“Aw, yes,” the Yokai sings. “Pork belly!” Even at her size she needs both hands to pick it up and eat it. She savours every bite — the chewy texture of soft, smooth fat yielding to her teeth, the sizzling warmth against her snaky tongue, the sensation of juices dribbling down her chin as much as they course down her throat — she cannot even remember the last time she had braised pork belly. That’s what this is, right? She pauses in her devouring. “Yup, looks like it. Close enough.” The last strips of meat disappear in seconds. The Yokai knows it is impolite but sucks the last shred of meat from her finger and thumb. She already craves more. She looks around, her face slathered with boar blood, her pitch-black eyes twinkling with the prospect of more of that salty, succulent flesh. But all she sees is a wounded baby pig, squealing for all it is worth. Or perhaps it is not a baby; yes, she concludes, it looks like a full-grown adult. She is just that much larger than this particular animal. The Yokai examines herself. How did she get so big so quickly? (She does not remember being this size at the start of her day, but now it feels appropriate.) It does not matter. She wants that boar, the apparent source of that delicious morsel of meat. The way it whines as she stares at it almost brings pity to her heart. It must know what the Yokai wants. No, she should not … but on the other hand, she reasons, if that boar gets the chance, it will most likely do the same and take a bite out of her. She shrugs and gets down on all fours.

“EAT OR BE EATEN.”

Her voice is a deep, throaty, feline growl. Her words cross Akki’s yumego threshold. He understands every one of them, and the intention behind each one. He is screwed.

“Eep!”

Holding in what remains of his side, Akki summons the last of his dream strength. He crawls away with very little haste. In fact, he only gets about three feet before the thundering sound of the Yokai’s footsteps reaches his ears. He flips over onto his back and tries to drag himself, but it is a fruitless endeavour. He collides up against a coconut tree, sending a few down to earth.

The Yokai stalks toward him. “Here, little piggy! Come here, little guy!”

Akki hoists a giant coconut into the air with his good hand and launches it in the Yokai’s direction. She catches it one-handed with a sharp snap. Akki squeals again and throws another. She catches that one, too, and to his horror sinks her teeth into it, ripping out a chunk of the diamond-hard shell, tilts her head back and lets the milk flow into her mouth. She gulps and laughs victoriously.

“Is that the best you’ve got? You’ll have to do better than that if you want to — uh-oh.”