The boy sifted through the tall, dense grass, searching for seeds in the dim twilight. He crawled through the underbrush, sweating from the sweltering summer heat. He slapped his cheek. Pesky mosquitoes. He came upon a particular patch of towering leafy stalks and carefully examined each one down to the roots. Had to be just the right color. Just the right height, number of leaves. Even among the perfect ones he took special care to only pick the ones without a new mantis egg hanging from the thick bulbs where the ripe stalks were sprouting from the dirt. He yanked out the ones he felt satisfied with and hurried off to a nearby pond.

  The poor lad chased through grass that rose up to his knees, snatching through the air in vain to catch the seeming droves of noisy crickets trapezing from blade to blade, teasing him. For every one he managed to catch through some fluke of luck, he clasped his hands together tight, leaving no gaps between his fingers without crushing the tiny thing, and scampered down the hill into the black rice paddies. He waded out to the middle of the waters, enduring the hostile droves of mosquitoes and gnats that must’ve hated his functioning eyes and relatively unblemished, unbitten face. He carefully tried to squeeze the squishy, wiggly cricket between two fingers (dropping quite a few of them, and squishing one or two) and dipped it just under the surface. He waited for however long, watching plump dragonflies and water skeeters darting about every which way. Finally, his prize snapped at the bait. The boy yelped and yanked his hand back out, a fat, flailing bass suckling around his fist. He grimaced at the cold, slimy sensation and rushed back to shore. Once he had enough fish, he collected his finds from the day and hurried back home, disappearing into the deepening dusk and the heavy din of cicada song.

   The small shack he called home sat quiet and unassuming in the darkness. At a cursory glance, the place appeared vacant. The old wooden walls and floors were drying out, paling in color and ravaged by termites. The short porch under the entrance looked like it would collapse under a sparrow’s weight. The surrounding lawns were hopelessly overgrown, a natural haven for ticks and snakes. At least the flickering fireflies gave the place a rustic charm on sultry evenings like this one.

  The boy laid the herbs by the side of the shack and slipped off his geta at the door. He was a simple lad; short, black hair and a modest old yukata scuffed with dirt. He wiped the cooling sweat and dirt from his forehead and brushed through the reed curtain.

  “Oh, welcome home,” came a faint voice from the darkness of the house. It came from a tiny girl wrapped tight in her raggedy but comfy futon. She didn’t sit up to greet him, she couldn’t. The boy could hear her heavy breathing filling the empty space in the house. He wiped his hands with a rag and walked to her side. He kneeled and rested his hand on her forehead. Her skin was boiling, slick with sweat and her face was practically burning red.

  “You’re getting worse.” He muttered. “I thought we at least had more…”

  “Why are you worried?” She asked, her voice barely a breathy whisper. “You’ve done all you could.” She reached out to his cheek with her trembling hand. “Don’t burden yourself over me. You’ll end up making yourself sick, too.” She smiled up at him. “And then where would we be?” She tried to laugh but started hacking, yanking her hand back to cover her mouth. The boy’s lips pursed, his fists trembling. He leaned down over her and took her up into his arms.

  “Hima, you can’t just give up on me, give up on yourself. We don’t have to just accept this. Why should we? Why should we be forced out here in the boondocks? It’s not fair!” Tears trickled onto Hima’s shoulders. “It’s not.”

  He felt her wrap her arms weakly around his waist. “Brother,” she started, muffled against his chest, “Yomi…maybe it isn’t fair, but we still have each other at least. Right?”

  “That’s just it.” He leaned back a bit and gazed into her eyes. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re all I have, and you’re still so little. To lose you now, after all we’ve done….its cruel.”

   “Please, just don’t worry. The time I’ve been with you has been so…wonderful.” Her reddening eyes squinted, tearing up but too dry and tired to spill any. “No matter what, as long as we have each other, we’ll have hope, too. Right?”

  Yomi’s eyes narrowed. His mind drifted to what the doctor at the tiny village to the south told him earlier that day. He remembered he could barely hear him over the gleeful commotion and the rackety noise of construction outside. Of course, he always spoke softly when Yomi came by. He would shut the doors and lock them tight, draping over all the windows. He seemed especially cold today. He didn’t even look at him. He sat with his side to the boy, grinding herbs in a bowl with an almost surgical focus. He remembered that he was the first to speak.

  “Kuraha-san, the mixtures you prescribed last month seem to be wearing off again. It’s been a lot faster than the last few recipes, too.”

  “I see.”

  “I’m just wondering, isn’t there anything else?”

  “I doubt that would help.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “It sounds like her condition is worsening. I don’t see how stronger medication would be much use at this late stage.” His voice was flat, detached. Like the bastard didn’t even care.

  “But…Kuraha-san, with all due respect, you haven’t even…”

  “There’s nothing I can do.”

  Yomi’s heart caught in his throat, cutting off his words. Did he really just…?

  “We both know the medications were only delaying the inevitable.”

  He silently rose to his feet and walked to a desk, idly sifting through parchments.

  “We both know there’s no cure for what she has.”

   The office fell silent. Yomi's mind ran a blank when he heard those words. The noise, the clatter, the excited hollering form the world outside. It all vanished, just…gone. Like the doctor’s office was suddenly in another, empty world.

  The spirited clip-clop of children’s geta rushing by broke the silence, their laughter calling the other, crueler world back from the ether. Yomi remembered he could hear, just barely hear the lilting, folksy strains of a sad local song the kids were humming, a haunting, cautionary song about some kind of god. Its strange melody and the innocent voices singing only made the doctor’s cruelty seem worse, punctuated by contradiction.

  “I understand your feelings, I sympathize, I truly do.” Liar. He sounded just as detached as before. “But there’s simply nothing else I can do. There’s nothing that can be done. I’ve already exhausted the list of remedies the last time that disease hit this town. It was an epidemic, and a horrible one. Incurable. Nearly the entire village was wiped out, as well as others we traded to.” His thumb crumpled the report in his hands.

   Yomi remembered the voices outside were growing a tad louder. He remembered making out the lyrics, fading in and out as the doctor spoke, keeping his voice low.

- Before you even know, before you even notice, you’ve lost your way-

   “It’s been risky enough letting you come to me. People are getting suspicious, asking questions. It’s a miracle you’re immune to the disease, but that hasn’t softened the people’s fears.”

-Following the petals of flame that drift through the heavens-

“They have good reason to worry. It’s a miracle I haven’t been infected, as many times as I’ve seen you. There’s no reason it couldn’t jump from you to anyone else,”

-Faraway, and yet, so close, they call to us all-

  “And that damn tragedy would repeat itself.” His fingers tightened and clenched, ripping the form.

-OMATSURI, OMATSURI-

   “…You should focus on enjoying what time you have left with her.”

   Yomi’s shoulders drooped. His lips tightened, fingers gripping and tugging the worn fabric of his yukata. “So, there really is nothing we can do?” The words crumbled out of him.

-Make a dream come true tonight-

   Yomi remembered hearing the soft thump of footsteps and then a firm hand resting on his shoulder.

   “Don’t give up hope.” That bastard.

   “But how can you say that? You just said she’s doomed!”

   “But she’s still here. Don’t give up on her. Do what you can to keep her alive, and be strong for her.”

   Yomi looked up at him and saw a look of concern on Kuraha’s face he hadn’t seen since the day he and Hima collapsed outside of town after they ran so far to escape the bloody swath the invading warlords were cutting through the countryside. Before Hima got sick.

-Is there going to be a miracle, or a disaster?-

  Kuraha saw Yomi’s red, tearing eyes, sighed, and headed for another room. “The mixture you’re using now can be improved with an additional ingredient.” He yelled from the other room. “It doesn’t grow here, but there’s a caravan coming for tomorrow’s festival that should be carrying some of it. It may not have much of an effect, but it’s something.”

   Yomi remembered feeling a spark of hope light up deep in his heart, however brief. He slowly rose to his feet and turned for the door when the doctor called again.

   “Don’t worry, I’ll get it for you. Come tomorrow evening before the festivities start. Be quick and don’t let anyone see you. They’ll be selling masks. If you can get one somehow, it’ll be easier for you. Leave as soon as you can.”

-Maybe we can leave this cruel world together-

  “Right. As long as we have each other, we’ll always have hope.”

  “Aaaand, we can be happy.” Hima added. She brushed away a tear Yomi wasn’t even aware of, and smiled. He smiled back, kissing her forehead.

   “Well, your medicine isn’t going to make itself.” Their stomachs’ howled, as if to add, “Or dinner, for that matter.”

  “Maybe I should handle the fish first.”

   “Yes, please.” Said Hima, giggling. No coughing this time. Good. Yomi ruffled her hair, tucked her back in and headed outside to gather firewood.

  Hima grinned, mumbled something under her breath and closed her eyes. For a time, there were only cicadas, darkness and the seething summer heat around her.

  The hollow tinkling of wind chimes, yet no breeze.

  Hima’s eyes popped open and she shot straight up, face beaming excitedly.

  “Hey there! Welcome back!”

   There, in the darkness, sat a girl hovering in the air, sitting with her legs crossed. She glowed with a pale, ghostly aura, radiating with an otherworldly chill. Her every feature, from her skin to her oversized kimono, was whiter than a radish. Or a corpse. Her precocious looking face smiled, a tiny fang glinting from under her lip. Her big, bubbly eyes a strikingly bold red, as were the small, round bells and chimes hanging from her waist, as was the fine, scarlet thread tied around her snowy neck in a bow, finer than the thread of a geisha’s hair.

   Hima’s smile grew bigger still. “I’m really glad you’re here. I missed you. How was your trip?”

   The ghostly girl grinned. “Well. And you?”

  “Ok, I guess. It’s been getting a little harder to breathe, and Yomi says I’ve been tossing and turning a lot at night. Oh! You just missed him!”

  “Is that so?”

  She nodded.

   “You remember not to tell anyone about me, right?”

  Hima’s smile shrunk a bit. “Oh…yeah, yes, I do.”

  “Cause then we can’t be friends anymore.”

  She nodded again. The ghost grinned.

   “So, do you want to come with me tomorrow night?”

  “Hm? Go with you where?”

   “To that village to the south. They’re having a big festival tomorrow. Would you like to go with me?”

  Hima’s smile vanished. “What? No! I mean…I can’t. I’m not allowed to leave the house, Yomi will worry. And besides…” She clutched at her chest, hand trembling. “You know why I can’t go there. Why I can’t be around other people.”

  “…That’s too bad.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

   “What if I told you it would be ok just this one night?”

   Hima looked at her, puzzled.

   “If there was a way to go have fun without getting anyone sick?”

   Her eyes lit up. “You mean it? There really is a way?”

   One of the ghost’s bells chimed.

   “Sure is. There’s a cure for what you have. They developed it in the countries to the west. It can’t be made here cause the ingredients don’t grow here, but I grabbed everything you need to make it on my last trip.”

Hima’s smile returned, brighter than ever. “You mean it? There’s a cure? It’s really true? I can really go?”

  Another chime.

   “Yep.” The ghost said with a nod. “Just for you. I wanted to tell you first. It’ll be done by tomorrow.” The ghostly waif drifted down to Hima and took her hands into her own. She felt so hot, hotter than a bonfire. Yet there was no pain, no burn. She stared deep into Hima’s eyes, smile widening.

   “We can go together. Everyone’ll see how healthy you are, and Yomi can be with us, too.” Hima started to tear up.

  “Just remember not to tell him about any of this until we meet tomorrow. “Promise?” She held up a pinky. Hima beamed and met her pinky swear without a second thought. “Promise!”

   Chime.

  Hima pulled the pale girl into a tight hug, bawling into her shoulder. “Thank you. Thank you so much. You’re the best friend ever. Yomi will be so happy.” The ghost rested her snowy hand on her head, stroking her long hair. Hima looked up at her and glanced at the sterling white fox mask resting off-center on her head.  Strange how she never thought much of it before, she always wore it. But never as one normally would. Every so often when she came to visit her, the mask would be swiveled just slightly around the top of her head, like the shadow of a sundial. This must’ve been the eighth time.

   “You like it?” The ghost asked, pointing to it. Hima nodded.

    “Good. It’s actually why I love this festival so much. I go every year, a lot of places in this region celebrate it.”

   “Really?”  

   “Yep. I always go to a different one, since I travel so much. This mask is a memento from my very first one. There’s a story they always tell at the festival, a really old one about a fox.”

   “Wow. I’ve never seen a real fox before. I bet they’re so cute. What’s the story?”

   The ghost smiled. “I’ll tell you tomorrow on the way, kay?”

   Hima smiled and nodded. “Sure.”

  A chime.

  The next morning and most of the midday were largely uneventful, a typical, languorous summer day. Yomi set the dried, cleaned fish over the tiny fire pit in the house to grill and was nearly finished Hima’s medicinal mixture. The tall stalks he picked were giving him particular trouble now and the night before, but he persevered for his sister’s sake, scouring the land for rocks tough enough to pound the bulbs into a pulp for grinding.

   Hima seemed chipper today, even for her. She was beaming about something all day, when she was awake; giggling, and then coughing, every few seconds it seemed. She wouldn’t tell him why she was in such high spirits. He suspected it was the local festival tonight. Neither one could go, they were all too aware, but it seemed natural, expected, for a child her age to get swept up in the excitement regardless. Holidays and traditions have that effect on everyone, he figured.

   “Hey,” He said, taking a bite from his skewered piece of fish. “You know….the village’s festival’s in a few hours.”

  Hima stopped midbite. Her eyes darted away, trying to hide her smile.

   Yomi caught her silence and shakily continued.  “What do you say we have our own festival tonight? Just you and me?”

   She began to smile, but it quickly died. She didn’t say a word.

   “What’s the matter? Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

   She looked down. “No, it does, brother. But…how?”

   “It’s ok. I have to run by the village anyway later. I can just grab some masks and fireworks and we can throw our own little party.”

  Her smile returned, hands trembling.

   “Maybe, when I finish this new batch of medicine, we can even go out together, start a campfire, look for foxes. That’s what the festival’s about, right?”

    A tiny tear fell unnoticed on the wooden floor. “I’d love that. It sounds great, let’s have our own little party!” Her little red face lit up, smiling ear to ear.

   Yomi blushed and smiled back. “It’s settled then.” He said with a chuckle. “I’ll be going soon. You should get some rest for tonight.” She nodded excitedly and practically jumped into her futon. She probably wouldn’t fall asleep right away, the way she smiled, her feet kicking over and over at her sheet. Yomi sighed with relief and started for the door.

   “I love you, Yomi.”

   He froze in the doorway. A moment passed in silence and he turned to her, his expression hidden in the shadows as the amber midday light flowed in. “I love you too, Hima.” He replied, voice faint and shaky, before slipping outside.

   A tear slid down Hima’s cheek and she forced her eyes close, willing herself to sleep. The faster she drifted into dreams, the sooner it’d seem when she woke up. The sooner she’d be cured, the sooner she’d be accepted by the villagers, the sooner she and her brother and her friend could enjoy a night of revelry and begin their new lives together. Wake up on the night of the festival. She’d wake up to a new life, a better one.

    It happened slowly, gradually. Nothing but darkness, everywhere and impregnable. Heat, a baking heat radiated the stale air. The hollow clacking of wooden sticks shattered the air, the hair-raising shriek of a shakuhachi pierced through her. The heat grew heavier and more intense. Like a burning flame in the darkness, a soft, red light emerged, sending the shadows scurrying as it spread. Gradually, vision returned to her. She could just make out a group of ghostly figures, people, snowy pale people from their hair to the kimonos they wore, hobbling around in the blackness. She couldn’t see their faces, they were covered with…something, she couldn’t tell. The clacking and squealing grew louder, shriller, joined by a chorus of eerie, atonal moans. And then by wind chimes, what sounded like hundreds of them.

    Then, she saw the gilded iron bars before her, gleaming in the warm light. They towered above her to ceilings so high they stretched up into darkness, forming some giant cage. She heard some great beast growling from within, a deep rumbling sound she felt resonating inside her, shaking her to the bone. The heat was hellish now, the air choking and sweltering. Hima panted. Was she really even breathing? She felt no air leaving or entering her lungs. Just the heat.

   Crowds of the shambling ghosts began manifesting from nowhere, brushing past her as if she wasn’t even there. They approached the monster’s cage, holding what must’ve been offerings; bowls of some liquid, water or perhaps sake, wood carvings and lacquerware, trays of fresh food. They laid them down before the iron bars and suddenly froze, still as mannequins. Then the chamber grew brighter, giving Hima a glimpse of the vicious creature in the cage. She gasped and stumbled on her butt. Her mind screamed to run, get up and run as far as you can. But she never moved, only quivering in place. Bewitched.

   Within the cage rested a massive fox, white in fur and clearly demonic in nature. Even resting as it was now, it must’ve been as tall as one of the castles the warlords to the north lived in. Hima was no bigger than one of the creature’s toes. It’s cloudy, slanted eyes watched her, silently, its massive, pointed ears resting flat on its head. With every wooden clack and shrieking wail, it huffed steam from its nostrils, its bushy tail flicking with irritation. Around it’s waste was tied a gigantic shimenawa rope,  and from that stretched metal chains, too large to feasibly exist, she thought, to their hooks at the top of a monumental shrine gate, painted an impossibly bold red that made  Hima think only of blood.

   The huge creature snorted and yawned, massive, jagged fangs jutting from its cavernous maw.  It raised itself on its front legs and looked over the chamber, at the mass of still, pale worshippers. Then it noticed her. Its eyes shot wide open, vicious, feral and blaringly red. Hima’s scream echoed through the whole room, though none of the ghosts seemed to notice. It quickly rose on all fours and glared at the tiny girl, a growl rumbling from its throat. Its massive tail snapped to life and split into eight with a flash of vicious fire. Its ears bent back, hackles bristling. Little Hima still couldn’t bring herself to run, shivering, sobbing, locked in place from fear, as this monstrous beast, this…demon, was snarling at her like a starving predator pinning down a stray lamb. She very much doubted those tall, thin bars would restrain such a creature.

   Hima only then noticed in all her terror that the ghosts were all staring at her…no, their faces, she could see now, were covered with white sheets of paper, each painted, in red, with a different kanji letter she couldn’t quite read. But their eyes, if they did have eyes, she felt them upon her. Every last one of them looked toward her, no matter their current position; many were looking back at her, sometimes from sickening angles. The shrill instruments had stopped playing at some point, the chamber filled with the song of a beasts’ hungry growls. Suddenly, a fierce gust of wind. A thunderous crack struck her ears. One of the fox’s serpentine tails slinked from her side back inside the cage’s confines. A wet warmth streamed down her neck. Trickling beads of red bubbling from the skin, then a quickening stream running down. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t scream.

   She shot up in her bed, panting, drenched in a cold sweat. It felt like her fever skyrocketed. Immediately, she grasped her neck. No cut. Just supple, smooth, sweaty skin. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

  The hollow tinkling of wind chimes, yet no breeze.

   Hima turned to the doorway. The pale, ghostly girl stood in the doorway, her aura blinding in the purplish dusk. She was wearing her fox mask on her face for the first time since they met.

  Hima smiled sheepishly. “Oh, welcome back. Sorry, just had a….nightmare. Were you waiting long?” No reply. She just stood there, hands folded behind her back.

  Hima wiped her eyes and noticed the low light, the flickering lights of fireflies blinking outside the window and the incessant throbbing din of cicadas. She went red with excitement, rather than fever, and smiled that smile. “Oooh, it’s night already! I can’t believe it!” She clapped her cheeks with excitement, not noticing the slender, fine red ribbon tied in a knot around her neck. “Aren’t you excited? Yomi’s throwing us our own festival when we come back. Isn’t that great?”

Again, no response. The pale waif in the fox mask simply outstretched her hand and softly said, “Let’s go.”

-You in the white fox mask, with your hands folded.-

  Yomi pointed to the pink and gold pinwheel on display at the well-lit stand. Doctor Kuraha paid the seller and handed gave it to him. “Was there anything else?”

  The boy shook his head, hands packed with fireworks, candies, and the northern medicinal weeds Kurama bought for him. “Just some dumplings.” His voice was muffled under the noh mask he wore.

  “Fine, let’s go.” Kurama didn’t have to practically whisper to Yomi with all the commotion about. Crowds of villagers in colorful dress and comical masks jostled through the lanes, men buying pinwheels and goldfish for their sweethearts, dancers swaying gracefully on stage, children frolicking about, brushing past Yomi as they ran. Every so often, the sound of taiko drums thundered through the air, spiked with the occasional donking noise when the drum was struck on the rim rather than the wood, backing, sometimes drowning out, the plaintive notes of a woman singing one of the local folk tunes.

-Who are you? Have you come to take me away?-
-The nine who vanished call the red sky for you-

  “If you add those weeds immediately after the mixture has dried out, it should have a noticeable effect. The recipe wasn’t intended for her virus, so I can’t say for sure how much it’ll help her condition, but it should at least help keep her together a bit longer.” Kuraha said, never looking back at him as he followed.

  “Thank you, Kuraha-san.” A slow summer breeze blew by, the red paper lanterns swaying. Even muffled by the mask, the doctor could hear the shaking in Yomi’s voice.

-The blazing wave of divine fire cleanse the children of the land-

    “A fox god?” Hima asked as the pale waif led her by the hand through the overgrown fields.

  “Yes, a spirit that used to dwell in this region.” She replied, never looking back at her. “It was a good spirit that watched over the people and animals. After many years, its’ power began to weaken. It was dying, and the land would die with it.”

  A chime.

  “One of the people, a widow and mother of nine children who lived together in the wilderness, knew the fox spirit was going to die and offered her and her children’s spirits to it to prolong its life. One of the nearby villages rushed in to stop her, calling a heretic who worshipped a demon. The villagers’ slaughtered the mother and her children and turn their weapons on the spirit.”

  Another chime, then another.

  “The fox spirit lamented their loss and took pity on them. As the mother and her children took their last breaths, they turned over their souls to the spirit, and the spirit accepted them. Its power returned, its tail split into nine and it swept the land and the attacking villagers with divine fire, fire that didn’t burn or destroy, but turned everything it covered into fire spirits that danced and rejoiced in the night. When morning broke, the fox gathered the burning souls and made them its friends, and they returned to the spirit world together, leaving the charred earth to regrow and flourish with its blessing.”

  “Wow, that’s…such a sad story.” Hima said.

  “You think so?” The ghost said with a hint of mischief. “Down in the village, they say that the fox spirit still exists, traveling to this world when its power wanes, appearing to children in secret and luring them away to take their souls, spiriting them away forever to be its friends. They say that if it takes nine souls….”

  Hima saw a pale white aura glowing in the distance across the field. One by one they appeared from the darkness in the trees; a line of children marching lifelessly through the grasses. Eight of them, snowy and pale from their hair to the sterling white yukata they wore. They couldn’t have been older than her, only a few were a little taller.

  “Don’t worry.” The waif in the mask said. “They’re just friends of mine from my trips.” Her grip on Hima’s hand tightened. “They’ll be joining us.”

  A chime.

  “Hey,” Hima started nervously, “This is a little scary. Maybe we should wait to meet up with my brother.” No response. Her grip grew tighter, squeezing hard on her knuckles. “Hey, you’re hurting me. I said we should wait.”

  The pale girl froze, still holding her tight. The lights of the village festival cut a hole in the dim dusk on the hill ahead. “What’s the matter, Hima?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t you want to go with me? Don’t you want to be friends?”

   “But, ….” Hima’s voice trailed off. She wanted to comfort her, but she realized she didn’t even know this girl’s name. How could that have been? After all this time?

  “Don’t you want to be cured and live in happiness with me?” She sounded like she was bawling, her voice shaky and broken. “With Yomi?”

  The hollow tinkling of chimes in the soft, summer breeze.

   The ghostly procession of children was all around them now, suddenly, surround them. Their faces were covered in white sheets of paper painted in red with big kanji letters Hima could barely read. They stood in a circle, linked at the neck by a long, slender red thread tied in bows.

   Hima gasped and yanked her hand free from the ghosts’ grip. “W-what is this? What are you?” She blocked her eyes with her hands to stop the crying, dropping to her knees. “What’s happening?” She stammered. “Why are you doing this?”

  Hima felt the ghosts’ hands on her cheeks, gentle, white-hot, tilting her up to look at her, into her burning red eyes, sharp and clear, her mask on the ground by her feet.

  “To make you happy.”

  Hima’s lip quivered.

  “You hate your life now, don’t you? You hate living all alone, always bedridden with sickness, making your brother toil every day just to delay the inevitable.”

  “N-no.” Hima sputtered.

  “Knowing every pitiful day brings you closer to death.”

  “No.”

  “Knowing you’re both doomed to a life of solitude. Always alone.”

  “NO!” Hima screamed, fighting back the tears. “We’re not alone! We never were! As long as we have each other, as long as we’re together…”

  “But what will he be left with after you die? Then he’ll be all alone. He’ll always be alone. He’s immune to your disease, but he still carries it everywhere he goes, spreading death like wildfire. He’ll never be able to live around other people. All alone till the day he dies, alone.”

  “N-no. That’s…that’s not true.”

   “It doesn’t have to be.” Hima looked up at her. The circle of children spread their arms wide, taking each other’s hands, dancing slowly around them.

   “I can make your dream come true. Your dream to live a full life together, with your brother, with the villagers, with me. There’s no such thing as disease where we’re going, no sadness, no being alone. Everyone lives together as one, in harmony.”

  Hima’s tears stopped and she looked up at her. The red thread around her neck snaked through the air and linked with the waif’s. “You mean it? Yomi and I can…be together?”

  She smiled, a fang glinting under her lip. She raised her pale fist in a pinky swear. “Yep, I promise.” Hima beamed, her tearing, tired eyes filled with hope and wrapped her pinky around the ghosts’ in silence.

  “Perfect.” A sudden, vicious gust screamed past, the girl’s chimes rattling noisily as Hima reeled in surprise, holding her ears. The ghostly children burst with a flare of red light, shrieking terribly as they transformed into oscillating balls of otherworldly flame and shot off in all directions: into the forests, toward the mountains, over the fields and straight into the starry sky. Hima looked all around her, terrified. The thread around her neck tightened, so tight, and scaldingly hot. She grasped at it, gasping, sucking in precious air. The pale demon flitted through the air, cackling, watching the sky wash with a wave of brilliant crimson that flowed endlessly, drowning the moon and stars. She  glared at the suffering girl below, hacking as she gripped her own throat pitifully. Hima’s swelling eyes locked with those of the demon who bewitched her, wild and wide.

  “You’re going to be the ninth.”

  Yomi rushed home, clutching the souvenirs in his arms, the fried dumplings on sticks he and his sister were to share. A glinting red light appeared in the distance. He squinted to see better just as it tore past him like a shot, the sheer force throwing him into the grass. “What the…?” He muttered as he sat up, brushing himself off. He froze, transfixed, horrified at what he witnessed back down the hill from where he came.

  The blazing orb of vermillion light blasted over the village, and with it, a monstrous wave of flame that burst from under the people in an instant. It spread with terrible speed, roaring lashes of flame sweeping through the lanes, swallowing the revelers as they danced in frolicked. Dark, choking clouds of smoke and ash swallowed the air as houses burned and collapsed into pathetic piles of singing embers. There was no warning, no escape. No chance to even scream. Within seconds, the entire village was engulfed in raging fire, a massive inferno that cut through the black of night.

  Yomi’s body quaked, drowning in his own sweat. “W-what…what is this?” He muttered, panicked and panting. The sweltering heat stung his eyes, blurred his senses, his thoughts, as he watched the village burn. Hima.

  He shakily rose to his feet and dashed back home as fast as his kicking legs would go.

  And then the carnage spread elsewhere. Everywhere the wisps of light flew, they brought a ferocious blaze, harbingers of the swift disaster to come. The forests, the fields, the mountainsides, everything and everyone for untold miles devoured by the restless, lashing tongues of flame.

  The inferno left no corpses, no trace of life. The villagers continued to dance and sing with exuberance as the flames engulfed them, as it took the elderly and the sick resting peacefully in their beds, the cattle and livestock in the stables, the doctor Kuraha, all oblivious to the destruction surrounding them. Their earthly forms twisted and transformed in the enveloping flames, becoming one with the fire itself. Some spindly and jagged, some bloated and bold, they floated into the ember-swept air, twisted shadows of their former selves, formed from the very fires that made them so. And so followed the beasts, the crickets trapezing in the tall grass, the fawns and foxes dwelling in the woodlands and mountains, the fish and the dragonflies, the mosquitoes and sparrows. They danced and swayed, crowding the skies. Spirits of flame, blazing shadows of the living, new servants of the fox demon.

A shivering Hima turned to run only to find the demon girl materialize suddenly before her. She grabbed her by the arms, pulling her till she was inches from her face. Hima felt no breath, only those eyes filling her vision, burning through her. Her grip tightened excruciatingly as the poor, blubbering girl writhed and struggled. “It’s time to go, Hima. We’re going now together. To our new life.”

“HIMA!”

  “Yomi?” Her head spun around, tears flying. There, silhouetted by the raging blaze, came running the familiar figure of her beloved brother. “Hima!” His voice was raspy and broken, his throat dry and worn.

   She managed to shout his name again before the demons’ ghastly white hand clasped over her mouth, tugging the girl to her.

  “Let her go!”

  The demon’s eyes sparked, jagged fangs revealed in a sinister smile.

  “We’re going now. Together.” A terrible burst of fire erupted from nowhere, enveloping the girls’. “Brother, help me! I don’t wanna go! I wanna stay with you!” She screamed from within the hissing flames. “I’m coming, Hima!” Yomi yelled, dashing headlong into the monstrous inferno. He lashed out and grabbed his sister’s hand, teeth clenching as the raging flames swept over him, burning his flesh, singing his yukata. The demon hissed at him and took off into the sky in a comet of fire with Hima, dragging Yomi along as he held tight to his sister’s hand.

  The billowing flames around them died as they soared above the blazing countryside. “Let her go!” Yomi spat, legs dangling limply under him as he held on for dear life. Higher and higher, they rose into the sweltering air, countless fire spirits fluttering and whishing about them like scattered flower petals of fire.

  “Hold on Yomi!” Hima cried.
  “What’s the matter?” the demon sneered. “Don’t you want your sister to be happy, to be able to live a life of happiness?”

  “She’s my sister. She always was happy when we were together. Even when we only had each other.”

  “And…I was happy too.”

  “Yomi….” Hima whispered, overtaken, tears streaming.

  “Hmph, you’re just selfish.” The demon girl huffed. “Hima deserves a better big brother. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She whispered into Hima’s ear, lips pursing into a hideous, toothy grin. The fire spirits dancing around them suddenly converged on Yomi. He screamed a blood-curdling cry of agony as they swallowed him in a terrible inferno.

  “Stop!” Hima pleaded, bawling and writhing in the demons’ grip. “STOP! Please stop! Please! I’ll go with you, just don’t hurt Yomi! …..Please.” Her head sunk, eyes and throat sore from crying and screaming. She had enough of this nightmare.

  The demons’ evil grin grew wider at the delicious sound of Yomi’s tortured screams. “I’ll promise if you will.” She whispered, raising her pale fist in a pinky swear. Hima’s eyes locked with Yomi’s below. She gazed pitifully at his pleading face enshrouding in the supernatural flames that ravaged his body. Hima swallowed deep in her throat and wrapped her pinky around hers’.

  The ghostly demon waif cut the air with a sharp slice of the hand. Hima could just barely make out a single tear on Yomi’s cheek before the living flames rocketed him down to earth. They tore through the smoke and ash and broke off like splintering sparks, throwing him into the black rice paddies below with a hard splash.

  Hima’s exhausted eyes released one last tear as pale, glowing arms wrapped around her. In their hands, the white fox mask. The wispy spirits of flame gathered around her, cluttering the sky, dancing, waiting. “I’ll miss you.” She whispered, slowly lifting the mask to her face. The spirits flared and buzzed through the air like shooting stars, igniting the air. They hissed and cracked, jetting in great swaths through the sky and speared into Hima’s back into a blazing inferno that swelled and split into nine tails of roaring flame. She radiated with the brilliant red light of the sun, collecting all the coalescing heat and energy. The sky buzzed with a deafening screech, then a tremendous, blinding nova, and with the thundering whuff of air expanding and contracting with one great blast, she vanished.

  The red tide coloring the sky faded as quickly as it appeared, the stars blinking back into existence one by one. The blazing fires devouring the land petered out and withered, as if they suddenly lost the will to spread and consume.  The once buzzing air was now bleakly silent, no chirping cicadas and crickets, no folk music echoing from the village. No village. No people. No tall grass. No forests. No animals, no fish. This region of summer plenty now had nothing. Nothing.

   Only silence. Silence was Yomi’s only companion now as he trudged alone, dripping wet and covered in splotchy, searing burns, through the darkness. The hollow moans of the unbroken summer wind were all that whispered to him now, nothing but the charred earth under his reddened, peeling feet to comfort and support him. He stumbled painfully down the familiar path to what was once his and Hima’s home, now just a solemn heap of blackened refuse. He had no reason for coming back here, there was nothing for him here. Just like everywhere else. Just like everywhere there could ever be, as long as his sister’s infectious germ hung over him like a curse. All there was left for him now was silence. Yomi turned silently from his home and took a step into the darkness.

The hollow clinking of wind chimes, yet no breeze.

Yomi spun around. Hima smiled at him softly at him, standing amidst the rubble, a fang glinting under her lip. She was pale, deathly pale, from her hair to the sterling white yukata she wore and gave off a ghostly aura. All save for her eyes and the round bells and chimes hanging from her waist; a bold blood red.

  “She’s waiting for you, you know.” She said playfully.

  “She doesn’t want you to worry. She’s safe, with me.”

  Yomi stared at her blankly. His eyes looked down. In her hands, a white fox mask, clutched gently to her stomach like an expectant mother.

  “She’s with me now. Everyone is. They’re my friends now.”

  She grinned. “Do you want to be my friend too? Hima would love that. She really misses you.”

  Yomi slouched lifelessly through the charred remains of the shack toward. He seized the girl’s throat with both hands. She gasped and sputtered, red eyes bugging in her head as he strangled her tight, digging his burned fingers into her pale flesh. He didn’t make a single sound, not even a groan of effort. He heard a sickening crunch and squeezed harder, forcing the air out of her. Tears trickled from her bulging eyes.

  “B-brother, please!”

  He froze. His grip fell slack. He stared down at her in silence.

  “A-as long as we have each other, we’ll be happy. We’ll have hope.” Yomi’s face went white. “…Hima?”

  “Remember?” The demons’ voice returning, this…thing his sister has become.

   Yomi’s hands released her neck and slumped to his sides. He simply stared down at her in silence. Only silence.

   She grinned. “You still want to be together with her, don’t you?” Silence.

  “You can be. Next time.” Still silence.

  “I can’t say how long it’ll take. Parents are so protective these days, after all. But when the time does come, I’ll come back for you.” Hima raised her pale fist in a pinky swear and smiled, the way she always smiled. “Promise.”

  Yomi said nothing. His hand trembled and rose limply, wrapping his pinky around hers.

  A chime.

  The demon grinned once more and walked past him, leaving him there in the darkness.

“So,” she said. “Should I start with you, or do you want to be the ninth?”