Zaniel, however, is able to slip back down the stairs before Akki can spot him. Something in his gut guides him through the darkness on the lower level. His hands steady him along a singular twisting, turning hallway. It leads outside to another garden area, in worse condition than the front. Zaniel has never seen this side of the house before. There must have been plants and flowers here, a long time ago, but now there are only patches of earth and several dead brambles. The ground is higher on this side, overlooking a cliff with a sharp, winding path that leads into another part of the woods. Were it winter he would be able to see the cable car station and temple past the trees, and in clearer weather, the rest of Kyoto City and the dream world farther down the mountain. But for now, there is just darkness and moonlight, and someone naked kneeling in the dirt, smothering her face with her hands.

Zaniel forgoes all notions of reuniting with the young woman waiting out front. He approaches, careful but sure. “Hey,” he whispers.

The Yokai whirls around, still sniffling, but chopsticks armed and ready. Zaniel holds up his hands in defence. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. It is you. I thought so.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. It’s me — Zaniel — from the restaurant. Don’t you recognize me?”

“I have never seen you before. Ever.”

“Yes, you have. We ran into each other the other night.”

“We met the other night?”

“Well, we’d met before, too. Don’t you remember?”

The Yokai blinks wet tears at him.

“I begged you not to eat me?”

“Why the hell would I do that? What is with everyone today?” The Yokai throws her hands up in disgust. “First, those horrible, awful women. Now you. Who are you all, anyway?”

“Whoa, hold on. I’m nothing like those women — er, well, I guess they’re not exactly women.”

“You can say that again. Look at me.” The Yokai gestures to the black ink that sprayed all over her. Zaniel blushes. She does not seem to notice, let alone mind, that she is naked. “How am I ever going to get this stuff off?”

“There’s a pond. Behind you.”

The Yokai reaches into the pond, cupping murky water to wash the ink-blood off. Looking away, Zaniel sees a strip of white cloth on the dark ground. It is her robe, albeit with a big tear down the side. When he hands it to her, his long fingers accidentally caress hers. He does not mean to, but his eyes flutter before he can stop them.