The other yokai turn to the sky. It is indeed changing, muting from a light tropical blue to a deep orange and, following that, it dims to the blood colour with which they are so familiar. Many breathe a sigh of relief and exchange smiles. Then a few voices cry out in horror. “Look! Mite, mite!” The ocean horizon has become a string of fire, blazing from one end to the other like ignited kerosene, and it is climbing up the blood-red sky. A tsunami of fire accompanied by the telltale screech of a bleating boar.

It is Akki, and Akki is angry.

“Chikushou! I knew this wasn’t over!”

“It was too good to be true!”

“Fuck, we’re all dead!”

“Nigero! Run, run!”

Everyone scrambles for the shore. The now-bewildered Yokai finds herself tumbling into the sand as the burly cow creatures crash into her chair. A futakuchi-onna is kind enough to help the Yokai to her feet, but not patient enough to stay. The Yokai lets the tide of monsters carry her through the abandoned cantina, into the jungle where there is enough open space for her to run. Here, the ground is still covered in hot thick sand, slowing her down. Struggling to breathe, she braces herself behind a thick coconut tree as multitudes of yokai stream past her. She braces herself for the wave of heat to come crashing down on her, and is thankful when the waves that rush over her legs are not flames, but water, albeit a disturbing shade of red. She cannot outrun the tsunami, whether it consist of fire or water. She has to think of something else. If only she could get higher —

“That’s it.”

The Yokai runs once again, but instead of fleeing farther into the jungle behind the others, she breaks off from the group and heads uphill. The trees here are farther from one another, and much, much bigger. Or perhaps it is she who is getting smaller. It makes perfect sense. She is getting hungrier.

“Damn,” she pants. “This sucks. I’m starving.” She kisses her teeth. “I never got my sandwich.” Alas, there is no time to wallow in remorse for chicken sandwiches that could have been. She pushes onward as hard as she can, the sounds of monsters crying out in pain as the presumable wall of fire reaches them, creating more and more incentive to climb. She too can feel the heat, all the way up here … No. The heat is not in the air. It is under her hands and feet, radiating from the ground itself. It rumbles with power. The Yokai looks up; sure enough, the blood sky has become dark with ash and soot. “A volcano. Great.” But it is better than whatever is happening down below.