Chapter 1: The Scent Beneath the Bridge

“So fragrant.
Turns out it’s a human cub.”

“Where?
I can’t see.”

“Shift a little to the right.
See it now?
That little thing with rosy cheeks.”

“Ehehe, I see it.”

Chirping voices came from beneath the wooden bridge, blending with the sound of rushing water, drifting into the ears of the girl sitting atop the bridge.

Riko stopped swinging her legs.
She set down the red bean bun in her hands and looked under the bridge.

The surface of the water reflected a girl dressed in a light orange sweat-drenched shirt, her bangs neatly trimmed, with a braid hanging down on each side of her head.
On her fair, delicate face, two slender eyebrows were now tightly knit.

It was her own reflection.

Who was speaking?

“I like her.
The left cheek looks tastier than the right.”

“Eh?
How do you know?”

There it was again.
That voice.

Riko suddenly recalled how one might encounter evil spirits when alone in the woods at dusk.
She quickly stood up, trying to leave.
Just as she turned around, she caught sight of two finger-thick little fish between two large rocks.

“Heehee, she’s looking at us too.”

Riko’s eyes widened in shock.

At dusk, the warm breeze stopped abruptly.
The sound of the stream also vanished.

Only two crimson lights were staring at her.

A chill shot up from the pit of her stomach.
With a scream, she bolted toward the village.

The rice in her basket spilled.
The vinegar bottle toppled.
One of the two catfish leapt out.

Against the wind, she felt like her lungs were about to burst.

They were real monsters…

Riko ran all the way back to the village in one breath.
She stumbled into her home’s courtyard, collapsing breathlessly under the eaves.

A soft breeze passed above her head, causing the blue wind chime on the door to jingle.

The sliding door creaked open.
From the gap peeked out a small paper doll.
Shaped like a gingerbread man, it tilted its head in confusion, then opened the door wider, revealing Granny Sushi sitting on a grass mat, kneading sushi.

“Oh my, our little Riko’s back.”
Granny Sushi smiled at her while deftly shaping sushi.

A small paper doll jumped off her body.
More paper dolls came running out, taking the bamboo basket off her shoulder and jumping in to tidy the ingredients.

Eyes wide in panic, Riko didn’t even catch her breath before blurting out,
“I-I saw a monster in the pine forest just now!”

“Pfft.”
Granny Sushi chuckled, the wrinkles at the corners of her mouth blooming like chrysanthemums.
“Must’ve been a kappa, huh?
Those little youkai love playing with kids.
They’re good monsters.”

“Kappa?”
The girl’s pretty almond-shaped eyes widened round.
“No way.
I know what a kappa looks like.
They have a shell on their back and a dish of water on their head.
But what I saw today didn’t look like that at all.”

A flash of crimson came to her mind—
That bone-chilling aura of slaughter made her shiver.

“You must’ve seen wrong.”
Granny Sushi smiled.
“Youkai are all sealed in the Asura Realm.
What’s left in the human world are just harmless scraps.
Besides, if we scatter beans, we can drive them away.”

“But this year the village chief banned bean scattering.”
Riko frowned.

Over a hundred years ago, the youkai attacked Kyoto and killed many people, throwing the human world into chaos.
Later, onmyouji and the youkai fought a decisive battle in Heian-kyo and sealed most of the monsters into the Asura Realm.
Since then, the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons became mere legend, and scattering beans became unnecessary.

This year, the village chief suggested skipping the ritual, and the villagers all agreed.

“Why don’t we scatter them in secret?”
Riko suggested.

“No way,”
Granny Sushi replied.
“If we’re caught, it’s like going against the whole village.
We’ll be ostracized.”

Riko paused, then gave up.
Better safe than sorry.

The girl pressed her palms together, clapped three times, and turned toward the household shrine.
“Dear divine spirit, please protect our home from ghosts and monsters.”

Her solemn expression made Granny Sushi chuckle quietly.
“Don’t worry.
Burning old tools can also drive away evil.
I’ll go find some later.
We can also make some bean soup—it works just as well.”

As the footsteps faded, Riko slowly opened her eyes.
In her pupils reflected the gaping mouth of the wooden fish head enshrined before her.

There were too many gods in this era.
Some even said there were eight million of them.
After some consideration, their household chose to worship the Catfish Deity.

Legend had it that beneath the islands lay a giant catfish supporting the land.
Only it could protect Japan from ocean storms.
But since it kept squirming, it also caused frequent earthquakes.

Worshipping the Catfish Deity was a plea for it to stay still.
After all, there was nothing more precious than a stable life.

She let out a quiet breath and sat cross-legged on the grass mat.
At her waist, the golden Hontsubo Bell chimed softly with her movements.

She paused.
Then took the bell off her waist and clasped it in both hands.
A faint glow flashed.
In addition to the bell, a small round wooden tag appeared in her palms.
On it were five deep tadpole-shaped grooves.

A gentle aroma wafted from the wooden tag, instantly filling the room.

It was this object that brought her from another time and space to the Heian era.
When she opened her eyes, she was no longer Li Riko, granddaughter of a master papercutter,
but Shimizu Rika, the little granddaughter of Granny Sushi.

The Shimizu family used to be aristocrats.
But after getting entangled in court politics, they fell into decline.
Rika’s parents had died young.
Her older brother went missing.
Eventually, she and her grandmother fled to this remote countryside and survived by selling sushi.

When she first arrived in this world, this body was only five years old.
She’d lived here for nine years now.
Her old memories were growing blurrier, with only her papercutting skills remaining intact.

Here, whatever she cut could come to life.
Paper dolls could work.
Paper lightbulbs would glow.
Everything else remained inert.

Every time she cut, she would see a golden thread guiding the scissors.
When the cut was complete, the thread would loop back to its origin.
If the paper didn’t come alive, either there was no thread to begin with, or it broke partway.
It felt like she still hadn’t figured out how to truly breathe life into her creations.

She had once seriously considered going to the Tang Dynasty across the sea.
But it was already the end of the Tang era.
And things were chaotic.
Even Yang Guifei had been strangled.

Besides, sea travel was no small feat.
Each mission Japan sent to Tang required three years of preparation.
Of a thousand people, only two hundred might survive the voyage.
Let alone a country girl like her—there was no way she’d get the chance.
It would just be a death sentence.

“Riko, dinner’s ready.”
Granny Sushi’s voice came from behind.

“Coming.”
She re-tied the bell to her waist and got up to help set the table.

“In just a month, our little Riko will turn fourteen.”
At the dinner table, Granny Sushi looked at her lovingly.
“Speaking of which, it’s time to start discussing marriage.
But with our current situation, we’re no longer good enough for the Genji family.”

“So let’s go to Heian-kyo when the cherry blossoms bloom and break off the engagement.
We can sightsee while we’re at it.
Haven’t you always wanted to see the capital’s splendor?”

Riko stuffed a plum rice ball into her mouth, her cheeks bulging as she nodded.

It wasn’t unusual in ancient times to arrange marriages early.
Before the Shimizu family declined, they had a marriage pact with the aristocratic Genji clan.
But now that they’d fallen, it was better to cancel it themselves than be dumped later.
Besides, she didn’t want to marry a stranger.
She still dreamed of one day leaving this place.

First, she had to uncover the secret behind the Hontsubo Bell.

After dinner, she found an old broom and burned it in the yard to ward off evil.

Seeing her, the old lady next door also fetched something to burn.

Over the short wall, Riko asked,
“Granny Harukichi, is Sister Suzumi feeling any better?”

“Still the same,”
Granny Harukichi sighed.
“She eats when fed, but won’t move otherwise.
Just sits there, lifeless.”

That was odd.

Riko frowned.
Suzumi had always been so lively, but this morning she became completely expressionless.
Not just her—
Even the village animals were acting strange.
From dawn, the cows, pigs, chickens, dogs—everything was making a racket.

She turned her gaze outside the courtyard.
Villagers had started burning old objects one after another.
The air was filled with the scent of smoke.

The rising fires looked like red eyes slowly opening.

Riko’s eyelashes trembled softly.
A faint sense of unease began to ferment in her heart.

As the fires gradually died out, and night fell, the entertainment-less village went to bed early.
The moon was hidden behind thick clouds, leaving not even a sliver of light.

Beneath tree roots, upon plank bridges, in quiet courtyards—

Crimson eyes began to appear, one pair after another.

“Heeheehee.”

“So fragrant.”

“Really so fragrant.”