Magical Things Always Happen in Markets

“Roku-kun, you’re still planning to go by the enlistment station?”

Lachlan paused in rummaging through his things in his cramped little room on the rickety second floor, glancing up at Oji’s shadow outside the open doorway. “Thought I might as well since they’re open again. Millionth time’s the charm, eh?”

It was tradition to come by just when spring was beginning to unfurl, and at the beginning of autumn. Gave him two opportunities to fail even getting past the application, which was nice of them. His old dog-eared passport book with his declaration of citizenship tucked inside slipped into the pocket of his noragi jacket, ready and waiting to be pulled out and dismissed.

“Hm. Well, I have something that might help you.”

He straightened, something in the old man’s gruff voice piquing his curiosity. Poking his head out the door, he found a talisman sitting in Oji’s calloused palm—an old scuffed thing made of... jade? That’s unusual. He picked it up, inspecting the carved kanji, remnants of ink staining the engraved lines. “Warrior of the Emperor?”

“It was an old talisman used during the time of the samurai, granted to anyone favoured by His Majesty, even to gaijin.” Oji fingered his moustache. “It might make them listen to you. The Imperial Majesty’s seal is still respected, even by these fools who govern us now.”

Turning it over, he traced the seal designating the sun setting into the sea, land and sky hemming them in. “Where did you even get this?”

He glanced up to see an enigmatic smile playing on Oji’s lips. “I don’t always lose at chou-han.”

A lopsided smile quirked at his own mouth, and he bowed deeply. “Thank you, Oji-san. Maybe I can appreciate your bad habits, this once.”

“Your respect is a double-edged sword.” Oji sniffed, moving off again with a dismissive wave. “Just be sure not to leave immediately. I need you for one last fishing trip, and Tsuma and the children need to spoil you before you go.”

“Hai, senpai.” He watched him go with a smile, the jade talisman warm in his hand. Tucking it in next to his passport, he turned back to snag a wide-brimmed woven hat and his gloves, tugging them on firmly. The villagers might have gotten used to his scars a long time ago, but in town they were just one more thing that would make him stand out.

As soon as he’d made his way down the steps, Aiko and Tobira bounced up to him, and he said his farewells to their parents, promising to be back by the time the stars came out. The children fluttered around like moths, impatiently waiting for him to drag out the motorbike and load the fish into their improvised ice-basket, whining at him to stop chatting when he barely paused to say hello to Eisuke and Chikashi, who’d only just come back from fishing and were cleaning their boat out, the smell of freshly-caught fish and salt mixing on the breeze to attract stray seabirds hoping for a scrap or two.

“Kore, kore,” he huffed, tugging the straps holding down the basket one last time and wheeling the bike to the road, the shadow stretching long towards the shore. “We’ll have plenty of time. The market’s not going anywhere.”

“But the sun’s already going down! And we won’t get to taste any of the sunset sweets!”

He shook his head. That was all they ever cared about. Especially Aiko. “You just had dinner.”

“I still have room for sweets!”

Well, this was a losing battle. He lifted his eyes to the world’s core and slung his leg over the saddle, patting the space in front of him. “Guess we shouldn’t be late, then. Hup, partner.”

Tobira plonked down in front of him, Aiko behind, and he kicked the coughing engine into life, roaring down the dirt-packed street and scattering a pair of squawking chickens. The wind caught his hair, flapping at the hat tied around his neck, the sun shining in his eyes, and he found himself smiling as he leaned down over the handlebars, easing more speed from the machine and a joyful shriek from Aiko. If they wanted to get there quickly, he’d oblige.

He might’ve broken his record by the time they puttered to the town’s edge, parking the motorbike on the side of the narrow street in a little alleyway with a couple others for company. The streetlights were already beginning to flicker on, though the sun still hovered above the horizon.

“Yoisho,” he grunted, heaving the basket up and leading his little entourage of excited children down towards the main street, where the sound of the market and the smell of food stalls wafted from. “Stick close, now. Erika-san’s shop first, and then we can walk around.”

“Hai!”

The enlistment station was at the edge of the market, so he could nudge them in that direction easily enough, later. Strolling through the little crowd milling between open shops, colourful signs in ink lit by paper glimmer-lanterns, he managed not to lose them to all the interesting sights and sounds. He only had to call Tobira on when the little boy stopped to stare at a performer using glimmer to create a little light show, the man’s arms covered in glowing swirls of the stuff that he used to create a dragon out of thin air and swoop it over his enthralled audience.

“It’s a dragon!” Tobira pointed, looking back at him with wide eyes.

“Cool, eh?” Lachlan gestured with his chin back to their route. “C’mon. We can come back and watch it later, or I can buy some glimmer and make one for you.”

“Oh, we should get some to feed the yokai! Can we feed them after we get sunset sweets?” Aiko piped up as Tobira trotted back with an excited bounce in his step. “Please please!”

“Ayeh.” He shifted the basket in his arms, lifting his eyes to the heavens. “Let me get rid of this first.”

“I can carry it if you’re tired! Kaasan says I’m strong.”

“I don’t think so. It’d flatten you.”

“It doesn’t look so heavy....”

“Believe me, it’s heavier than it looks.” He sidestepped past a chattering crowd in front of Erika’s soup-and-grilled-gills shop, slipping down the narrow alleyway into the side entrance. She and her daughter were hard at work, and his mouth watered in spite of Oba’s dinner at the sizzle of grilled fish. Might grab something on the way out if he could sneak it past the kids.

Plonking the basket on a bench out of the way, he waited until Erika had set down her current order on the counter and wiped off her hands on her apron before greeting her. And paused at the look on her face as she pursed her lips.

“I’m sorry, I’m not taking any today. I have too many fish already.”

He straightened slowly. This was... different. “Excuse me?”

“Business is not good today.” Her face seemed oddly pinched. “I can’t buy these, I’m sorry.”

Something wasn’t right here. They were regulars. They sold to her because she gave them a good price, and she’d never turned them away before without even looking at the catch. Besides, a glance at the griller showed it had plenty on the racks, and plenty coming out. Taking the lid of the basket off, he gestured to the ice-bagged fish. “Are you sure? It was a good catch.”

“No, we have too many.” She shook her head. “I’m deeply sorry.”

He hesitated. “What about half?”

He could hear Oji’s voice in the back of his head: “Roku-kun, you are a terrible fish salesman.” In all fairness, he only caught the things, and he’d never had to try and convince anyone to take them before. He was starting to get the bizarre feeling of being stuck in a too-realistic stress dream. If Oji couldn’t get the money from this....

She looked them over, that tight look still hounding her. That wasn’t the look of an apologetic woman turning away surplus, unless she had as many money issues as the old man tucked away in her back pocket. “Perhaps a quarter.”

“Quarter and a half,” he offered, bizarreness starting to compound.

“No, only a quarter. Five of these fish for the usual price.”

He pressed his lips together. The usual for five and what little he could get from selling the rest to the merchant would barely make up a regular catch.

“Why is Erika-san not buying Otou-chan’s fish? Is there something wrong with it?” Aiko piped up before he could open his mouth, innocently looking up at the older lady.

Well, it looked like he had a secret weapon. Erika glanced down at the girl and back to him, a flash of almost-sorrow in her eyes, and he gazed evenly at her. “You’ll have enough customers for eight extra.”

She reluctantly agreed, leaving him to walk out with a few extra En in his pocket than he would’ve got for none. The fish merchant’s prices were abysmal, but at least he wound up with more than the base price through some stubborn haggling. All in all, it was far less than they’d been expecting, and he was beginning to dread breaking the news to Oji.

He turned it over in his head as he trailed after the children obliviously skipping ahead with their sweets for the yokai garden, his hands in his pockets. Had she been bought out by someone else? So far as he knew, she’d bought Oji’s fish for decades. That kind of deal wasn’t the sort to fizzle out overnight without a reason.

A wisp of light caught the corner of his eye, just as Aiko yelled and Tobira shrieked. “Yokai! Look, Onii-san!”

He looked up, catching sight of the bobbing lights drifting in the artificial twilight cast by the two-story, tight-knit buildings around them. They weren’t as bright as they would be in the full dark, but they floated around like giant fireflies between and above pedestrians, the glimmer-fuelled paper lanterns hung from the traditional-style roofs catching one in its light and turning it from a wisp into a watery shape that almost looked like an amikiri. It didn’t go close enough to take the full appearance, though.

Some of the people pointed and ahhed over the little spirits, another little group of older children trying to touch them, and others wandered past into the garden most of the yokai would be hanging around in. In the case of his charges, though, they sprinted full-tilt straight down the street yelling “yokai!”

He blew a stray strand of hair out of his face with a sigh, smiling wryly to himself.

By the time he caught up at the sedate pace he’d set, they’d found their beloved glimmer-seller, Yuka, and were already offering spirit cucumbers to a pair of kappa, the yokai swimming in the little pond lit by floating lanterns.

“Yuka-san,” he greeted the wizened old lady, bowing.

She gave him a gap-toothed smile. “Oni-kun—come, come! Take some kasukana!”

Weird old lady. He smiled crookedly, folding his arms and watching Aiko and Tobira for a moment. “Are you offering it for free, now?”

Aiko blinked up at him. “We told Yuka-sama that you couldn’t sell the fish and we don’t have any money.”

Tobira nodded vigorously. “We don’t have to pay!”

...

...Had they gotten the bad habits from their dad, or...?

Yuka cackled, patting the ground next to the bowls full of glowing liquid she had arrayed on her mat. “You only have to pay if you empty a bowl, boy. Though you look like you might need it!”

Because foreigners crawled up out of the sea and required fairy-water to live, obviously. He wasn’t actually a leprechaun, whatever everyone outside of the Emerald Isles seemed to think about his people.

He bowed anyway, dipping a gloved finger into the indicated bowl and tracing a little swirl on his cheek. “Thank you.”

It stung a little. He ignored it as he flopped down next to the children, conjuring a cucumber with a twirl of his fingers. The kappa snapped it up as soon as he offered it, the ethereal feeling of something that didn’t really have a physical form bumping his glove.

“Can you make a dragon?” Tobira leaned forward, looking up at him.

Aiko poked him. “Yokai don’t eat dragons!”

“But I want to see a dragon! Please?”

“Guess I did promise.” The small amount on his skin had already faded. Blowing out a breath, he leaned back to gather a handful of glimmer, a couple of glowing droplets dripping onto the pebbles, and carefully smeared it across his face, flicking the excess away and blinking as the sting made his eyes water.

Aiko giggled. “Your face is all scrunched up.”

He swiped playfully at her head, making her giggle louder. “I have sensitive skin.”

And he could feel hints of whispers in the corner of his vision already, the yokai standing out like candle flames. Must’ve been a potent batch.

Swirling his hands through the air, he gathered the form of a long, snake-like Nihon-style dragon and drew it out, swiping it across to whirl around Tobira. The little boy shrieked a laugh, trying to catch it only for it to slip through his hands with its slick scales like an eel, and Lachlan smiled, directing his creation to coil loosely around the child’s arm. At least with the dragon taking up almost all his glimmer, the side effects faded.

He took the opportunity to take a look around the rest of the garden, a little fountain in the middle of the pond splashing water over a few yokai floating in the air. More of them drifted between the bushes that would’ve formed a maze if they’d been taller, bobbing around an elderly couple sitting on one of the simple benches. His gaze drifted over the water to a little family of five, the two youngest giggling and trying to reach for one of the paper lanterns bobbing on the surface, their father pulling one of them back before she could overbalance and fall in.

There wasn’t a hint of a shadow here. He flexed his hand lightly, running his thumb idly down his sleeve. Nothing but peace.

The corner of his mouth pulled up. Makes me feel out of place.

“Onii-sannnn.” Tobira’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts and back to the boy looking up at him with wide, wet eyes. The dragon was gone. “It broke....”

“You weren’t gentle with it!” Aiko scolded him. “You need to be gentle or it breaks.”

Tobira twisted his hands and ducked his head, but Lachlan could see the wobbling lip. Ah, kids. “I didn’t mean to! I just wanted to hold it!”

“Ai, ai,” he interrupted before Aiko could make her brother really start crying. “It’s just a dragon, don’t make an oni out of it.”

“I’m sorry....” Tobira sniffled. “Can you make me a new one?”

He hummed, picking himself up off the ground and dusting his pants off. “Tell you what, you stay here with Yuka-san and make the yokai plenty of food while I go do something quickly. If you’re good, I’ll make you one that won’t break when I come back. Deal?”

Tobira wiped his face, his eyes still wide and watery, but nodded, and Lachlan ruffled his hair, before levelling a finger at Aiko. “Look after your otouto.”

“Hai, Onii-san!”

He left the yokai garden behind, Yuka watching him go with her shrewd old eyes. Frankly, she was a bit disturbing, but she wouldn’t hurt the children, and stopping by the enlistment station wouldn’t take long.

Drawing out the last of the glimmer and flicking it into the wind with a glitter of sparks, he slipped through the northern street with its chatter and sizzling scents of food rising up to the pale sky until he reached the civil enquiries centre, a block of a building built half like a temple and half like a stack of offices. It sat at the end of the street, the place mostly populated by bar-restaurants and old men gambling at tables in the shadows under the eaves. In a way, it was like having a pub in view of a derelict, half-abandoned police station staffed with officers who’d given up on ever doing anything with the place. A big ol’ middle finger right outside the front door.

He blended in as much as anyone with a tan a couple shades lighter than the average and light brown hair half-hidden by a fishing hat could, succeeding in only catching the blatant stares of a few old men with nothing better to do than smoke a pipe and pick a foreigner out of the crowd. Strolling past a group sitting on a dusty tatami mat passing sake around and playing dice, he almost made it scot-free when a shadowed figure peeled himself away from a support pillar and stepped in next to him.

Lachlan silently sighed. Shimizu was back from his holiday up in Edo, eh? What luck.

The man grinned like a snake, his half-open shirt showing off the tattoos winding up to his neck. “Ah, gaijin, so you’re still here.”

He lengthened his stride, putting his scant height advantage to use. “Wouldn’t know where else you were expecting me to be.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth. Though if we were all lucky, they’d be picking you up and putting you back where you belong.” Shimizu managed to match his pace, gesturing loosely. “One day they might realise the gaijin who keeps buzzing around like an annoying fly shouldn’t be here. That would be lucky.”

“Don’t worry so much about me, I’ve got citizenship,” he said easily.

The other practically sneered at him. “Hah. But I know you didn’t arrive here with it.”

“Whatever you think you know, you can’t prove a thing, Shimi.” He studied him from the corner of his eye, taking an extra-long stride to slip neatly through the open gate in the stone wall surrounding the civic centre. “And I think they’d believe even a gaijin over a yakuza.”

“Pah.” His face twisted in an ugly grimace, and his hand shot out, missing Lachlan’s arm by centimetres as he twitched it casually out of the way, leaving Shimizu’s expression practically spasming. “Tch. I’m not talking to you about that, anyway. You still stay with the old man, right?”

He stayed half-facing him warily. “...Yes.”

Shimizu smiled at him, all teeth, his hand curled around the gate’s edge, and stuck a thumb at his bare chest. “That old bastard took something from me— It looks like he sent you alone, too. Doesn’t wanna show his face around, does he? Well, the old geezer’s the unluckiest man alive, and I know he cheated to get it, so I want it back. You get me?”

“Mm, not sure I do.” He was suddenly very aware of the little extra weight in his pocket, digging slightly on an angle into his middle.

“I don’t care if you don’t, idiot gaijin. You just tell Hironaga I want what he stole, or his bad luck continues.”

He kept his expression blank in the face of Shimizu’s stabbing finger, holding his nearly black eyes evenly. Bad luck, hm? Turning with a lazy smile, he waved over his shoulder. “I’ll pass the message on.”

Shimizu spat after him, sneering a self-satisfied “good” at his back, and he ignored him as he passed through the tiny space that could barely be called grounds and across the sheltered porch. More like he’d strangle Oji when he came back. No wonder Erika hadn’t wanted to buy any of their fish. What the hell was the old man thinking, gambling with yakuza?

“I’m taking his money out back and burying it in a casket,” he declared to no one, rapping the knocker a couple times and standing back to wait. It had to be the talisman. That was the only kind of thing a guy with an inflated ego like Shimizu would be after. He’d probably inherited it from his famous yakuza grandfather, or whatever his claim to fame was. A slow breath hissed between his teeth.

Well, this wouldn’t turn out to be trouble.