“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” The Yokai helps herself to a tiny cupful. The sake is piping hot, but not so hot it burns her tongue. She drinks it down easily and dispenses another refill. “Mmm, that’s good.”

“Yes. Not my thing, however. I much prefer mantis.” The suzumebachi wiggles its stinger and takes another drag on one of its cigarillos. It wants to talk to her, but does not want to engage in insipid conversation, which is what it supposes the other demons have been doing with her all night. It is difficult, however, to know where to start. “You seem to enjoy all varieties of foods, I see.”

“I guess I do.”

“Is there anything you will not eat?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really like liver.”

The hornet wiggles one of its scarlet antennae. “River?”

“Liver.”

“Lever?”

The Yokai giggles. “Li-ver.”

“I see. So, you do not like to feed on the living.”

“No,” the Yokai says, not quite understanding.

“I see. Perhaps you just have a hungry yokai in your stomach. Or you are pregnant.”

“Ha! Not bloody likely.”

“No extra mouths to feed?”

The Yokai shakes her head, trying not to focus so hard on the suzumebachi’s mandibles as they open and close. “Nope, just the one.”

“So, not one of the futakuchi.” The hornet points to where the group of young businesswomen sit. “Hmm. What about your shape? I hear you can grow as big as a house when it suits you.”

“Can I?” That would be quite an ability to have, the Yokai thinks to herself. “How?”

“Don’t ask me. I just hear these things.” The suzumebachi takes a puff of the cigarillo and blows it in the Yokai’s face, making her dizzy, but she does not wave the smoke away. She does not want to seem rude. “Hmm. You seem to have all your limbs, and you do not have any extra parts. I cannot place what kind of being you are.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Fear not, child. There are millions of us yokai these days. I am sure you will find your kind somewhere.”

The Yokai looks down at her cup. “That’s the dream,” she says before knocking back more sake.

“What did you say? The dream … ah, yes. Now there is a possibility. Tell me, child, do you eat dreams?”

“How could I?”

“Now, now, don’t take offence. It’s only a question.” Its wings bristle, then calm down. “Have you heard? They say there is more than one kind of dream. They come in all sizes, it seems. Some are tiny, so brief they pass by like sakura petals on the wind. And then there are the ones so vast you could sleep a hundred years and never see its end.”

The Yokai snags a giant gyoza from a passing waitress’s tray, stuffs it in her mouth, and says something. “Pardon?” asks the suzumebachi.