He walks to the next car, slides the door open and lets it shut behind him. He closes his eyes and counts to three, trying to calm himself despite the rumbling of train around him. He counts slowly, letting his body sense the solidity of his pillow underneath his head to block out the bouncing sensation of the train and the feel of metal and gears under his feet. He opens his eyes. He is lying on the ground now, trees looming above his prostrate body: in the foreground of a violet sky, there they are. Thousand-year-old oak, majestic redwood, thick reedy bamboo, baby spruce, short fat pine, many others with no names …

Zaniel closes his eyes, relieved. Much better. Never thought I’d actually be happy to be back here.

Someone nearby lets out a sob. Zaniel bolts upright. “Who’s there?” he calls out. The crying stops.

“Dream Eater,” a high, tiny voice sniffles. “Is that you?”

“Uh …” It is a voice he does not recognize. A yokai? It must be … but what kind?

“Do not be afraid! Here — follow my voice!”

“I’m, uh, not sure if I want to.” Zaniel scrambles to his feet, preparing to run. Dead leaves rustle from behind a nearby tree. A hiccupping sound accompanies it.

“This way.”

Damn. Zaniel picks up a fallen twig that looks sharp enough to stab, or at the very least keep any fanged creature at bay. He follows the sniffling sounds to a tall patch of underbrush. Swallowing hard, he moves some of the foliage with one end of his stick.

It is a baby.

No — it is the baby. Zaniel recognizes him immediately. The one from his vision, the one in which the Yokai was running around Akki’s house. He looks like a typical toddler, sitting as peaceful as a Buddhist statue, except he bears the face of an old, old man. “I know you.”

“And I know you, child,” says the baby. “You are Akki’s. Yes?”

“Yes.” Zaniel lowers his stick. “And you’re the Konaki Jiji that … that demon rescued the other day.”

“Correct, child. I am looking for that very creature. Have you seen her?”

“No. The truth is, I’ve been wondering where she is myself.”

“Hmm.” The baby — the Konaki Jiji — closes his eyes, nodding. Zaniel half expects him to fall asleep, but his small lips continue to move. “Interesting. Walk with me, child.”

Zaniel supresses a groan of reluctance as the baby rolls onto his hands and knees and pushes himself to a standing position. Well, as long as I don’t have to carry him, Zaniel supposes. He follows the small demon as it toddles through the bush to the ever-familiar winding path of the woods.