Sore de mo kumotte naitetara. But if it’s cloudy and I find you crying
Sonata no kubi wo chon to kiru zo. Then I shall cut off your head.
They all opened their eyes and looked at the old woman.
Big surprise—it hadn’t worked.
“Crap. We forgot the offering.” Ichiro ripped off a piece of his kimono and quickly twisted it into a small doll, which he placed in the jar.
They began chanting again.
Feeling ridiculous, Ryuichi once again followed the others. He occasionally opened an eye to sneak a peek out of curiosity, because he really didn’t think anything would happen.
The others, however, didn’t look once. They believed emphatically in what they were doing.
Focused and intense, their voices became one. The chant flowed in a single, eerie rhythm that resonated through him. He could feel it all the way to his bones. As if a part of him wanted to follow them to the jar. Time seemed to slow down.
Then, ever so slowly, he saw the blackness on the woman’s skin begin to shift. Like a cobra mesmerized by a flute. It lifted from her skin to form a shadowy figure beside her. One that danced and writhed to their chant.
Separate, yet similar, it danced around each one of them as if it were sizing them up. Its bright yellow eyes glowed in the darkness.
Until it reached Ryuichi.
There it stayed, swaying back and forth in time with the chanting, eyeing him in a way that was unnerving... yet somehow inviting.
Ryuichi-chan...
It sounded like Masaru, and yet it didn’t.
My dear, dear boy...
That sent a chill down his spine. “Who are you?”
It didn’t answer his question.Embrace your fears. Let them consume you. Control you.
“Stop it!” Around him, the others were still chanting. Not only did he have to worry about a death demon residing inside him, but now something else was taunting him too. “Get out!”
Don’t be afraid, little one. The dark shape transformed into a beautiful woman. She reached out to him.
Breathless, he stared at her and her flawless skin. She held a smile more radiant than the sun. Her red kimono fluttered in a spectral wind. “My precious boy.”
Why did she seem so familiar?
She’s your mother.
No. Every part of him denied what Masaru told him. It was a trick. A delusion—or illusion.
And yet Ryuichi wanted nothing more than for it to be true. To be real. For her to be here with him.
Knowing better and yet unable to stop himself, he reached out to her. The entire time he heard Masaru’s laughter in his head.
I want this to be true. Please. But he was so afraid. What if this creature reallywashis mother? Was his mother a demon too?
He couldn’t bear the thought of what that would mean for him. The horrid consequences.
Closer and closer his hand came to hers, making Ryuichi’s heart pound harder. All his life, he’d wondered what a mother’s touch would feel like. He’d craved it more than the air in his lungs. The food that filled his belly.
To feel that warmth and love from someone who cared for him with all her soul.
