Act 01, Interlude
Chapter 04: Choice
"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." — Dumbledore, in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
April 18 2004
Rhythmic drumming. A chord struck. Once, then twice, half-broken. And then a dramatic melody, growing into an intense, one-voice vibrato. A perfect example of Gidayū, sung under cascading clusters of wisteria blooms. (12)
ひと目で恋に落ちた (I fell in love at first sight)
季節は今春の最中 (The season is in the middle of spring now)
Anna's eyes lit up as she watched the graceful dance on stage. There was an ethereal beauty to it; the small, measured steps almost gliding across the floor; gentle spins and twirls, like wisteria blossoms swaying lightly in the chilly Tokyo dusk. The subtle shifts in harmony reflected with subtle, restrained steps, an expressive, powerful longing that prickled tears in Anna's eyes.
"It's so beautiful," she sniffled at the close, lost in the applause as a patterned curtain descended upon the stage, tied between two poles with red-coloured rope. Beside her Sarah nodded, pulling her overcoat closer to her body to stave off the cold. The others rose from their seats, picking up their belongings.
A single drop fell on Anna's forehead. She looked up at the reddening sky, lips pursed. Was this an impromptu drizzle?
Lovely way to end a Sunday afternoon.
Sarah opened her umbrella. "I've got ya," she said, making sure they were both covered. With her free hand, she deftly took out a piece of strawberry bubblegum out of a wrapper and started chewing. "Yours still M.I.A.?"
Anna hesitated as she squinted at the steep descent from their high vantage point, her eyes tracing the rows of stone seats cascading down to the stage below. "Yeah…ought to pop by the bakery soon."
"Been more than a week since you lost it, right? It's likely at the nearest 'Lost and Found', by now."
"That's a police koban, isn't it. He mentioned something of the sort," drawled Anna, looking into the distance. The drizzle picked up just a tad, tapping on the canopy in an erratic cadence while the growing humidity clogged her nostrils and triggered a cough.
Sarah gave her a funny look. "Give it a go, anyway. Before Ryuga manifests into being behind a door and starts nagging you about it again," she chuckled. "Like a really annoying ghost. Or you could just buy another umbrella."
A ghost, huh? Anna mused inwardly, a secret smile gracing her lips. Though I've my doubts Ryuga would want a repeat of last time. Good riddance, anyway. Not like he's got charm to burn.
Anna turned as she spotted the troupe waving at the audience, her arm instinctively twitching as if to wave back. Aware of herself she faltered, smoothly disguising the motion with a stretch.
"Hard pass," she said instead, slightly flushed, doubling down on her grievances as her joints and back muscles unwinded with painful relief. The memory of those dark, owlish eyes still unnerved her. "Though you might consider stringing him along if we ever need to go sailing; the hot air might prove useful."
Her heart clenched a bit as she swallowed the unfairness of her words.
"Guy's missing from campus, didn't you hear? Though I guess he's eventually gonna come back; it would've been all over the news if one of this year's top representatives at To-Ho had been nailed by Kira—"
All of a sudden, Anna heard a faint rustle as if something had fallen to the ground — and then a gasp. She glanced over her shoulder only to find a bespectacled girl with short hair in the row immediately below theirs, eyeing her with undisguised apprehension. Their gazes met for just a moment before the girl quickly lowered her stare, fiddling with the clasps on her backpack as she pulled out a black umbrella. A second girl shot Anna an odd look underneath neatly combed bangs, in a blend of apologetic loyalty and oozing disapproval.
Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Anna tore her gaze away and focused on the amphitheatre steps. She tried to keep pace with Sarah as they moved along the emptying seats, following the crowd. Thin streams of rain glided smoothly over the weathered stone, dripping downwards. The scent of sweet plum flowers filled the air, though a lingering chill made her head feel heavy, a sensation that lasted throughout the day as the group walked back to the campus dorms for a get-together, crossing the lively streets of downtown Tokyo.
They made their way through an alley lined with izakayas, softly lit by paper lanterns in warm hues of red and orange that oscillated with the wind. The scent of broth and stir fry wafted in the air, as the regulars slouched on stools at the counter for an early evening supper. Humming, Anna strolled through those cobblestone streets happily, heels clicking in a leisurely rhythm on the pavement, each sharp tap oddly soothing against the buzzing in the background. She stared, taking in every inch of the alley, the neon signs, the strung lights flickering in the rain, until her eyes fell on the spot just below a wide menyū kanban (13) where she noticed a forgotten Muggle newspaper that lay discarded on the ground, its pictures motionless while the pitter-patter smudged the ink. Frowning at the headline, she bit her bottom lip but kept on walking.
Every now and then, Anna felt there was something just beyond her line of sight, blending with the lights and the passersby. A set of quick footsteps that didn't quite belong to the others, as if shuffling and then — darting past. Up and down, riveted and hassled, all at the same time. She remained silent, watching the shadows as the others chatted, oblivious, fingers grazing the handle of her wand with trepidation.
The feeling lasted until they turned a corner into a crowded area, the epitome of modern Japan. Anna clenched her jaw to prevent herself from shuddering, as if hit by a wave of disappointment so strong that it reverberated in the very air. She glanced over her shoulder with narrowed eyes, watching the shadows play as the wind picked up.
As expected, there was nothing of the ordinary.
By the time they reached Shibuya Crossing, the light rain had nearly stopped. It was situated just past the bustling shopping areas and bar-infested streets, where relentless hosts kept approaching them with offers for a drink and a chat to wrap up the weekend. In truth, Anna had never really been fond of this part of the city; there were far too many people, too many distractions and intrusive propositions no matter how many times she'd politely decline unwanted advances or waved off honeyed words. Her stomach knotted at the despondent faces, however. She forced herself to look away and focus on the path ahead.
Rush hour at the Crossing was, perhaps, a glimpse of Muggle ingenuity beyond her wildest dreams. The area was teeming with the rumble of vehicles and muted conversations left and right, unintelligible and unimportant for Anna, who couldn't stop looking at the colours, the people, the technology with stars in her eyes. A voice boomed over the noise; she turned her head towards huge screens plastered on skyscrapers, streaming the evening news.
As they stepped onto the sidewalk, she noticed several groups gathered around a small square, pointing at the newscasters. Many shouted in a panic as the clock changed from 5:58 to 5:59. Narrowing her eyes, she halted, listening to the commotion.
"Shit, something's happening over there," one of their group called, pointing to the closest screen.
Anna whirled round, suddenly overcome with a strange feeling of dejá-vu.
"That's a message from Kira — to the world," muttered Sarah, as if frozen in fear. Gripping her hidden wand, Anna looked up as well.
At precisely 6PM, a man called Kazuhiko Hibima clutched his chest and died.
~o~O~o~
After the chaos at Sakura TV, the debate on Kira exploded.
Kira dominated the news and private conversations. Everyone had an opinion on Kira's own brand of justice. And everyone weaved a thousand theories about L and whether he was real (14). Some called the detective 'useless', complaining that he couldn't even solve the case.
The live murders of the new host and innocent policemen seemed to split public opinion even further as droves of terrified citizens wanted nothing to do with the ordeal gaining momentum. In contrast, an increasing number became more vocal in their support. Street preachers turned into a common sight, shouting Kira's name with tremendous reverence. The police vowed to fight Kira, though they couldn't be everywhere at once; every now and then, rowdy supporters gathered near the university gates to spread the word and distribute pamphlets. It seemed to gain an audience within some circles. But most of all, it got people to think .
"It's not just us," Anna heard a group of foreign students argue in English as she left the Law building and shuffled towards the cafeteria. "Lots of people are mad about it. What the hell are L and the police doing, dragging their feet?"
However, Sarah, bless her heart, had other ideas — which she didn't refrain from sharing: "The statistics are in, regardless of the ethics attached: crime is actually going down. By a lot, which is crazy. Expected, but crazy."
Anna stabbed a piece of broccoli with her fork, eyes set on her lunch, "I see."
She'd spent the previous lecture inspecting her nails, then tapping her left heel on the ground to hear the rhythmic clicks as the Criminal Psy professor dedicated an entire hour to diagnosing Kira's behaviour — an event which was equal parts fascinating and terribly irritating as, to her, it opened a box of Pixies. And they were soiling the entire proverbial living room, opening the cupboards and crashing against the furniture.
Oblivious to Anna's inner struggle, she continued: "I can't even blame people for supporting Kira, at this point. Loads of courts need to review how they carry out sentences, 'cause a lot of the time they just aren't nearly fair enough. Sometimes it seems that the system works to protect criminals, not the victims. How many bad guys go free because of a technicality? Is rehabilitation working as it should? We should all be asking these questions and demanding answers from our governments."
Anna shrugged, dipping the broccoli into soy sauce. Her understanding of Muggle laws was almost as bad as her Mermish. "But you also don't want someone to have so much power that they can decide things on a whim. Can't go around killing people willy-nilly."
A sudden recollection flashed before her eyes: the Fountain of Magical Brethren, broken and twisted into something ugly. Lies force-fed down their throats. The motto 'Magic is Might', splattered on almost every pillar and wall at the Ministry lobby, drawing her gaze as she shuffled fearfully through the crowds with her grandmother in tow.
She blinked slowly, holding in a shudder. There was something insidious about the banality of evil and how most people accepted it as an every-day given, often forgetting to see it as 'real' evil. When left to fester, it caused irreparable damage.
"Exactly," Sarah pointed her chopsticks in Anna's direction, "justice systems around the world need a revamp, is what I'm saying. I doubt this will end up in dire straits with that L on the case, but it should be a wake up call. Otherwise what's next? Nations accepting Kira as the rule of law? Blowing up the Geneva Convention?"
The what?
Anna coughed. "Fear drives compliance. Reckon those statistics will go back to normal once Kira disappears for good," she mused, averting her gaze towards the cafeteria window. Groups gathered under the trees for a picnic, happy. Laughing. Whispering urgently about the current events.
Sarah followed Anna's stare with a dark frown of her own. "When the showdown happened last year, I thought L was just the CIA's patsy," she said, biting on a nail, "but now I've no idea. Guy seems to be as real as they come. Hope he doesn't get killed."
"Who knows," Anna muttered gloomily, blinking again. Three strong blinks. Looking outside was worsening her headache, as if there was something pricking her eyes like a needle. She touched her nostrils surreptitiously. No blood — yet. "In any case, seems like he's a bloodhound himself, chasing after that Kira until he comes out of his hiding hole."
She looked away from the window, nibbling on the soy-dipped broccoli. It tasted awful.
Days later, Anna concluded that there was at least one silver lining: to her immense relief, the awkward young man, Hideki Ryuga, had indeed all but vanished from the face of the Earth shortly after their disastrous encounter.
She learned from Sarah — who had heard it from an ecstatic Yasunaga, brandishing his fist in the air, eyes glinting as he beheld triumph in the stars — that Ryuga and the other fellow representing the university had played a spiffin' ten-nis match on the day she'd been kicked out of class. A Muggle sport, of all things. Not nearly as interesting as Quidditch, by a long shot; though she'd always been fonder of Gobstones or Ten-Pin Bowling. Now those were games she could get behind. Ten-nis sounded far too exhausting for her tastes, with all that running around.
Sarah waggled a finger. "Mark my words: those guys are made varsity athletes. Cream of the crop."
"Right. He sounds like a trooper," quipped Anna, not looking up from her book on the life and cycle of millet cultivation. "Maybe a sport like ten-nis will tire him out just enough so he ceases to be such an insufferable prat."
For the second time in a couple of weeks, she felt a pang of remorse over her words. It wasn't entirely fair. Ryuga had been oddly attentive in his own, backwards way. She'd give him that one, at least. However — and Anna pursed her lips at the memory — there had been something off, beyond the squatting and very much unhelpful commentary dripping out as she'd picked up her broken laptop and books. A covert examination of her actions, the intensity of it oozing like sticky molasses down the pot, as his eyes snapped back and forth between her and the suitcase. What stuck out to her the most was the visible disappointment in Ryuga's owlish eyes when she tried to give him money.
She rested her hand against the side of her face, lost in a maelstrom of musings. What a strange Muggle.
A fake cough snapped Anna out of her thoughts. "Tennis. Not ten-nis. Is that how you 'posh' people in the UK pronounce it?"
Anna felt like the skin on her cheeks was on fire. "I'm not posh."
"Of course you're not."
~o~O~o~
It didn't take too long until a barrage of letters arrived during late April, at the crack of dawn.
Peck. Peck. Peck.
As the grandfather clock stationed in the next compartment chimed thrice, Anna slid open the shoji door with a brusque flick of her wand. Behind her, a pair of bright yellow eyes glowered eerily in the dimly lit bedroom. In a slow slither, a dishevelled, cat-like creature emerged from under the covers, its movements smooth and languid, casting what could only be described as a disapproving glare in her direction. A flower-patterned sheet draped over its head like a bridal veil, revealing one single pointy ear. It twitched with the rattle.
The creature growled. Then it slipped out of the bedroom, eyes shining in resigned curiosity.
Peck. Peck. Peck.
Disgruntled, Anna leaned against the wall for support. "Good grief, hang on for a second will you," she moaned, rubbing her eyes. Once her vision stabilised, she glanced at the clock; it was 4:45 in the morning — so early it was almost physically painful to be awake.
Peck. Peck. Peck.
Groaning, Anna stalked towards the balcony, immediately stopping on her tracks the moment she spotted not one — but three different birds, pecking and cawing on the other side of the glass door. Her sudden appearance caused an even greater commotion; a blinding white swan, of all things, let out a loud hiss before twisting itself into position to excrete a stream of faeces towards the door in righteous retaliation. (15)
Anna's jaw dropped. "What in Merlin's—"
It took almost half an hour for Anna to gather all the letters, as even the smaller birds (a proud eagle and a playful crow that stole one of her silver spoons) required a few words of consolation for having been made to wait so long — as well as an early breakfast, following in the loud, demanding grunts and snorts from their bigger companion as it prowled through the kitchen uninvited, opening drawers and cupboards with its sharp beak. Anna scoffed, perplexed at the audacity.
There was a terrible odour of bird and wet feathers, and horrible bird droppings spread all over the tatami floors and over her velvet armchair, on the tables and the counters, wafting in the air. Nauseated, she scrambled to prepare some dried fruits in three separate plates (she made sure to use the bad china) and, to Rufus' eternal displeasure, was very nearly prodded into giving away his batch of fresh sardines.
"I bloody hate swans," she muttered through gritted teeth as the three birds flew away into the horizon.
The sun was rising beyond the tall buildings surrounding the To-Ho campus, a shy gradient of clear blue overlaying the fading reds and yellows with intent. A handful of vehicles glided along the road below. The city was waking up.
Yawning, Anna waved her wand, prompting all cleaning utensils to work while she remained outside, away from the mess. Rufus joined her, sitting on her lap as she opened the batch of letters. Her reddened eyes stung as she studied the envelopes; her fingers stroked the paper and the smooth, yet hard and brittle ridges on the round wax seals that closed the flaps. Each displayed unique symbols: the blue scales of justice from the Departments of Japanese Magical Law Enforcement; the brown bamboo for International Magical Cooperation; and, from the mighty heron stamped on green wax, she inferred the latter would be a followup from her trip to the Ministry, weeks ago.
She opened that one first, breaking the seal swiftly. It was a short letter, handsomely written by hand despite the uncertain strokes. Neatly folded inside the envelope, she found a single slip of parchment with instructions in Japanese. Frowning, she turned her gaze to the contents: '...The Ministry thanks you for your cooperation. Any similar business, please fill in form 7-B, attached, before requesting an audience…'
Anna rolled her eyes. Of course, she would definitely fill in a form in a language she couldn't even read. Simply brilliant.
But it was a strange turn of events. She couldn't forget the reaction to her yokãi sighting; the wide eyes and stiff posture alarmed her, as if there was something terrifying about it. She remembered the muttering, mostly unintelligible; though she caught the words 'tsuki' and 'mangetsu'. She hadn't thought much of it at the time, but perhaps it wouldn't hurt to grab a Rõmaji-English dictionary…if there was even such a thing. Or she could ask around.
Her eyes fell to the bottom of the letter; she noticed it was signed by a Mister Hanzô Seimei. Was this the bespectacled wizard she met at the Ministry? It surprised her that there were still members of the Seimei clan alive.
Sensing her frustration, Rufus growled in supportive derision. To their right, a sponge dove into a bucket and started cleaning the balcony door vigorously with the acrid solution of Mrs Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. Anna turned up her nose at the smell.
The other letters took on a more serious tone, 'Stay calm...foreign witches and wizards in Japan are not allowed to interfere with the ongoing Muggle mass-murders and must report any information to the competent authorities…will be swiftly detained otherwise, pending deportation…moral duty to uphold the Statute of Secrecy…borders will remain closed for the time being…' she mouthed the message, a cold dread spreading in her stomach. The fear soon gave way to a bubbling irritation as Anna pried open the wax seal on the missive from the Department of International Magical Cooperation, which was, nothing more, nothing less, than a set of updated guidelines on proper behaviour while in Japan.
Among the bunch, it included one new directive written in bright blue ink: '...avoid interactions with Muggles on the topic of shinigami…'
"Shinigami," she muttered through gritted teeth. Rufus looked up at her with curiosity. Anna stroked him behind the ears, looking into the distance as she gathered her thoughts, "I heard there was another broadcast the other day in which the 'real' Kira appeared. It's been the talk around campus, that there are now two of them — just talking to each other. Like chums. Very exciting times, it seems."
Anna glanced at the brochure again, "I reckon it was the copycat — as the Muggles say — who used the term 'shinigami', but from the way Sarah relayed the event it just seemed to be some sort of funny code, nothing that would warrant this kind of poppycock. So why is the Ministry being overzealous…?"
Sarah also said there was this bit about 'having the eyes', whatever that means. Though Muggles can be quite creative in the way they refer to things; it wouldn't necessarily be something worth the worry. And if it was indeed something insidious, then saying it outright like that to the public was just really poorly done.
Rufus purred, noncommittal. Anna leaned back into the chair, a dark look crossing her face, "This has nothing to do with us, now does it? The Muggles seem to be juggling things well enough with that — that detective taking the reins. And the Ministry's been clear about what we shouldn't do," she muttered, glancing at the letter in her hand.
Another thing she'd have to be tight-lipped about. Awful business all around.
She tapped her fingernails on the wooden armrest, thinking. "I do wonder…it doesn't mean I can't do research on my own," Anna trailed off, gripping the parchment until it crumpled. "Wouldn't hurt to know more about these shinigami. What do you think?"
Rufus' yellow eyes turned to Anna. He meowed in vehement disagreement.
~o~O~o~
As April faded into May, Anna stepped into a comfortable routine of study and, very seldom, tentative parties at the university dorms. Most of the time, she met with foreign students from all over the world, chatting awkwardly about things she had very little knowledge about. During one of those events, she was tasked to keep a clandestine boom-box hidden at her place by a rather drunk Resident Assistant who marvelled at how sober she was. To her bafflement, no one ever asked for it back. She placed it next to her televisor , intrigued by the many buttons and odd parts that she had never seen before.
However, as instructed by the Ministry, Anna spent the next few weeks trying her best to avoid any conversations about shinigami.
During one of Anna's sightseeing walks with Sarah along the busy streets between the Imperial Palace and the Tokyo Dome, she noted with some amusement that most shops were overflowing with clients. It was as if an influx of eager minds gravitated towards libraries and bookshops in search of reading material.
Sarah pulled down her sunglasses to stare at a dubious flock of academics leaving with entire collections on mythology, like rare birds out in the wild. Unfazed, the two women turned a corner and stepped into a convenience shop nearby. "At this stage, there won't be any books left in town. Look! Even the tabloids are writing essays on kami."
Eyebrows raised, Sarah picked up the April issue of a flashy celebrity magazine called 'Eighteen', strategically placed near the checkout counter. While she browsed the contents, Anna glanced over her shoulder at the emakimono art-style depicting a monstrous shinigami, feigning polite interest. The article was written in Japanese, much to her chagrin.
Anna's smile became visibly strained. "Terrific business, though."
Alone, she covertly tried to pursue her own ends, though any efforts were futile. Across the city, most libraries had run out of books to borrow on the topic of kami (not that they had many in English to start with) and the bookshops were simply impossible to walk into. It was far worse than Flourish and Blotts before the start of the new school year.
Every now and then she'd think about dropping by the wizarding shop near Nanushinotaki Park, but wavered in her resolve at the last second. The magical community in Japan was small and tight knit and times were hard; she'd need a fool-proof excuse to justify such a purchase.
During one lazy evening, Anna found her lounging interrupted by a sudden flap of wings and watched as her owl settled on top of its wooden perch. She smiled brightly, even as it swallowed a whole mouse, hanging tail still twitching in a morbid descent.
"Percy!" Anna rose from her seat, apologising to Rufus for disturbing his sleep on her lap as she sauntered, bare feet padding on the faux grass flooring.
As she got closer, Anna paused mid-way with her hand drawn out. Frowning in worry, she squinted; were those the balcony rails that she could see through Percival's feathery body…?
"Finite Encantatem," she spluttered, sighing in relief as the owl became opaque once again. Safely attached to its leg was a small tube shaped container that grew in size once she removed it, all butter hands and anxious breaths.
She spotted a single envelope squished among packages of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Sugar Quills, creamy chunks of wrapped nougat and a battalion of Honeydukes sweets. Unsigned. Anna frowned, turning it in her hands, front to back, recognising the familiar stationery from Scrivenshaft's at Hogsmeade. It hadn't changed much since her last visit, years ago; from the slightly grainy paper texture to the soft wax seal — green, bearing a proud snake, of course. Though the envelope came wrinkled and stained, as if the sender hadn't been certain whether to mail it.
Daintily, Anna broke a small chunk of nougat and brought it to her mouth, savouring the sweet flavour. Then, with her wand behind her right ear, she unfolded the letter. It read:
...
Dear Anna,
Our correspondence ought to be straight to the point for the time being. I appreciate your thoughts, but there's a more pressing topic we need to discuss.
You cannot possibly have failed to hear the latest developments on this murderer of Muggles, this Kira. Opinions differ as to how great of a threat he (or she) really is. Although many at the Ministry remain unconvinced, there are whispers — gradually growing into a ruckus as the weeks go by — that this might pose a significant threat to our communities across the world. Some say this is the work of a rogue Muggle-hating wizard bent on following Grindelwald's footsteps by getting rid of the disposable scum in non-magical society, before moving onto more complex endeavours (such as obliterating the Statue of Secrecy once the path is clear). Others remain adamant that this is just a Muggle, and thus a Muggle problem it should stay without our interference.
That this individual was singled out in Japan seems to point towards revenge for what the Muggles did during their second world war. Or indeed it's just a Muggle who found an industrious way of committing mass murder. Merlin knows what their technogy might do in the wrong hands —
...
Anna nibbled on her bottom lip. "They call it technology," she mumbled, tapping her bare foot against the wooden chair leg as she stood beside it without sitting down. Rufus' yellow eyes followed every movement, hopeful for a longer nap.
...
— the Prophet hasn't been kind. It says a second murderer recently popped into existence. That the Japanese Ministry keeps burying its head in the sand, hoping this will blow off. Who knows, it all might sort itself out. Their kind seems to be handling the whole thing just fine without our intervention.
Our beloved Minister remains tight-lipped about the whole brouhaha to keep diplomatic ties with the Land of the Rising Sun, though it's obvious to anyone with half a brain that his requests to send missives of Aurors have been denied time and time again. They don't seem to want to expose themselves to scrutiny out of fear of being ousted as incompetent, is my guess. By the time this letter reaches you, the borders should be closed to the international wizarding community indefinitely as a containment measure.
Whatever you do, keep your head down. I doubt they'll ask you to leave the country after all the trouble everyone went through to sort out your application, but it's best to stay vigilant. Don't draw attention to yourself. Whatever happens to the Muggles, it's on them. Don't be a hero.
I'm not sure what else I can say other than that I wish you well. Finch-Fletchley has been asking about you. Bloke had —"
...
Anna tore her eyes off the letter for a long moment, staring into the bright city lights. She puffed up her cheeks and then exhaled, slowly, very slowly, blinking as she took in the chill to keep grounded. Once she felt her thumping heart quiet, she forced herself to return to the letter's contents.
"— Bloke had the stones to jog up to me at the Ministry lobby and ask directly for your whereabouts. Said he still thinks about you and that he worries, plus a load of sentimental rubbish which doesn't bear repeating. Anyhow, I told him to piss off and that was that. Reckon you ought to know and draw your own conclusions.
Your friend,
Millicent Bulstrode
P.S.: Be on your guard. Assume all correspondence is now under surveillance. I've charmed Percival to become invisible and untraceable for about two weeks, the spell should be broken by the time he arrives at your place. Destroy this letter after you read it, just to be safe. Hope you'll enjoy the sweets.
...
She remained in silence for a long moment, gripping the letter in her fist until it crumpled into a ball. Her eyes travelled back to the distance and then landed on the upper floor windows at the closest Engineering building, still occupied with researchers doing all-nighters. She took a breath to smell the evening, sweetly scented and balmy with flowers of spring.
Anna regarded the utter darkness above her head, not even one star visible in the sky. She thought back to the yokãi at Okamisan's, the strange feeling that someone — or some thing — had been watching her as she Apparated in the alley, the moody presence at the izakayas. Most of all, she remembered the frightened faces at the Ministry. There were layers hidden from her, obfuscated by details and bureaucracy that she didn't quite understand. And they were starting to unravel, slowly.
She didn't have the luxury to remain ignorant here. Something had to be done, or she'd risk negligence — towards herself and everyone around her.
Anna squared her shoulders, her face grim and determined. "Chin up, old boy," she looked over at Rufus as he sat up in the bundle of fluffy covers she'd left on the chair. "It's likely going to cost me an arm and a leg, but I've a visit due to the Olde Tokyo Sutra soon. Very soon, in fact."
With a flick of her wand, the letter burst into flames.
~o~O~o~
There is an old Japanese saying: 'I no naka no kawazu taikai wo shirazu'. The frog in the well knows nothing of the ocean. An apt statement, though painful to concede to, as narrowness of the mind can be blissful if one remains ignorant. From her own experience, Anna would add a slight addendum; that being aware of one's own lack of world could be an embarrassment — especially when confronted with it on a daily basis.
It took Anna the best of a week to find the perfect excuse to get a book on shinigami, which appeared unto her under the guise of her Japanese Literature class, on a late Friday afternoon-turned evening. Unable to keep the smile off her face, she scribbled a note in her notebook and left class as soon as it was over, practically flying over the staircase, three steps at a time.
"Hey, where're you goin' in such a hurry?" called Sarah, after Anna ran past her near the tennis court.
"Sorry ," she cried out, only slowing down to glance over her shoulder and wave. The edge of her suitcase bounced painfully against her leg. "I'm on hunt!"
"What for?"
"Books!"
She heard a loud 'Good luck, you'll need it!' followed by a booming laugh as she continued down the cherry blossom path and out of campus, heading towards a nearby Apparition site a few streets away.
The dark sky glowered, starless. Anna's heart was hammering by the time she spotted the lopsided sign written on dark wood over the door, the name 'Olde Tokyo Sutra' carved in large, gothic letters. Breathing hard, she looked left and then right, but there was no one nearby. The bookshop was located in a quiet side street, seemingly semi-residential as she glimpsed a few warehouses along the area.
Holding her wand, she approached the door and tapped on the lock seven times. When nothing happened, she tried again — and when no apparent result materialised after 4 attempts (her tourist guide had been unfortunately soaked in the pond weeks ago), Anna shut her eyes tightly and started knocking.
She saw a light turn on in the upper floors.
"Ohayo, konnichiwa, bloody konbawa," Anna took a step back, calling out as she struggled to suppress the desperation in her voice. "Is anyone there? Please?"
All of a sudden, Anna felt someone—some thing approaching from behind. Her arms felt cold even through the thick material of her overcoat, as if the temperature had instantly dropped a few degrees. And the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, like an ill omen manifested. Loud breathing resonated in broken, gritty sniffles that made the very air around her tremble.
Slowly, gripping her wand until her knuckles turned white, Anna turned around. Her nostrils flared and her jaw clenched in horrible anticipation, memories of the terrified Ministry clerks flashing in her mind —
A small, one-eyed creature stood before her, staring up with a sharp, toothy grin. It resembled an unsightly monk-child, like something out of a very hyperactive nightmare.
"Just my luck," Anna let out a shaky breath, though she never allowed her eyes to stray from the small yõkai. "A bloody Hitotsume kõzo."
Her mind worked furiously. As far she recalled, this type of yõkai was alarming, though harmless. Enjoyed surprising people on dark streets and, save licking them with its huge tongue, did little else worthy of note.
Anna grimaced.
"Were you trying to scare me?" she lowered her wand, pursing her lips when the creature nodded enthusiastically. "Of course you were. Well, that's not very nice, now is it."
The yõkai nodded again. Anna rolled her eyes and, with one hand on her waist, started tapping her shoe on the stone pavement. She briefly wondered whether the creature understood English, or if it just agreed with everything she said to amuse itself.
She gave it a critical look. "Should you really be here on a Friday evening? Isn't there a weekly yõkai reunion or something you should attend—?"
Footsteps. Behind her, the door to the bookshop creaked open, revealing a kind-faced elderly man dressed in colourful robes and a tall, wide-brimmed hat. Anna whirled, eyes wide, ready to issue a thousand apologies when the man clasped his hands together, eyes twinkling.
"Ah, I had wondered when the madame would bless our humble bookshop with le plaisir de votre compagnie," he said, beckoning her inside. "Enter, s'il vous plais. Before our mischievous friend tries to scare us both."
Did every witch and wizard in Japan know who she was?
Anna blushed a deep red. "I'm sorry for knocking so loud, I didn't know you were closed today. I've lost my tourist map recently," she explained in a quick mumble. "And I'm in dire need of very specific books for Japanese Literature—"
The man waved a dismissive hand. "The blame lies solely with me, madame," he said, as if growing tired by pleasantries. He cast the yõkai a knowing glance. "We can discuss these endeavours in a more appropriate setting. Come."
Anna followed his stare, nodding. Then she stepped inside the shop, eyes bright as she took in the hundreds, thousands of books covering the walls.
The door closed behind her.
TBC
~End of Act 01~
Once again, I'd like to thank everyone who left kudos or a comment. You're all amazing and make my day! Reading all your lovely feedback gives me inspiration to continue writing this story.
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Notes and translations:
12 - Gidayū is singing-narration often encountered in Kabuki theatre. It's so vocally taxing and melodramatic that the singers might need to be changed mid-performance. The lyrics present in this chapter are translated (perhaps poorly) from the kabuki dance with lyrics, Fuji Musume (The Wisteria Maiden).
13 - Menu board placed outside a /
14 - At this time in the story, L's existence was still heavily debated among /
15 - If you're questioning this narrative choice, it means you've never seen what a swan can do when it has murder in its eyes.
Anna encountered the Hitotsume kõzo.