The Yokai inhales, her eyes still closed. She taps her bare feet in her own little puddle of water, her head bobs from side to side. “Wait. I hear something, too. Don’t you?”

“What?” Zaniel whips around, his eyes searching the trees, the sky. Nothing but sunshine and peace all around. “What do you hear?”

The Yokai’s eyes squeeze closed tighter and tighter. “‘If you don’t wake up now, you’ll be late.’”

“Huh?”

“There! You hear that? It’s singing to me. You don’t hear it? ‘If you don’t wake up now, you’ll be late. If you don’t wake up now, you’ll be late …’”

Zaniel’s heart quickens. He can hear it. Ringing through the air like birds calling to one another from the trees. It starts quietly at first, a gentle, almost mechanical chirp that picks up in tempo and volume. It reaches a shriek so loud that Zaniel has to press his hands over his ears. He cowers on the ground as the Yokai stands over him, eyes closed and lips curved upward as if she is wading in serenity itself. She sings along, repeating the words over and over again until her voice and the noise are one and the same source.

“If you don’t wake up now, if you don’t wake up now, if you don’t wake up now …”

“Wait! Who are you? What do you call yourself? You have to tell me! Please!”

“If you don’t wake up now, if you don’t wake up now, if you don’t wake up now …”

There is nothing for it. Zaniel leaps up and wraps his arms around the Yokai, who is still singing, and squeezes his eyes shut. He does everything in his power to steel his mind against the sounds drowning out his own thoughts. He can still escape this forest, this world, Akki’s impending wrath … he just needs to concentrate. He himself needs to wake up.

But not before he knows who she is.

“Ima okinai — Ima okinai — Ima okinai —”

I open my eyes, warm and snuggly in my futon. The first thing I notice is my alarm clock, which I must have snatched up in my sleep, held tight in my own kung fu grip. It’s singing its little phrase, and the screen flashes a number: 8:57.

8:57.

8:57.

I have to be at Zozo in three minutes. No — I should be at Zozo right now.

“Son of a —!”

I get dressed, chew three Mentos from my purse, and bike faster than ever before. My stomach growls angrily as I chain my bike — I think I’ve chained my bike — shit. I make a mental note to double-check as soon as these trial students leave. If I don’t get fired before then.