I narrow my eyes.

“I’m so sick of Skype! Aren’t you sick of that giant computer yet? You’re not tired of texting on that little flip phone of yours?”

“Nope.”

“Ugh. FINE. Love you, sweetie!”

She hangs up. I let out a huge sigh. My left eye is itchy as hell for some reason. Probably just stress, as usual. Good thing I didn’t joke that our school is going under; she would have kept me up all night with interrogations. I return to the kitchen to heat up and sample the beef curry. Last “unhealthy” meal, I swear to myself. It’s nice and spicy, just the way I like it. But it could use a little something more. I’m digging around in the cupboard to see if I have any more potatoes left when I hear my phone vibrate. Mom must have forgotten to tell me something. I hope it has nothing to do with what she already chewed me out about. I don’t complain too much, considering all the crap I have chucked at me. Especially in the past month, with Hitomu, with Lieko. I think I’m doing pretty darn well.

It’s a text from an unknown number. You did not wear a skirt today. Again.

Okay, so maybe I complain a little.

eight

NO ROOM

運は勇者を助く

Fortune favours the brave

The Kurama Fire Festival in Kyoto is over. The torches and pyres have been returned to the shrine for another year. And yet, the village of Henba is in flames. Clouds of thick smoke rise up to the pale, twinkling stars, while down below villagers in their underwear flee from never-before-seen horrors that split the earth open. Scores of immense centipedes — mukade, to be precise — loom above the burning rooftops and come crashing down. Each centipede is the length of five cars. They slither after the villagers with rapid peach-coloured claws and sickle-sharp pincers. More cauldron-black bodies lie invisible in the shadows where the fire has yet to lay waste, lazily spreading their mandibles apart, ready to welcome the surging crowd getting closer and closer.