Chapter 17: The Scent of Cherries and Hidden Demons
The scent of cherry blossoms was faint, so subtle you’d miss it without paying attention.
But with vast clusters of blooms, the entire Takase River was infused with a delicate sweetness.
They stopped at a sweet water stall.
Riko ordered citrus water, Seimei plain water.
As the vendor handed over their drinks, an old man in loose, tattered clothes squeezed in beside them.
“Oh, sweet water! Been ages since I had some.” The old man propped his cheeks with both hands, eyes gleaming at Riko’s cup.
His round head and kind face didn’t seem off-putting.
Seimei’s gaze flicked over the man’s face, his narrow eyes shifting slightly.
Riko glanced at him, saying nothing, gripping her cup tighter.
Unfazed, the old man grinned. “Walked a long way to see the cherries, forgot my water. Oh, don’t mind me, drink up. I don’t want any, though I’m mighty thirsty.”
Riko stifled a laugh.
Despite his protests, his words screamed otherwise.
“What’s it taste like? Bet it’s bursting with orange flavor. When I was a kid, my mom made me citrus juice. Can’t even recall her face now. Maybe tasting the past would jog my memory. Ah, great motherly love.”
Riko couldn’t hold back, giggling.
She slid the untouched cup toward him. “Here, have it.”
The old man’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Really? Oh, I couldn’t possibly. Nah, forget it.”
He pushed it back. “You kids drink it. Old guy like me doesn’t need fancy stuff.” His eyes darted to Seimei, sensing he needed his approval to take it.
Seimei smiled lightly. “Go ahead.”
“Well, if you insist!” The old man gleefully grabbed the cup, gulping it down. “Ah, refreshing! Haven’t felt this good in ages. Folks these days are so stingy. You two are alright.” He patted his belly, looking ready to bolt.
Seimei plucked a leaf from a nearby bush, flicked it, and it landed on the man’s face.
The old man, about to stand, collapsed onto the table as if crushed by a boulder.
Riko’s eyes widened, looking to Seimei for answers.
“He’s not human. He’s a Nurarihyon demon,” Seimei said with a smile. “They’re quite powerful, but their only hobby is mooching food and drink uninvited, and they take pride in it.”
“Demon?” Riko leapt back, keeping her distance.
“No worries, he’s a good demon,” Seimei added.
“Yeah, yeah, what’s with that look, girl? Didn’t you hear I’m a good demon? Come closer!” The Nurarihyon’s face twisted in mock offense.
Then, turning to Seimei, he said, “Fine, I know what you want. Let me go, and it’s yours.”
Seimei nodded, removing the leaf.
The Nurarihyon sat up, groaning and rubbing his back. “Should’ve known better than to mooch from you. Just a cup of sweet water—not even as good as the feast I swindled from Alas, here is a translation: from the Fujiwara clan.”
A demon that mooches? Don’t demons eat people?
“Since this young lady shared her sweet water, I’ll repay her with some info,” the Nurarihyon said. “I can smell she’s hunting demons. See that guy over there buying a hairpiece?” He pointed to a frail, lanky man at a hairpiece stall across the way.
The man was painfully thin, tall like a clothes pole, his face an unhealthy waxy yellow.
“Follow him, and you’ll find a demon,” the Nurarihyon said, pulling out a small folding fan and chuckling as he vanished into the crowd.
The man chose a hairpiece—a small fan adorned with three cherry blossoms and a dangling peach-heart tassel.
“He’s leaving,” Seimei said, grabbing Riko’s hand and weaving through the crowd to follow.
“Lord Seimei, why are we following him?”
“For your demon tally. The Nurarihyon pointed him out, so there’s a demon nearby—one up to no good.”
“Oh, I see. But if you’re helping me fill my tally, why let the Nurarihyon go?”
“Because he’s a good demon.” Seimei glanced at her, noticing her skeptical look. “I know you hate the demons that attacked your village. But like people, demons can be good or bad. Some are naturally kind to humans.”
“Like Hikeshi Baba, who rushes to put out fires. She even blows out lanterns or candles to prevent accidents. Ever had a candle go out suddenly? That’s her. Or Zashiki Warashi—households with them prosper.”
Riko fell silent, and Seimei didn’t press further.
He didn’t want her to look at him with disgust if she learned he was a white fox’s son.
The man turned into a narrow alley, stopping at a dilapidated courtyard with half a wall.
Inside was a small stone-ringed pond and several clotheslines dripping with wet laundry, untwisted and heavy.
The sound of dripping water was stark in the cherry-blossom-filled night.
Riko covered her nose, wrinkling it.
The air was so damp her sleeves felt soggy already.
Seimei pulled out a talisman, and a gentle breeze swirled around them.
Riko felt lighter as Seimei pulled her onto the roof.
The roof was as rundown as the courtyard, with gaps large enough to see inside without lifting tiles.
A dim oil lamp lit the narrow room below, water splashing with every step the man took.
The place was like a pond, walls dripping with moisture.
Yet the man’s face flushed with an unnatural glow, showing no displeasure.
“I’m back,” he called to a dark side room.
A pale hand slid open a rotting paper door. “You’re back,” a woman said, stepping out, her wet clothes clinging to her curves.
“This is for you,” the man said, offering the hairpiece like a treasure.
“Oh, it’s lovely. I’ll try it on for you.” She sat at a low table, water pooling past her knees.
She put on the hairpiece, smiling into a mirror. “Am I beautiful?”
“Very, very beautiful,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist, one hand slipping into her kimono.
She arched her neck with a soft cry.
The sudden intimacy made the rooftop onlookers awkward.
As things escalated below, Riko nudged Seimei urgently.
He chuckled softly, summoning a barrier.
“Who’s there?” The woman’s voice turned eerie as she pushed the man aside and leapt into the courtyard, her kimono half-open, revealing pale skin.
“Cover yourself,” Seimei said coolly.
“Oh, a young onmyoji,” she giggled, covering her mouth. “Shy? I don’t mind showing you.”
“No thanks.” Seimei drew a pale yellow talisman, which turned into a fiery chain binding her. “Show yourself, Rain Woman.”
Rain Woman? Riko recalled the demon from the bestiary that lures men in the rain, trapping them in damp misery until they weaken, then devours them to grow stronger.
“Don’t kill her right away, Lord Seimei.”
“Of course, the final blow is yours.”
“You dare mock me?” The Rain Woman began to ooze water, and a drizzle filled the barrier.
The rain sapped Riko’s strength, her legs buckling.
Seimei glanced at her, smiling. “Low spiritual power can’t resist her attacks. I’ll speed this up.”
He tugged the fiery chain tighter, steam rising as the Rain Woman screamed in pain.
The man rushed out, climbing a ladder to attack them, but Riko kicked him off.
“Nice work,” Seimei said, his lips curving.
He turned back to the Rain Woman. “Strange, why isn’t she weakening?” He tightened the chain further.
The chain sizzled against her water, mixing with her screams as she shrank.
“Remember the lightning spell I taught you?”
“You said it’d only make them twitch.”
“That’s enough. Throw it.”
Riko tossed a blue talisman, which sparked faintly on the Rain Woman.
With a final scream, she dissolved into light, absorbed into a ringing bell.
What, it’s over? Riko was stunned, thrilled by the power of teamwork with a master.
The chain vanished, leaving a small sachet in the water.
“No wonder she was tough—she had a treasure.” Seimei opened it, revealing a bundle of white fur.
Riko started to ask what it was, but Seimei’s face darkened.
He examined the sachet, embroidered with the words “Cat Island.”
He went silent, then said flatly, “Let’s go home.”
Riko could tell he was hiding his unease.
Back home, the shikigami had finished copying the book, neatly stacked on the table.
Riko checked her notebook, realizing she hadn’t done her daily chants.
After chanting and clapping three times, she closed her eyes, forgetting to set a barrier.
No divine voices this time, just howling wind and a woman’s voice. “Come, I know you can hear me. Come to Cat Island.”