The other lights dance over her head and drift away, still calling her every awful name they can think of. One light lingers behind, illuminating her vision in the darkness, for even the moonlight is gone. The Yokai watches the lights grow smaller and smaller. She sits up a little and looks down at her body, covered in bloody holes, blisters, and bites. Why did they do this to her? What had she done? Perhaps she should have stayed with the faceless yokai, for at least they were civil to her. Even the first group of yokai had not treated her like this. If only she knew the way home …

The light hovering over her head makes a darting motion. It hits her square in her jaw, knocking out a tooth, then flies away to join the others. “Ha!” it shouts. “Guys! Guys, did you see that?! I got a tooth! A whole tooth!”

The Yokai can hear them all laughing at her in the distance, congratulating their comrade, over the sound of her own lamentation. She holds a hand to the burning spot on her face and feels blood oozing from the corner of her mouth, wet and thick like paint. When she tries to feel around her mouth with her tongue, she gags on something sharp. The Yokai coughs, and coughs, and with a cautious hand, she slowly guides a long, sharp sliver out of her mouth. There are more inside, a spiky network of pins and needles that seem to be growing as she removes another and another. She is afraid to speak, let alone swallow, whimpering as she takes out each one. She lets out a fresh sob once they are all gone, sitting in a pile in the grass at her knees.

Careful not to disturb the small mountain of spiky metal, she crawls away. Her hand plunges into something wet. Water. The moonlight returns. A small pond stretches out in front of her. She crawls into it, hoping the cold water will soothe her. It is not enough. Each gaping hole on her arms and legs still burns like acid. She sits in the water and hugs her knees to her chest. More than anything she tries not to look at her reflection in the water. The reflection of a monster, the monster that everyone else sees: skin dark as a shadow, grotesque bulging eyes, swollen lips encircling a mouth ready to devour and maul the innocent, and scars, scars everywhere. A patchwork of hate.

“I just wanted to go home,” she whispers. She is grateful that this time there is no one around to reply.

five

POOLS OF TEARS

覆水盆に返らず

There is no use crying over spilled milk

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

TGIS: Thank God it’s Saturday — the longest time until I have to go back to Zozo. I just need to keep breathing until then.