Note: this chapters contains some maternal gaslighting near the end.

Naddy came to pick us up looking both worried and annoyed. Waking up early was never her strong suit. I sat upfront with her, Naddy glancing at Malachai conspiratorially from the rearview mirror. She asked me question after question in Japanese about who Malachai was and what was going on with me. I answered her as well as I could in regards to Malachai. I told her I’d tell her what was going on with me when I was able to wrap my head around it myself. She gave me a huge hug as she dropped us off at the airport.

I slept for most of the flight from Boston to Narita, only waking when Malachai needed something. I stretched myself out when we touched the ground, ushering Malachai through the large airport to get to our connecting terminal. The plane was small, barely enough space under the seats to put a full backpack under. I stared out the window, watching the buildings turn into clouds. I had mixed feelings about returning home. The relationship with my mother was still tense, my sister was firm on not taking sides, but seemed to sympathize with me, while my father quietly took my mother’s.

My sister picked us up at the airport, sticking out in the mild crowd in her colorful kimono, black hair pinned with a kanzaki. “Aki-nii, kore wa dare desu ka?” She pointed her chin at Malachai. “Who is this?”

“Kare wa…He’s my friend.” I said, then quickly introduced him to Shii, and Shii to him. He studied her more closely upon my revelation that she was my younger twin. “Shii-chan, ie ni iki mashou ka? Let’s go home, Shii?”

“Un, okay.” She led us to the family car, watching us put our bags in the truck. She stopped me from getting in to ask, “Are you sick, Nii-chan?”

“Something like that.” Shii patted my arm lightly before herding me into the car.

My family ran a ryokan on the outskirts of a fishing village. Our living space was angled with a view of the entrance to the hiking trail that led into the cedar packed mountain. Growing up, Shii and I watched many tourists climb up the trail, just as many coming back as had disappeared. It would be Malachai’s and my turn to traverse the mountain, to enter Kisankoku Village if my mother was unwilling to talk to me.

The three of us stood in the mudroom, Shii counting us in before we bellowed, “Tadaimakaerimashita! We’re home!” Malachai coming in a half-second later. It felt like Shii, and I were in elementary school again.

I wasn’t expecting anyone to greet us when we entered, but my mother came over when we stepped into the hall. She tsked at me, her words curt, “Aki, kimono, now. Zorekara, and then, help Shii.” She stared at Malachai, “You cook?” She asked in English with an accent; Malachai nodded. “Come wisu me, follow instructions.” She waved Shii and I off, while Malachai followed her to the kitchen.

Shii helped me tie the obi on my kimono, straightening the whole thing out for me. She gave me a rundown of what I needed to help her with: futon cleaning, clearing tables and bringing food, what my mother called the behind the scenes work. I stubbornly kept my hat and mask on, knowing I’d be more good with them on then off. Scaring the handful of patrons we got in the winter would further cement my mother’s hatred of me. Shii had me do the cleaning, if I was sick, the less interaction I had with the customers, the better. It was nice to pretend I wasn’t here to figure out why I was turning into an oni for the moment.

She came to help me when she finished her work, it gave me such a nostalgic feeling. The way we were before, before I came out, before my mother all but disowned me, and Shii stopped walking with me to process it all. But we shoved each other like siblings who grew up close, having petty competitions about who was the better at cleaning without ruining the tatami mats.

“Aki-nii,” Shii looked up at me from her spot on the floor. “Why are you here?” She pushed her cloth along the tatami. “Not that I’m upset, but you were adamant on going to America.”

I stopped my own cloth for a second before answering. “Shii-chan, I’m afraid that…these questions I have can only be answered in Kisankoku.”

She wrapped me in a hug, resting her forehead on my back. “Please don’t go there.” She squeezed tighter, “I don’t want you to become a sacrifice.”

I turned around to return her hug, unable to tell her anything but “I’m sorry.”

We went back to our work in an uncomfortable silence, Shii wiping at her eyes every so often. I felt terrible upsetting her, I’d only feel worse if she started to cry. Once we finished our work serving dinner to our visitors. I apologized to Shii before we went to acquire our own dinner; I told her it was something I’d have to do if our mother wouldn’t talk with me.

Malachai looked haggard but he smiled when he saw me. He stuck to me the second my mother took her eyes off him to help Shii set the table. “You look…hot,” he suddenly whispered in my ear, hand cupped in front of his mouth. I elbowed him to stop, but he continued on. “Are you wearing underwear? Or if I run my hand over your thigh, will I be able to touch all your intimate parts?”

I elbowed him harder, he pushed his glasses up his nose. “Be quiet,” I matched his pitch, “or you’ll never find out.” He swallowed and stopped his harassment.

We ate once my father returned from the neighbor’s house, having helped them with something or other. The conversation was light, with me only speaking when spoken to, or to help Malachai through the language barrier when needed. I was used to it, knowing that there was only so much I could do before it angered someone, or helping my mother understand a question a foreign guest posed to her. Shii took on that responsibility now, her English wasn’t as good as mine, but it was better than what my mother spoke.

I watched Malachai struggle with his chopsticks through the conversation, having enough when he dropped the same piece of fish for the nth time. I excused myself and dug out a spare fork from the kitchen drawers to give to him. He apologized and thanked me, embarrassed and uncomfortable at the whole ordeal. He didn’t speak for the rest of dinner. I helped clear the table, Shii bringing Malachai to my room while I attempted to have a conversation with my mother.

“Ano…Okaa-san,” I said scrubbing at dishes while she waited to dry them. “Mom, I, um, are we…are we descended from an oni?”

I flinched at the sharp intake of air. “Akimiya,” her voice was cold, “who told you that?”

I felt tears at my eyes, unsure of what brought those one. “I’m growing horns.” I swallowed the lump at my throat. “I’ve got fangs, and my eyes are red now. I look like an oni mask, Okaa-san.”

“Those things don’t happen to humans, Aki,” she said. “You’re not growing anything.”

I almost threw the plate I was holding on the ground. All the pain, the blood of my horns growing in was just my imagination? The fact I couldn’t close my mouth fully anymore because I had two uneven fangs poking at the roof of my mouth was a hallucination? I took a steadying breath, flinching slightly at a pulse of pain coming from my second fang. “Malachai and I are going to Kisankoku tomorrow.” I handed her my plate. “Just know, Okaa-san, that if I end up devoured and don’t come back, Shii’s tears are on you.”

She tsked. “The kamigami won’t want a worthless sacrifice. The gods want alcohol, rice, sweets.”

I rinsed my hands off soap, leaving her at the sink. I should have known she wouldn’t give me an answer. Wouldn’t admit the things that were happening to me were real. It was childish of me to walk off in a huff, but she was acting just as childish. I pressed a palm to my forehead, keeping myself calm as I walked the halls with slippered feet.

I slid open the door to my room, Malachai sitting on the tatami, hair wet, and talking with Shii. I felt I couldn’t talk with her at the moment, I felt I could barely do anything, my hands shaking terribly. I asked her to leave, letting her give me a quick hug on her way out before I pulled apart my bag. It seemed like forever since I had felt my spin around, like everything was out of my control. I could barely breathe. I hated the fact that I knew what I needed to do to calm down, but I was powerless to do it. I couldn’t find that little yellow bottle. My heart was pounding in my ears. I pulled my mask down in hopes it’d help me breathe a little easier.

My hands stopped their frantic search, a heaviness engulfing me from the back. I swallowed, closing my eyes a moment. My clothes were strewn about in front of me, my bag on its side on the tatami, two futons were already laid out, the window screen was open slightly letting me peak at the night sky. I could feel Malachai’s arms wrapped around me, my sweat soaking through my kimono, my hair sticking to my forehead, and the mild pain in my jaw. Insects were droning outside, my breathing was starting to even out, and Malachai whispered to me in a language I didn’t understand. The smell of ocean and cedar mixed on the wind, coating the inside of my room in a familiar scent, sticking to my tongue.

He squeezed me a little tighter. “Are you a bit calmer now?”

I nodded, swallowing. “Y-Yeah, I just…” I spotted the bottle under a shirt. I grabbed it, spinning it in my hand. “I’m going to go to bed.” I took a pill, packed everything back in my bag after he let go of me. “T-Thank you for, um, holding me. It really helped.” I took off the outer layer of my kimono, crawling under the futon’s cover and curling up on my side.

He took my mask off for me. “G-Good night, August.” I half expected him to kiss my forehead.