CHAPTER 6

There was actually a name for the faceless nightwalker in Japanese belief. They were called nopperabou, meaning ‘faceless monk’ as they were traditionally said to wear Buddhist monk outfits, but the legends about the nightwalker were pretty varied. For example, in Kumamoto, there was a tale collected during the Showa era that said the nopperabou took the shape of a kindly woman who hosted a teahouse for travelers to rest at—though this woman was also known as juubako-baba and was also, reportedly, actually a tanuki, a Japanese raccoon dog.

Of the many animals that left their marks in Japanese tales, only three were often ascribed with transforming into the shape of human beings—the fox, kitsune; the weasel, itachi; and the raccoon dog, tanuki. That said, even if the faceless boy haunting the Yanomori High middle school division was someone who transformed, he was definitely one of the more creative ones because it’s Kou’s first time encountering a nopperabou in the shape of a young boy.

“I’ve heard of a young girl nopperabou before, but never young boys,” he said that night to the silent ghost, who was sitting so far from him in Chi’s class.

“Nii-chan, you’re scaring him.”

“But why? He’s the ghost here, I’m just a humble vampire.”

“You’re both subjects of horror films….”

It was actually by sheer luck that they caught the ghost in the second floor—they had no idea where else he would go since he had already reached the rooftop, and while it would be good if the ghost had left the school (as it meant it didn’t find its target there), the siblings were more afraid of what it would’ve meant for the ghost to suddenly disappear. Thankfully, he hadn’t disappeared yet.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t disappeared yet.

Given that the ghost had already scoured the entire building, and still didn’t move from the middle school building, it seemed to have resorted to just wandering the halls. Wandering ghosts were the most common type of ghosts: they were usually stuck there due to lingering attachments or unresolved spiritual issues. They were usually nonaggressive, but they could cause some disturbance if not taken care of.

If the lingering issues were particularly strong and negative, they could even become onryou. The infamous Okiku, for example, was betrayed by the people she dutifully served, framed for a crime she didn’t commit, all because she refused the advances of a terrible man. The terrible man further tormented her, physically and over long periods of time, in the name of justice—as she was the one he framed out of revenge for rejecting him. She casted endless curses as she died from her final torture, and this was what brought her back from the dead as an onryou, vengeful ghost.

Her curse was so strong that she could easily cause death with a simple ritual. She was framed for stealing an expensive dish, of which there were supposed to be ten. During her life, after she was framed, she was told to count how many dishes remained. No matter how many times she counted, she would always find only nine.

So, in death, she would count from one to nine, looking for the missing dish—and, after the ninth count, she would wail out a blood-curling scream, missing the tenth dish that caused her death. Whoever heard any of her counting would fall ill, and whoever heard the whole thing would share in her misfortune and die a terrible death.

There was no telling if the nopperabou at their school was even a ghost to begin with instead of another kind of nightwalker, but if he were a ghost, there’s also no telling why he was there. If he was sent as a curse, they needed to know what kind of curse and who the target was. If he was a newly-risen wandering ghost, they needed to know what his lingering attachments were, because in worst-case scenarios, he could probably turn into a more dangerous type at any time.

Chi was adamant that they should find a way to end the ghost, while Kou was adamant that they should first find out why the ghost was even there.

“Ghost-san, sorry if I’m scaring you,” Kou said. “Again—I really just wanted to talk, you know. I kind of got the mantle as the King of the Night somehow, it’s a bit of my job to know how you guys are doing.”

Chi made a very clear and audible facepalm, but Kou ignored that. The ghost didn’t seem particularly scared, at least—he didn’t shift away any further (there’s nowhere further than the corner of the class) and he wasn’t shaking. Kou wasn’t sure ghosts could tremble when they were afraid, but this one didn’t tremble, so.

Kou thought for a while. What do spirits usually like? “Oh!” he snapped his fingers. “I’ve got this, too—it’s not much, but maybe you’ll like it.”

He reached into his jacket’s pockets, shuffled for a bit, and pulled out an unfinished chocolate bar.

“Wait, are you serious?” Chi whined. Kou shushed her.

“Here,” he said as he bowed a little, hand outstretched, with the chocolate on it. Carefully, he put it on the ground between himself and the reluctant spirit. “I offer this to you.”

With that, Kou pulled back, making sure the spirit was undisturbed. Chi immediately came scooting, sitting right down by his side, and whispered in her most aggressive tone. “Nii-chan, that’s an offering.”

“I know.”

“Really? Do you know what it entails?”

“It means I submit to him this one particular time,” Kou said calmly. Chi clicked her tongue.

“It means, first, you want him to acknowledge you, and he has the freedom not to,” she said. “That’s not the kind of posturing you want to do as a king. The subjects must acknowledge their King. They must have no choice in acknowledging you. If they chose not to, I’m not sure how it would affect your Authority.”

“Chi, he’s just one nopperabou.”

“Second, yes, you’re right, it means you submit to him this one specific time,” she continued uninterrupted. “But it also means that, in this particular case, you’re giving him the reins to do with you as he pleased. That’s not how a king should come across.”

“All Kings are servants to their subjects, no?”

“No! You’re thinking of a representative, not a King!”

“Either way,” Kou stubbornly replied, “I need to know what the deal is with this nightwalker. I don’t mind what I must do if it saves the entire middle school.”

“And if this turned out to be nothing?”

“Then at least we know it’s nothing. I can’t risk it.” Kou gulped. “I can’t risk you.”

“You’re risking me right now with your Authority on the line.”

“Then we just win his trust back after we figured this out, alright?”

Chi growled for a bit, but then fell silent. “Fine. But if he turns out to be any trouble, I’m erasing him.”

So they waited.

The siblings fell silent, unmoving, awaiting for any response from the ghost. As Chi said, it’s entirely well within the rights of that spirit to accept, reject, or even ignore their offering. Some really powerful spirits, those revered as kami or gods, were often already beyond the level of individual offerings and would ignore them. The siblings could spend this entire night without any results and later have to leave only littering the floor in the process, because the person who made an offering could not take that offering back.

It was, after all, already offered. Taking back an offering was akin to breaking a contract. The rules and results were uncertain, but whoever took their offerings back usually had to suffer a misfortune worth what luck they would’ve had if the offering was accepted.

All Kou had done was, basically, leaving some chocolate on the floor.

However, Kou was pretty confident about his move this time, at least putting his Authority aside. First of all, they didn’t know the true nature of the nopperabou. Handling different nightwalkers required different sensibilities, but all nightwalkers were at least aware of calls that come with offerings—everyone likes receiving gifts, after all. Secondly, as he explained to Chi, he was looking for an acknowledgment specifically. The thing about nightwalker acknowledgment is that it goes both ways: if the ghost were to acknowledge him, he were to also acknowledge the ghost. This could force them to have a two-way conversation, and that’s exactly what Kou wanted.

Thirdly, it was an effort of goodwill. Humans often left offerings, half of them with harmful intents like asking for help in committing revenge or other dirty deeds, but this malice was rarely ever directed at the nightwalkers themselves. Virtually all the time, all offerings were made in goodwill towards the nightwalkers—though, admittedly, some humans saw this through a more transactional lens, but that’s more a human problem than an offering problem.

Kou wanted to show the nightwalker that he meant no harm. He needed to get this point across somehow, and if words couldn’t convey that, then an offering should.

Heck, even humans give peace offerings to each other all the time.

For now, he just waited. They’re still going to have to go back home and freshen up before coming back to school this morning, and there’s also the travel time, so it would probably be somewhat prudent to return around two hours before sunrise. That’s still a fair bit of time. Kou had more than enough patience for that. Chi was definitely getting anxious, as she had started tapping on the floor, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. So far, at least.

Then, the sound of fabric on the floor.

Both Kou and Chi perked up.

The nopperabou had left his corner and was moving, ever so slowly, on all fours, towards the chocolate.

He was still hesitant, like a feral cat judging if he should receive some food from a random person, but he was definitely approaching the offering.

Then, carefully, he picked the chocolate up.

“I acknowledge you.”

The nopperabou had no mouth, so Kou had no idea where that voice came from, but he knew that it was the nopperabou speaking. With that, Kou bowed again once, then approached the nopperabou.

This time, the faceless figure did not run away. Instead, he started munching on the chocolate with his nonexistent mouth.

“Thank you, Ghost-san,” Kou said. “Do you have a name you’d prefer me to address you with?”

Munch, munch. “Kurotarou.”

“Thank you, Kurotarou-san,” Kou said. “It may be rude of me to ask, but it’s very uncommon for us to find a nopperabou in these areas. May I know the reason behind your presence here?”

The spirit kept munching on the chocolate. Then, he licked his fingers—or, at least, he would have, if he had a mouth. “I shall tell you.”

The nopperabou stood up. Chi, all alert since he started moving, stood up as well, her claws out. Kou stood up to follow their lead, more slowly, more carefully, one hand raised in Chi’s direction to make sure she wouldn’t do anything rash.

“Thank you,” Kou said.

With that, the nopperabou clapped his hands.

Poof!

A puff of smoke appeared out of nowhere.

“Nii-chan, it’s a trick!”

Kou could feel Chi’s presence disappearing—she was ready to give chase. However, this time, Kou reacted more quickly than she did.

“Wait!”

He managed to grab her by the collar, and the young vampiress almost fell from her own motion. “Ouch!”

“Chi, wait a second,” Kou said as he reined his sister in a little tighter. The girl in question was scowling like no tomorrow.

“Are you letting him go?!”

“No. Just wait a second.”

Slowly, the smoke dissipated.

As the puff had cleared, in the middle of the commotion, where the faceless ghost boy used to stand, was a Japanese badger.

Kou’s eyes lit up, while Chi groaned. They spoke their response at the same time: “A mujina!”

“Yes,” the badger squeaked. “I’m actually a mujina.”

“Of course!” Kou let his sister go—who just fell—and tapped his own forehead, laughing to himself. “How could I have missed that? Yakumo Koizumi’s Kaidan said that mujina often transformed into nopperabou!”

There were three creatures often attributed with transformation into humans—the fox, kitsune; the weasel, itachi; and the raccoon dog, tanuki. However, if we count transformations into everything else, then there’s none more skilled than the badger, mujina. Unlike the three creatures, the mujina could transform to virtually anything: from faceless humans to a literal comet in the sky. They were the real masters of shapeshifting, and they were probably the only ones who were actually harmless with their pranks.

The three creatures tended to be very vindictive. They have little in the way of what limited their practical jokes. The mujina, however, just popped every now and then to give people a good little scare, and that was often as far as they went as long as they didn’t get crossed.

“Wait,” Chi got back up on her feet. “So the magic that Yamato-senpai felt wasn’t a curse or anything like that? It was just transfiguration magic?”

She approached the little badger, who was visibly trembling. This time, Kou was pretty sure he was afraid.

“Did you use anything else when coming here? Any magic spells? Were you cursed? Why are you here?”

“I—I’m not cursed,” Kurotarou said. “I—I only used that form because I don’t like being hunted.”

Chi growled, but she stood down. It wasn’t rare for badgers and raccoon dogs to be hunted out in the wild, especially since raccoon dogs were considered invasive in some areas. Kurotarou’s concern was perfectly valid. “Then why are you here?”

“I…,” Kurotarou fell silent. “I don’t … I don’t remember.”

“What?”

“Please don’t hurt me!” the badger cowered and covered his head. “I don’t remember! I only remember suddenly feeling like I must enter Tokyo! Then feeling like I must enter this building! I feel like I was supposed to look for somebody but I don’t remember who it was! It’s why I’m still here, I wanted to know if anyone here makes me feel like they’re the one I’m looking for!”

Kou touched Chi on the shoulder to calm her down, then addressed Kurotarou himself. “Then, if you find them, would you leave?”

“That … may be difficult….”

Chi bared her fangs again. “Ha?”

“Forgive me!”

“Chi, calm down,” Kou sternly said. “Kurotarou-san, what do you mean by difficult?”

Kurtarou was fidgety. Something was definitely making him anxious, and it wasn’t Chi. “I mean … I’m stuck here. This area is kitsune territory. They don’t like it when someone intrudes, especially if it’s another animal like a mujina.”

“I thought the kitsune only got territorial with the tanuki and itachi?”

“The kitsune don’t like anyone,” Kurotarou’s ears drooped. “They might seem aggressive to the tanuki and itachi because those two also made their own societies, so their conflicts tend to be so loud that even we can hear them from the mountains, but they’re just as aggressive against the mujina. It’s just that we tend to keep to ourselves and don't really bother making groups or anything, so whenever the kitsune did anything to us, no one really heard anything. We’re … uh, I’m … pretty shy.”

That explained why Kurotarou kept running away when he got detected. Kou wasn’t ready to give up just yet. “So, if we figure out a way to slip you past the kitsune of Tokyo, you’d go back to where you came from. Is that right?”

“Yes,” the poor badger sounded like he was going to cry. “Please. Tokyo is scary….”

Kou smiled, then crouched and gave the badger a pat on the head. “Got it. You just stay put here, don’t hurt anyone, don’t scare anyone if possible. I’ll figure something out for you.”

Kurotarou just started sobbing. “Thank you….”

*