“It’s just … that house, Akki-sama …?” The name does not seem to register on the yokai’s face. “Wasn’t there anyone inside the house? It’s okay if there was,” the man adds quickly. “I mean, I’m sure you had a good reason — unless, it was by accident. Right?”

The yokai looks close to tears. Its eyes dart around, making the trees shiver. “It was empty.” Its voice is soft. “It looked empty.”

The young man takes a deep breath. “You know what? Never mind. I wouldn’t worry. Carry on.”

“But — I … I’m …”

“No.” He tries not to look so happy. “Please. I insist.” As a sign of trust, he backs away, turning when he reaches a safe distance, choosing another bench far away to perch upon. Tears brim in his eyes when he hears the last remnants of the house pulverized in the yokai’s mouth. Freedom has never sounded so beautiful.

When the monster, now smaller, plops down on the bench, his old fears return. He braces himself for the attack, but it sits facing away from him, refusing to meet his eye. It stretches a small hand toward him and waits. “You can have it,” it says in a soft, forlorn voice.

The front door is so small the man is tempted to take it. “No, I can’t,” he replies. “Go ahead. It’s all yours.”

“I feel bad. I didn’t mean to eat it — er, them?”

“No, take it!” He allows himself a small grin. “Give it a good home.”

The creature does so, breaking off piece after piece, eating much more politely than when it was unaware of being watched. The young man pretends not to look at it. Now that it is almost as tall as he, the yokai looks much less threatening, more interested in its barren surroundings than the stunned gentleman gaping at it. The way it spoke, the way it moves — placing every morsel of chocolate door on its long, snakelike tongue with delicacy — is hypnotic. For sake of safety, the man pretends to play along. It is too late to make a run for it now. “You look satisfied.”

“I’ve never had one before.” It licks the last traces of chocolate from its fingers and pats its belly. “Whoo … that was a meal and a half. What’s the deal with this place, anyway?”

“This is private property. Or …” he looks over his shoulder at the ruins. “It was private property.”

The yokai looks down at its swinging feet. “Oh, I see. It was important to you.”

He allows himself another mirthless grin. “No.”

“Well, it looked edible. If you didn’t want anyone to eat it, you shouldn’t have made it out of food.”

“I didn’t. Trust me.”

“Yes …” It removes its hood and looks him in the eye. “I think I do.”