Now why does all this feel so familiar? She closes her eyes against the bright orange flames and smoke, tries to shut out the sounds of her own chewing against the background of humans pleading for their lives, the pounding and drumming of human feet like taiko. A silhouette forms in her mind. She can remember him now, but only a little. The man at the restaurant. That is what she is trying to remember. What was it called again? What was he called again? She cannot remember, nor can she think with all the commotion around her.

She opens her eyes again. There is a tingle creeping up her spine; someone is watching her. She looks around. The only people not running from the flames or the giant insects are the ones standing across the road. Four gorgeous red-faced, red-haired women in matching red kimono stare back at her. They are not at all bothered by the chaos unfolding around them. It seems they have been watching her for some time and have now decided to make their move.

The first woman bows. “Hello.”

“Hello,” the Yokai says. “Let me guess; you want some?”

“Can it be true?” the first woman says, ignoring the Yokai’s question. “Are you the one?”

“The one what?”

“I believe it is, sister,” says another woman. “It must be.”

The third woman nods. “Look at her, chomping away on another house. It can’t be any other.”

“Well, colour us pleased,” says the fourth. “Ah, yes … we’ve heard about you. Quite the appetite you have on you. Still hungry?”

“I’m always hungry.”

“Then why not have a villager or two?”

The Yokai shakes her head, furious. “Ew! No! I don’t eat people. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Oh, no, dear, it’s quite all right! We all have our own … tastes …” The other women giggle behind their red sleeves.

“Listen. This isn’t at all where I meant to end up. But then I got hungry.” The Yokai lowers her head, feeling sheepish as she speaks. “There wasn’t anyone inside, I swear.”

“We don’t mind, child,” says the first woman. “In fact, we have a surprise for you. We have a mutual friend who is very interested in meeting you. Come on, come with us. We promise we won’t bite …” Her voice trails off, as if another word should follow.

The Yokai shrugs. “What the hell. Sure. Watching a bunch of mukade crawl around isn’t my idea of fun, anyway.”

Two of the women cross the road and take her by the hands. Up into the eastern hills they all retreat together into the dark, cold sanctuary of the ancient forest, farther and farther away from the violent unrest of Henba. As they ascend the mountain path the Yokai gulps at the sweet mountain air, grateful to be away from the choking smog and the stench of sulphur.