Chapter 19: The Monochrome Island
The inn’s hall served meals, and Riko nibbled on a rice ball, eavesdropping on nearby chatter.
“I heard Cat Island is a black-and-white world, with no color at all.”
“Even the food’s black and white?”
“If we could snag something from there to sell elsewhere, we’d make a fortune.”
“Forget it. Hitachi’s guards forbid landing on the island. If you’re caught, you’re dead. They say it’s called Cat Island because of hundreds of wild cats that turned into demons after the island lost its color. They protect the islanders who fed them. Try going, and they’ll claw you to bits.”
“Really?”
After breakfast, Seimei checked out.
“Lord Seimei, how do we get to the island?” Riko asked, worried.
Would petting the cats work?
“First, we buy dried fish,” Seimei said.
Half an hour later, they left a shop with pockets full of dried fish.
Riko had also crafted a cat teaser from bamboo and feathers.
“Will this do?”
“It’ll do.” Seimei tucked a stray fish back into his pocket.
His slender fingers made her suddenly aware of a lingering numbness in her hand.
“Lord Seimei.”
“What?”
“This morning, I woke up and found my hand in yours.”
Seimei paused. “What kind of grip? My hand over yours, or fingers interlocked?”
“Interlocked.”
“Oh, then it’s unclear who grabbed first,” he said with a light chuckle.
Riko: “…”
From Hitachi to Cat Island lay a stretch of sea.
No ship would dare take them there.
Seimei summoned the sea monk again, paid ten copper coins, and boarded.
Before they could even sit in the cabin, the sea monk announced they’d arrived.
Riko stepped onto the deck, her eyes reflecting a dull, gray island.
Every tree, even the surrounding sea, was stark black and white, like a place forsaken by the gods.
The sea monk dropped them at a remote shore and left.
Before arriving, Riko thought a colorless world was just like a black-and-white film—unremarkable.
But standing here, the oppressive weight of a world without color hit her.
The sky was pure white, the ground too.
Trees, hills, flying birds, and butterflies on flowers were a monotonous, lifeless black.
Seimei walked ahead, Riko trailing behind, the unchanging scenery making her feel like she wasn’t moving at all.
Seimei stopped abruptly, and she crashed into him.
I think I bumped his shoulder blade, she thought, rubbing her forehead.
Something black stirred in the grass, whirling around with glowing round eyes and raised claws. “Who’s there?”
Riko peeked from behind Seimei.
Wow, a huge standing cat!
The cat demon, the size of a seven- or eight-year-old, wore clothes, a straw hat, wooden clogs, and a samurai sword at its waist.
A half-eaten black fish lay at its feet.
Seimei tossed a dried fish, and the cat pounced with a joyful “meow.”
“Wait, what am I doing?” It snapped back to attention. “Bribes won’t work. Huh?” Its eyes widened, sniffing hard. “Fish smell? How’s there a fish smell?”
Because it’s dried fish.
“It’s outside food,” the cat muttered to itself. “Can’t eat it.” It set the fish down but grabbed it again. “Haven’t tasted anything real in ages. No, I can’t.”
It dropped it again. “Argh, no cat could resist this!” With a yowl, it tossed the fish into its mouth. “Fine, I’m a cat with no principles.”
“Does nothing here have taste?” Riko asked, puzzled.
“Taste? Even rotten food’s flavorless,” the cat said, chewing and glaring at them. “For the fish’s sake, I’ll pretend I didn’t see you. Leave.”
“What?” Seimei asked.
“Leave. This. Place…” The cat’s pupils dilated, its body swaying like it was drunk, then collapsed.
“I sprinkled sleep powder on the fish,” Seimei said, glancing at the snoring cat as he stepped past. “It’ll wake soon.”
A few steps later, another cat demon spotted them as outsiders.
Seimei tossed another fish.
“This won’t work,” Riko said, eyeing their dwindling supply. “If there are hundreds of cats, we’ll run out fast.”
“Hee hee hee,” a giggle came from above.
Seimei’s face darkened, reaching for a talisman.
“Oh, an onmyoji! My bad, don’t hit me!” Hands parted the camphor tree branches, revealing a face caked in makeup.
Riko had never seen someone use cosmetics like paint.
“Is it a demon?” she whispered.
“Hey, that’s rude! I have a name—Qianxi Nü,” the figure said.
“Qianxi Nü?” Seimei frowned. “Never heard of a demon with that name.”
“Exactly.” Qianxi Nü leapt down.
Riko noticed her red robe.
“I’m from Chu,” Qianxi Nü said, covering half her face with her sleeve.
“Chu, as in the Warring States’ Chu?” Riko asked, then corrected herself. “I mean, from the Tang Dynasty?”
“If you mean the current dynasty, close enough,” Qianxi Nü said, staring at Seimei with rosy cheeks, clearly smitten. “Besides Song Yu, you’re the best-looking man I’ve seen.”
Riko gasped, pointing. “You’re the one who spied on Song Yu for three years?”
“Yep, that’s me. Didn’t know I was so famous,” Qianxi Nü giggled.
Famous for stalking Song Yu, she became a ghost after death.
Unable to stop spying on handsome men, she was banished from the underworld for ogling Bai Wuchang.
She wandered, peeking over walls at beautiful men, harmless but annoying.
Eventually, a Taoist drove her out of her homeland, and she sailed to Japan.
Why do all the misfit demons end up in Japan? Riko wondered.
“Why are you on Cat Island?” Seimei asked.
“Heard the people here lost their color, so I came to see the oddity,” Qianxi Nü said, grimacing. “Ugh, they’re so ugly. Total waste of a trip.” As a beauty enthusiast, she couldn’t stand a colorless world.
“I see,” Seimei nodded.
As they moved to leave, Qianxi Nü blocked them with a grin. “I’ll tell you, the people here are hideous, nothing to see. But one thing’s fun—at midnight, the whole village cries together. Wailing, it’s quite a show.”
“Why do they cry?” Riko asked.
“Probably mourning their ugliness,” Qianxi Nü said with a smirk.
No one believed her.
They decided to sneak into the village to investigate.
“Want to come along?” Riko asked Qianxi Nü, feeling a strange kinship despite her being a ghost.
“No way, it’s an eyesore,” Qianxi Nü said, shaking her head.
She leapt back into the tree. “I’ll find you at night when it’s dark enough to hide their ugly faces.” She winked at Seimei. “Thought I was blind a few days ago, but now I’m cured.”
What a ridiculous ghost.
Riko and Seimei crept down the slope, avoiding people, and slipped into the village to assess it.
The village was even more oppressive than the colorless forest.
People lived in silence, worked in silence.
No one spoke.
Their faces were calm but numb, like walking corpses—alive yet dead.
Adults toiled blankly; children sat in yards, staring.
Riko tugged Seimei’s sleeve, pointing at a window. “I’ve seen it in several houses—they’re worshipping fox statues.”
Seimei peered through, his eyes flickering. “Inari God.”
“Inari God?” Riko frowned. “Didn’t they say no one worships Inari anymore? Why here?”
Seimei’s lips tightened.
Spotting islanders returning from the village entrance as dusk fell, he pulled Riko to a secluded spot and raised a barrier to hide them.
“Let’s stay here a bit. Something’s wrong with this village,” Seimei said.
It wasn’t just the long-lost Inari statues; the village reeked of a curse.
The working islanders soon returned home.
As windows lit up, Riko glanced at the nearest house.
White candles cast a pale glow, making the black-and-white rooms eerily grim.
The village ate flavorless food in silence, avoiding even the smallest sounds.
As darkness fully enveloped the village, Riko thought they’d sleep.
But a prayer tinged with sobs came from the nearest house.
Like a signal, more voices joined, forming a river of sound flowing over the village—filled with despair, repentance, and wails.
The repressed village had found an outlet, the sound chilling.
The noise lasted an hour, then faded back to silence.
“It’s like they’re begging the gods for forgiveness,” Riko said, frowning.
Seimei pondered, staring at the darkened village. “It’s a while until dawn. Rest for now. We’ll check the Inari Shrine tomorrow.”
Riko nodded, glancing around. “How do we sleep?”
Seimei patted the wall. “Lean here, or on my shoulder.”
“I’ll take the wall,” Riko said shyly.
She adjusted to a comfortable position, hands on her lap, and closed her eyes.
Seimei sat beside her, hands on his lap, leaning against the wall.
As Riko dozed off, she glanced at Seimei to confirm he was asleep and her hands hadn’t wandered.
To be safe, she turned, placing her hands as far from him as possible.
Satisfied, she closed her eyes, missing Seimei’s slight movement.
Dawn broke, and the islanders’ footsteps woke her.
Seeing the barrier still up, she relaxed.
But something felt off…
Her head’s position was wrong.
Seimei sat upright, but her head rested on his shoulder, her arm linked with his, fingers interlocked again.
Her face flushed—it wasn’t her doing.
As she tried to ease her hand free, Seimei’s soft chuckle sounded. “Caught you, didn’t I?”