《Yokai Reversal》


 Spoon-Bending and Evil Manga

    The day my life changed I bent a spoon with my mind.


    No, I''m not a hack! I wish I was but I¡¯m way, way worse. Listen I¡¯m not selling you anything. But! I gotta tell you life¡¯s been really weird since then.


    I¡¯d been out of a job for months. Mooonths. Man, I counted stars we owned our house, but how was I going to save up for college? Bing, bing, another auto-rejection on my phone. I did the usual ritual¡ªdragged my feet, shoved my hands in my pockets, and inspected the pavement for nonexistent tectonic activity. When I huffed, cold mist drifted out my mouth like a tepid dragon. Then I trudged to my preferred hangout to drown every thought in sensory overload.


    Japantown. Great place, isn¡¯t it? At least I think so.


    Not that I could read much kanji, or speak Japanese, or heckin¡¯ forbid write it, but heritage has to count for something, right?


    I sludged into the west mall to escape the chill, huddled up in a jacket, and was instantly blinded by fluorescent lights and wood panels. A proper slap in the face for disappointing your Asian ancestors.


    You got your usual¡ªart galleries, plastic sushi on stands luring customers into bento bars, cute shops carrying kitsch¡ªI love the umbrellas with sword handles¡ªand good ol¡¯ Daiso for the shopanistas. Also more restaurants, lotta those. I stuck my hand on a black railing and crossed a little walkway as crowds bustled past. Busy night tonight. Artificial cherry blossoms glowed neon pink and I admired them as I passed. No one would mistake them for the Real Thing (?) but they stood tall and raw and didn¡¯t give a darn.


    My stomach rumbled so I pulled up at a cafe tucked in a corner. I guess it counted as a boba shop, too, since it offered quite a few items.


    The long-haired woman at the register smiled at me. ¡°Hello, Cecelia. The usual?¡±


    Despite my general sense of being a glob, a grin of my own crept up. ¡°Hey-o, Vi. A grass jelly-taro-boba-oolong tea, 50% ice.¡±


    Vi had a soft and mellifluous voice¡ªbig word, I know, but if you don¡¯t use it ya lose it. Sliding my credit card, I felt a lesser term didn¡¯t quite capture how her greeting rolled over me, a gentle foam-tossed wave. My shoulders were relaxing already. She could cook an asmr channel or some wiz.


    Yaaay, SAT prep. Shut up, brain, I told myself.


    ¡°Sure thing. Would you like me to make something for Sven, too?¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡± I thought a couple beats. I did plan on meeting Sven before school tomorrow. ¡°Yeah, why not?¡±


    I tapped a finger against the counter. Maybe a green matcha. No ice, no sugar, no nada. My dude likes only the plainest of liquids. Ooh, or honey green tea? Just for kicks.


    I made up my mind for the matcha.


    Vi slipped me the receipt before I could tell her. ¡°Thank you!¡±


    The tips of my ears warmed. I could sense a young family shifting behind me along with a whooole line of people. Fudgesticks. No good making everyone wait.


    I plopped into a seat. Checked the paper. Number 389, and Vi had scribbled ¡°matcha¡± below my order. Zero sugar or ice.


    Oh. Did she decide for me? Lucky we thought the same thing.


    With some relief I ran my fingers through my hair. I couldn¡¯t throw off a sinking pit in my stomach, though. I decided to go to Kinokuniya after this. Grab twenty manga and chill. Or wander around browsing the shelves. I wasn¡¯t picky at the moment.


    Vi stopped at my table. She set down my drink as well as a bag with Sven¡¯s order. The package was bigger than I expected. Then Vi pushed a plate of French toast with a dollop of ice cream and syrup towards me. ¡°For you.¡±


    My face flushed. For a while now I suspected Vi was not only the cafe¡¯s server, but also the baker, and also the barista. How¡¯d she manage? I didn¡¯t know why she chose to give people their food when they could just pick it up. What I mean is little broke me was shrinking in on herself and my hands were getting clammy. I stammered. I wiped them against my jeans. ¡°Thanks. You¡¯re awful talkative today.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re quiet.¡±


    ¡°Touch¨¦.¡± I groused. I looked at her face, which looked no older than late-twenties, framed by a sweep of hair in front and curtains of long bangs. ¡°I like your eyes. Are you sure you were born in Hokkaido?¡±


    Another person would¡¯ve taken offense but she only smiled.


    Her irises were sky blue. She was also tall, though she had all the features of an East Asian.


    My comment had been a running joke since my parents and I started going to Vi¡¯s place. I couldn''t remember the first time. She answered with a variant of her tried-and-true reply. ¡°I have been to many places in this world, but Japan feels closest to home.¡±


    ¡°This ain¡¯t the Rising Sun, my dude.¡± I forked the toast and took a bite. She had provided a metal spoon for the ice cream too. Vanilla. Darned stupid at business, I thought, thinking about how much cash she was sinking simply standing here making conversation.


    ¡°Home isn¡¯t a place, Come back before closing and I can give you seconds. It¡¯s on me.¡±


    ¡°Whoa¡ªseriously?¡± My eyes bulged. ¡°No, no, It¡¯s cool!¡±


    She waved off my protests. ¡°How are things? Are you doing okay?¡±


    I chewed a piece of piping hot, yummy toast and swallowed. ¡°Neh. Unemployed, same as always. Worried about Mom. Maybe I won¡¯t even get to college at this rate.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that. Here.¡± She reached into her waitress apron and handed me a business card. ¡°I know a company. They offer a free trial for a cleaning service. In case you need it.¡±


    ¡°Uh, thanks?¡± I took it. The card had black lettering reading Kuro Cleaning Services and a phone number.


    At the bottom was an advertising blurb next to a picture of a cute anime maid. Free Trial Home Cleaning! Perfect for Shut-Ins! Ask about our Protection Services too!


    ¡°How¡­funky.¡± Not exactly a company I¡¯d apply to, but I might call them up in a pinch.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about working for them.¡± Vi must¡¯ve caught me gawking. ¡°I mean cleaning. Having a clean home is very nice and refreshing.¡±


    ¡°Well. Yeah. I guess?¡± At least she is concerned about my¡ªliving conditions?


    ¡°I have to go now.¡± She motioned to other tables. ¡°Just call if you don¡¯t feel comfortable in your house. Or get anything strange in it.¡±


    ¡°Yup-yup. Later.¡±


    I scarfed down the meal and hefted my to-go bag, shoes echoing on the tiled floor, chest lighter as I swerved to Kinokuniya.


    Not as many people as I¡¯d assumed. Mostly high schoolers teetering my age. That left me with the giddy wonder of staring at books, books, books. Magazines on stands, craft books propped open, paperbacks stacked up, picture books in cubbies, a tight history section, you name it. The plushies and charms were neat too. Cozy. I went downstairs and to the manga section.


    Maybe I¡¯ll run into classmates here. Ugh. That reminded me. My package was dangling too heavy in my shrimp arms. ¡°Gosh, I hope Sven got the right order.¡± I rummaged into the bag. With a small jolt, I realized Vi had placed an additional cup of milk next to Sven¡¯s drink. She¡¯d also written on the matcha¡¯s receipt.


    Incident Report PC962 83912. Tell Tommy to drop it and leave by 1. 91%.


    ¡°Wha?¡± I scratched my head. Did she put that on accident? We did have a Tommy at school. But I didn¡¯t think Vi or Sven knew him. Vi was a busy adult and Sven was, well, kind of not the most approachable guy.


    Incident report? Looks important. I guess I¡¯mma let Sven deal with it.


    I wanted my unholy cartoon binge and no way would I let a stupid piece of paper stop me from that sweet sweet manga juice.


    And so. I traipsed the aisles like a dummy, sat my stupid butt down, and read like a maniac until it was getting dark. A sensation prickled the back of my neck but I did my best to ignore it.


    Tonight is off. That was what my body was telling me. I convinced myself that was ridiculous. The note¡¯s message had merely melded with hyperactive mental faculties.


    You need to stop reading horror manga. Or watching those video reviews. It¡¯s paranoia. Paranoia!


    Footsteps faded into silence. Mid-way through devouring an action shojo title, I lifted my head, to see the place was almost deserted. A cart filled with manga and history books rolled my way. One of the store staff, an elderly lady with a gray hair bun, pushed it on squealing wheels. I winced and craned my neck away. A door in the shop¡¯s back had creaked open, revealing darkness.


    Eh? Closing already?This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Hey!¡± I scrambled to the cart and peered at its contents. ¡°I haven¡¯t bought anything yet! Do you have that new action manga about the dude that¡¯s way too into birds? Hikaru Shifter or what¡¯s-its-face?¡±


    The bookshop worker crinkled her face in a scowl. Her nose was a tad long, which, together with pulled-back gray locks and weathered skin, made her resemble a vulture. This bird was ready to peck my eyes out. ¡°Next time instead of loitering, come prepared!¡±


    Sheesh. She even shrieked like one. ¡°Aight, calm down homie. Can I at least take a peek?¡±


    The avian stuck her neck out. She spat, ¡°Fine. Make it quick. I have important deliveries tonight.¡±


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡± I ransacked the cart as she tottered off grumbling under her breath. She¡¯d gone to fetch another cart as I poked my head up from the pile. Those old ladies loved their efficiency.


    The volumes were good, but none of the covers screamed at me. ¡°Meh. Meh. No. Read it. Hrmgh.¡± I put back as many as I picked up.


    Definitely no new titles, certainly not the one I had mentioned. The texts were used and worn in places. That was weird. Probs for the older crowd. Collectors and the like. There¡¯s gotta be gems here somewhere!


    Hol¡¯up. The backend. My chest pounded. An invisible string attached to my body was tugging me straight to the back door. I mean, the door was open, and the entrance was all black, but the cart had been squeaking that way. There had to be treasure in that new stock.


    Any goodies in there were on sale, right? I mean, it had to be. This was a freakin¡¯ bookstore. A place where people came from across the Bay no less.


    Squeak, squeak, squeak. My heart rate shot through the roof. I blamed the book lady. I scanned, hand shielding eyes, like a pirate searching high seas. Yep, at my three o¡¯clock, a hawkish crone was slowly trudging in my direction.


    Oh shoot. My sneakers had placed themselves at the very edge of the door, between the shop¡¯s dim lights and the backroom. The fact the staff member hadn¡¯t seen me yet jumped the pounding in my chest to overdrive. If she saw me now I¡¯d get swooped on. My nerves jittered and I had trouble breathing.


    I freaked. Which was scarier? A geriatric Asian matriarch who might kick me outta a store? Or a pitch-black, suffocating space I knew nothing about, where I might get lost and/or cramped up in a closet of books and get locked in?


    Obviously the old lady.


    In I stumbled, performing a beautiful, majestic, motion-picture worthy fall as I tripped over a hard metal bar. I saved myself by slapping my hands down and barely avoided banging my head against a mound of books.


    Ow. Need a light. I found a lamp, which was great, except it was on a shelf above me. Not for the first time I cursed being short. On my stomach, I fumbled with the books I had almost collided with. Piles of hardcovers and softcovers. I was swimming in it. Pages fluttered and flapped. I did a worthy impression of a poor old lady in one TV ad who had fallen and couldn¡¯t get up.


    Happily some covers had English matching kanji titles. I squinted and ogled.


    Most had weird names, like Shishuo Xinyu: A New Account of the Tales of the World. I was pretty sure the name was Chinese¡ªobvs the characters were the same¡ªbut at least it followed a time-honored tradition of the overly-long light novel title. That one had a sick cover of a calligraphy scroll backgrounding two dudes, who were fighting in dresses and fun hats. Another was titled Nihon Shoki featuring a male and female deity in green and pink kimono, towering over seas and mountains.


    Yooo. I¡¯ve never seen this! My visual biblio-radar alighted on one thicc softcover manga that stole alll my attention. Kojiki: Records of Ancient Matters. Its cover had a long-haired woman with the freakin¡¯ sun shining behind her back, and a muscle-bound dude holding a giant rock for no discernible reason, and these old bearded guys sitting and chilling staring at the lady¡ªin fancy robes by the way, and also a big round mirror on the side, and I had no idea what the fudge was going on but I had to have it.


    My hand snatched Kojiki and a sharp sting went up my arm like a snake had bit me. ¡°Yeowch!¡±


    I waved my wrist. Static shock? Figures. I reached and gasped as I got zapped again.


    I grumbled. ¡°C¡¯mon Kojiki, work with me here.¡± A squeaking cart and footsteps were approaching. The drumbeat against my ribs quickened. I tugged up my jacket sleeves and scooped up my bootie like a loot digger.


    Kojiki shocked me through the fudging sleeve! I couldn¡¯t believe it. It was like a live wire had run sixty volts into my innards. For a second I lay grimacing at the current. Apparently the book didn¡¯t play nice.


    It was an evil manga. That¡¯s what I decided it was. What kinda manga hurts its wannabe readers?


    I shoved the book in a jacket pocket, clambered onto my feet, and rushed back. Luckily the book didn¡¯t protest as it banged against my side. I grabbed Sven¡¯s bag and peeked out the hall. The old bird lady was winding a corner just out of eyesight. Thank the constellations, she had her back turned to me. I slipped out the door and tiptoed a good distance from the back so she wouldn¡¯t suspect anything weird.


    In no time at all the staff member was approaching me, my malevolent manga, and the back door. I raised a hand to wave her over and ask about the price.


    Unfortunately, the senior book pusher gave me a scathing glower. I dropped the hand and chickened out.


    I thought about returning the book. Or paying at the counter. All reasonable ideas I was sure.


    But!


    I¡¯d been through an awful lot to get this book. Plus if I showed Kojiki, the woman¡¯d know I went in the backrooms. She¡¯d yell at me! I didn¡¯t want a woman with a vulture face screaming into my ears. I¡¯d heard horror stories of similar events from classmates about their grandparents and sometimes Mom.


    She wasn¡¯t paying attention to me yet. The old woman grumbled as she strained her cart with creaking joints. ¡°Stupid rich snobs, tearing into our best books for their stupid auction.¡± Her nostrils flared. ¡°Working me to the bone tonight, for what? I bet they won¡¯t read a single page of what they buy. No respect for the arts.¡±


    I halted at that. Scratched the back of my neck. Gosh. I¡¯d hate giving books to people who won¡¯t even try them. She¡¯s got a point there. Must¡¯ve worked with books a while to get a job in Kinokuniya. She¡¯d mastered the librarian dagger-glare for sure. And nobody liked rich snobs. I decided she wasn¡¯t really a vulture and more like a brooding eagle.


    As if delivering karmic justice on my enlightened thoughts, the eagle swept up to me, loose fabric flapping from her arms. ¡°Well? Finished?¡± She jammed a finger at the counter.


    ¡°I, uh, didn¡¯t buy anything.¡±


    This was technically true. Kojiki in my pocket felt like heavy lead.


    Her lips curled up, showing teeth that were a little sharp. ¡°Then, leave. Please.¡±


    Ah, the magic P-word. Honestly I was impressed she could stay that polite when her face was growing redder and redder.


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am sorry ma¡¯am thank you!¡±


    I fled from her presence half-expecting her to latch onto my shoulder with a talon.


    ¡°Whew! Close one.¡± I gasped for breath and leaned against a pillar. My fingers slid against Kojiki and the evil manga zinged.


    ¡°Guh. Lay it off, won¡¯t you?¡±


    The weather was getting dark. I glimpsed rain pelting from the mall¡¯s sliding doors. Should I head home? Yeah. Unhhh. It¡¯ll be a pain to walk. What about dinner?


    I chose to stop by Vi¡¯s place again. Sorta risky carrying contraband but a girl¡¯s gotta eat. I fidgeted and cleared my throat as I arrived at the counter, however, Vi merely motioned me to follow her and lead me to a table. The cafe was otherwise empty.


    I had to say it was a good meal. The sweet sense of victory combining with creamy vanilla and golden dough. I shoveled bites in with my spoon. A clatter made me look up but I was further blessed with a plate of chicken, eggs, and potatoes.


    ¡°Thanks, homie. You a real one.¡± I did my best not to glance down at Mr. Evil Manga, nestled out of view between my jacket and a table leg.


    The corners of Vi¡¯s lips tugged but she made no reply, heading to the back. Unseen pots and pans banged. A sink faucet gushed. The ruckus sounded as if Vi was cleaning in multiple places at once. How¡¯d she do that?


    I glanced at my reflection in my spoon. Short, tousled brown hair. Face a bit mousey. Lot of people mistook me for a middle-schooler. I was grinning like one at least.


    If I was honest with myself, I¡¯d never felt very accomplished in life. This here, this elation snagging a little book, was the best I¡¯d felt in a long time.


    Kinda sad thing to be proud of now that I thought about it. My mouth drooped. I wished I could be capable enough to help run a cafe. Heck I wished I could scrounge a minimum wage. And yeah my stomach was twisting, and yeah the high would run out, and yeah I¡¯d probably either return Kojiki or hide it away in shame like an ugly Christmas sweater. Still I wanted to savor what I had before it was snatched away.


    I had a sudden urge to fling my spoon away. Sabotage myself on my own terms before my luck dipped by itself. Why does Vi bother with me anyways? Probably thinks I¡¯m a hard worker or some bull poop. Probably feels sorry for me with my parents¡¯ situation. She¡¯s an idiot. I¡¯m a slacker. I¡¯m a freeloader.


    I¡¯m not even a real nihonjin or whatever. More of a Japanophile than a Japantowner. A faker. Yeah I got born in a certain household, whoop-de-doo. I can¡¯t do shizz. Sven¡¯s got his scholarships and Chuji¡¯s got his pool competitions. I¡¯m one of those psychics tricking everyone to fork over their money.


    I gripped my spoon hard. Stared it down like the utensil was my most hated enemy that I wanted to set on fire. I wanted it to snap in half, or bend over like ninety degrees, just so I had some way to let my server know that, hey, maybe she shouldn¡¯t gimme grub next time¡ª


    The spoon bent. Not the part I was holding¡ªthat would¡¯ve made a tad more sense¡ªbut the upper half caved. It looked like one of those hanging lamp posts you see in the suburbs.


    ¡°Shiiiiiitake mushrooms!¡± I gasped. I barely caught my tongue from screaming out obscenities. Grandpa wouldn''t¡¯ve wanted me cussing. Maybe that didn¡¯t matter if I was a devil-cursed shaman or something?


    That spoon bent on its own! What the happystack? I knew in my head I¡¯d wanted this, but nooo way was I prepared now that it happened! Is this utensil a defect? Is that a thing¡ªdefective spoons? Can you fail making spoons? Truly one of the world¡¯s most important and unanswered questions.


    Flustered, toast stuffed in my mouth, I shoved the spoon below my remaining food. Barely enough to cover. I hastily scraped a pile over it like burying a dead body.


    No sooner had I finished when a pair of heels clacked. I tightened up.


    Vi drifted over. ¡°How old are you, Cecelia?¡±


    ¡°Mrph¡ª¡± I swallowed. ¡°¡ªTurned sixteen a couple days ago.¡±


    She murmured to herself. ¡°Ah. About time, then.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    I placed an arm over the plate holding my crooked spoon. Super casual-like. Extra protection.


    Vi wasn¡¯t looking at the spoon, though. Nor the part of my jacket hiding Kojiki. She brushed her apron and tapped her fingers together. Her body swayed. ¡°Ah. It¡¯s not my place to tell you. That¡¯s up to your parents. You¡¯re growing into an adult. Do you know what that means?¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± My mouth hung open and stayed that way. I totally did not expect this. ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°It means your body is going through changes¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± I waved her off. ¡°I know that. We learned in science class.¡±


    She blinked several times. Silence. ¡°I don¡¯t think your class can prepare you for this. What I mean is you have inherited unusual traits from your parents, and your mom in particular¡ª¡±


    ¡°I got it, I gotchu!¡± I half-yelled. Geez, I was glad no one was around. I rose up from my seat fast. There was probably a good reason my parents didn¡¯t have Vi chaperone me as a kid. Small business owners be wack.


    I spun off, calling out, ¡°Thanks for the food! Catchu in another diurnal cycle!¡±


    Vi muttered, ¡°I should¡¯ve rephrased that.¡±

 Breaking Out Collectibles

    I ran. My shoes sloshed into puddles. Rain pelted my hood. A chill wind howled against my jacket. I did my best to protect Kojiki, the slimy git, and the book behaved by not shocking my arm wrapped around it. That was just as well because my other arm was busy carrying the bag with drinks for Sven. Is someone following? Please gods no.


    I whipped my head left and right but I didn¡¯t see anyone tailing me. No sirens, no police. People in raincoats and hoods and thick outerwear walked by on slick streets. Murmurs were drowned out in a hail of water. That was making me more tense by the second.


    When my lungs burned and I heaved for breath, my thinking cleared. Don¡¯t be a ninny. No one¡¯s after you.


    Wouldn¡¯t the bookstore trigger an alarm? If it didn¡¯t then it¡¯s not a big deal. I can return Kojiki tomorrow.


    Yeah. No harm done. I¡¯ll psyche myself to face the wrath of the eagle tomorrow. Or if I¡¯m lucky I¡¯ll have a nicer staff member to chew me out.


    Anyways you¡¯re not important. No one gives a darn about you.


    This last part succeeded in calming me. Though I wouldn¡¯t say the truth was comforting. I exhaled. My breath formed fog.


    The door to my house creaked open. ¡°Sorry I¡¯m late, Mom! I¡¯ll make dinner!¡±


    No reply. That didn¡¯t bother me. I locked the door, sighing with relief, and set my bag and jacket by a desk in my room. I swung into the kitchen.


    My cooking skills were bleh. Even I would admit it. I dashed out a chicken chili with cheese. Hopefully Mom wouldn¡¯t complain. She often didn¡¯t unless it was really abominable.


    Dad was still at work. I passed by a picture of him with me and my mom on a mantle. He worked in the SFPD. That¡¯s police. Detective. Was a former PI and transferred to state. Weird career path but it panned out.


    I carried a bowl of chili and a spoon to Mom in bed. ¡°Here, Mom. Chicken chili.¡±


    ¡°Muuuuh.¡± Mom¡¯s eyes cracked open a smidgen. She was lying face-up, covered in blankets. ¡°Hi honey.¡± She had a round face and soft features. Brown hair spilling about like mine. She opened her mouth. I spooned chili in.


    She ate and made no comment, her eyelids fluttering open and shut.


    When the bowl was almost empty, she leaned back and closed her eyes. That was my signal to put away the food.


    I clunked the bowl on a table in her room. I checked her medicine. Picked up little capped bottles sitting on the desk. Inspected ingredient labels. Modafinil, methylphenidate, bunch others. Running low again.


    Hypersomnia. ¡®S why my mom potatoes.


    Bowl went in the sink. Spoon¡ªwas it inclined just a smidge? No, no, that¡¯s my imagination. I dropped it in¡ªrefused eye contact. Y¡¯know, same way you treat monsters coming to your bed.


    Stuck Sven¡¯s drinks in the fridge. Dad wouldn¡¯t mind. I had my own spot and Dad had his. I padded to my own room. Finally.


    I found a pair of gloves and grabbed my evil manga.


    ¡°Owie. How are you doing that?¡± I¡¯d braced myself, and I didn¡¯t hurt as much as before through the gloves, but the sheer randomness was making me twitchy. Maybe Kojiki only zaps when I use my hands?


    The book dropped back down as I realized my desk and most of the floor were already cluttered.


    Aw, yeah, need to clear some space first.


    They say a room is a reflection of who you are. That¡¯s bull: a room is a free-for-all where your past and present selves battle for supremacy, and sometimes none of them win.


    My quarters were strewn with half-scribbled notepads, school papers, toys, and accumulated neat trinkets. Standing out among the wreckage was an overflowing laundry basket and equally packed backpack and large bookshelf.


    I¡¯d scattered clothes on my bed for easy access. On a windowsill sat my twice-zombified succulent Peppy, who I watered either every month or every year with diluted tea, and was currently yellowing his leaves. Had a lamp on my desk for homework.


    Sitting in my chair, I hastily swiped away piles of notebooks, a sketchpad, three caffeine cans, and snacks from my study area. That uncovered a small open area for the godsless book.


    Grimacing, I plunked Kojiki on my desk. I jabbed a finger at the cover. ¡°Look, buddy. I ain¡¯t got beef with you. I¡¯m just gonna read you. That¡¯s it. Capeesh?¡±


    It said nothing. Of course. Yipee.


    I pried the manga open. As my fingers traced the first page, shock-free, I had a strange sense Kojiki had given out, like a battery that had drained. Cold. Silent.


    Did it listen to me? Is it sleeping?


    Don¡¯t be an idiot. Whatever static stored in it just wore off. Someone must¡¯ve touched it with a real clingy cloth. Maybe a prank.


    Sure, sure, another part of my mind sneered. And spoons twist themselves. That part was fronting because in reality, it was cowering at whatever the frick was happening. More than that, I was plain curious. I felt myself shaking.


    I flipped a page. Then another. And another.


    The spreads showed kanji and images of two spectacular figures above a formless world. Gods, I guessed¡ªthey were drifting in robes like spirits, a gal in white, a guy in blue. Though I couldn¡¯t read most of the characters, I got the gist from the gestures and visuals. They shaped green earth into mounds like clay and used a giant frickin¡¯ spear to churn up the sea.


    Siiiick. Is this an adaptation? I guess this is a creation myth¡ªyikes.


    Everything went downhill from there. Okay, so the two married¡ªnever a good sign¡ªand this kid god on fire appears, but then the wife dies, and the dad kills the kid? And then he looks for his wife in the land of the dead, but then she hates him and wants to murder a thousand people every day, and then he¡¯s like I¡¯ll make more and also dead-land stinks yo¡ªso he bathes in a river and has more kids?


    Kojiki, wut? Bro got locked for a reason. I hope I¡¯m misreading this. Perhaps Kojiki: Record of the Ancients was the precursor to a thousand hopeless fanfics.


    I should¡¯ve been laughing. But I wasn¡¯t. I was too shook about everything today. My spine tingled. I knew this was only a yarn an artist had inked out¡ªbut my mind was expanding. Gods, evil, spoons, and everything in between. What if some of that wasn¡¯t a lie?


    It was creeping me out. As I read, I had a twisting in my stomach. I couldn¡¯t stop.


    I did learn what the cover was about.


    Okay, so the dude had three kids from a nice bath, and one is this sun goddess, Amaterasu. And sun lady had this whole oath contest with her bro Susanno, where she spat out his sword and he hacked up her beads, and then her bro went all raging ¡®cuz he won and wreaked up heaven¡ªtypical bro behavior I¡¯ve heard¡ªand she freaked and ran into a cave. The whole heaven and earth is plunged in darkness because the sun is, like, eclipsed.


    Cliffhanger, that part. I hesitated a little before turning the page. How does the universe get out of that pickle? Then, well. I couldn¡¯t have guessed.


    Then one strong god lifts up the entrance after the other gods try luring her out with a humongous mirror¡ªman even gods can¡¯t resist a good beauty product¡ªand bam, perfect picture moment. Sun lady and guy with big rock and all the gods lined up staring as bearded old dudes. Huh. Makes sense.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    That was the tipping point where I was sucked into a whirlwind of events and characters. Emperors and ordinary folks and descendants of gods crossing paths and pulling off horrific shenanigans. Ones where lots of people died or got randomly screwed over. The sheer violence, splashed in graphic detail, was making me queasy. I wavered on shutting the book.


    Only, one final part stood out more than the others.


    After the gods, the monsters started showing up.


    A huge serpent with eight heads, with a sword in its belly. A white hare playing wingman for the descendant of a god. An eagle serving as a messenger for deities¡ª


    Forget the people. Forget the gods! I gotta see those. My eyes glued to the pages, lasering in on any non-human to find what they were up to.


    They were smart as people, often smarter, and always strange¡ªa cat attacking villages, biting flesh, savage as a mountain beast¡ªa white tiger prowling the sky, guarding the west by controlling wind and metal¡ªa black fox changing into a woman, mingling with men¡ªand from them countless more creatures. A few I was familiar with from shows and manga¡ªyour kappa and tanuki and wolves and such.


    As I thumbed through, my fingers caught on a hard material.


    Eh?


    I leafed to the spot and my mouth dropped open.


    Instead of a regular page, there was a deep chasm. Multiple layers of papers had been hollowed out. In this carved-up hole sat a black container, like a rectangular slab of steel, which had caution tape crisscrossing it.


    In the center was a big label below a lock, and in each of four corners, four metal clasps.


    What in the name of honey-bread? I couldn¡¯t even think as I studied the slab.


    The label read, Property of the Government of Japan. Do not open.


    When the wheels in my brain started spinning again, I pondered if this was a collector¡¯s item. Like how DVD boxes sometimes had figurines or limited-edition shirts. Gods I wished I had more of those, but this was too off, wasn¡¯t it? Unless the artist was an eccentric, who would want to ruin their own work to squeeze in an ominous case?


    Do not open?


    Of course I was going to open it.


    Carefully, I probed a couple pages that came after the locked slab. If it¡¯s a collectible I should find a key. That¡¯d be cute actually. Turning the slab over and inspecting the remainder of the book, I received another, unwelcome revelation.


    No way. I¡¯ve been juked!


    That is, if I¡¯d been a regular customer, I''d have been juked. A sheaf of pages followed the slab, except they¡¯d been torn off almost entirely, leaving a jutting, ripped spine of partial texts. Between the slab and the back cover, I estimated there was enough space to stash a second black container. Which was missing.


    Dang. No wonder Kojiki was a touchy guy.


    Someone had come ¡®round and taken out pages before I did. Before it even arrived in the bookstore. Out-thieving the thief. Why?


    Only one way to know. I flipped Kojiki back and grabbed the black box. It was wedged in, so I couldn¡¯t ease it out of its border of manga paper. I had to open the lock, apparently. The one secured by four metal clasps.


    ¡°Aight, lessee¡ªscrewdriver? Or a paperclip?¡±


    I¡¯d heard you could pick locks with a paperclip but honestly I¡¯d never figured that out. I stepped over debris and scurried to my dad¡¯s garage, grabbing a bumblebee Stanley from his toolbox. Dad liked working with his hands.


    ¡°Mmph.¡± The flat-edge tip wedged against the box. Traced the edges by the clasps. There was a slit¡ªtoo thin for my fat fingies¡ªbut I was hoping to at least get a glimpse of the inside of the container. I tried lifting up an opening but the screwdriver was the one most in danger of breaking. What is this thing made of? It won¡¯t budge!


    I poked the lock for good measure and immediately felt stupid. Can¡¯t do anything without the key.


    Paperclip? I gave it a shot. Bent over, fished about, and fetched one clamping together a bunch of discarded essay fragments. The thin metal wire stuck in the lock and promptly bent.


    Guh! What am I doing?


    I wasn¡¯t an amateur lock-picker. Or a book-safe researcher. I didn¡¯t have the finesse to finagle this fatboi.


    That made me¡­boil.


    I¡¯d gone this far by myself. I wanted to at least see this through myself too.


    Who would help me? My dad? Seriously, a policeman helping his kid pilfer a safe? My mom? I might get a handful of words out before she zonked. If I went to Kinokuniya, I would have to admit I¡¯d filched out of their inventory. I¡¯d get fined, or worse.


    Gritting my teeth, I gripped the box hard and yanked. It was stupid, I knew, but I was so. Freaking. Done.


    ¡°Hrmgh! Hnnnngh!¡±


    Clasps clicked. The box hurled open.


    Silver dust flew up and assaulted my eyes and mouth. I coughed, flailing, shielding with my arms. ¡°Ackpthgh! Kuh! Uck!¡±


    Glitter? Tiny motes settled down on my desk like fine snow. When I deemed the air sufficiently clear, I lowered my arms. Yes, the box had opened. Its fasteners had hinged apart as if someone had undone them correctly.


    ¡°I¡ªwha¡ªhow¡ª?¡±


    No answer.


    I pumped a fist in the air. ¡°Oh hecks yeah!¡±


    Nestled in the box were a copper mirror and a bronze spoon.


    ¡°Oooh.¡± I picked up the mirror, holding it up near my lamp to throw it in the light. Its shape reminded me of the one I¡¯d read earlier about the sun goddess, round with a large reflective portion. Carved on it were four island mountains, one in each cardinal direction, surrounded by crests of a sea and many animals.


    I rubbed its surface. Hard and smooth. Some kind of nickel? It was bronze and exactly what some dude in archaeology might find digging out an underground palace. Despite that, polished, clean, really well-preserved. Sweeet.


    As for the spoon¡ªthe scooping end was interesting, I guess. A little longer and thinner than the type you¡¯d use to eat beans off a plate. I thought it could have uses other than slurping food. Not being silver was also a plus.


    Let¡¯s try that later. Hadn¡¯t had a good time with spoons today.


    I held the mirror up to my face, pretending I was the sun lady in Kojiki and shining it around my room. ¡°Ooh, yeah, that¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about, gonna make me leave my cave here¡ª¡±


    My head was dizzy.


    A slow pounding echoed in my temple as the mirror panned over my piles of belongings. ¡°¡ªUh?¡±


    I squinted at the toys, notepads, crammed books, and snack packaging being reflected back on me.


    Has it always been this messy? My room usually got me vibing, but today it was making me a little nauseous.


    The headache intensified. My skull throbbed like a sledgehammer was whacking it from inside. ¡°Aaah!¡±


    I bumped against a can of coffee. Knocked it down. I leaned back to focus through the pain. What is happening?


    My fingers slipped. I dropped the mirror.


    A loud crash jolted me from my chair. I leaped up. ¡°Fiddlesticks!¡±


    On the floor, the mirror had shattered in over twenty pieces.


    ¡°Aw, no, no, no!¡± I groaned. My headache only worsened. I winced. Scrunched my face.


    ¡°Okay, here¡¯s what we¡¯re going to do,¡± I muttered to myself. ¡°We¡¯re gonna close the book and get a broom.¡±


    I plucked out the bronze spoon, stuck it on my table, and grasped Kojiki. With a grunt I shuffled across the floor like an undead re-learning to walk, only for the book to slip out and tumble.


    It vanished under a pile of sheets and books and knickknacks. ¡°Drat.¡±


    I tried to bend down, but my head issued a violent protest. ¡°Owww.¡± Forget it. Forget cleaning up either. I¡¯ll deal with it later.


    With a whine, I flopped onto my bed. ¡°Whatta day. Why can¡¯t someone else deal for me?¡±


    An image of a card popped into my mind.


    For a second I lay there. Struggling to think. Cleaning.


    Hadn¡¯t Vi told me something about that? Just call if you don¡¯t feel comfortable in your house. Or get anything strange in it.


    ¡°Aw, why the heck not?¡± I rolled in my bed and plucked out the card from Vi on my desk.


    Kuro Cleaning Services


    Free Trial Home Cleaning! Perfect for Shut-Ins! Ask about our Protection Services too!


    Yep. Phone number above the anime maid and the blurb.


    I dialed. An automated, female voice sang out. Welcome to Kuro! What service would you like today?


    ¡°Free home clean,¡± I mumbled. ¡°And an aspirin, dang it.¡±


    Certainly! Please state your time and address if possible.


    ¡°Tomorrow morning at 7¡­¡± I trailed off. I guessed it made sense to have an automated voice for shut-ins, but I didn¡¯t know about giving randos my house address.


    The cheery voice continued. You have requested: Free Trial Home Cleaning at 7:00 am tomorrow. Please confirm!


    Huh? I hadn¡¯t given a location. Whatever. It was a stupid idea anyways. ¡°Yeah, sure.¡±


    Thank you! We hope you enjoy your service!


    The line clicked. Guess I won¡¯t be getting anything. Fitting for my life. I chucked my phone. It skittered across the desk.


    I cracked open a can of iced tea and poured a stream out for Peppy, my potted plant. Then, head resting on my pillow, I raised the can in mock toast to the succulent and then Kojiki, at least the last place the book had run off to. ¡°A cold one for the boys.¡±


    I drank. I hit the hay and slept like Mom.

 My Maid Knows Feng Shui

    When I woke I was greeted with a splitting headache. Contrary to health science and everything I anticipated, the pain had barely eased.


    ¡°Fuuudge. I have school today.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t afford to be late. If I call in sick it¡¯ll bash my grades. Plus, wasn¡¯t I going to hang with Sven before class?


    My head pounded.


    The doorbell rang.


    Sheesh. Who¡¯d bother me this early? I dragged myself up and clomped out of my chamber. It had to be Dad or someone I knew. Years ago, the doorbell¡¯s cover had fallen off which meant a lot of delivery guys knocked on the door, thinking our ringer was broken.


    My ache lightened a small amount as I crossed the hall. I opened the door. ¡°Yo, Dad, thought you¡¯d be out on your case¡ª¡±


    I froze. It wasn¡¯t my dad.


    It was Vi from the cafe. Dressed as a frickin¡¯ maid.


    I rubbed my eyes. ¡°Uh. Um. The time is 6:50 am, Pacific Standard Time, and I have officially descended into madness. I am currently lying in a hospital being treated for hallucinations due to neural seizures. I am being administered ineffective painkillers, the diagnosis is uncertain, and I am lying in a coma. How close am I?¡±


    I looked. Vi was still there.


    She bowed. ¡°Good morning, Cecelia. I¡¯m here from Kuro Cleaning Services.¡±


    ¡°You can pull me off life support. I¡¯ve seen enough.¡±


    The woman tilted her head. ¡°Are you okay? May I come in?¡±


    My face flushed. ¡°No. Yes?¡±


    I stepped back to let her in. Vi¡ªthis was Vi, right?¡ªhad been carrying a red umbrella, with a fake sword handle. It must¡¯ve been an expensive version since the handle looked realistic. Black sharkskin over metal, complete with a hand guard. Normally that stuff looked tacky on anyone, but somehow she pulled it off. I think her lack of self-awareness sold it.


    The umbrella went down and to a corner. She was hauling cleaning supplies in a cart and had on a rather modest maid outfit. Black-white, with pockets on the sides and the front of the frock. A black folded fan was tucked at her waist.


    I blurted out the first question on my mind. ¡°Vi, do you cosplay?¡±


    She gave a polite but blank stare. ¡°Cosplay?¡± I had a mental image of a dog being called ¡°cute¡± without understanding the meaning.


    I pointed to her uniform. ¡°Which anime?¡±


    Vi didn¡¯t bat an eye, which unnerved me more than any answer. She pulled the cart with her into the hall. ¡°Where would you like me to clean first?¡±


    I shot back, ¡°Why are you in a French maid outfit?¡±


    ¡°Seikatsu.¡± She smoothed the hem of her dress. ¡°This was serviceable back in the day. Why change?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    Vi was making a beeline towards¡ªoh noooo. ¡°Would your room be a good place to start?¡±


    ¡°Wait! Wait!¡± I ran after her. Girl was giving me a heart attack.


    Fortunately, she stopped at the foot of my quarters. Unfortunately, she had already obtained a good view of it. ¡°Ah. I see the problem.¡±


    I huffed and folded my arms. ¡°My room is not a problem. Just ask Peppy. He loves it.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± She reached into her pocket. ¡°Aspirin?¡±


    ¡°Mrgh.¡± I eyed the small pink tablet. Not an imposter then. Didn¡¯t even ask about Peppy. What a weird delusion. Maybe I¡¯m trapped in a matrix. Well, if it helps, why not?


    When I took it, the maid said, ¡°If it makes you comfortable, I will not throw anything away at first. I will simply rearrange everything so you won¡¯t be harmed.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t be harmed?¡± I hated how stupid I sounded. Blasted headache.


    The maid took a floral spray from her cart. ¡°Yes. Please, take a seat in the kitchen and rest. You need to be away from the source until geomancy is applied.¡±


    ¡°What, geomancy? Earth divination?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d know it more as Feng Shui. In Japanese we call it Fusui. Same thing.¡± Spray puffed the air as she stepped in.


    ¡°Rearranging furniture? Wait wait wait.¡± My mind raced as I thought about Kojiki and the broken mirror. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were into that jazz. Can I¡ªcan I watch you work?¡±


    That was the best I could think of on my feet. At least I¡¯d see if she noticed Kojiki or the mirror pieces¡ªor tried something drastic, like break a window and dip from the house.


    ¡°If you¡¯d like. You have school soon, don¡¯t you? You should eat breakfast. This shouldn¡¯t take very long.¡±


    I edged into the kitchen, keeping a watch on Maid Vi. I thought a second and settled into a chair, pouring myself a cereal. I¡¯ll eat fast. She can¡¯t leave without passing the kitchen. The only other option is jumping a window. Hmm. Could she fit? She did say I could come in at any time. That doesn¡¯t sound like a good heist-in-progress. I grabbed milk. I needed a spoon.


    Spoon. Oh yeah.


    I barged into my room and snatched the bronze spoon off my table, stuffing it in my jeans pocket. Did she see? I snuck a shifty-eyed glance at Vi.


    It didn¡¯t appear so. The maid had been busy taking a feather duster from her cart, which was loitering outside my room. She smiled. ¡°Everything all right? I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯m scaring you somehow.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Sure.¡± I backed away and ran to the kitchen feeling like an idiot, because only idiots carry metal spoons in their pockets in their own home.


    I jammed the spoon into my cereal and ate while cursing myself. Dummy! What¡¯ve you done? The moment anyone sees Kojiki, they¡¯ll ask about it for sure! Then you¡¯ll have one witness who could rat out that you stole it from Kinokuniya!


    Stealing a normal book, okay, maybe not that bad. I could work out a plea deal. Pay the bookstore. Return the item. Get screamed at.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Stealing a book with a strange lock-box and a ripped-out portion¡ªthat, I felt in a cold knot in my stomach, was capital-b Bad.


    My gut churned.


    I got a glass of water for the aspirin. Then I thought maybe I shouldn¡¯t take drugs from a stranger who dressed as a maid offering free services while believing in a cultic pseudoscience disproved for literal centuries.


    I sighed. Sometimes, I cannot believe I was raised by a cop. Dad will be hecking furious.


    The spoon scraped against my cereal bowl. I heard rattling and thumps like books and papers and junks were being moved around.


    Okay, calm down, calm down. My natural floor debris will slow any progress. I gotta stop her before she finds my shock manga and its contents, is all. I will let her leave, while smiling politely, and never ever ever go to her place ever again!


    I tasted copper. The bronze spoon went up and I munched the last few bits of ¡®fast. I had to angle the utensil¡ª


    Oh, carrot cakes! The spoon had folded in on itself. My eyes widened. I forced myself to stay silent.


    Thinking quick, I put away my bowl and stuffed the busted bronze spoon in my dishwasher. The washer shut with a bam.


    Whew. One less awkward item to explain. Why, oh why, are so many spoons breaking around me? What¡¯re the chances?


    At that moment Vi emerged and set down a cup of green tea.


    I stood stock-still. My blood pounded in my chest. The throb in my temple had lessened somewhat. This allowed my thoughts to be further immersed in panic. Cuuuttlefishhhh.


    I still refused the aspirin, which sat bare on the table taunting me.


    Her tone was filled with concern. ¡°You won¡¯t take it?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡ªnot yet. Had a big midnight snack, y¡¯know? Gotta let myself¡ªdigest.¡±


    She bobbed her head. ¡°I will work faster. I am sure the pain must be terrible for you.¡±


    ¡°Never mind that. Lemme see.¡± Acting as cool as possible, I strolled with her into my room.


    Immediately I howled. ¡°What have you done?¡±


    The front half had been swept clean. My snacks¡ªthey were lined up in rows and columns, army style. My clothes¡ªfolded on the bed! My notepads, books¡ªstacked, categorized. Toys and doodads huddled in the back. And my drinks! They sat on my windowsill like victims of a firing squad, backs to the glass, next to Peppy. Reminding me when to water him!


    ¡°How am I supposed to find anything?¡± I screamed, totally blowing any composure.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I drew you a map.¡± Vi dipped her head and held out a paper with both arms.


    I snatched it. She had neatly labeled my belongings in a layout of my ruined room. Also, she had drawn four little animal icons in the cardinal directions. A tiger, a dragon, a phoenix, and a snake. ¡°What is this terrible design?¡±


    ¡°Feng Shui,¡± she explained with gentle earnestness. ¡°It¡¯s incomplete, but the goal is directing harmonious energy. You can see earth, water, and air are parts of your room which require balance. For example, the azure dragon in the east and the white tiger in the west represent wood and metal¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stick a pancake in it, Vi! That¡¯s bunk and you know it! Change it! Put my stuff back!¡± With dumbstruck horror I watched her move even more scattered toys and¡ªorganize them.


    Her azure eyes met mine. She sounded hesitant, as if saying anything would cause me to fling myself off the nearest cliff. ¡°You are growing older, Cecelia. Your body and aptitudes are changing. This is healthier for you until you become more adapted.¡±


    ¡°Crackpot,¡± I mumbled. ¡°Hold up. Whaddya mean, adapted?¡±


    Vi made a motion to my head.


    I slapped a hand on my forehead. ¡°What?¡±


    It was then I realized. As Vi kept on tidying up the place, my headache was becoming fainter and fainter.


    ¡°Are you seriously suggesting¡ª?¡± I broke off, not even willing to admit how ridiculous I would sound. ¡°I¡¯m having a headache because my room has bad Feng Shui?¡±


    Vi simply nodded. ¡°This is temporary. Don¡¯t worry. It will become like how it was in time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never had this problem before!¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t grow enough.¡± Her reply was mild.


    I worked my jaw. The audacity. This woman dared barge into my house and mess with my stuff, all while dressing as a maid and babbling on about mystic nonsense? ¡°Prove it.¡±


    She stopped mid-way through hefting up a textbook. ¡°I¡¯m afraid, given your present emotional state, you are not ready for that.¡±


    ¡°Prove. It.¡± I glowered.


    ¡°Ah.¡± Vi glanced down at herself. She muttered. ¡°I''m not comfortable changing.¡±


    My eyebrows shot up but I figured I¡¯d misheard. Changing your mind, was what she meant. Even if she didn¡¯t have an accent, Vi was a foreigner after all.


    She met my glare with a gentle smile. ¡°Someone else can do that for you. Talking to your mom is best, though perhaps your dad can help as well.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°If this is a prank this isn¡¯t funny, Vi. I¡¯ll tell my parents you legit waltzed in in a ridiculous maid costume and tried to scam me into following a furniture cult.¡±


    ¡°You can tell them that.¡± She kept cleaning, humming a little as she worked. A pleasant nursery tune.


    Plan B. Let''s scare her off! I can take her. I¡¯ll open a window and push her¡ª


    I stiffened.


    She had stepped to the shards of the mirror on the floor.


    ¡°Oh, Cecelia¡­¡± Her voice had gone quiet.


    She sounds sad. Why does she sound sad? I opened my mouth but nothing came out. My stomach flip-flopped. She was looking down at the shattered pieces and fetching a dustpan from her cart.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid this may be beyond repair. Is it okay if I throw this out?¡±


    My mind engaged itself in heated debate. Destroy the evidence? Keep the evidence?


    I don¡¯t wanna be fined!


    Destroy the evidence. ¡°Yee. Yeh.¡±


    It was a hazard anyways. She probably thinks it was expensive. Given the mirror¡¯s intricate carvings and cast nickel-like material, I was surprised it had come out of a manga too. Kinda old-fashioned.


    Coulda sold it at an auction. Way to pay yo bills, Cecelia. Hm¡ªauction. Wasn¡¯t that eagle in Kinokuniya complaining about rich people doing an auction?


    ¡°Okay. Excuse me.¡± Vi tugged on a pair of white gloves and took a broom.


    Aaaaaah. I watched the pieces get swept up and dumped into a bag. This must be what criminals felt like disposing of their victims.


    Vi moved on, unconcerned. She was plopping a last set of comics and paperbacks away¡ª


    Kojiki! I held my breath. I readied my legs to sprint and grab it. She took hold of my evil manga.


    It didn¡¯t zap her. Bummer.


    My eyebrows furrowed as the maid treated Kojiki exactly as any other text. She slid the manga into a spot in a pile. Alphabetical order. Then she put a secondhand shonen on top of it. Within a minute it was tucked away among my other volumes.


    ¡°I¡¯m done, Cecelia. Do you feel better?¡±


    I patted my head. The migraine had ceased. Relief hit me like a freight train. I held out my hand and tapped a foot. ¡°All right. What¡¯d you want me to sign?¡±


    She blinked as if I had spoken an alien tongue. ¡°What do you¡ª?¡±


    I sighed. ¡°Dawg, I know how this works. You¡¯re gonna make me sign a debt-ridden contract, or make me your assistant, or force me to spread the word about this joy-luck-cleaning abracadabra.¡±


    Vi yipped and glanced around the room. ¡°Dog? Where? What do you mean?¡± Her expression was genuinely confused.


    ¡°There¡¯s a catch. There¡¯s always a catch.¡± I crooked my hand in a silent motion of ¡°hurry up¡±.


    What I was really gonna do, was give any paperwork she forked over straight to my dad. You did not mess with SFPD.


    Her eyes darted to my hand, then to my chagrined face, apparently making a connection as she mumbled, ¡°Oh.¡±


    The housemaid set down for me my backpack and Sven¡¯s drink bag. She bowed. ¡°This is a free trial. No strings attached. If you want, please call again. I hope you like it. Take care of yourself.¡±


    Without preamble she hauled the cart off. My door opened and shut.


    I stood alone for a moment. I put on my shoes. ¡°What. The. Heck.¡±

 Get Svend

    ¡°Hey, Sven! My dude, my man!¡± I presented his drinks with a flourish.


    ¡°Hey, Cece.¡± He accepted it, taking out his matcha green tea. ¡°Nice. Vi¡¯s place?¡±


    I shuddered. ¡°Don¡¯t mention her. Gonna have to bleach my eyes.¡±


    Sven cocked his head. We were standing at a street corner in front of a snack shop. White banner with black kanji, sizzling squid balls behind glass. Cars whizzed by. The euphoria of a clear head countered wafting smog and gray mist, and kept me giddy. He made no comment and gave me a fish-shaped cake tucked in a wrap. ¡°Taiyaki?¡±


    I bit into the goodie. ¡°Red bean! You monster!¡± Chocolate-custard-red bean. That was the ordained flavor hierarchy.


    ¡°Can¡¯t spoil you now.¡± A smirk quirked his lips. ¡°How¡¯s the job search?¡±


    I sulked in my jacket and kicked a stray pebble. In the distance was the pagoda of Peace Plaza in J-Town, but here we were surrounded by the slat windows and white walls of shops for the everyday man. Each store was uniform. Squared-up with overhangs declaring names, stoically facing slick, rain-washed streets.


    I pinched my thumb and forefinger and showed the number to Sven.


    ¡°Let me guess. It¡¯s the interviews you¡¯re bombing.¡±


    ¡°If I can get them¡ªwhich I almost never can!¡± I nommed my taiyaki and crumpled up its wrap. ¡°It¡¯s all so fake. The way everyone talks, the way they want you to talk¡ªI¡¯d rather work with people who like me for who I am. Same way I choose my friends.¡±


    Sven nodded as he stabbed a plastic straw into his tea. ¡°And how many friends have you made so far?¡±


    ¡°Yowza.¡± Whatta burn. ¡°Bro, lay off that smoke, unless you wanna catch these hands.¡± I bumped his shoulder with a fist.


    He gave me an intense stare as he sipped, leaving the drink bag on the pavement. ¡°You should consider it. Hiding your true self and pretending is important to getting along with people. It makes your life easier.¡±


    A lot of girls chattered about Sven. I didn¡¯t really get why. Sure, he was tall, with sharp, dark eyes and short, combed black hair. He had fashion sense. He¡¯d put on a large, stylish black jacket, with large pockets, and stood ramrod-straight. He was muscular and had a constantly hard, smoldering expression. I s¡¯ppose rumors he received fat scholarships helped too. Classmates whispered and giggled as they called him dangerous. He was just a bro to me.


    I didn¡¯t have the heart to tell the girls Sven was more interested in his cat than any of them. Speaking of which¡ª


    I watched Sven pull a white saucer out of his pocket. Yes, straight-up, a small dish which he set on the ground.


    ¡°Oh.¡± I pointed at the extra milk Vi had slipped into Sven¡¯s bag. ¡°That¡¯s not for you, is it?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He took the cup and poured some into the saucer.


    Out of a dark corner, a small black cat with emerald eyes trotted into view. She had a package wrapped in paper in her mouth.


    ¡°Ayo, Alicia! Where you been?¡± I took the milk cup and shook it at the cat. She ignored me and dropped the package at Sven¡¯s feet, meowing.


    Sven reached down and patted Alicia, or Ali for short. ¡°She was bringing me groceries. Thanks, Ali.¡±


    Alicia purred, rubbing her head against his hands.


    ¡°Nijiya?¡± I guessed. I recognized the salmon sashimi Sven was putting into his backpack. From a supermarket blocks over.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Sven bent down holding the milk as Alicia licked from the saucer. He was talking to the cat. ¡°Are you tired? Yeah, I know we have a lot of work. Can¡¯t be helped.¡±


    I grabbed the milk from Sven. Hoped to forge a peace treaty. ¡°Can I try? I can feed her. Alicia! Remember me?¡±


    Alicia hissed and batted a paw at my leg. I leaped back.


    Sven took the milk back and poured more. ¡°Apparently she does.¡±


    Alicia hated me. I didn¡¯t know why.


    Sven rose to finish his matcha, but then stared at the receipt on it. ¡°What is this?¡± he demanded, yanking the paper off.


    I¡¯d almost forgotten about that. I sneaked a peek over his shoulder.


    Incident Report PC962 83912. Tell Tommy to drop it and leave by 1. 91%.


    ¡°Dunno,¡± I shrugged. ¡°Who¡¯s Tommy? What incident?¡±


    ¡°You¡ª!¡± He jerked away from me, as if abruptly aware of my presence. ¡°None of your business.¡±


    As if to concur, Alicia hissed, her tail waving at me in warning.


    Sven rubbed his head and groaned. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. Really. This is what I get for blocking her messages. Vi¡¯s asking me to look up a police record. For my school project.¡±


    ¡°School project?¡± I thought a little. ¡°PC-blah-blah means theft, right?¡±


    ¡°Ah, you¡¯d know, wouldn¡¯t you. Yes, there was a string of major thefts recently. Thought I¡¯d write a report on it. You know the police explorers program?¡±


    ¡°Barely. That you¡¯re in it.¡± I frowned. ¡°Why¡¯d she ask you?¡±


    He gave a small smile. ¡°Because unlike a real officer, I¡¯m available. What¡¯s more, since I¡¯m studying in school, I have easier access to records than a normal civilian.¡±


    ¡°Ohhhh. I got you.¡± His reaction still didn¡¯t click though. ¡°What¡¯s the big deal with the theft? What got stolen?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°The problem is more that the thefts may be related to students. Which I am interested in, as a fellow student.¡±


    ¡°Huh. I always saw you more as a homicide guy.¡± I scratched my head. ¡°Isn¡¯t Tommy a teammate in Chuji¡¯s swim team? You know him?¡±


    Sven folded his arms and gave me a stern look. ¡°No. I¡¯ve talked to him a couple times. That¡¯s all. Can¡¯t say I know him.¡±


    I caught his chest rising and falling fast. His stance was more rigid than before. His eyes flared. ¡°Then why¡ªif you don¡¯t know him, why are you being asked to talk to him¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m very busy these days.¡± Sven ran a hand over his hair, doing his darn best to keep his tone level. ¡°I might talk to this guy. Might not. It¡¯s only a tip that¡ª¡±


    He shot a look at Alicia. The cat was standing and regarding him with a rather serious expression.


    ¡°¡ªthat I might be in for a very challenging, and therefore high-stress school project. I¡¯ve been seeking to obtain a lead for a while. Not exactly like this, but a lead nonetheless.¡±


    I raised up my hands. ¡°You do you, man.¡± Getting straight-A¡¯s was outta my league.


    He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. They jangled as he twirled the ring with a finger. ¡°I assume you need a ride.¡±


    I scrambled to his side. ¡°I call shotgun!¡±


    Alicia snarled, slashed at my jeans, and narrowly avoided shredding the fabric.


    I gulped and let her hop next to Sven. ¡°You call shotgun.¡±


    ***


    San Francisco International High School. Most of the day wasn¡¯t worth a mention. Only, around noon, I wanted to talk to my other friend, Chuji. He wasn¡¯t in the cafeteria.


    Hmm. Can¡¯t imagine the dude skipping a meal. Swim meet? Oh, wait. He¡¯s going to travel with the team to his competition. Must be prepping.


    I lugged my tray over to the school pool. Past the gate, two students in black caps were swimming, while three more were sitting by the locker rooms, rolling up bags and sifting through their backpacks. The one sitting nearest the edge was my boy Chuji.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Yo!¡± I walked over as Chuji took a bite from a sandwich. He had mussy brown hair and big brown eyes over a pair of thick glasses. His swim trunks appeared a small fit to his body. Behind his back, people called him ¡°chub¡±. Stood for li¡¯l chubby.


    I mainly knew that because of the clique I sometimes hiked with in the forest. My relationship to that group was¡ªuh, bizarre. Didn¡¯t count as hanging, like with Sven or Chuji. So I didn¡¯t think much of ¡®em.


    Chuji¡¯s other two teammates withdrew from me as if I was infected with leprosy. No surprise.


    Chuji himself waved, cheerful, and adjusted his glasses. ¡°You want a pork sandwich and I know that because I¡¯m very precise you see. I can tell from looking at you that you¡¯re a meat eater, however, the meat is usually consumed in an unhealthy amount and of unhealthy quality.¡±


    ¡°Bruh, I just want my food. Trade you.¡± I offered him a veggie burger¡ªa good deal if I said so myself¡ªand he swapped for a second sandwich he had in his lunch bag. His mom made it. It was goood.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to SJ in this weather?¡± I waved a hand at dreary clouds. ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried you¡¯ll slip in wet plaster before you reach the water?¡±


    ¡°Do you know who the painter Minoru Nomata is? In most of his paintings he would draw broken and blue worlds with large destroyed buildings. I go out to swim because I am reminded of his work.¡±


    Wish I had that conviction. No matter how much other students made fun of Chuji, they couldn¡¯t deny his rankings in the pool. No one was sure how he regularly backstroked and butterflied his way to fourth, third, and sometimes second place.


    ¡°You guys are driving off at four, right?¡± Me, I saw Chuji¡¯s keen eye scanning his buds as they lapped, and his competitive, ¡°I-see-you¡± nod as one splashed a fantabulous kick, and figured there wasn¡¯t much mystery to his win streak.


    Chuji jiggled a leg and peered towards the locker rooms. ¡°Hernandez is a star who demonstrates a tremendous and clean breaststroke. Our own star Tommy must both exceed him and compete in the freestyle. Over twelve nights we have kept a lane open for Tommy.¡± He pointed at the far end of the pool, which was empty and had floaty flags marking a border.


    ¡°Yuck. Practice. Must be intense if you¡¯re cutting it close.¡±


    When his friends called and waved their arms¡ª¡°Chuji! Chuji!¡±¡ªand he hefted himself and loped to the pool, I took my cue to leave before I inflicted their labors with bad juju.


    When I passed the locker rooms, however, I heard a familiar voice and stopped.


    It was Sven¡¯s.


    What¡¯s he doing here? Shouldn¡¯t he be in class? I inched towards the lockers and rounded the outside of the rooms. To my shock, I glimpsed Sven and quickly ducked my head behind cover. He was standing with eyes narrowed. When he spoke, his voice cut the air like a knife. His tall, ripped frame loomed over someone lanky pressed against a wall.


    ¡°¡ªWhere is it, Tommy? Where¡¯s the book?¡±


    Tommy, the lanky figure, was petrified, his whole body quaking. ¡°I don¡¯t know! What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb with me. You¡¯ve been given a warning, and if you knew who issued you that warning, you¡¯d hand me the book and be grateful. I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re going to miss out on swim practice¡ªlike I said, drop it, and leave now.¡±


    Tommy squeaked, doing his best to straighten and meet Sven¡¯s fiery, slow-burning gaze. ¡°Why do you care? You want to win more points with the authorities, don¡¯t you? My team was charged to transport it. Mine! It¡¯s my job, not yours!¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t about me!¡± Sven shouted, and Tommy flinched. ¡°If this was up to me, we wouldn¡¯t be talking.¡± His hand inched to a pocket and he growled. ¡°Pretending to be an angel, are you? I know what you were planning. You were going to go off on your swim trip to San Jose, then hand the book to a contact in SJ behind everyone¡¯s back. Behind your own team¡¯s back. Pathetic. To think I once worked with you.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t done anything wrong!¡± Tommy¡¯s eyes were shifting left and right and I pulled back so he wouldn¡¯t see me. He was gunning for an escape route. The guy was an athlete, after all, and only Sven¡¯s admittedly terrifying bulk pinned him down.


    I was utterly speechless. What are they talking about? Book? Were they playing a video game together and Tommy started trolling? That was maaaybe possible but also nothing they said made sense?


    Sven grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. ¡°This is for your own good, idiot! Listen, abandoning the book and leaving is preferable to whatever rewards you were promised. It simply isn¡¯t worth the risk.¡±


    The other student chuckled. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand, would you? The bond I have to my teacher.¡±


    Sven slammed him against the wall. He growled.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think taunting me will work. I¡¯ll search the whole campus if I have to. Where is it?¡±


    Tommy coughed, then laughed. ¡°You¡¯ll never find it. My loyalty to my Master is undying!¡±


    Sven shoved Tommy and let him go, breathing hard. He then took a black rounded device, like a handheld radio, from his pocket. Static crackled. ¡°Shadow-2 to Marathon. We¡¯ve got a mole. Marathon-3 refuses to cooperate. Request reinforcements to search campus for the item. Extra security ASAP. Mission is FUBAR, I say again, mission is FUBAR.¡±


    He whirled around to stomp away¡ªin my direction. Naturally, I fled quiet as possible.


    ***


    I wanted to tail Sven. Duh. To increasing frustration, I ran into several hiccups. First I had to wait for Sven¡¯s rage meter to cool down. While I was gasping for breath huddled by an evergreen, Tommy staggered past, white and sweating as if he¡¯d encountered a monster.


    Since when does Sven go edgelord over a book? A book¡ªlike Kojiki!¡ªwhat if he learns about that? It won¡¯t matter that I¡¯m his friend. If he gives a noodle like me a shove, I¡¯m gonna break a rib.


    I didn¡¯t want to get Sven¡¯d.


    As I jogged past a classroom, adjusting the strap of my backpack, I ran through his schedule in my head. His days were packed as a can of sardines. He¡¯s either cramming his projects or out doing extracurriculars.


    I rushed to the library. After all he had mentioned doing research. I slipped past shelves and students chatting at tables. Real musty but I was used to the smell.


    My shoes tak-takked over endless bland tile¡ªa scheme I considered a state-sponsored psyop. Monotony bred boredom, boredom bred distraction, and distraction bred one¡¯s hateful grades. Such were the ways of darkness.


    A majority of students fought to stay in the light. Murmurs blended into a low drone. When I swiveled my head to couches, shelves, and desks, people were nursing coffees, gossiping under amber lamps, or plumbing the depths of their textbooks and assignments. Is that him? No, no¡ªaha!


    Sven was standing with a girl and a guy in his study group. I vaguely recognized his acquaintances. They were assembled round-table style, and though Sven¡¯s face was rather serious, he was merely crossing his arms and speaking quietly.


    With how he was talking I thought he¡¯d be running all over. What¡¯s going on?


    While I mussed my hair, stifling a groan, I debated if I should approach. I didn¡¯t imagine that conversation, did I? This¡¯ll be sooo awkward.


    ¡°¡ªWe¡¯ll have to be thorough. Let¡¯s regroup at 14:00. Complete our report together. How does that sound?¡±


    The girl, Mariko, nodded. Her black hair, tied in a ponytail, bounced beneath a white baseball cap. ¡°I¡¯ll be on track and field. Let¡¯s move.¡±


    Mariko was a sports queen. Track and field, baseball, kickball. You could tell because she was always wearing a thin black jacket even when it was cold. Toned, tanned. Overall a good type for Sven to work with.


    Although I did notice one little tic. See, active guys like her and Sven carried themselves a certain way. Straight-backed and assured when they were still. This moment however she was shifting the soles of her feet like she was warming up for a run. Her hazel eyes were like his dark ones, intense.


    I pursed my lips in thought. Must be meeting a tight deadline.


    The boy, Zane, lazed a two-finger salute. ¡°Ten-four, bro. I¡¯ll be at the cafeteria if you need me.¡±


    Zane had on a beanie covering a mop of chocolate curls, and wore a thick overcoat. Had a hangdog look to him. Slouched. His hands itched towards the coat like he wanted to light a bong. I¡¯d spied him smoking weed once in the forest. He was the type most people assumed studied esoteric Zen philosophy but in fact wanted to double-major in math and econ.


    I could pick out algebra equations in a workbook. Untouched. Yep, major cram sesh, calling it. Poor Zane can¡¯t even squeeze time for his other subjects.


    A stack of sheets lay scattered at the group¡¯s desk. On top was one paper with an icon of a badge. Police explorers project. Should¡¯ve figured. They make a good team.


    Sven nodded back. ¡°Good. We can play to our strengths that way. I¡¯ll be in the main building.¡±


    Thoughts bounced in my skull. I can¡¯t explain to everyone¡¯s face! Will he get mad at me? It¡¯ll be my word against his. Wait. They¡¯re already leaving? I flung myself behind a shelf as the group dispersed. Sven went out a side exit and I ran after him. Stupid heavy door, I grumbled as I pushed the exit open.


    I followed until Sven arrived near a painted mural on the school¡¯s blacktop. Going for a bird¡¯s eye view? The asphalt was bare, with a smattering of shrubs and plants, but a good place to heave in fresh air. From his vantage point he could inspect streets and windows at the school¡¯s perimeter. He was scanning side to side, hands in his pockets, walking at a fast but careful pace.


    He was looking for something, I decided. Although I bet, to everyone else, it just looks like he¡¯s checking for thugs.


    Given Sven¡¯s reputation and his background, that would have been understandable.


    Alicia emerged from a line of bushes like a shadow. The cat wound to his side. He talked to her. Sounded aggravated. I crept closer, straining my ears.


    ¡°¡ªIt doesn¡¯t make sense. Marathon got back to us. They don¡¯t know where Marathon-3 hid it either. If you can¡¯t find it, then how can anyone? Are we certain the book is on campus?¡±


    Alicia meowed.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. Go over the details again. All we can do is try.¡± He rubbed his forehead. ¡°Why do I have a bad feeling? Go on. I¡¯ll meet you in an hour.¡±


    The cat shot off like a black blur. I didn¡¯t make it much farther, as Alicia was barreling my way. Shoot! I hightailed to the concrete of the math building, taking cover in its shade.


    Hardly a minute passed as I skittered back on Sven¡¯s trail and ran face-to-face with his cat.


    Alicia hissed and bared her teeth. I knew menace when I saw it in those green eyes. She was advancing. Her haunches flexed. Ready to spring.


    ¡°Aaaaah! What¡¯d I do?¡± I sprinted away, clenching my teeth. Dang it, dang it, why she gotta ambush me now?


    Also I had class in five minutes. Didn¡¯t want to miss it.

 Frog-Eater

    ¡°Chuji! Partner up?¡± I searched for him among many faces paired at black counters.


    Mr. Osborne, the science teacher, was speaking in a high, reedy voice. ¡°¡ªI want to see precise measurements and every step of your equations. Clear language. Don¡¯t forget to put the date on your books. I¡¯m talking to you, Emma.¡±


    A blonde tossed her hair. ¡°It¡¯s fine, Mr. Osborne. I have more important things to do.¡±


    ¡°And I have labs to grade.¡± This earned a couple laughs. Mr. Osborne was one of the ¡°cooler¡± teachers and I was pretty sure he was middle-aged despite having a shock of gray hair. Occasionally students visited his house, but here, he burdened us with the same exacting standards as his academic experiences. His cool factor was what saved his standing from Emma and the whispers in her grapevine.


    She rolled eyes at the red-plaid, scholastic man in spectacles. I hastily evaded eye contact. Emma was one classmate I sometimes spent time with in the forest. She had Devin to copy off of anyways.


    Please don¡¯t pair me with Emma. My chances were thinning as I was still alone at my counter. Likely due to the time I spilled chemical all over Emma¡¯s spanking-new stockings. On her date night. In front of everyone.


    My mind was further occupied on Sven and the book business. Shadow-2? Marathon? What is this, a role-playing exercise?


    I prodded a flask filled next to a measuring cylinder. Any real answers were dancing right out of reach. Similar to the precarious tipping of my vial, almost-but-not-quite ready to splash out. Hairs were standing on the back of my neck. Unease rippled in my tummy.


    Nothing quite added up. Like a Bunsen burner I now gazed at with longing, tucked with its brethren in a corner. Why¡¯d we have so many if we barely used them?


    Chuji waddled to my table. I let out a grin. My smile slipped immediately as he brushed the front of his hair and side-eyed the door. He tremored. ¡°Have you seen Tommy?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡ªno.¡± I quickly stopped myself. Chuji was wiping his forehead and shutting his eyes tight, panting. Introducing Evil Sven seemed premature. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t follow me to class today! We agreed to be lab partners.¡± Almost as an afterthought, he added, ¡°Sorry, Cecelia.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± I deflated faster than a lead balloon. ¡°That¡¯s¡ªfine.¡± I couldn¡¯t blame Chuji for having other friends.


    Mr. Osborne noticed too. He called out. ¡°Chuji! Where¡¯s Tommy Motomochi?¡±


    ¡°He is five minutes and twelve seconds late. We have a swimming competition at four o¡¯clock,¡± Chuji stammered, shooting a glance at a wall clock.


    He whispered to me, ¡°The LE-4 is an acrylic of an impossible tower on which a small world sits. It is how we have built up the last two months. When I came out Tommy insisted he was going! However he is not with the rest of us. This is a true challenge!¡±


    Translation: linchpin missing, major yikes, help. I raised my hand quick. ¡°I can get him, Mr. Osborne.¡± Anything to spend ten minutes away from the dread of a lab partner.


    The teacher gave a nod. ¡°We start in five minutes.¡± I leaped from my seat and into cold sunshine.


    My sneakers slapped pavement. I struggled to recall Tommy¡¯s appearance. This was harder than it sounded since, like Chuji, I tended to see him in his swim gear. Thin and tall. Black hair, right? Cropped and wavy. Looks like he belongs in the water, long torso and long arms, that stretched fish kind of build.


    I tugged hair and wailed in my head. This shouldn¡¯t be difficult! The whole street is deserted! A lot of peeps were in class or doing outdoorsy activities.


    An overcast sun warmed, and cast large shadows of sprawling trees and the occasional student. Hang on. Shouldn¡¯t Sven be looking around too? I don¡¯t think Tommy would want to run into him. I need to narrow down Tommy¡¯s location. My hand played with a stray curl as I pouted in concentration.


    My mouth formed words as I thought them and muttered. ¡°Did he listen to Sven in the first place? What if he went back to the pool to practice?¡±


    I visualized the scene in my head. If I were Tommy, I¡¯d already committed to be with Chuji and go to SJ in an important competition. Why would I listen to a random like Sven yelling at me to go leave, out of nowhere? No, I¡¯d be scared at first, but being a bullheaded sportsman, I¡¯d come straight back to swimming.


    Which would explain why Chuji would be confused too. Without context Tommy would have disappeared before his team left the pool¡ªvia Sven¡ªthen vanished again once they walked to their classes together¡ªvia his own decision. Perhaps Tommy had been too rattled to tell anyone.


    But if he¡¯s practicing, why hasn¡¯t he come back?


    I rushed to the pool¡¯s gate, iron bars with a bolted latch, and grabbed the handle.


    Locked.


    ¡°Umfff.¡± My arms strained to hit the release on the other side of the gate. However. I was short.


    ¡°Oh my sweet sweet stars. Give me a break!¡± I yanked on the gate with all my might. The bolt creaked up and out the latch, and a door swung out.


    I stood startled for a good three seconds. Nobody saw that.


    Chlorine hit my nostrils. A soft splish-splash awakened my senses. Hallelujah! I strode through those kingdom gates.


    Only to immediately scurry to safety by the locker rooms. What is that?!


    In the deep end of the pool was a giant frog.


    The biggest frog I¡¯d seen in my life. That was how I could best describe it, but it was straight bizarre. Its skin was mottled green, and a disc the size and shape of a giant lily pad was on its back. Its arms and legs were too long, like a person¡¯s, and ended in webbed feet. Instead of a rounded mouth it had a beak.


    I slumped against a wall, but as I stared and squinted, my thoughts on the frog slowly changed. Umm, it¡¯s about the size of my stomach. Not counting the legs. Could be bigger. I¡¯ll keep my distance in case. Freaky but it¡¯s sort of cute. It had big, round eyes and splashed its limbs, frog-style, up to the surface. It reached a webbed foot at plaster marking the edge of the pool.


    A ringing like tiny bells chimed. I knitted my brows, crinkling my forehead, and to my bemusement the lily-disc frog wrinkled its face as well. The creature stopped and floated in place. Listening.


    Then, in front of the frog, I saw a woman. I jerked backwards and almost fell over. What the heck?


    It was less like she had appeared, and more like she had always been there, and I had merely failed to notice. I sucked in lungfuls of air and swallowed the shout that almost rushed out of my mouth.


    The woman had cold blue eyes and cascading blond hair. She wore a white fur jacket, unzipped despite the chill, exposing pale skin. Her features reminded me of a model.


    The frog was apparently as surprised as I was. It was stunned still.


    In one smooth motion the woman reached a hand down and clamped the frog¡¯s mouth shut.


    The creature¡¯s bulging eyes widened. It reached out its two front limbs and grabbed her left leg. Then it heaved its weight and pulled.


    To my increasing amazement and alarm, the woman didn¡¯t lose her grip on the frog. In fact she barely moved a muscle. A smile played on her lips. With fluid grace she sat herself down, legs in the water, holding the frog¡¯s beak all the while.


    Without knowing why, I shuddered.


    The frog, now submerged, thrashed with violence. It yanked the woman downwards with what I could only describe as pure murderous intent. More than enough force to tear limbs apart. I winced for the woman and averted my gaze. Waters quaked, whirled, and flew wildly. Waves splashed against plaster. The frog¡¯s limbs below the surface flashed, forcing my attention, kicking up foam. They wrenched and tugged.


    I looked again. The woman remained where she was. Unharmed. My mouth was hanging open. How?


    She spoke, icy calm, but I could hear every word. ¡°You¡¯re a clever boy, aren¡¯t you? You thought you could keep it from everyone.¡±


    She¡¯s talking to the frog? Can it even understand her?


    She ate it.


    I wasn¡¯t able to see, but that must have been what happened. It took several seconds. She had bent over, hiding the frog from view. There was no sound. Only ripples of water and faint splashing. I could hear its struggling growing wild, then feebler, then abruptly silent.


    What the actual fridge¡ªdid she just¡ªis this a dream? Please tell me this is a dream.


    I curled up into a ball. I couldn¡¯t speak. My throat constricted tight. My heart pounded loud against my chest. I could hear my blood pumping with every beat.


    The woman in white rose. She was completely calm. The pool was clear and empty.


    There was no sign of the frog. Not even a speck of blood, not on her, her clothes, or in the water. It might as well have vanished.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    My body moved on automatic. It scrambled towards the gate.


    My brain played a broken record. Frog-Eater. Must get away from Frog-Eater.


    The stranger held a small tome in a hand. I hadn¡¯t recalled her having it before, but my stomach sank.


    I clambered to the gate, pressing my back against it, but then I heard a ringing again. Ting-a-ling. Ting-a-ling.


    The woman was walking the pool¡¯s perimeter. On her ankle was a small gold bell, attached by a string, jingling.


    I tried to breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe. In spite of my instincts screaming at me, I was transfixed. The jingling bell arrived at the side of the deck.


    Sitting on plaster was a black box encased in torn papers.


    An oddly familiar box.


    She gathered the black box with the little book under an arm. That was when she walked straight at me.


    Oh gods.


    Frog-Eater sauntered up to the gate. Her cold eyes pinned me down.


    Kojiki, I thought numbly. That box is from Kojiki.


    I pried my fingers against the bars behind me but I knew it was useless.


    Welp, I¡¯m dying.


    Mom, I¡¯m sorry, Grandpa, I¡¯ll see you, constellations¡ªscrew it, you stars are useless.


    That made my mind clearer, somehow. Warmth spread to my hands and arms. Into my chest.


    ¡°Loving the confidence.¡± I gave a weak thumbs-up. Let it be known I went down at least attempting to save my life.


    Frog-Eater tilted her head. She was unreadable. ¡°How did you get in here?¡±


    I hadn¡¯t anticipated her talking to me. I babbled. ¡°The gate was open.¡±


    ¡°That gate was locked.¡±


    It was a matter-of-fact statement. Yet it carried a weight.


    A short silence hung in the air.


    Frog-Eater smiled pleasantly. She bent down to my huddled form. I flinched.


    The woman was close enough to touch my face. With her fur jacket, I had a distinct impression of a predator scenting potential prey. ¡°Why are you scared? I have my loyalties. I sense your associations.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t answer. My tongue was glued in place.


    It struck me her breath was clean. Minty fresh. I chanced a glance at her mouth. Perfect white teeth. Every bone in me felt very frail.


    ¡°Can you help me with something?¡± Sheets rustled.


    I looked up again to see a black lockbox with four metal clasps. She was holding out the remnants of Kojiki.


    How? I wanted to ask, but didn¡¯t dare. It was either succeed or¡ªthat other option.


    Please please please work. I grabbed the box¡¯s lid and pulled. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. Open, open, opennnn!


    The clasps clicked. The lockbox hinged open, revealing three artifacts nestled in a bed of silver particles, one big and two small. I was assaulted with the smell of aged copper.


    Oh. Wow.


    Taking up most space was a bronze water pot. It was so exquisite I almost forgot about the woman. The pot stood on three legs, with a flower-shaped lid topped by a jewel-shaped knob. On its sides were three engraved oval windows. The window most directly facing me was of a phoenix riding on clouds.


    The other two items were spoons. Identical to the one I¡¯d found in Kojiki myself, with thin and long scoops. Further proof they came from the same book.


    Fanciest crock I¡¯ve seen in my life. How can anyone eat with those?


    The woman murmured, ¡°Beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡± Before I could answer the unlocked box was smoothly pulled out of my trembling fingers.


    Frog-Eater held out another book. That tome I¡¯d only seen minutes ago, the one she¡¯d been suddenly holding in the pool. A softcover manga with a cover of a bow-wielding samurai wrestling a massive white tiger, himself in green floral attire, and tangled near a tree.


    The title read, Uji Shui Monogatari: A Collection of Tales from Uji.


    With a title like that, an LN for sure, my barely functioning brain thought.


    She opened it up. I was greeted with another black box, with caution tape crisscrossed, clasps, a lock in the center, and a label.


    Do not open. Property of the Government of Japan.


    I had a plunging sensation in the pit of my stomach. We both knew what she wanted. I held out my hand and grasped the box¡¯s cool edges. I pulled.


    This time the lid popped off without a hitch. Inside were two antiques. First a gilt, hexagonal pedestal, like a place an artist would set a pen or a brush. Second, dwarfing it, a dragon-head pitcher.


    Yes, a dragon head. The lid was of an Eastern dragon, with antlers like a stag and bearded chin, the type one would see at a temple. Attached below the lid was a vase-like body with a long neck, as well as a slender handle that reminded me of a tail. The pitcher¡¯s metal was silver and gold plated.


    That¡¯s wicked. I gawked at the stand and the pitcher, and once again a box was slid from my grasp.


    Frog-Eater was pleased, judging by her smile. She leaned into my ear. ¡°You¡¯ve been a great help. I would be remiss not to pay you. What are your greatest desires?¡±


    Top-three wish list? This ain¡¯t no genie, I reminded myself. This is Frog-Eater. But what did I have to lose? I wasn¡¯t, like, dead yet.


    Overwhelmed, confused out of my mind, I couldn¡¯t think. I blurted. ¡°More time with my family. Quality time, like they¡¯re really present with me. I want my mom to be healthy. I want to find work where I can be myself. Where I can be accepted.¡±


    ¡°How admirable.¡± A lilt in her cold tone sounded genuine. Weird, but that was how I interpreted it. ¡°May I have your consent?¡±


    ¡°Consent for what?¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer. Merely waited. A small part of me was becoming curious.


    ¡°Um, okay, I guess.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    I wanted to ask her in kind, but I squeaked, ¡°Cecelia Seimei.¡±


    ¡°Hold out your arm.¡±


    I did, my left, and it was shaking because I worried she¡¯d chop it off. I¡¯m not ready for disability insurance.


    ¡°Recite after me. Ushi no koku mairi. Ushi no toki mairi. Inochi to karada o mamoru.¡±


    Ushi-sushi-what-now? Gods. I shut my eyes. I¡¯m doomed. Once Frog-Eater heard my butchered pronunciation, she¡¯d murder me on the spot. She seemed the formal type.


    ¡°Ushi no koku mairi. Ushi no toki mairi. Inochi to karada o mamoru.¡± My tongue tripped and I mumbled the parts I couldn¡¯t exactly remember. Especially that last part, like what even was that sizzle?


    ¡°Good.¡± She touched my forearm. A sharp pain shot through her palm and into my body. I gasped. I also squealed like a pig and jerked my arm away.


    ¡°What did you do?¡± I whined, fastening my gaze at my jacket sleeve. I pulled it up, hyperventilating.


    I braced myself¡ªfor singing, a bruise, an ugly cut. However, my arm looked totally normal. Almost.


    On my skin, right below my wrist, was a little black dot like a tattoo.


    Frog-Eater told me, with winter calm, ¡°Think of that as a good luck charm. It will remind me to treat you as someone valuable. Stop worrying.¡±


    She spoke that statement like a command. I breathed fast and hard. I forced myself to calm down, observing dimly that the pain from her touch had gone. It had been nothing further than a single shock.


    The woman beamed. It was as if I¡¯d completed a task she¡¯d approved of. ¡°Good girl. Would you like a sticker?¡±


    My mouth opened and closed. ¡°A what?¡±


    She reached into the folds of her jacket and produced a sheet of stickers. Like ones I saw in elementary or middle school. Different colored stars.


    She peeled off a gold star and stuck it over my tattoo. ¡°Boop.¡±


    Boop? Had I misheard?


    I gaped like a guppy on dry land. The woman stood straight, white fur swaying, and strode past me and out the gate.


    The bell at her ankle jingled.


    Then I was alone.


    I probably didn¡¯t lay there long. Less than thirty seconds. I staggered onto my feet, unsteady, and out the entrance.


    Back to class.


    ***


    Everyone was moving and bustling with cylinders and flasks. Mr. Osborne was very displeased, eyes narrowed behind his glasses, snapping. ¡°Cecelia! You¡¯re late! Where¡¯s Tommy?¡±


    I muttered the first reason I could think of. Because I didn¡¯t know what the heck did happen to Tommy. ¡°Gone. Went home.¡±


    Out of the corner of my eye, Chuji¡¯s pupils dilated. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. ¡°What about our competition?¡± he whispered.


    I didn¡¯t have time to reply because Mr. Osborne yelled, ¡°You¡¯re with Emma!¡±


    I sidled away from Chuji, who¡¯d been integrated in a team of three. Emma was fiddling with an eye dropper, squeezing liquid from a glass. She raised her eyebrows at me and scolded loudly. ¡°Oh my gosh, Cecelia, did you get distracted again? I¡¯ve had to do so much without you. Help me measure. Sixty millimeters.¡± She thrust our lab instructions and her graphing notebook at me.


    She berated me and yelled a few times when I fumbled. I barely heard her. Didn¡¯t remember anything she said. I responded on autopilot, moving my arms when she told me, mute and limp like a robot. In one ear, out the other.


    One hour. I had never felt so glad failing a lab.


    ***


    I needed a ride home. I walked to Sven¡¯s car. Gray sedan. He tended to park in the same place.


    Sven was already in the driver¡¯s seat. His face was worn out and dark as a storm. Alicia sat on the opposite chair. She looked disgruntled as I popped open the passenger door and slid in.


    I croaked, ¡°Hey, Sven, I wanted to ask you about¡ª¡±


    Sven held up a hand. He twisted in his seat to me. ¡°Look, Cecelia, I¡¯ve had a very long day. Stop your yapping. I need time to think.¡±


    Alicia meowed in agreement.


    I shut up. The ignition rumbled. Car shuddered and rolled along.


    After several minutes, Sven glanced back. ¡°Everything all right? You look like you¡¯ve seen a ghost.¡±


    I don¡¯t know how to explain. Where can I even begin? Also, Sven was on a short fuse. Monologues would be shut down. ¡°Had lab,¡± I mumbled. ¡°With Emma.¡±


    Sven¡¯s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. ¡°She and Devin can go f*ck themselves. Don¡¯t stay around those guys. I¡¯m telling you, you need to push them away and push them hard until they fall on their a**es.¡±


    I nodded. Mumbled. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°You let me know, or your parents, or Alicia or¡ª¡± he stopped. ¡°Let me or your dad know, and we¡¯ll beat some sense into them. I know your dad has his principles but I can be, um, extralegal about it.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    The car pulled up to my driveway. I went in, settled into my bed, and fell asleep staring at my gold sticker.

 Serious Sit-Downs

    In the morning the fear began.


    Stranger danger! Stranger danger!


    Did I really let a complete stranger touch me while opening forbidden boxes for her and muttering a weird chant? I¡¯d never seen that woman on campus before, and she hadn¡¯t been carrying an ID badge either.


    If I get possessed today I deserve it. I cocooned myself in my blanket, gaze fastened on my left arm.


    Plus I¡¯d let Vi into the house while she¡¯d been working under a suspicious business. That heightened the alarm in me a tad more. Maybe I don¡¯t know Vi as much as I think I do.


    Should I report Frog-Eater? I don¡¯t even know her name.


    What if I do and she finds out?


    I groped for a can of coffee to smooth my nerves. My hand only grasped air. Goshdarnit, Vi.


    My drinks were lined up in a row. Not properly scattered on the floor like mere days ago. ¡°This is too efficient.¡±


    The doorbell rang.


    I bundled my covers closer, finding it hard to breathe. Who¡¯s that? What do I do, what do I do?


    The silence felt deafening. I need a weapon. House key? Kitchen knife? Construction tool? I yanked myself out of bed, put on slippers, and dashed to the garage. I fumbled until I found my dad¡¯s toolbox.


    Slab of steel on a wood stick. Hammer. It would have to do. With my luck I figured I might stab myself with a knife, also I¡¯d never stabbed anyone before, and a house key didn¡¯t exactly have reach.


    Creeping across carpet and tile, I hefted the weapon with one hand while unlocking the door with the other. My heart thumped. Gotta get in a few swings. Bust a kneecap. The door swung wide.


    It was my dad.


    ¡°Dad!¡± The hammer clunked to the floor, forgotten. I tackled him and flung my arms around him. ¡°Where you been? You almost gave me cardiac arrest, sheesh!¡±


    ¡°Hey. Cece.¡± My dad ruffled my hair as I grinned up at him.


    He had lines on his tanned face and bags under his eyes. He still had on his navy blue shirt and pants. Most telling, Dad combed as a habit, but his dark crew cut was messy like he¡¯d been sleeping on his side.


    I grabbed his service hat under his arm and the star he¡¯d clipped to his belt. ¡°Big case huh? It¡¯s been, what, three days?¡±


    I awkwardly fetched the hammer and he raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Yup. Multiple missing people.¡± He sighed. ¡°Were you building something?¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah. I¡ªah¡ª¡± I fumbled. I should explain. ¡°Tried to. Threw it away,¡± I finished lamely.


    He stepped in and smiled, but it was an exhausted one. ¡°As long as you do your best and have fun, it doesn¡¯t matter, right?¡±


    Doing my best never paid any bills, I thought, hunching my shoulders. I nodded though.


    ¡°Come on, let¡¯s find Mom. Did you have breakfast?¡± He strode forwards, big steps, and I had no choice but to run to keep up.


    ¡°I was gonna. We can eat together. Can I ask you some things?¡± My insides twisted at loading more problems on my dad¡¯s plate. It¡¯s important though.


    My dad approached the white walls of my mom¡¯s and my room. ¡°Sure, what¡¯s going on¡ªCecelia!¡±


    I jumped at the surprise in his voice. His eyes had locked onto an open entrance. My door stood ajar.


    He rubbed his eyes and walked closer. ¡°Is this for real? Did you clean your room?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡±


    A big, warm smile spread across his face. He draped an arm over me. ¡°That¡¯s my girl! You¡¯re growing up. Finally started listening to me, did you?¡±


    My cheeks warmed. I waved a hand. ¡°Aw, y¡¯know me, it¡¯ll be back to normal in a week.¡±


    He shook his head and chuckled. ¡°I always tell you, small steps make big habits. What counts is that you¡¯re making progress.¡±


    ¡°You said that like once. When I was twelve.¡±


    He steered me to my mom¡¯s room¡ªnot that I could do anything with his big arm around me. He rubbed Mom¡¯s shoulder while I gave her her meds. ¡°Hey, kitty-cat, you won¡¯t believe this! Cecelia cleaned her room!¡±


    We both jerked back as Mom, with great effort, pulled herself up the bed and opened her eyes, yawning. ¡°That¡¯s great. I think I can make it to breakfast today.¡±


    Since Mom could join us, the mood was a holiday party. Our table was laid very basic¡ª corn flakes for me, scrambled eggs, toast¡ªbut it was nice. For a minute. Queasiness set in as I grappled with how to approach sharing the whole slew of recent goings-ons.


    Mom was asking Dad. ¡°How¡¯s work?¡±


    ¡°Terrible. Leads going nowhere. We¡¯ve done interviews and combed the streets. I agree with the other inspectors. Those kids must¡¯ve gone hiking in the woods.¡±


    I piped in. ¡°Which one? Golden Gate? Muir Woods?¡±


    Head shake from Dad. ¡°Don¡¯t know. We sent two rangers but it¡¯s been radio silence for days.¡± He ran a hand through his hair, continuing to Mom. ¡°The students might as well have dropped off the face of the earth. I can¡¯t imagine how their parents are feeling. You know¡ªthey¡¯re Cecelia¡¯s age. High schoolers.¡±


    The toaster dinged. While Dad went to fetch his bread, I butt in. ¡°Speaking of strange. Have you seen anyone acting weird lately? You know Vi from the cafe? I saw her dressed as a maid.¡±


    Mom kept shoveling eggs as if I had been discussing the weather. ¡°Neh. She works part-time for a cleaning company. Clients from old Japanese and European families. They¡¯re very traditional.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± I had read about aristocrats but, like unicorns, they didn¡¯t exist in my mind. ¡°Uber-rich guys.¡± This made me mad for some reason. Go hire someone else. Stop taking my maid from me!


    Dad chuckled once, but that was about it.


    ¡°What about a woman in a white fur?¡± I prodded hesitantly. ¡°Blond with blue eyes?¡±


    At the kitchen counter, Dad raised an eyebrow. But not about that. He had opened up the dishwasher and held up a badly bent bronze spoon. ¡°Did you buy this?¡±


    I nearly choked on my cereal. ¡°I¡ªfound it in J-Town. Limited edition.¡± Technically the truth.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°Try not to jam up the washer.¡± Dad scratched his chin. ¡°Blond woman in white? Nope, sorry kiddo. I¡¯ll keep an eye out. Why?¡±


    ¡°I saw her at school. You know the police explorers program?¡±


    He cocked an eyebrow again. ¡°Slow down. Did you change your mind? You want to apply now?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t make it. Fitness test.¡± I flexed my arm to show my biceps, or lack thereof.


    Dad was focusing very hard like he had another case to crack. ¡°You know, I heard Officer Irwin is the new head of that program. We work together sometimes. I could put in a good word¡ª¡±


    ¡°My friend Sven¡ªNever mind,¡± I said quickly. I¡¯m going to put way too much on Dad¡¯s mind now.


    Mom furrowed her eyebrows as she spotted the spoon. She looked from it, to my room, to me, and her eyes widened as if coming to a realization. ¡°Cecelia, I need to tell you something important. You¡¯re going through an important stage in your life.¡±


    My dad¡¯s face grew serious. Game-face serious. He settled in his seat and crossed his arms. ¡°Is it time for The Talk?¡±


    That doesn¡¯t sound good. I leaned back in my chair, palms sweaty.


    Mom made a small yawn. She patted my shoulder. ¡°Have you ever thought anything strange was happening to you?¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah. Loads. You wouldn¡¯t believe it.¡±


    She nodded. Hesitated. Delicately, as if I was a brittle piece of chinaware, she said, ¡°You¡¯re becoming an adult. Your brain chemistry and body are going through big changes. You won¡¯t be the same. You¡¯re going to have new experiences, new feelings, and have to¡ªlive differently.¡±


    Not this again. First Vi, now Mom and Dad? Is there a grown-ups playbook for this? I¡¯m not like other kids! I don¡¯t follow no stinking script! I folded my arms.


    ¡°Do you know those manga you love to read?¡± Mom hesitated, apparently noticing my peeved expression. ¡°Have you ever thought about if they were real?¡±


    I stared. ¡°No. What am I, an idiot?¡±


    ¡°Of course not, honey.¡± She gave a bigger yawn and blinked several times, resting her chin on her hands to not go kaput. I took her utensils on her plate so she wouldn¡¯t poke herself. She shot Dad a look, who nodded, egging her on. ¡°I know I did when I was your age. Kami, historical myths, and monsters¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh no no no.¡± I put up my hands in a double stop-sign. My eyes darted towards Kojiki and the mounds of books near my tidy laundry basket. ¡°This is about responsibility, isn¡¯t it?¡± The R-word was metallic on my tongue. ¡°Look, I get it. I daydream a lot. I need to get a life. Get a date. Go adulting.¡±


    ¡°Um, no.¡± Her lips pursed and she rubbed her temple. ¡°I mean, yes. We do want you to be safe. You see, you and I, we¡¯re not like others. There are certain things about us that many won¡¯t understand. We are not people, exactly. Not in their eyes.¡±


    I wrinkled my face like I was having a real bad time in the toilet. ¡°What¡¯s that mean? I¡¯m not a normal person?¡±


    She sighed. Her forehead creased. ¡°Where can I start? I¡¯m afraid this will be too much for you. I remember everything came as a big shock for me back then.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean we¡¯re not people?¡± Heat was rising in me. I balled my fists and speared scrambled eggs. ¡°Just because I can¡¯t talk how people want, or think how they do, or be exactly like everyone else in my age group, doesn¡¯t make me less of a person!¡±


    Mom swerved to Dad with a quizzical expression, and he gave a helpless shrug. He muttered, ¡°Let¡¯s be direct about it?¡±


    I snapped to my mom, ¡°Yes, let¡¯s be direct. This is about comparing me to your miko days, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯ve told me already. You went from Shinto shrine maiden, to meeting dad, to working as a waitress, and then at the office, and then settling down. And now I have to fit in a box too.¡±


    Mom shook her head. She was closing her eyes, head nodding off like her plate was a pillow. ¡°You¡¯re overthinking everything, sweetie. You¡¯re a yo¡ª¡±


    My phone rang.


    I was startled into silence. The caller ID showed Sven. Without thinking my thumb hit the call button. ¡°Yo? What¡¯s up?¡±


    Sven¡¯s voice was tense. ¡°We need to talk.¡±


    ¡°Sure man, meet you at the usual¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pick you up. No time to explain.¡± He hung up.


    I scratched my head. ¡°It¡¯s Sven. He¡¯s picking me up.¡± I left my chair and moved to Mom¡¯s side. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get you to bed.¡± After a moment, I added, ¡°I¡¯m sorry. For getting mad.¡±


    She leaned against me as I braced every ounce of my weight to support her. She mumbled a word in Japanese but I couldn¡¯t quite hear her as I bonked my shin against the table and yelped at the sting. ¡°Flipping lemon cakes.¡±


    Dad rose to help but of course his own phone rang. He picked up and listened intently. ¡°Uh-huh. I¡¯ll be right there.¡±


    He hurriedly put on his hat and helped me set Mom away. ¡°I¡¯ve got to go. They need me for a long while.¡± He patted me on the back. ¡°Go get ¡®em, tiger. Don¡¯t worry about the competition.¡±


    ¡°Dad!¡± I groaned. ¡°You¡¯re getting everything wrong. I literally don¡¯t care¡ª¡±


    ¡°Have a good time at school!¡± He strode off, lips twitching as he held back a smile.


    ***


    ¡°Uh, where are we going?¡± I watched glass skyscrapers whiz by from the window in Sven¡¯s car.


    This wasn¡¯t the way to campus.


    ¡°Apartment,¡± Sven grunted.


    ¡°You forget something?¡±


    He was peeling turns fast, tearing down narrow, zigzag streets and past company billboards. He hadn¡¯t spoken since I¡¯d strapped on my seatbelt. ¡°You could say that. I¡¯m missing an important piece for my school project.¡±


    ¡°Aw man. Don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s cool as long as we make it.¡± A light sprinkle pattered against glass. Alicia twisted in the seat beside Sven and fixed me with what I swear was a withering gaze of disapproval.


    Sven squeezed the car into a hulking public garage. We had to wind down to a floor until he reversed into a free spot. ¡°Hate finding parking.¡±


    When an army brat complains, you know he¡¯s in the rice cooker. A trickle of unease ran down my back. I struggled to follow Sven and Alicia up stairs¡ªthey fast-walked¡ªand through a door Sven clicked open with a key.


    ¡°Whew! Haven¡¯t been here in a while.¡± I heaved and leaned an arm against the nearest wall to catch my breath. The lights were dim. Shutters were closed. He¡¯s been studying?


    ¡°Sit.¡± Sven indicated with a finger to his left.


    There was only one table in that direction so I knew what he meant. Bro had a model home with nothing extra. I padded on white carpet in my socks, then slid on wood tile to a kitchen which held cabinets and a fridge. ¡°Ali had her food yet?¡±


    Sven had placed a blue bowl for Alicia in the middle of the floor. I had to navigate around it to sit at the dining table. Empty. Dang, he hasn¡¯t even had time to feed Ali?


    Sven opened a cabinet. I was hit with the pungent odor of tuna. I raised a hand. ¡°Can I give her milk?¡±


    His lips tightened. ¡°If you want. Doesn¡¯t matter.¡± His tone had venom in it. He adjusted his black jacket front. I heard metal clinking in the coat as he bent down and poured cat food for Alicia. She meowed and ate, eyeing me with suspicion as I watched her.


    I skittered to the fridge and poured her a little saucer of milk before hopping back in my seat. To my delight Alicia licked a few drops. ¡°Where¡¯s your project¡ª¡±


    ¡°Cecelia!¡± Sven slammed his fist onto the table as he sat facing me. I whipped my head over. His eyes were dark and flashing.


    ¡°¡®Sup?¡±


    He uttered the most terrifying three words in my life.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the book?¡±


    My heart thudded wildly. I opened and closed my mouth. ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about!¡±


    Idiot, I immediately thought to myself.


    He crossed his arms. His voice was a low growl, calm but hiding violence. ¡°Seriously?¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay!¡± My throat was tight. My mind blanked. Sven¡¯s glare was like lasers searing into me. I blurted, ¡°I admit it! I took Kojiki! I was at Kinokuniya! I saw it! I didn¡¯t mean to do anything bad, I swear!¡±


    Sven raised an eyebrow. The fury in his eyes faded a little as he looked to the side, thinking. ¡°That¡¯s a confession. What do you think, Ali?¡±


    ¡°I think she¡¯s an idiot.¡±


    A second female voice had come out of nowhere, behind me. Scratchy and rough.


    I jumped in my seat and screamed. ¡°Fuuudge! What was that?¡± Hurriedly, I twisted in my chair and my jaw dropped.


    A girl I¡¯d never seen in my life had appeared. Short, almost as much as me, with black hair in a ponytail, and fierce, emerald green eyes. She stood covered fully in a black outfit that reminded me of a bodysuit. Dressed for action.


    Sven didn¡¯t have a sister. He didn¡¯t even live with parents.


    My heart pounded as I realized something else. Sven¡¯s cat was gone. Straight-up, gone. Where¡¯s Alicia? Did she run off? Why didn¡¯t she warn Sven?


    ¡°Who are you? What is happening?¡± I shrieked.


    The girl stalked forwards and reached to her side. ¡°We¡¯ll need more answers.¡±


    Sven reached out a hand. ¡°Wait¡ª¡±


    Something hard and metal collided against my head. Then everything went black.

 Murder Girl

    My temple throbbed. I moaned and squinted. Sven¡¯s living room. That¡¯s his bookshelf. Next to his lamp. It was the most organized bookshelf ever, with a separate shelf for history books, manga, and manhwa. Each text was lined up straight as a rod and packed together. Revolting. I couldn¡¯t make out much else because it was dark.


    A single portable lamp clicked on. I was sitting in a chair. My hands were tied. Handcuffs? A table was set before me, and standing in front was Sven and the girl. Murder Girl was inspecting the hilt of a black knife, with a highly displeased expression on her face. My heartbeat accelerated as razor-sharp metal glinted.


    Sven was saying to her, ¡°I don¡¯t think she knows enough. A lot isn¡¯t clear to me. This doesn¡¯t feel right.¡±


    ¡°F*ck that,¡± the girl growled. ¡°She¡¯s a suspect.¡±


    Sven looked at me and rapped his knuckles against the table. His shadowed face was slightly exasperated. ¡°We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either you explain everything to me¡ªor to her.¡±


    I yowled, ¡°What¡¯s going on? Why are you guys treating me like a criminal?¡±


    ¡°Because right now, you are one!¡± Sven snapped. He fumed, though he also gave an evil eye to Murder Girl. ¡°Don¡¯t pretend. Alicia saw you trying to track me in school yesterday. In addition, I was informed the last person to try contacting Tommy, was you.¡±


    Alicia? Tommy? ¡°Wait. Alicia¡ªwhere¡¯s Alicia?¡±


    The girl folded her arms. ¡°You¡¯re looking at her, dumba**.¡±


    I opened my mouth. I closed it again.


    Gods. What? What?!


    ¡°I fed you milk!¡±


    ¡°We know you¡¯re one too.¡± Sven¡¯s voice was firm. He sounded a little pained though. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you were hiding the truth from me for so long, but now that¡¯s out in the open.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Murder Girl answered, with disgust. ¡°You¡¯re a Y¨­kai.¡±


    My mind whirled and my heart raced. I tried to put pieces together, fast. I¡¯m going through changes¡ªbox in book¡ªSven yelled at Tommy¡ªFrog-Eater with a book. ¡°You think I stole a book, because I¡¯m a yokai? I didn¡¯t even know I was a yokai until three seconds ago!¡±


    Sven¡¯s brows knit together. He frowned. ¡°Two books. First, you stole Kojiki. Where are the items?¡±


    My head ached. I gripped my forehead and grimaced. ¡°You know the whole good cop, bad cop routine is messed up when you think about it. Can you explain everything to me, first? What¡¯s the deal with the book? Why do you want it? There¡¯s nothing but a bunch of fancy-looking junk in it!¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not junk.¡± Sven shot a look at Murder Girl, puzzlement forming on his face.


    Murder Girl¡ªor Alicia, though that didn¡¯t make sense¡ªleaned closer. Her voice was low and cutting. ¡°What did you do with Kojiki?¡±


    I gulped. ¡°It had pages missing already. It had a locked box. I opened the box. There was a mirror and a spoon inside. And¡ª¡± I broke off.


    Alicia¡¯s eyes narrowed. Her knife twitched. The blade glinted in the light.


    I plowed on quickly. ¡°I dropped the mirror. It broke. I put the spoon in the dishwasher after eating cereal. It bent. That¡¯s it, I swear.¡±


    The girl¡¯s eyes and Sven¡¯s both widened. They shot each other a flabbergasted look.


    Sven slapped a hand to his face. He muttered under his breath. ¡°Unbelievable.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Are you telling me you accidentally broke a famous historical artifact and then stuck another one in the dishwasher?¡±


    ¡°Historical? That collectible stuff?¡±


    ¡°Cecelia.¡± Sven spoke as if I was hard of hearing. ¡°Didn''t you read the label? Those were government property. They are national treasures normally displayed at the Tokyo National Museum in Japan!¡±


    I had a very, very terrible sinking feeling in the bottom of my stomach. ¡°Oh.¡±


    The two were silent. They stared me down, Sven wincing, Alicia both baffled and vexed.


    I squeaked, ¡°Maybe I can fix the spoon? I used gentle cycle.¡±


    Alicia snarled. ¡°Disgraceful. How could we have let someone this stupid steal right under our noses?¡±


    I whispered, holding back a whimper, ¡°How much do I have to pay?¡±


    Sven¡¯s face softened. The rage in him was draining out by the second. ¡°These types of things don¡¯t have a price tag, Cecelia. If I had to make a very rough estimate¡­¡± He pondered, eyes darting, then sighed. ¡°At least three billion yen?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t calculate. Not with my head pounding. ¡°How many greenbacks is that?¡±


    ¡°Two million.¡±


    Two¡ªtwo million dollars?!


    What have I done with my life? I¡¯ll never be able to pay that! I¡¯m going to ruin Mom and Dad¡¯s life!


    I swallowed hard. I croaked, ¡°There must be something I can do.¡±


    Alicia slammed a fist onto the table. The desk shuddered. ¡°Talk.¡± I flinched.


    Sven said, in a calmer tone, ¡°We might be able to work out a deal so you don¡¯t end up in jail for the rest of your life.¡±


    Jail? I don¡¯t want to go to jail! What is this nightmare? I tried smacking myself in the face. ¡°Wake up wake up wake up¡ª¡±


    Sven seized my arms and wrenched them back. ¡°You can start by telling us what you know.¡±


    My voice was high-pitched. ¡°Only if you tell me what¡¯s going on. I don¡¯t know what you guys want!¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Sven turned to Alicia. ¡°We¡¯ll have to explain.¡±


    Alicia growled. ¡°Make it quick.¡±


    Sven ran a hand through his hair. ¡°Do you know about the auction?¡±


    ¡°No. Maybe?¡± I recalled, faintly, the eagle-like staff member at the bookstore. She¡¯d been complaining about rich people at an auction ruining books. ¡°Was Kojiki going to be auctioned off?¡±


    Light flickered as he nodded. ¡°There¡¯s a major auction that¡¯s going to be held in the city. Wealthy people from all over the world bid for the right to rent the national treasures of Japan. Normally, they receive the box that you saw, locked up, and the treasures stay in their homes to be admired. Nobody opens them. Then after a month the treasures are returned to the museum.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a thing?¡±


    A nod. ¡°It¡¯s like fine art. It makes a lot of money for Japan and also Japantown. This year, the powers-that-be decided to put the treasures in adaptations of historically significant books. For aesthetic reasons. The theme was: Cutting into the past, moving into the future.¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s stupid,¡± I cut in, stammering as Alicia raised her knife. ¡°Why would you put treasures in a manga?¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Exactly my thoughts.¡± Sven sounded miffed. ¡°It¡¯s a gimmick. Unfortunately, one truth about Japan that never changes is its poverty, and the Emperor¡ª¡± He stopped. ¡°That¡¯s not important. What matters, is that a team related to Alicia and I were tasked with transporting the books safely from Japan to the auction site near Japantown.¡±


    ¡°And there were problems?¡±


    ¡°You think? Everyone was too lax. The first was Man¡¯yoshu. Someone broke past the guards and took that book before anyone knew what was happening. A police report was filed. Incident Report PC962 83912. I wasn¡¯t part of that¡ªI had other work, but once I pulled it up for my ¡®school project¡¯ I knew I had to pivot and move fast. The percentage was too high.¡±


    One puzzle piece clicked. ¡°Vi¡¯s message¡ª¡±


    ¡°No sh*t,¡± Alicia interjected. ¡°Keep up, won¡¯t you?¡±


    Based on how she was treating me, I was slightly more convinced she was the cat.


    Sven went on. ¡°Right in SF¡ªextremely embarrassing¡ªand everyone including Alicia and I were put on alert. The team moved several books to Kinokuniya for storage. Asian Art Museum didn¡¯t have capacity.¡±


    My head was spinning as I attempted to follow. ¡°What¡¯s that have to do with me¡ª¡±


    ¡°Man¡¯yoshu, Kojiki, Uji Shui Monogatari.¡± Sven ticked off each title with his fingers. ¡°Three books stolen, each containing priceless and powerful treasures, and it¡¯s my job and Alicia¡¯s to find them. At first I suspected Tommy, but there is another thief involved.¡± He shot me a sharp look.


    I peered down at my arm, at the spot covered by the star where Frog-Eater had marked me. Being clobbered by a random girl was disorienting enough, but them treating me like this, while Frog-Eater said I did a good job, was more so.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t any person have¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Look at the evidence. Only a local yokai could have taken Kojiki. The books do have defenses. First is the sheer amount of reiki they emit. Any human that touched them would be electrocuted to death.¡±


    Static shock. I wished I could browse those apartment books, to look up that term, but they lay tantalizingly out of my grasp. How come he knows stuff I¡¯ve never heard of?


    Alicia picked up for Sven, dripping with contempt. ¡°Assuming a yokai touched one, they would either intentionally want to rob the treasure inside, or be a complete idiot.¡±


    Sven bit his lip and shook his head slightly as if in apology to me. A bit late, that. ¡°Inside the boxes are preservation particles. They also serve as physical proof of tampering.¡± He leveled his gaze at me. ¡°If Alicia and I searched your house, would we find traces of silver dust inside? I wonder.¡±


    I gulped. That wasn¡¯t glitter?


    Alicia jabbed her knife out. The blade stopped inches from my eyeball. ¡°Too much explaining.¡±


    Ohmygodsohmygods.


    She hissed. ¡°Where are the rest?¡±


    I made a mouse-like squeak.


    The cold steel of her blade descended on my cheek. Rested on my skin. ¡°That¡¯s not an answer. Where are the other artifacts from Kojiki and Uji Shui Monogatari?¡±


    I sat paralyzed. My breaths came out shallow.


    Sven warned, ¡°Alicia.¡±


    Alicia¡¯s voice was low. Her face was half-hidden in shade, her green eyes looming like orbs. ¡°Just a small cut. It will make her cooperate¡ª¡±


    ¡°Alicia!¡± Sven shouted.


    The girl withdrew her blade, with great reluctance.


    I inhaled, deeply, and gagged at a whiff of sharp lemon and tuna. Definitely in Sven¡¯s house. No one to help if I scream.


    Sven sat before me and steepled his fingers. ¡°Tell us what happened in school with Tommy. Were you working with him? Against him? Which treasures did you take?¡±


    ¡°How would I know about Tommy¡ª¡± I changed track as Alicia¡¯s lips twisted. ¡°Kojiki was torn off. The other box had a big water pot. Plus two spoons. Uji had a dragon pitcher and a pedestal, some kind of stand. I don¡¯t know where they are.¡±


    Sven¡¯s eyes were narrowed. ¡°What do you mean? You saw them, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Frog-Eater.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Sven shot Alicia a look as the girl was equally taken aback. ¡°What is that?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. How would I know? Maybe the lady wanted to cook a big meal? Someone super into copperware?¡±


    Sven shook his head like he was recovering from a bad hangover. ¡°Those spoons aren¡¯t for cooking. They were for calligraphy. That pot was an inkpot. Stand is for a brush. The only thing you¡¯d use for a meal is the pitcher.¡±


    ¡°¡­I ate cereal with an ink spoon?¡± Ohhh. That¡¯s why they were shaped funny.


    Alicia muttered, ¡°She¡¯s trying to distract us.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not, I swear!¡±


    Sven cupped a hand to his chin. ¡°What lady? I was certain Tommy had Uji Shui Monogatari. Did Tommy tell you where¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know! There was only me and the woman at the pool!¡± I rose out of my seat struggling in the handcuffs. Sven put a hand on my shoulder and forced me down, firmly.


    My lips curled. My chest thumped. How long are they going to keep me here? Hours? Days? Sven is going to lose patience soon. Then Alicia will introduce me to her stabber.


    The girl looked like she wanted to already. Her eyes narrowed like slits. ¡°Explain.¡±


    ¡°I went to find Tommy and this woman was already there. Blond hair, blue eyes, white fur jacket. She had a bell tied around her ankle.¡±


    Sven looked at me as if I¡¯d sprouted a second head. ¡°There¡¯s no one like that in this city.¡±


    Alicia growled, ¡°She¡¯s lying.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not! That¡¯s what I saw!¡±


    Sven turned to the girl. ¡°Let¡¯s run through public databases and IDs to be certain. She may be misremembering. Panic does that to people.¡±


    I stammered. ¡°She was holding Uji Shui Monogatari. She had it after she ate the frog. Big ol¡¯ frog with a lily disc and long legs.¡±


    Sven paled white as a sheet. He stiffened. ¡°She ate¡ª?¡±


    Alicia hissed and sprang back. She leaned against a wall, crouching low to the ground. Her eyes bugged out.


    ¡°Yeah. Crazy, right?¡± What¡¯s up with her?


    Sven¡¯s muscles were tense. He stood up, rigid, and rubbed his face. ¡°God. I don¡¯t know how else to tell you, but what you saw was not a frog. It was a kappa. Another type of yokai. Tommy was a kappa.¡±


    Dead silence. My jaw dropped.


    ¡°That¡¯s why we couldn¡¯t find the book. Tommy must¡¯ve hidden it inside himself.¡± Sven let out a tight exhale.


    Alicia had recovered somewhat and arrived back at Sven¡¯s side. She looked disgusted, but I couldn¡¯t tell whether it was at me or Frog-Eater or the world in general.


    Sven¡¯s face was filled with concentration. ¡°The more important question is, how did that woman open the boxes? Tommy shouldn¡¯t have had the key.¡±


    I answered before I could stop myself. ¡°It wasn¡¯t that hard. All I needed was to tug it off. Are you sure the locks weren¡¯t messed up? Like with the spoon I bent?¡±


    The two froze. They met each other¡¯s gazes, pupils expanding.


    Alicia muttered, ¡°Sh*t. Are you thinking what I¡¯m thinking?¡±


    Sven said to me, softly, ¡°Say that again? What did you do with the spoon?¡±


    ¡°Uh.¡± I wasn¡¯t sure why they were having trouble with what I said. ¡°I bent it.¡±


    Sven let out a slow breath. ¡°This is bad. This is very bad.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± When they didn¡¯t answer, I laughed nervously. ¡°Are you seriously worried because I bent a spoon?¡±


    ¡°A metal spoon, Cecelia. Like those metal locks. You¡¯re dangerous. You are openly admitting to collaborating with this woman, correct?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t have a choice!¡±


    Dangerous? Me? Is this a joke?


    Sven sighed, deeply. He kneaded his hair with his hands and shut his eyes. When he opened them, they were determined. Like he¡¯d made up his mind. ¡°I believe you. Here¡¯s what¡¯s going to happen. You are going to go to school and forget everything we¡¯ve told you. You¡¯re going to stay away from me and Alicia. You¡¯re going to resume your life as if nothing has happened. When we solve the case and catch the thief, we will explain you were coerced. You don¡¯t have to do anything. The important thing for you to do is stay away from us.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± My voice rose and Alicia¡¯s knife hand twitched, but I didn¡¯t care. ¡°You can¡¯t tell me to forget everything and walk away! What about the stuff I broke? Can¡¯t you help me with that?¡±


    Two million dollars. Two million dollars plus.


    Then, there were the questions I had. The answers I was bursting to know.


    Sven drew himself up to his full height. He glowered. ¡°That is a problem. However, you did break them. I can¡¯t do anything about that. I suggest you prepare early and work out the consequences yourself.¡±


    ¡°What? Bro! You can¡¯t do that¡ª!¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, I can!¡± Sven shouted. His fists clenched and he shook. I shrank back.


    Quieter, Sven said, ¡°This is for your own good. This isn¡¯t a game. The situation is extremely dangerous and if you are involved in any way, it will only become worse for yourself. Especially with what you can do. Do you understand?¡±


    I kept my chin up to him. I didn¡¯t say anything.


    Sven averted his gaze. He folded his arms and spoke to Alicia. ¡°Let¡¯s take her back to campus. I know you two probably hate each other by now, but you¡¯ll have to tolerate¡ª¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no need for that.¡± Alicia cracked her knuckles. She leaped onto the table.


    Sven was faster this time, grabbing her arm, but it was a second too late.


    The butt of a knife crashed against my skull. Darkness.

 Breakup

    I¡¯d been dumped unceremoniously on a bench by the parking lot. My bulging backpack was plopped next to me like a talk-show buddy. Nice of Sven to do that. I hope I don¡¯t have brain damage. I clutched my pounding head and waited for the pain to drop to a tolerable level.


    Small friend groups walked by chatting. I wonder if this is how hobos feel after drinking. You¡¯re sucking deep and everyone passes by like you don¡¯t exist. Maybe I¡¯d join them if I didn¡¯t pay off my debt.


    I made it twelve minutes late to my first class. Normally I¡¯d be hyped over it, especially since today we were having our five-page compositions  reviewed by Mrs. Giles. I barely heard her lecture. My seat in the back was rock-hard. I idled and gazed out a window. Pungent chalk and sawdust further worsened my terrible migraine.


    Did I really see a stranger claiming to be Sven¡¯s cat?


    Where are those two?


    How can they ask me to walk away from everything? To ignore what I¡¯ve learned? Do they have any idea how painful that is? I¡¯d rather die!


    Whatever they¡¯re doing is totally different from anything in class for sure. I bet they¡¯re in the library researching or going after Frog-Eater. What is that yokai talk about anyways? There¡¯s so much they aren¡¯t telling me! Shouldn¡¯t I be a part of that? Can¡¯t I¡ªcan¡¯t I be part of these secrets they¡¯re hiding?


    I had to screw up, didn¡¯t I?


    I was distantly aware of gripping my pencil. My lead-filled pencil. Snap. Break, I thought, fury rising at myself.


    Nothing happened.


    My heart skipped several beats. Bend? Bend. I tried again.


    Nothing. My pencil lay inert as ever.


    What¡¯s happening? It¡¯s not working? My stomach dropped and went cold. Why isn¡¯t it working?


    I felt small.


    Very small.


    As if everything since Kinokuniya was a dream¡ª


    ¡°Cecelia?¡± Mrs. Giles was inspecting me from amber, horn-rimmed glasses, the usual edge in her stern eyes blunted. ¡°Is something wrong?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± My voice felt distant. I looked down to see I was sitting at her oak desk, a yellow legal pad with my writing facing her. Lecture had ended. Review time.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± When I didn¡¯t answer, she pressed on. ¡°As I was saying, this is creative work. I especially like the coded language the illegals use when speaking to others.¡±


    ¡°You think it could get me in university?¡±


    ¡°Oh heavens no!¡± She laughed, pearl earrings swaying and ginger hair waving. ¡°You would need years of effort to approach an acceptable level.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Mrs. Giles has to know what she¡¯s talking about. That coat is proof. On her was a designer overcoat from earnings as a magazine publisher. It had buttons on the side and a wide flare of orange wool which I privately admitted showed her as very posh.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong. You did fine on this assignment. Keep at it.¡±


    I dipped my head up and down. The black ink on my legal pad was blurring. I blinked hard. ¡°Yokai,¡± I mumbled.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Do you know about yokai? From Japan?¡± It was a long shot but maybe she knew something.


    ¡°Ah yes, of course! ¡®Strange apparitions¡¯. A fascinating subject with centuries of folklore behind it. I wouldn¡¯t mind if you made it a topic in your next essay. Your parents are Japanese, is that why?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I mumbled. ¡°Assignment.¡± It was clear from her tone she couldn¡¯t help.


    The idea of presenting made the dryness in my throat worse. It reminded me of the gaping hole left unfilled.


    I gathered up the pad because I couldn¡¯t talk any further.


    ***


    ¡°Yo-yo Chuji. My dude. Mind if I sit?¡±


    He sat squirming at a mess table. Chuji pushed up his glasses. ¡°Oh? You are approaching me? My keen eyes can see you give off a strong negative energy similar to my own, however we are two magnets matching poles and you cannot come to me no matter how much you want to.¡±


    I inspected his spot, lips pursed, to figure out why we couldn¡¯t vibe together. His lunchbox lay open, two buns untouched, and most horrific of all, his chicken nuggies too. For gods¡¯ sake, they were dino-shaped.


    Chuji definitely wasn¡¯t going to a party either. He was in street clothes, an unflattering white shirt and sweats. His posture and his mouth sagged. I ventured, with caution, ¡°You made fifth place at the competition?¡±


    ¡°Sixth. Tommy never showed up.¡±


    ¡°That sucks.¡± I dropped my gaze to my chicken noodle soup and my burger. The end of a metal spoon floated on the soup. Should I tell him? He¡¯ll think I¡¯m crazy.


    Maybe I imagined everything.


    Chuji buried his face in his hands. ¡°I do not understand. I called Tommy¡¯s parents but they told me he was not home. Why did he leave us? After we placed, a supervisor came to Coach. She told him they were thinking about shutting the program down.¡±


    ¡°Yikes.¡± I tried handing him my burger. He brushed it off and slapped down his pork sandwich.


    ¡°I have never seen Coach this upset. They may replace the pool entirely. How am I supposed to reach a D-1 school now?¡±


    ¡°I get it man. Swimming is your golden ticket.¡± Left unsaid, was that was his only ticket. ¡°Hey, look.¡± I fished out my soup spoon and gripped it with both hands. Bend, spoon, bend.


    Nothing.


    Shoot. Shoot! Why isn¡¯t anything happening? Is there a limit I don¡¯t know about?


    Did I use it too much? My throat tightened.


    What if it¡¯s gone?


    I stared aghast at the spoon. My cheeks warmed as awkward silence stretched. ¡°Erm, you see,¡± I improvised, ¡°This spoon represents your team¡¯s bond! It¡¯s unbreakable. Like steel. You may have lost one teammate, but together you can still win and overcome the odds.¡±


    He acknowledged my feeble effort with a glum nod. ¡°We must train and defeat the other teams. We will have to find a replacement also. Not a minute can be wasted. That is why I cannot spend time with anyone else.¡±


    Footsteps shuffled nearby. I turned to see his teammates fast approaching, carrying trays and worn but intent expressions.


    ¡°I have a plan to get back at SJ,¡± one called out. The speaker¡¯s name was Jaden or something, with wavy copper hair, a white tank top to show off muscle, and a dragon tattoo on his shoulder. Chuji scooted aside to make room and they settled at the table in familiar positions. Jaden, facing Chuji, pulled a white poster from a backpack.


    The group burst into animated discussion. I was a primitive life-form intruding upon a domain of higher species as jargon like ¡°400 IM¡±, ¡°long course¡±, ¡°pullout¡±, and ¡°200 back¡± flew over my head. No one gave me a second glance.


    I shuffled away, a kicked dog, to let Chuji begin his revenge arc.