp.

“I’m through playing with you Inari’s Herald. You cheat!”

“All’s fair in love and war…”

Out of the corner of his eye Paul could see Inari stirring, not yet awake but being woken by the sound of their voices. Distracted, he almost missed it when Angelic dived forwards again, swinging her sword at him.

He took a half step back, and fired, the hammer falling on the cartridge containing the black crystal bullet. The shot hit Angelic in the off shoulder, as she lunged slightly to one side of Paul.

Angelic screamed, and as sparks began to crawl across her body, her mana field draining and shorting out, her features contorting in pain as dead flesh was riven with bolts of electricity. With a last desperate act she threw her sword, not at Paul, but to one side of him.

Time seemed to slow to crawl for Paul, as he turned to track the swords flight. Desperately he lunged towards it, trying to snatch it out of the air as it flew towards Inari, who, having been violently awoken by the gunfire, had half risen out of her seat.

Paul cried out as the fell obsidian blade sank to it’s hilt in Inari’s breast, pinning her to the seat. With an almost audible snap, time resumed it’s proper pace, and Paul scrambled to Inari, he took hold of the hilt, only for the entire sword to dissipate into foul black smoke and soot-like particles.

Inari collapsed back down into her seat, her eyes staring into Paul’s horrified gaze for a moment, her hands reaching towards him. Then, with a cry of anguish from Paul, Inari’s eyes dulled and her hands dropped limply to her lap as her head rolled lifeless to one side.