Silence hung in the air as my peers and I stood around the long table, my mind and body quickly reaching their breaking point as we focused our attention on the man at the head of the table.

“Ote wo haishaku!” the principle—and my new boss—shouted in Japanese, raising his hands for a round of applause.

My peers around the table raised their hands in unison and I uncertainly followed suit.

“Iyō—o!”

The sudden, raucous shout exploded from everyone around me before they brought their hands together in a single definitive clap that echoed through the small, private room. My small, late clap echoed quietly in the sudden silence, the principal giving me a small, sympathetic smile before shouting, “arigatou gozaimashita!” to the room.

With a proper round of applause, the kangeikai party welcoming me into my new role at Risuoka Nishi High School came to an end and all of the teachers swiftly began gathering their belongings and saying drunken goodbyes.

My smile was stretched tight as I made my way over to the door saying my goodnights. Everyone was cheerful and hospitable as they bid me a goodnight and welcomed me once again to Risuoka.

An openly inebriated peer sauntered towards me, already at the restaurant entrance, slinging his arm around the shoulders of another as he passed by.

“Otsukaresama deshita, Hinade-san,” he greeted with a wave.

Thankfully he wasn’t interested in my semi-coherent response as the two of them continued chortling and conversing in Japanese, slipping on their shoes and proceeding into a waiting taxi.

A soft hand fell on my shoulder and I turned to see a warm smile. “Konya tanoshikatta ne? Mou ichidou, yokosou wo Risuoka he, Hinade-san.”

Old enough to have been my grandmother, Sato-sensei seemed very nice. From what I had gathered over the course of the evening, she was the music teacher at the high school and did ikebana in her spare time. I would have loved to have spoken to her with more substance than, ‘hontou desu ka?’ and ‘sugoi’ in response to her comments, but my Japanese proficiency was beginner level at best and, between the general stress of moving to a new foreign language country and the fact that I had been putting on a face nonstop for an entire week, I was feeling a wee bit drained.

At least the sake had been flowing freely throughout the evening, giving me a temporary drunken glow and boost in language proficiency. Or at least the illusion of such.

“Welcome Risuoka, Hinade-san,” Sato-sensei clarified for me in heavily accented English. 

“A—arigatou, Sato-sensei,” I replied, hoping my smile wasn’t noticeably weary. “Umm… Hontouni tanoshimi.”

Her smile grew. “Yokkata, ne?”

With one final wave, Sato-sensei exited the restaurant and got into a car with another of our coworkers.

I gave the car a final wave as it rolled away, my body not fully relaxing until the taillights disappeared around the corner and I was finally left alone outside the restaurant with a moment to just breathe.

The moment I let my mask fall was a familiar comfort, like someone pulling a weighted veil off of my shoulders. My facial features loosened and my entire body slouched, mind and body taking the moment to recharge after expending my entire social battery over the course of the evening.

The entire night had been a test of endurance. From the little intricacies and taboos in Japanese nomikai culture to be aware of, to the surprise speech that I had to make—in Japanese—to introduce myself, I was spent.

I pulled my phone out of my bag and checked the time; it was already well past midnight. The walk home to my apartment was no more than twenty minutes and the sweltering heat from earlier in the day had calmed to a pleasant warmth. Normally, I would feel hesitant walking home alone so late at night, but in a small Japanese town like Risuoka, there wasn’t a fear in my head.

The alcohol probably helped with that too, mind you.

The restaurant we had chosen for the night was connected to the local train station, completely dead at this time of night, save for the odd student making their way home late after cram school or a drunken salaryman swaying with every step. I made my way down one of the main streets, one buzzing with people on the sidewalks outside of izakayas and karaoke bars. 

Once I made it through the more populated streets and further away from the station, it was like a switch had been flipped. The roads were dark and empty, street lamps and the ambient light they gave off few and far between as I walked down the empty sidewalk.

My drunken glow kept me company on the jaunty walk. A good thing, too, because I had forgotten my headphones in my room and I refused to break the silence of the night by playing music from my speakers.

Coming from a relatively small city myself, I appreciated the quiet. I was thankful there had been opportunities for jobs outside of main metropolises like Tokyo or Osaka, where the streets would have been bustling even at this time of night.  

By the time I got off the larger street and turned down the winding road that led to my apartment, my blood was pumping and the alcohol was beginning to wear off, allowing familiar noise and anxieties back into the forefront of my mind.

Tonight had been the first time meeting many of my coworkers, what if I hadn’t made a good first impression?

How had I been sitting? What was my body language like?

       What must they think of me? I could barely even carry on a conversation.

               You looked incompetent.

                      Did I smile too much?

                             You looked deranged.

A soft, fluttering sound drew my attention up and I caught sight of a bat as it darted through the night sky.

“Oh, wow.”

With a curtain of stars as backdrop, dozens of bats flew high above my head, flitting and weaving back and forth through the air in their hungry pursuit of winged insects. In the quiet night air, I could hear their soft, rodent-like chittering. 

“That’s cool,” I mumbled to myself, standing in the middle of the empty street with my neck craned all the way back.

Dragging my eyes back down when my world started tilting, I caught sight of two yellow orbs in a tree across the street. It wasn’t until they moved that I startled back a step, thinking it could be some feral animal. Whatever it was jumped down to the ground and the two orbs moved closer, stepping out from the shadows and into a pool of moonlight.

“O—h, hi, kitty,” I cooed, squatting down to its level.

The cat prowled further into the empty street and sat down a few feet from me, wrapping its tail around its paws and staring at me with notorious cat-like intensity.

“Do you live around here, too?” I asked, leaning my forearms on my knees. It didn’t look like a stray with its thick, black coat and well behaved  mannerisms. I held out my hand in an attempt at friendship, but the cat didn’t move. “Maybe I should try speaking in Japanese?” I kidded to myself, lowering my hand.

The cat’s tail swept across the pavement, back and forth, like it was plotting something.  

“You know it’s funny,” I continued, fully invested in this one-sided conversation with a cat. “In the dark, it almost looks like you have two tails. Crazy, huh? Or maybe it’s just the alcohol talking,” I chuckled to myself.

Holding the cat’s gaze, there seemed to be a strange kind of intelligence behind its eyes, but the animal didn’t budge.

“Alright, well, have a good night—oh, sorry—oyasumi.” I corrected with a shallow, awkward bow, still balanced in a crouch.

What the hell am I doing? I questioned myself as I got to my feet.

       Someone could have seen you.

              Having a conversation with a cat.

                      You look ridiculous

                                    Like an absolute fool.

                                           You’re already an outcast

                                                  A stranger in a foreign country.

The familiar condemnations from my own mind threatened to kill what remained of my motivation, making the rock hard road seem just as appealing for the night as a comfortable futon.

I had only taken a few laden steps before something soft bumped up against my ankle and nuzzled around my bare leg.

“Aww, looks like somebody wants some scritchies after all,” I immediately squatted back down and obliged.  

I could practically feel the serotonin flood my brain as my fingers brushed over the cat’s head and through its thick, well-groomed coat. There was no way this cat was a stray. But when I felt around its neck, I didn’t find any kind of tag or collar.

“I should probably go now,” I said through a yawn after a few minutes of love and attention. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”

Leaving the cat in the deserted street, I followed the road across a small bridge and around the corner that led to my three-story apartment building. Walking up the unlit path, I slid open the glass entryway doors, flicked on the light switch, and stepped into the muted-grey stairwell.

The building didn’t have a lobby like many North American high-rise style apartments or condos, nor did it have an elevator. Instead, the building was split into three parts, each with an entrance door that led to a stairwell, and each stairwell led to six apartments, two per landing. My apartment was on the third floor.

Just as I was about the slide the door closed behind me, the cat slipped in and ran to the first landing, no more than ten steps up.

“Hey,” I half-whispered as the cat took a seat on the landing with its tail wrapped around its paws and its eyes glued on me.

“You shouldn’t be in here, buddy, you should go home, or catch some mice, or something.” The last thing I wanted to do was shut the door and trap the cat in here overnight, but neither should I shut the cat out, on the off chance someone was upstairs waiting for it to come home right now.

After a moment of deliberation and a bit of bad nighttime apartment etiquette, I left the sliding door open just enough for the cat to slip out, then headed up the stairs towards my room.

My foot barely touched the third-floor landing when the cat darted in front of me and leapt up on the railing at the top of the landing.

“Do I have catnip in my pockets or something?”

I dug the keys out of my purse and unlocked the door with a click before turning around and looking at the cat. Slowly opening the door, I watched for any sign that it was going to dart inside, but it simply watched me from its perch. I straightened up and opened the door fully, and the cat remained still, staring at me with seemingly no interest in getting inside my apartment.

“Um, good kitty…”

Those reflective yellow eyes cut into my very soul with their intensity. It was almost like they could see exactly what kind of darkness festered inside of it.

“Okay, well… ‘Night.”

I closed the door with a clunk that echoed through the stairwell, flipped the deadbolt, and removed my shoes in the small genkan entrance.

My apartment stepped up directly into the kitchen, a big enough space for a two-burner stove, and the main appliances like a fridge, microwave, toaster oven, and a small cabinet or two. To the left of the kitchen was the toilet room, which was a separate room across the hall from the actual bathing room, with a washing machine tucked in the hall alcove in between. On the opposite side of the apartment was my living area, a combined living slash sleeping room, currently a mess of clothes, luggage, a futon, and sheets all tossed about on the floor. The entire apartment probably measured in at less than 300 square feet total.

I shuffled inside, making a quick bathroom stop before changing into pajamas and sliding into my futon, my eyes glued to my phone screen.

No messages. No emails. No calls.

I went into the messaging application and clicked my mom’s name, just to be sure I hadn’t missed a notification. The most recent bubble of text stared at me—laughing at me every time I opened it. 

Just got settled into my new place! It’s a bit small, but nice for one. Maybe we could do a video call sometime this week? 

The message showed ‘read’ as of four days ago, the same day I’d sent it after getting my new phone. I checked the number for the eighty-seventh time and confirmed that it was indeed hers.

With a sigh, I put on my music and set the volume to low before setting the phone on the floor beside my pillow and tucking into the thin bed.

I was lucky enough to still be at a level of intoxication in which I could fall asleep without the weight of my thoughts dragging me down into a spiral that kept me awake for hours.

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

The early morning sun filtered through the balcony doors, the thin shoji paper not meant to work in the same way as, say, a blackout curtain would.

“Uuuhg…” I grumbled, pushing myself into a seated position and scrubbing my face with my hands. I rubbed and picked the dried makeup from my eyes, probably making myself look more and more like a racoon in the process.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The drone of the cicadas in the small bamboo forest outside my window only exacerbated my pounding headache. That, and the gentle purring sound resonating through the room…?

I froze for a moment before slowly sliding my hands down my face.

On top of my kotatsu table, its tail hanging over the edge and swinging back and forth like a pendulum, sat the cat from last night.

“How the hell…?” I mumbled.

Breaking eye contact with it, I looked around the room and eventually noticed the shoji and the sliding balcony door behind it were cracked open slightly.

“Oh.” I guess I’d left it open a crack yesterday and forgot to close it. Thank goodness no bats had gotten in. “You sure are a resourceful little guy, aren’t you?” I reached out to stroke its head, but the cat leaned back and out of my reach.

Wow, even the cat hates you.

“Okay.” I lowered my hand. “Well, what’s with this weird fixation you have with me? Why did you sneak into my apartment?” I asked as if the cat could provide me with a reasonable answer.

The cat’s purring turned into a low sound of disapproval, its glare intensifying.

“Hey, don’t get snippy, you’re the stalker, not me.” I said, as if we were having a real back and forth. “Did you ever go home last night, buddy? Your humans are probably worried about you.”

The cat sat still as a statue, a slow blink the only break in its severe eye contact.

“Well, if you’re going to be showing up here from time to time, then I’ll have to name you. I can’t just call you ‘cat’.”   

In the daylight, the cat was even prettier than I had first imagined. What I’d thought was pure black fur was actually mottled with brown and orange, more like a long-haired calico.

“How about…Kuro?” Simple, easy to remember, and relatively fitting.

Kuro made no indication whether it liked the name or not.

Don’t exactly know what I’m expecting. “Right. Well, I guess you’ll be okay for a few minutes while I shower and get ready?” I fruitlessly asked.

Pawing through my partially unpacked luggage, I grabbed my new bathing suit and hopped in the shower, my ride scheduled to arrive in just over an hour.

Two or three days ago, while shopping for supplies at the local hyaku en store, I happened to meet an American English teacher who also lived just outside of town. After chatting for a few minutes, she’d invited me to the beach with her and a few friends this weekend, all other English teachers who I might have something in common with.

At least language won’t be an issue today, I thought to myself.

By the time I reentered the living room, I was already dressed in my bathing suit and squeezing the excess water from my hair with a towel.

“Are you comfy?” I asked Kuro, who had sprawled out on my futon. At my question, he had the cat-like audacity to roll onto his back, covering my sheets with cat hair in the process. “I’m supposed to put that away, you know. But I guess now I can safely conclude that you’re a boy.”

Kuro looked like he had no intentions on moving as I reached down to grab my phone from the floor where it had been charging overnight.

My heart jumped when the screen lit up and I saw the message preview from my mom. I clicked the bubble and her full message filled my screen.

Sorry, hun, just saw your message! How does later next week work? Kyle’s starting swimming lessons this weekend, Brayden’s 3rd birthday is coming up, and we’ve been losing our minds preparing. Not to mention the baby has been a real handful lately with his teeth coming in… ^^;

Then in a separate text.

Glad you’re settling in!

Just as quickly as my heart had leapt, it sank to the pit of my stomach.  

Are you surprised?

I don’t know why I thought moving half way around the world would change anything. I wondered if she even remembered what country I’d moved to.

I clicked on my emails and saw there was still no reply from my father. Then, while my eyes were glued to the screen, a new text message popped up.

omw! :)

Tossing the phone aside, I quickly finished packing up my bag, making sure to throw in sunblock, a towel, and a pair of sunglasses.

“I feel a little bad for this, but…” I slid open the balcony doors and walked back over Kuro. “Sorry, bud, but I can’t exactly leave a stray cat unattended in my apartment all day.” I hesitantly went to scoop him up, and when he didn’t make a move to attack me, I gently lifted him up and walked over to the open doors. Amazingly, Kuro didn’t seem bothered at all, curled in my arms like a baby. “I don’t even have a litter box or anything,” I offered as further explanation, setting him down on the balcony. He’d obviously gotten up here on his own, he could get back down just fine while I was gone. “Well, see you later, maybe.” I said with a wave before sliding the door closed. After tossing my hair up in a messy bun and pulling on a pair of cotton shorts, I came down the stairs just in time to see Alison pulling into the parking lot.

“Hey, Hina! So glad you could come today,” Alison said when I opened the back door of her tiny kei car. “This is my friend, Kailey.”

The girl in the passenger seat waved, taking the bright red lollipop out of her mouth so we could exchange a few pleasantries and introductions as I climbed in the backseat.

It didn’t take long for the initial conversation to wear off before the two girls carried on a new topic seamlessly up front. From what Alison had told me the other day, this was her third year in Japan; it was possible this other girl had been here for some time as well. At the very least, it was clear they were close friends.

We drove through the winding mountain roads, the crisp breeze flooding in through our open windows on the beautiful thirty-plus degree day. A perfect day for the beach.

Since their conversation was something I had no input on—something about a recent party, I think—I passed the time by watching the scenery drift by over the course of our thirty minute trip to the beach.

I had never seen a landscape so stunning, with colours so vibrant I almost couldn’t believe their authenticity. Luscious, green rice fields, stretching into a horizon that reached up to a sky so saturated it closer resembled a child’s painting.

Once we arrived, we paid the inexpensive parking fee, collected our bags and a cooler, and weaved our way through the crowds across the brilliant, white sand.

I had seen the ocean before—I’d grown up on the coast of the Atlantic—but I had never seen the sea looking quite so stunning. Rolling, sapphire waves, beautifully formed rock faces and cliffs, even the colours from the multitude of beach umbrellas stretched across the sand added to the scene stretched before me.

I was still in awe by the time we made it across the beach to Alison and Kailey’s group of friends.

A brunet guy already pink from the sun and wearing brightly coloured swim shorts sauntered up to us, greeting his two friends before extending a hand to me. “Hey there, welcome to Risuoka,” he said with a Scottish accent, shaking my hand vigorously. “I’m Brandon. You’re the new Nishi teacher, right? Alison mentioned. I’m at Risukita—sorry, Risuoka Kita High School, by its proper name—not far from you, actually.”

Okay, this guy was like a whirlwind. I pulled on one of my brighter smiles. “Nice to meet you, I’m Hinade, but, please, call me Hina.”

His hand was still wrapped around mine, pulling me in a little closer. “Lemme guess… Irish?” he asked uncertainly.

I chuckled. “It’s the accent, isn’t it? Canadian, actually. Grew up on the East Coast.”

“Ahh, the Maritimes, eh?” he chuckled to himself finally releasing my hand and clapping his together. “Splendid. Well, welcome to our little party. Water’s great, help yourself to anything in the cooler or on the grill, oh, and enjoy.”

The next few greetings I had with the other expats were much calmer, but just as welcoming, everyone talking about where we were from and a little bit about the area, telling me where they worked, and finishing by saying they were around if I needed anything.

“I love your bathing suit, Hina,” said one of the girls—Samantha, was her name. “The long sleeve style is really trending this year.”

My eyes fell as I tugged at the skintight sleeves of my one piece bathing suit. “Thanks.”

“Aren’t you hot, though?” Brandon asked. “It’s, like, a million degrees.”

“Fair skin, I burn really easily.” I pulled out a well used lie.

“I don’t know how you do it. I’ve barely even been able to stay out of the water for more than fifteen minutes. Speaking of,” he railed off and made his way towards the sea. 

As the day progressed, we spent quite a bit of time in the water, tossing around an inflatable ball and jumping off the standing rocks. After we’d had our fill, we dragged ourselves out of the water and back under our large umbrella for a break from the sun. Brandon took up the position of grill-master using the small portable barbecue he had brought and everyone else sat on a large tarp in an unorganized circle.

“Are you guys going to Dylan’s board game thing on Sunday?” One of the guys—Aaron, I think—asked.

“Can’t, I’m working with my kids for speech contest that day,” Alison answered after taking a long swig from her water bottle.

“You guys are starting already? We’re not starting ours for another week,” replied Aaron.   

The conversation progressed, turning from board games and speech contest to various other topics, my face masked with a tight smile and my head nodding periodically as I listened, unable to contribute to the conversations in any way unless directly addressed with a question.  

Why did I even come? I couldn’t help but think. I have nothing interesting to say—I never have anything interesting to say.

       You're such an outcast

              They probably wish I hadn’t come.

                      Boring

                             waste of space

                                    No one wants you here

                                           God, why am I such a loser?

                                                  Always hovering at the edges of

                                                  conversation with nothing

                                                         to say.

                                                         Like a complete loser

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

By the time Brandon started packing up the grill, my social battery was at 1% and my check engine light was flashing. My mask was stretched so tight after the long day, I feared it might snap at the slighted provocation

“Hey, Hina, have you heard about all the weird superstitions in town yet?” Kailey asked.

“Yeah, actually, one of my coworkers told me about it on my way into town.”

Upon my arrival at the tiny town airport, three of my coworkers—one of whom spoke proficient English—had been waiting to escort me to my new home and help me settle in on my first few days. On our way through town, she’d gone on and on about how much of a supernatural influence this town had and how it was connected to evil spirits called yokai.

I knew that religion and the supernatural were wrapped up tight with Japanese history and culture, but did people really need to shove these silly stories down my throat?

“Creepy, eh? Yokai,” Kailey shuttered.

I shrugged. “Only if you believe in that stuff.”

“At least Hina has her head screwed on right,” one of the guys, Mark, said, sipping a beer. “Yokai are just anime bullshit.”

“No way, it’s true! And they’re way scarier than some lame anime,” Kailey persisted. “My friend was telling me this story about one yokai, Teke Teke, the ghost of a woman who got ripped in half on the train tracks, and now she stalks the streets of Japan, cutting people in half.

“Imagine it,” she continued. “Late at night, you’re walking home alone, it’s quiet and dark, and then you hear it echoing through the night; teke-teke-teke, the sound of fingernails clicking along pavement as she stalks you through the dark. You dare to turn around and under the light of a streetlamp you see the disfigured, top-half of a woman, dragging herself around on her long, claw-like fingernails, entrails spilling—”

“Oooh, scary,” Mark mocked.

“Shut up, Mark, you’d piss yourself if you saw that!” Kailey shoved his shoulder and they started arguing.   

I could have interjected, said I agreed with Mark, but I didn’t feel like defending myself to someone who so obviously wanted to believe in the imaginary.

Eventually, Alison broke the two of them up, saying that it was time to head home, and the three of us gathered our belongings and said our goodbyes.

“Don’t forget about the fireworks show tomorrow,” Alison said as she rounded the corner and pulled into the parking lot of my apartment building. “You sure you’re okay to walk?”

“Yeah, it’s not far. Besides, I want to get to know the area,” I answered.  

Bidding the girls goodnight, I walked my weary ass upstairs and into my apartment.

The door closed behind me with a clunk, the breath leaving my body like the air escaping from a balloon. My muscles sank into a familiar laxness as I leaned against the door, taking a moment to recalibrate.

After a moment, I kicked off my shoes, made my way over to the shoji, and opened the balcony door, poking my head out into the darkness.

“Kuro?” I called softly.

I waited for a minute or two before calling his name one more time, looking for any sign of him in the darkness, but seeing none.

“Guess he went back home, after all…”

He’s a cat, of course he left

       Everyone leaves

              He wasn’t yours

                      They’ll always leave

Mental exhaustion from the day was finally settling in. I had just enough energy to rinse my mouth with mouthwash and strip out of my beach clothes before sinking into my futon.

I pulled my laptop over. Why bother checking?

Fighting through the deepening lethargy, I opened my emails and was shocked to see a new message from my father.

Hi Hinade,

I’m pleased to hear you made it to Japan safely. I hope that you enjoy your time spent here; I’ve heard Aomori is lovely. Good luck in your new role, English teachers are in high demand these days. 

Regards,

Dad

I closed the laptop and slid it on to the ground beside me.

The last time I’d heard from my father via email had been about three weeks ago. The last time I’d spoken to him over the phone had been New Years, about eight months ago. I couldn't even remember the last time I’d seen his face over video call since he’d moved back to Japan ten years ago.

I’d sent him a novel length email just after settling in, telling him all about my new position as an English teacher in a little remote town in Northern Japan—thinking he’d at least have a little more to say on the subject, given the heritage—and how I was planning on starting a new life here.

You expected anything different?

Idiot

The rest of the world seemed especially far away after that, yet the increasingly familiar weight of it settled right down on my shoulders. 

Opening the small drawer beside my futon, I pulled out the plastic bottle, twisted off the childproof cap, and took a healthy swig of the thick liquid before putting it back in the drawer. Tucking down into the futon, I hoped that the drug-induced sleep hit me a little faster than normal tonight.

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

I passed the following day alone in my apartment, alternating between putting things away and reorganizing, and lying on my futon scrolling the internet on my phone and watching brainless YouTube videos. Once six o’clock hit I rolled into action, changing out of my pyjamas and heading out the door.

I followed the little blue arrow on my phone as it led me through the winding backroads of the small neighbourhood towards the large park. After about fifteen minutes of walking, I started coming across enough people wearing yukata and jinbei that I could turn off my GPS and just follow the crowd.

“Hina, over here!” Alison waved me down as I wandered lost along the lines of people seated on the grass bank of the river.

Thank goodness she’d spotted me.

I walked over to their tarp and joined their cozy circle, silently admiring their array of traditional festival outfits. I had to admit some jealousy, not having a yukata of my own—I’d always loved the style—but maybe I could have one for next year’s festivals. Besides, having walked here, I would take my running shoes over those wooden geta shoes any day. 

Once I had settled into the group, their conversations picked back up and I was left once again to listen and nod. Luckily, I didn’t have long to think about it as the show began with a swell of music and spectacular display of lights and explosions.

For well over two hours, explosions lit up the night sky in dazzling displays of colour and light, plumes of fire and glitter shooting up from the river’s edge in a show that would put any of our Canada Day performances to shame.

The pure majesty and wonder of the show stirred something inside of me—something that had been sleeping for quite some time. The feeling didn’t last long however, fading away not long after the last explosion. 

I didn’t wait long after the show to bid the others goodnight, thanking them again for inviting me, and making my way back home the same way I had come. The streets were much darker this time around, but I managed to follow the same path without the help of my map. Though I debated pulling out my phone and finding an alternate route when I came to the mouth of a pitch black alley.

Japan was one of the safest countries in the world, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that I was a woman alone in the dark.

Come on, Hina, this is the fastest way, and it’s only a three or four minute walk.

With a deep breath, I pressed on through the alley, so dark I could barely see ten feet in front of me, and after a minute or two, my heart rate began to slow.

See? Nothing. No murderers, no rapists.

I rounded one of the bends and my eyes were drawn to the soft light emanating from one of the houses, within which stood a woman dressed in a yukata. She stood still as a statue in the light from the house, her head hanging so her face was obscured by shadow, and her hands clasped demurely in front of her. With my nerves already frazzled, and her creepy posture, I had half a mind to turn around rather than walk passed her, but that would be silly, not to mention incredibly rude.

She must be coming home from the festival, too.

Keeping my eyes ahead, I continued on, making it a few steps passed her before the sound of her soft voice caught my ears. 

“Do you think I’m beautiful?”  

I stopped and turned around. She sounded to be around my age, or maybe even younger, but she still hadn’t raised her head. Weird…Maybe she’d had too much to drink, given that she was asking strangers if they though she was beautiful.

“Yes,” I answered dismissively, not seeing any reason to start anything.

But then I froze.

That was English. I’d responded, and she’d spoken in perfect, unaccented English.

Before I had anymore time to process, the woman was directly in front of me.

I staggered back a step. “Wait, how did you…?”

She finally raised her head, her sharp and beautiful features prominent even a few feet away from the light of the streetlamp. Standing at the same height as me, she was a good-looking woman with geisha levels of beauty. Shadows danced across her face and her previously warm smile melted into something darker—more sinister—growing in size across her face until her mouth split open across her cheeks, creating a monstrous, bloody smile that stretched from ear to ear.

“Do you think I’m beautiful?”

I barely heard her over the sound of my scream.