Spirit's Call

[L'Oiseau Noir]

It's just a short story I felt like writing. Only part of it though, as I aim to make it 4,000 words total. Here's the first bit. I'm just posting for those who might enjoy it, so I'm not looking for critiques or anything of the like since it's not a serious project.

Anyway, to those who read it, enjoy.

It had been another sucky day for Gabriel, the young yōkai hunter.

But all the days had sucked since Gabriel arrived in Kyūshū. Firstly, he didn’t know a soul, but he supposed that was the sad reality every American tourist faced when overseas; and secondly, the charcoal-colored clouds amassing overhead promised a nice, big storm, possibly a monsoon, was headed his way. Great, he thought, I don’t even have a room.

With nowhere to go, and nothing to further his investigation, Gabriel plopped on a wrought-iron park bench and waited for some sort of godsend to appear, like Jesus suddenly popping out of nowhere and giving him directions. But nothing, as expected, happened. With a sigh, Gabriel stretched out on the bench. A few raindrops pelted his forehead, followed by a dozen, then a hundred, more. He lowered the rim of his fedora over his eyes and grunted; a Japanese couple nearby, huddled beneath a large black umbrella, eyed him as if he were the ugliest, creepiest hobo they’d ever seen. He barked at them, and they ran.

“Geez, it’s like no one’s ever seen a dude sleepin’ on a bench in the middle of a rainstorm,” said Gabriel to himself, ineffectually trying to raise his spirits with some bad sarcasm. “It’s not like I’m gonna attack ‘em or anything.” He rolled on to his side, now perfectly drenched.

The pedestrians had started to thin in numbers, and a lot of the small shops and restaurants had shuttered for the night. Only the faint polychromatic twinkle of bar signs, streetlights, and strips joints dispelled the darkness. Then Gabriel, slowly, felt sleep creep over him.

He was nearly asleep, when a strange, floating orb of light drifted across the shadowy waterfront. Oddly, it was coming toward him, bobbing and swaying in the darkness.

Gabriel squinted, trying to figure out what the queer little ball of light was. He sat up--an uncomfortable feat because his clothes stuck to him like dry industrial-strength glue--and tentatively reached for the sphere of fire, like a child would for cookies they weren’t allowed to have.

The ball twinkled and disappeared--which worried Gabriel--but soon it was back, dancing on the tips of his pale, quivering fingers like a small ballerina who‘d caught fire. It was teasing him; Gabriel swore he could hear it giggle as it bounced along his knuckles.



“You‘re a will-o‘-the-wisp,” Gabriel said at length, grinning. His pale blue eyes were glittering with childish delight. “And you can understand me, can’t you? Er, well, you can at least feel my emotions, right?”

The will-o’-the-wisp flickered, which Gabriel took as a yes. It started to float away from him, undulating through the shadows like a lantern a lame drunk was carrying.

“Wait a moment!” Gabriel chased after it. It pulled farther away from him, but somehow he always managed to catch up, for the will-o’-the-wisp always appeared as quickly as it vanished.

After a harum-scarum dash through Kagoshima, Gabriel followed the will-o’-the-wisp to a strange cathedral nestled among a clump of tall, leafy trees. It was an ornate architecture with mint green trim, and high, domed towers dotted with narrow, white-framed windows.

This was St. Xavier’s Cathedral, one of the first Roman-Catholic churches established in Japan. It was here Gabriel would find the Nameless One, an Akuma that shattered his ancestor’s seal and escaped into the realm of the living, where it preyed upon people.

Gabriel turned to the will-o’-the-wisp, which was hovering over a patch of white, rain-flecked flowers. He smiled and said, “Thanks, until now I had no idea where this place was. I owe ya.”

The will-o’-the-wisp squeaked, then vanished.

Gabriel, though feeling quite lonely now that his little friend had gone, went to work. He kneeled and unslung the leather knapsack from his back, which was stuffed with an odd assortment of spiritual relics ranging from crucifixes, garlic bulbs, silver pellets, stakes, hammers, a pistol, hand bibles, and a other weird baubles. Finally, Gabriel found what he’d been looking for at the bottom of his knapsack; it was a thick stack of wrinkled and yellowed ofuda, bound together by a clip much like a wad of cash would be.

“Hope these damn things still work…”

“Are you kidding me?” An unfamiliar voice asked. “Those won’t bind an Akuma.”

Gabriel froze, his face blanched, and his blood turned to gelatin. He glanced up from beneath his fringe of blood red hair, and saw a girl dressed in a white iromuji (if he remembered correctly, that’s what that kind of kimono was called) walking toward him. She had a neat fringe of white-gold hair that extended to her brow, tied back with a ribbon. Her face was as pale as the petals of a snowdrop, and her eyes glowed a bright golden-orange.

The most peculiar, no, the most incredulous thing about the girl--besides the fact her entire body seemed to emanate light--she had, in place of human ears, two long fox ears that sprouted from her head, and a tufty burnt-orange tail that was tipped with black fur.

“You look surprised,” she said, almost casually, like she were used to being ogled and gawked at. “My name is Amaya, a Kitsune. I was sent by Inari, and blah, blah, blah--” as she said this she rolled her brilliant golden eyes, and fashioned her hand to imitate a mouth-- “and I’m supposed to take you into the Spirit Realm and help you find the Nameless One.”

“B-but… wait, a Kitsune?” Gabriel’s face went blank.

“A fox spirit, stupid!” Amaya bellowed, clenching her fists. Her pointy, fur-dusted ears flattened against her head and her eyes flashed. “And I’ll have you know your damned lucky Inari sent me, otherwise I’d just sit back and laugh while you tried to seal the Akuma with those stupid Ofuda!”

“Okay, and”-- Gabriel was completely ignoring Amaya, as he was too engrossed in his own thoughts-- “the Nameless One is in the Spirit Realm? But, that can’t be.”

Amaya wrenched Gabriel to his feet. “Enough! To make a long story short, the Nameless One caught wind of you coming and fled back into the spirit realm, where it figured you couldn’t reach it”--as she was saying this, Amaya was dragging poor Gabriel by the heels across the well-manicured church grounds-- “and you need to kill it. Any questions?”

Gabriel shook his head.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t want to explain.” Amaya threw open the church doors.

The most brilliant flash of light burst out from the doorway, and seemed to weasel its way behind Gabriel’s eyes, strumming his optic nerves like the strings of a guitar. He squeezed his eyes shut. A pleasant springtide warmth enveloped him, but it was quickly replaced by a bitter, bone-numbing chill. And when Gabriel opened his eyes again, the most amazing, most unexplainable, most unbelievable sight greeted him. A medieval Japanese city, much like he’d imagined Tokyo to have looked like during the Kamakura period, phased through the thick tendrils of snowy mist. But what was even stranger than the city, was its inhabitants. All manner of yōkai that ranged from walking badgers to bartering raccoons, and even as outlandish as ghostly women who had two mouths, strolled down the wide cobbled streets, just like the humans of Gabriel’s world would.

Amaya flinched and froze as a tawny dog, dressed in a black kimono, walked by. Once the creature had disappeared in the tight-knit masses of market browsers, Amaya turned to Gabriel, sheepishly, and said, “I don’t like dogs… it’s a fox thing. Anyway, welcome to the spirit world.”

[HumanePain]

I like it! And you write very well. I will have to follow your format in alternating between narration and character conversation, easy to follow. After reading your story, my story format appears crude and fraught with error.

[L'Oiseau Noir]

Originally Posted by HumanePain

I like it! And you write very well. I will have to follow your format in alternating between narration and character conversation, easy to follow. After reading your story, my story format appears crude and fraught with error.

No! Yours wasn't crude and fraught with error. You just have a different writing style, which is more victorian, whereas mine is more... mainstream, I suppose.

I'm glad you liked it, H.P. I'll post the rest later, and the re-edited version of that first bit, too.

[TopHaggardDoll]

It's very well written, unfortunately i'm not into what this story is about.

Despite me and my preferences, this is still an extremely good piece.

Nice!

[L'Oiseau Noir]

Here's the re-edited first part (the one I posted above) with an additional few hundred words. Again, this story is just for entertainment. I don't expect critiques on how bad you think it is.




It had been another sucky day for Gabriel, the young yōkai hunter.

But all the days had sucked since Gabriel arrived in Kyūshū. Firstly, he didn’t know a soul, but he supposed that was the sad reality (almost) every American tourist faced when overseas; and secondly, the charcoal-colored clouds amassing overhead promised a nice, big storm, possibly a monsoon, was headed his way. Great, he thought, I don’t even have a room.

With nowhere to go, Gabriel plopped on a wrought-iron park bench and waited for some sort of godsend to appear. But nothing, as expected, happened. With a sigh, Gabriel stretched out on the bench. A few raindrops pelted his forehead, followed by a dozen, then a hundred, more. He lowered the rim of his top hat over his eyes and grunted.

A Japanese couple nearby, huddled beneath a large black umbrella, eyed him as if he was the ugliest (and probably the creepiest) hobo they’d ever seen. But Gabriel supposed the sight of a slim, gothic-victorian boy sleeping on a park bench, in the midst of a storm, would unnerve most people. He barked at them, and they ran.

“Irritating people,” Gabriel growled. “It’s not like I’m gonna attack ‘em or anything.” He rolled on to his side, now perfectly drenched.

The pedestrians had started to thin in numbers, and a lot of the small shops and restaurants had shuttered for the night. Only the faint polychromatic twinkle of bar signs, streetlights, and strips joints dispelled the darkness. Then Gabriel, slowly, felt sleep creep over him.

He was halfway asleep, when he noticed a strange floating orb of light drifting across the shadowy waterfront. Oddly, it was coming toward him.

Gabriel squinted, trying to figure out what the queer little ball of light was. He sat up--an uncomfortable feat because his clothes stuck to him like dry industrial-strength glue--and tentatively reached for the sphere of fire, like a child would for cookies they weren’t allowed to have.

The ball twinkled and disappeared--Gabriel wondered if he’d scared it--but soon it was back, dancing on the tips of his pale, quivering fingers like a small ballerina who‘d caught fire. It was teasing him; Gabriel swore he could hear it giggle as it bounced along his knuckles.



“You‘re a will-o‘-the-wisp,” Gabriel said at length, grinning. “And you can understand me, can’t you? Er, well, you can at least feel my emotions, right?”

The will-o’-the-wisp flickered, which Gabriel took as a yes. It started to float away from him, undulating through the shadows like a lantern a lame drunk was carrying.

“Wait a moment!” Gabriel chased after it. It pulled farther away from him, zigzagging through the camphor thickets and shrubbery like a bumblebee. Somehow though, he always managed to catch up, no matter how far away the queer orb strayed.



After a harum-scarum dash through Kagoshima, Gabriel followed the will-o’-the-wisp to a strange cathedral nestled among a clump of tall, leafy trees. It was an ornate architecture with mint green trim, and high, domed towers dotted with narrow, white-framed windows.

This was St. Xavier’s Cathedral--he recognized it from a photograph his grandfather had had--which was one of the first Roman-Catholic churches established in Japan. It was here the Nameless One, an ancient demon, had recently shattered the four-hundred-sixty-year-old seal his ancestor, Airas, had created during the sixteenth century, and escaped into the human realm.

Gabriel turned to the will-o’-the-wisp, which was hovering over a bed of white camellias. He smiled, and said, “Thanks, until now I had no idea where this place was. I owe ya.”

The will-o’-the-wisp squeaked, then vanished.

Gabriel, though feeling quite lonely now that his little friend had gone, went to work. He kneeled and unslung the leather knapsack from his back, which was stuffed with an odd assortment of spiritual relics: crucifixes, garlic bulbs, silver trinkets, stakes and hammers, a pistol, hand bibles; and dozens of other strange religious baubles whose use even Gabriel didn‘t know. Finally, he found what he’d been looking for at the bottom of his knapsack: a thick stack of wrinkled and yellowed ofuda, bound together by a skinny rubber band.

“Hope these damn things still work…”

“Are you kidding me?” An unfamiliar voice asked. “Those won’t bind an Akuma.”

Gabriel froze, his face blanched, and his blood ran cold. He glanced up from beneath his fringe of blood red hair, and saw a girl dressed in a white iromuji (if he remembered correctly, that’s what that kind of kimono was called) walking toward him. She had a neat fringe of white-gold hair that extended to her brow, tied back with a ribbon. Her face was as pale as the petals of a snowdrop, and her eyes glowed a bright golden-orange.

She also--Gabriel’s eyes bulged--had a foxtail. And a pair of ears to match.

“You look surprised,” she said casually. It was obvious she was used to being ogled and gawked at. “My name is Amaya, a Kitsune. I was sent by Lord Inari, and”--she rolled her brilliant golden eyes-- “ I’m supposed to take you into the Spirit Realm and help you find the Nameless One. Or something like that, at least.”

“B-but… wait, a Kitsune?” Gabriel’s face went blank. He hadn’t even heard the latter of what Amaya said.

“A fox spirit, stupid!” Amaya bellowed, clenching her fists. Her long, burnt-orange ears flattened against her head. “And I’ll have you know you’re damned lucky Inari sent me, otherwise I’d just sit back and laugh while you tried to seal the Akuma with those stupid Ofuda!”

“Okay, and”-- Gabriel was completely ignoring Amaya, as he was too busy piecing things together in his mind--“the Nameless One is in the Spirit Realm? But, that can’t be. It was here, wasn’t it? And nobody told me about some weird fox chick, either.”

Amaya wrenched Gabriel to his feet. “Enough! To make a long story short, the Nameless One caught wind of you coming and fled back into the spirit realm, where it figured you couldn’t reach it”--as she was saying this, Amaya was dragging poor Gabriel by the heels across the well-manicured church grounds-- “and you need to kill it. Any questions?”

Gabriel shook his head.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t want to explain any further.” Amaya mumbled something about the incompetence of humans, and threw open the oaken church doors.

The most brilliant flash of light burst out from the doorway, and seemed to weasel its way behind Gabriel’s eyes, strumming his optic nerves like the strings of a guitar. He squeezed his eyes shut. A pleasant springtide warmth enveloped him, but it was quickly replaced by a bitter, bone-numbing chill. And when Gabriel opened his eyes again, his stomach dropped somewhere near his testicles, and his face went ten shades paler (which was quite a sight to Amaya, considering the poor guy already resembled a corpse).

A medieval Japanese metropolis, much like Gabriel imagined Tokyo to have looked like during the Kamakura period, phased through thick tendrils of snowy mist. But what was even stranger than the city, and most incredulous, were its inhabitants. All manner of yōkai that ranged from shapeshifting badgers, to raccoons with silk purses, and even as outlandish ( and frightening) as ghostly women who had two mouths, strolled down the cobbled thoroughfare, sampling the many delights the bustling marketplace had to offer.

There were stalls ladened with bushels of foxgloves, bluebells, camellias, and lotus flowers; stalls steaming with yakitori, udon, ramen, and soba dishes; and stalls completely covered with omamori and ofuda. But what Gabriel found, even more interesting than the merchandise, were the myriad species of yōkai. He and Amaya even passed a stall run by a white dragon in a fuchsia kimono, who was passing out free omamori to a crowd of ghost children.

As they neared the market’s midpoint, Amaya suddenly flinched and froze as a tawny dog, dressed in a black kimono, walked by. Gabriel stared at her, puzzled. Once the creature had disappeared into the pedestrian masses (and after Amaya did a double take to be sure it was gone), the Kitsune turned to Gabriel, sheepishly, and said, “Foxes don’t like dogs, y‘see.”

[L'Oiseau Noir]

Gabriel just shrugged and walked on.

A woman, as pale as the snowflakes flecking Gabriel’s hair and top hat, flagged him down as he and Amaya passed her frosty stall. She was beautiful. Her ebony hair was long and sleek, and she wore a startlingly white furisode, which appeared to be made of snow. Again she beckoned him. Gabriel smiled, happy to have a pretty girl (even if she was a yōkai) pay him even the slightest attention. He walked over and leaned on the counter.

“My lady,” he said, sweeping the top hat from his head.

“Oh, sir,” the woman said in an airy voice. “I’ve been watching you. You seem new to this realm.” She touched Gabriel’s hand with her dainty, white fingers--they were freezing. “I admire you, sir. May I, if you do not find it too bold of me, request a kiss?”

Gabriel blushed. Amaya fumed.

“Not all, comin’ from a pretty lady like yourself.” Gabriel leaned over the counter; and the woman, suddenly, grabbed him about the neck and pressed him, hard, to her icy lips. Though it had been sudden, and rather forward, Gabriel quite enjoyed the kiss. Until, however, he felt something cold creep across his face. Ice. His eyes bulged, and he attempted to push the woman away from him; but his body wouldn’t move. It was frozen nearly solid.

“Hands off him, yuki-onna!” Amaya cried, hurling a ball of white foxfire at the woman’s face.

The yuki-onna’s pale gray eyes widened, and she quickly dropped Gabriel to the ground and sprung aside, narrowly avoiding the fiery orb. Instead, it struck and melted a collection of large, polychromatic ice crystals in the back of her stall. The yuki-onna rose to one knee and propped her elbows on the counter, peering over it. She glared, viciously, at Amaya.

“Hope you plan to pay for those, Kitsune,” said the woman. She was careful to stay ducked behind the counter, in any case the fox spirit decided to toss another fireball at her.

“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” replied Amaya curtly. She seized Gabriel by the armpits and hoisted him to his feet. “Also, I’ll be sure Lord Inari hears about this transgression.” And with that, Amaya threw Gabriel’s arm over her shoulders and carried him away.

[drewsilla]

More please! I love this type of story, and can't wait to see what you have in store for Gabriel next.

[L'Oiseau Noir]

It had been another sucky day for Gabriel, the young yōkai hunter.

But all the days had sucked since Gabriel arrived in Kyūshū. Firstly, he didn’t know a soul, but he supposed that was the sad reality (almost) every American tourist faced when overseas; and secondly, the charcoal-colored clouds amassing overhead promised a big storm was headed his way. He didn’t even have a hotel room to go to; he’d dropped his wallet into the ocean earlier in the day, and with it went all of his identification and money.

With nowhere to go, Gabriel plopped on a wrought-iron park bench and stared hopelessly at the sea, hoping some sort of godsend would appear and fix the mess he‘d gotten into. But nothing happened. Sighing, he stretched out on the bench and fashioned his knapsack into a pillow. At least he’d had that. A few raindrops pelted his forehead, followed by a dozen, then a hundred more. He lowered the rim of his top hat over his eyes and grunted.

A Japanese couple nearby, huddled beneath a large black umbrella, eyed him as if he was the ugliest (and probably the creepiest) hobo they’d ever seen. But Gabriel supposed the sight of a slim, gothic-victorian boy sleeping on a park bench and looking about as lovely as a fresh corpse, would unnerve most people. He just ignored them until they sauntered off.

“Irritating people,” Gabriel growled. “It’s not like I’m gonna attack ‘em or anything.” He rolled on to his side, grunting and scratching his bum. He was completely soaked.

The pedestrians had started to thin in numbers, and a lot of the small shops and restaurants had shuttered for the night. Only the faint polychromatic twinkle of bar signs, streetlights, and strips joints dispelled the darkness. Then Gabriel, slowly, felt sleep creep over him.

He was halfway asleep, when he noticed a strange floating orb of light drifting across the shadowy waterfront. Oddly, it was coming toward him.

Gabriel squinted and propped himself up on an elbow, tipping his top hat back. He scrutinized the little entity like a house cat eyeing the family goldfish, half-expecting it to hurl a fireball or two in his direction. But it did nothing of the sort. Instead, the orb raced along the waterfront and, to his surprise, came to a sudden halt at the tip of his nose.

“You‘re a will-o‘-the-wisp.” Gabriel recognized the little creature from a bestiary his father had kept of yōkai. He slung the strap of his knapsack over his shoulder, looking quite puzzled. “But what d’ya want from me? I don‘t hunt small fry like you.”

It turned a bright scarlet, and squeaked and jounced several times, almost like it was swearing at him. Then it swept down and seized his cravat, tugging on it a few times in the opposite direction. Finally, it managed to lurch Gabriel to his feet and drag him, writhing and cursing, across the slippery pavement into a shadowy copse, and over a low, mossy wall into the Kagoshima backstreets.




After a harum-scarum dash through Kagoshima, the will-o’-the-wisp brought Gabriel to a strange cathedral nestled among a clump of tall, leafy trees. It was an ornate architecture with mint green trim, and high, domed towers dotted with narrow, white-framed windows.

This was St. Xavier’s Cathedral--he recognized it from a photograph his grandfather had had--which was one of the first Roman-Catholic churches established in Japan. It was here the Nameless One, an ancient demon, had recently shattered the four-hundred-sixty-year-old seal his ancestor, Airas, had created during the sixteenth century, and escaped into the human realm.

Gabriel turned to the will-o’-the-wisp and glowered at it, clenching his teeth. A couple of twigs and leaves were sticking out of his bangs; and his tailcoat, which had once been black, was a light brown because of all the mud splattered on it. “Though I wish I could kill you,” he said. “I owe ya one for this… I’ve, uh… been lookin’ for this place.”

The will-o’-the-wisp squeaked, then vanished.

Immediately Gabriel went to work. He kneeled and unslung the leather knapsack from his back, which was stuffed with an eclectic assortment of “monster-fighting” objects: crucifixes, garlic bulbs, silver trinkets, stakes, wooden hammers, a pistol, dagger, bible, and a small cigar box containing phials of holy water. It was like staring into Dr. Van Helsing’s suitcase. Finally, Gabriel found what he’d been looking for at the bottom of his knapsack: a thick stack of wrinkled and yellowed ofuda, bound together by a skinny rubber band.

“Hope these damn things still work…”

“Are you kidding me?” An unfamiliar voice asked. “Those won’t bind an Akuma like the Nameless One.”

Gabriel froze, his face blanched, and his blood ran cold. He glanced up from beneath his fringe of blood red hair, and saw a girl dressed in a white iromuji (if he remembered correctly that’s what that kind of kimono was called) walking toward him. She had a neat fringe of white-gold hair that extended to her brow, tied back with a ribbon. Her face was as pale as the petals of a snowdrop, and her eyes glowed a bright golden-orange.

She also--Gabriel’s eyes bulged--had a foxtail. And a pair of ears to match.

“You look surprised,” she said casually. It was obvious she was used to being ogled and gawked at. “My name is Amaya, a Kitsune. I was sent by Inari-sama, and”--she rolled her brilliant golden eyes-- “ I’m supposed to take you into the Spirit Realm and help you find the Nameless One. Or something like that, at least.”

“A.. a Kitsune? I didn‘t think…” Gabriel’s face went blank. He hadn’t even heard the latter of what Amaya said.

“A fox spirit, stupid!” Amaya bellowed, clenching her fists. Her long, burnt-orange ears flattened against her head. “And I’ll have you know you’re damned lucky Inari-sama sent me to help you! I almost declined the task, but I pity you humans--so I came.”

“How nice, an egocentric fox girl was sent to help me, only one more burden to add to my heavy load.” He plopped the stack of Ofuda on the ground. “You fox spirits are about as useless as a--OUCH!”

Amaya wrenched Gabriel‘s ear, hard, and yanked him to his feet. “Enough nonsense! We have an Akuma to catch,”--as she was saying this, Amaya was dragging poor Gabriel by his ear across the well-manicured church grounds-- “and you need to kill it. Any questions?”

Gabriel shook his head.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t want to explain any further.” Amaya mumbled something about the incompetence of humans, paused, and threw open the oaken church doors.

The most brilliant flash of light burst out from the doorway, and seemed to weasel its way behind Gabriel’s eyes, strumming his optic nerves like the strings of a guitar. He squeezed his eyes shut. A pleasant springtide warmth enveloped him; but it was quickly replaced by a bitter, bone-numbing chill. And when Gabriel opened his eyes again, his stomach dropped somewhere near his testicles, and his face went ten shades paler (which was quite a sight to Amaya, considering the poor jerk already resembled a corpse).

A medieval Japanese metropolis, much like Gabriel imagined Tokyo to have looked like during the Kamakura period, phased through thick tendrils of snowy mist. But what was even stranger than the city, and most incredulous, were its inhabitants. All manner of yōkai that ranged from shapeshifting badgers, to raccoons with silk purses, and even as outlandish ( and frightening) as ghostly women who had two mouths, strolled down the cobbled thoroughfare, sampling the many delights the bustling marketplace had to offer.

There were stalls ladened with bushels of foxgloves, bluebells, camellias, and lotus flowers; stalls steaming with yakitori, udon, ramen, and soba dishes; and stalls completely covered with omamori and ofuda. He and Amaya even passed a stall run by a white dragon in a fuchsia kimono, who was passing out free omamori to a crowd of ghost children.

As they neared the market’s midpoint, Amaya suddenly flinched and froze as a tawny dog, dressed in a black kimono, walked by. Gabriel stared at her, puzzled. Once the creature had disappeared into the pedestrian masses (and after Amaya did a double take to be sure it was gone), the Kitsune turned to Gabriel, sheepishly, and said, “Foxes don’t like dogs...”

Gabriel shrugged, cackled, and walked on.

A woman, as pale as the snowflakes flecking Gabriel’s hair and top hat, flagged him down as he and Amaya passed her frosty stall. She was beautiful. Her ebony hair was long and sleek, and she wore a startlingly white furisode, which appeared to be woven from snow. Again she beckoned him. Gabriel smiled and walked over, leaning on the counter.

“My lady,” he said, sweeping the top hat from his head. Amaya rolled her eyes.

“Oh, stranger-san,” the woman said in an airy voice. “I’ve been watching you. You seem new to this realm.” She touched Gabriel’s hand with her dainty, white fingers--they were freezing. “May I, if you do not find it too bold of me, request a kiss?”

Gabriel blushed. Amaya fumed.

“Not all, comin’ from a pretty lady like yourself.” Gabriel leaned over the counter; and the woman, suddenly, grabbed him about the neck and pressed him, hard, to her icy lips.

For a few moments, Gabriel heard nothing but the breathy murmur of the woman, and felt nothing but the iciness of her lips against his; he didn‘t even notice Amaya pulling frantically at his tailcoat with her teeth. His eyes rolled back into his head as the woman drew him closer to her breast; and the hubbub of the marketplace completely vanished.






I re-edited it again, so some of (most) of the content is new. I'll update when I've got more done; but for now, enjoy.

[L'Oiseau Noir]

It was that very moment, Gabriel felt something other than the woman’s lips. Something cold spread from the woman’s mouth, tiny tendrils creeping across his face, down his neck, back, and all the way to his legs. Ice. His heartbeat went from a waltz to a bolero. He tried to push the woman away, but that only made her kiss him harder, spreading her ice even faster across his flesh. It was only a matter of time before it killed him.

But as Gabriel felt the last moments of his life begin to dwindle, he saw Amaya pounce the ice-woman like a lion pounces a gazelle, and drag her to the cobblestone. She fanned her nimble fingers, and her nails grew long and sharp like the claws of a great cat.

“If you dare try that again,” Amaya snarled, bearing her long canines. She reached down and squeezed the snow-woman‘s hips, digging her talons beneath the tender, snowy flesh as deeply as she could get them. “I’ll rip your jugular out with my own teeth.” Her voice was no more than a vehement whisper.

The snow-woman whimpered; this seemed to satisfy Amaya, as she quickly removed herself from atop the quivering bundle and turned her back. It was at that moment the snow-woman struck. The yuki-onna leaped to her feet and hurled an icicle at Amaya, followed by a second, and a third.

Gabriel felt a strange, warm feeling swell in his chest. He cried out and threw himself at Amaya, dragging her to the ground just as the icicles flew over his head and smashed against a nearby produce stall, shattering the wood like a shot put thrown at a house of toothpicks. For a moment he laid there, with the baffled Kitsune under his arm, heart hammering in his ribcage like a restless bird.

“You moron!” he shouted, gulping down air. “You… you almost got killed. Ya don’t turn your back on an enemy like that, Amaya!”

Amaya watched as two badgers in navy blue kimonos, bearing the kamon of Susanoo, apprehended the yuki-onna and led her away to a rickshaw parked alongside the thoroughfare. Then she turned to Gabriel, blinked, and said, “You saved me?”

“I wasn’t about to let a couple of icicles skewer your head.” He rose to his knee and helped her up.

Amaya blushed.

For the longest time, as they strolled through the streets, silence prevailed between he and Amaya. She led him down a narrow street toward an ornate, well-lit building on the far corner. It was a tall, fairly big two-story building with a winged roof. A string of paper lanterns decorated the eaves, and a sign sat outside, though Gabriel couldn’t read it because it was written in kanji.

“This is the Aijibana Teahouse,” Amaya said, sneering. “A popular, not too mention exclusive, spot for those hoity-toity Geisha and their clients. I happen to be friends with the proprietor. If we’re going to find anything out about the Nameless One, it’ll be here.”

Amaya opened the sliding door with a clap and slipped inside. Gabriel quickly followed her.

In the entrance hall, Amaya slipped out of her zori, and Gabriel peeled off his combat boots, which were sopping wet from the storm earlier. He followed the Kitsune into a moderately-sized room fitted with tatami, where a number of small wooden tables and cushions were carefully laid out. In a corner Gabriel spotted a glowing heron in a red kimono, accompanied by a geisha, who was busy pouring the luminescent bird a cup of hot tea.

[L'Oiseau Noir]

Amaya kneeled at one of the small tables closest to the heron and woman. A slim woman with a tray, in a powder blue kimono, drifted into the room, kneeling at the table Gabriel and Amaya were seated at. She was young, perhaps sixteen, with glossy black hair and alluring ice-blue eyes. Wordlessly she set their tea down and smiled, then did the strangest thing--she licked her hand. Then she bowed, giggled, and dismissed herself from the room.

The Kitsune noticed the confusion on Gabriel’s face, so she offered an explanation, “That was an Ameonna, a rain woman. But shouldn’t you know that if you’re a yōkai hunter?” She cocked a thin eyebrow and placed the cup of tea in her palm, lightly sipping the ambrosia contents.

Gabriel glared. “I’m a hunter, yeah, but I ain’t as good as grandpa. Matter of fact, this is only the fifth mission I’ve been on, and my first time in Japan…” He took notice of his surroundings, then added, “Or wherever the hell I am now, anyway.” He snatched up his tea and downed it.

Amaya wasn’t paying any mind to him, though. Her ears were up, alert, and her golden eyes were fixed on the heron and his geisha in the corner.

“… Yeah, that Akuma, the one they’re calling the Nameless One, is somewhere up in the nearby mountains,” said the heron to his companion. “I feel bad for old man Yasashiku and his family. I heard the inn’s been doing poorly because of that Akuma.”