She sends him on his way with all the leftovers. He gets on a train back to uptown Osaka. He falls asleep. As soon as he does, a very large man gets on at the next station. There is plenty of space for him to sit anywhere but he squeezes himself right next to Zaniel. He watches the young man sleep. For a hafu, he is quite beautiful when he sleeps. The large man can see why women warm up to him so easily.

But the women, the ones he met and had Zaniel escort to him … he never saw them again. They all woke up and left him. The presence of his nightmares is inconsistent. They do not always come when called. And Hino, the closest thing he has to a friend … Hino, whose intermittent visits can be anywhere from a couple of days to a couple of centuries. She is always leaving him. This one, though, this single, beautiful human who needed Akki once, as a sad, gentle boy; this one he wants to keep. He must keep him. In fact, he decides, he will keep him. He is not going to be alone. No.

Not anymore.

Not this time.

The train pulls into Osaka Station. Only the bag of food remains where Zaniel once slept. Both he and Akki have disappeared.

thirteen

EAT ME

地震雷火事親父

Fear those greater than yourself

“Ima okina-EE-to, okurema-SOO, yo … Ima okina-EE-to, okurema-SOO, yo …”

“All right, all right, I’m up …”

I roll over and open my eyes. I’m in a large extravagant room, on top of a score of down pillows piled in its centre. Thin mesh drapes surround me. Beyond the drapes and the pillows, hundreds of candles line the walls and extend far into the darkness. A giant paper lantern hovers in mid-air over the blankets. The fire glowing within it is a deep blood red. Ghostlike wisps of incense hover in the dark air.

I have a bad feeling about this.

I roll across the pillows, to come out from under the drapes. My arms and legs feel heavy, as though something is weighing them down. The atmosphere, perhaps? I don’t know. Maybe wherever this place is, it’s high up a distant mountain. That would explain why it’s so cold. The air feels strange, too, and not just from the thick odour of incense and tatami. I bundle myself in my robe as best as I can, but it is so thin it does little to improve how I feel. I stumble in the dark until my hands find a door that I can slide open. There is more illumination beyond the door, in this strange, narrow hallway; I’m grateful, but still uneasy. I don’t recognize these surroundings, either. It is still cold. The tatami under my hands and knees crunch with breaking frost. What is this place?

“Cybelle?” The sound of my name is soft, but close. “That is Cybelle, isn’t it?”