“Oh, that’s just an old wives’ tale! Don’t you listen to her, dear. You dive straight into the organs, hear me?” The third woman flicks the carrot flower away with her too-long sleeve. “This is just empty calories. There you go. You have to drive your chopsticks into the belly button and —”

The Yokai grips her chopsticks hard enough to hurt. “I am NOT eating a baby.”

“Uh-oh …” The women mock her. “Poor widdle yokai can’t eat even a widdle Konaki Jiji toenail … boo hoo! Akki-san will be so disappointed to hear the new demon is just like her disguise — sad and pathetic as a human. Too bad!”

“Right up his alley, then.” The first woman crosses her arms. They flop around each other like raw dough. “That scumbag. Laying with human trash like they’re better than us. Who the hell does he think he is?”

The second woman shudders. “Ew, please. Would you sleep with him? I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot shinai!”

“Well, neither would I. But it’s the principle of the thing.”

“Oh stop, you two,” says the third woman. “We can stand here all century arguing; we’d never figure out what that awful Akki’s deal is.”

“Agreed,” the fourth woman sniffs.

“Can I go now?” asks the Yokai.

“Silence.” The first woman points a sleeve at the Yokai’s nose. “I say we save him the trouble of wasting time meeting you.”

“Yes. I must admit, I did wonder what you might taste like. What do you say, ladies? Anyone mind if I call dibs on her toes?”

“Fine by me. I call dibs on her hair. It’s so … so fluffy … like fairy floss.”

“I hear the best meat is in the rump!”

The women laugh. They are amused and giddy at the prospect of her warm succulent flesh melting on their long forked tongues, now wagging in the air and dripping saliva down their clothes. The Yokai staggers back from the table. The women crawl over the long table on all fours like stalking animals toward the dish — toward her. Their lips pull back to expose rows of shark-like teeth, grinding and gnashing.

The baby is live and kicking now. “Help me,” it croaks.

“I … I don’t know what to do …” The Yokai’s breath quickens with panic. She needs a weapon. She needs multiple weapons. But the only thing on the table are the empty plates and dishes, used chopsticks, and leftover spices.

The Yokai hopes the baby’s eyes are still closed.