Imamimi Notanobu - V

We arrive at a family restaurant near Minami Ward. It’s one of those aiming for an older feel, even if artificial, with its wooden flooring and electric lanterns. As we make our way past the front door, we’re greeted by the restaurant’s hostess, who says ‘Welcome’ and does a little bow of her head.

“Can I get your name, please?” she asks.

“Yatsukunugi,” I say.

The hostess at the family restaurant looks down at her ledger and nods. She takes her place near the hall’s entrance and waits for us to get ready.

I put my sneakers into the wooden shoe locker and instruct Mad Dog to do the same.

“Is there anything I need to know about your acquaintance?” asks my companion, as she takes off her trainers.

“She’s smart, kind, plays the drums, and believes in a fundamental evil of the universe.”

“Most intriguing.”

The hostess sees us ready and leads us down the bright-lit hall. We continue until the second room, where she stops, does a little bow, and gestures us towards the tatami-matted space.

Yatsukunugi Yuura is waiting there. My friend. A musician who blends drumming and magic, and the definition of cuteness itself.

If I scored an 8 out of 10, she’d make an easy 9.

Baby-faced. Long black hair. And an incredible sense of fashion.

She has a style adjacent to one of those underground rock stars. A bit grungy, you know? Black trench coat. Mesh shirt underneath. And a pleated skirt down to the knees, with a few accessories sewn into it that read nonsensical English words like ‘KILL THE NOISE!’.

That’d be enough to set her apart from the crowd. Enough to draw the attention of anyone who looked at her, really. But it doesn’t end there.

Because.

Yatsukunugi Yuura has black scales down her cheekbones and neck. Like a snake. The sign of demonic blood.

While hard to say how, either through blood or happenstance, Yatsukunugi Yuura was entangled with a Nure-onna. A yōkai with the body of a snake, and the head of a woman. A yōkai which kills, eats, and survives on the suffering of humans.

Despite prejudice around hybrids being no rare thing, I think Yuura’s status as both a beautiful and ‘rare’ woman makes her vulnerable. Yōkai-fetishism, and anything remotely adjacent, is on the rise, and there are plenty of degenerates into the thrill of discovering something new.

As such, I consider Yuura a maiden lecherous men would eye up as big game. In fact, I might’ve been included among them if not for my consideration for our friendship, which takes precedence over all that.

Even so.

Seeing her is enough to bring a smile to my lips, and I make sure to let her know.

“Hello, Yuura-san. Is that a new skirt I see?”

She nods, and a touch of pink hits her cheek.

“It looks really cute on you. I’m really happy you heeded my recommendation.”

I sit down on the cushion facing Yuura. Mad Dog sits next to me, and we bump shoulders. For a moment, I think I see Yuura raise a brow in pseudo-suspicion, but drop it just as fast.

“Nobu-kun, is that your new girlfriend?”

“No,” I answer. “She’s the one I told you about.”

She smiles and gives a small tilt of her head. “Mhm. But, helping you with Magical Consultation isn’t mutually exclusive with being your girlfriend, is it?”

“That’s correct.”

I find myself on the defensive and think about how to follow up. Think. Think. Think! Ah—it is what it is.

“Hehe, I’d say I win this one.”

“Indeed. I must concede this verbal bout to you, Yuura-hakase. Your intimate grasp of one-liners exceeds my imagination…”

“Of course, of course. But it is to be expected. I am your academic senior, after all. Though I’ll be expecting you to take remedial courses.”

“Eh, remedial courses? Don’t tell me I have to attend night school.”

“What’s wrong? Your favourite teacher will be there.”

“Ōtsuka-sensei from Junior High?! I thought he retired to Kagoshima long ago.”

Yuura clutches her chest, feigning despair with an exaggerated exhale. “And so, this immortal teacher-student relationship was crushed in its infancy…”

Silence.

Slowly, the atmosphere of the restaurant resumes its occupancy, and I find my glance drifting to Mad Dog.

“Please, continue. The mating rituals of this eastern country impress me.”

“Friendly conversation,” I correct.

“Mad Dog?” asks Yuura, “Is that your real name?”

“No. But it suits me.”

“Do you not want to be called something else?”

“Unnecessary. Names are things to be remembered. I’m more like water, heat or menstruation; I just exist, and sometimes, I appear in inconvenient moments.”

Well.

That’s Mad Dog’s signature personality, alright. Now, I’ve just got to spin it into a positive angle. Mhm, initiate silver-tongue mode, I must.

“As you can see, Yuura-san. Mad Dog possesses a particular kind of energy good for the investigation, wouldn’t you say?”

She raises a brow, and cocks her head juust enough to express some venom.

Well, that didn’t quite work out.

“How’d you meet her?”

“Oh, I—”

“I assaulted him in an abandoned building. He put up a good struggle.”

Yuura doesn’t say anything. Yet, there, in her pretty black eyes, emerges something almost dark. A sentiment ill-fitting of the smile she still has.

“I know that sounds bad, Yuura-san. But context is important, and all things considered, we did rectify it later. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have brought her here, would I?”

“You are rather forgiving,” she says, with a tone that suggests that I most definitely should not be. “I wish everyone could be like you.”

“So… about the investigation.”

My non-sequitur comes rather abruptly, but does enough to move the conversation at hand.

“I investigated that image, Yuura-san.”

“That one?” She knows exactly what I’m talking about. I told her before coming. “So, it wasn’t just a rumour.”

“There was a body.”

“I see.”

With a sense of foreboding, Yuura draws to a silence. I watch my revelation play out in her head. Bargaining, to rapid, sullen, acceptance.

“It was fresh this time. I don’t think the death could’ve been any later than a day at best. That’s not all, though.”

As I look at Mad Dog, she nods and takes out her phone. She shows an image on her phone. The Chinese site she uses. And photos of a dead individual. Still. Face-up. With their body intact, and their face taken from multiple angles.

I look at Yuura, nod, and match the intensity of this reveal with an equally intense stare.

“Previously, the victims were unrecognisable, since their bodies didn’t match any DNA samples in the database. But with this face, we can use the biggest database of all—the internet.”

Without a sign of disagreement, Yuura nods. Not long after, the waitress comes, and we place the orders for our food.

Mad Dog nods. “I’ll have the Gulliver Spicy Big Curry, and a Gorilla Classic Salad, please.”

“Egg curry for me,” I say.

“Odori set, please,” Yuura says at last. “With some iced coffee.”

After a while, the food comes in these big wooden bowls, with the rice, meat, and vegetables partitioned from each other.

“Hm,” says Mad Dog in a low, contemplative way. “This dish reminds me of the mainland.”

“Why’s that?” I ask, noticing that she hasn’t even tried it yet.

“If you look closely, the meat, rice, and vegetables are all separate from each other. It’s like they have their own territories. Like the war back home.”

I inspect my egg curry.

Mad Dog’s right.

If you look close enough.

If you have a proactive enough imagination.

It just about looks like factions going at war with each other, with each food group as a individual state, or faction.

“Nobu-kun, did you wash your hands before this?”

I look at Yuura. “If before means an hour ago, before I left my apartment?”

She sighs, and stands. “You have a weak constitution, don’t forget. If you keep letting germs breed on your hands, you’ll get sick!”

Moving to my side, she takes my hand, and leads me out of the room. We go down the hall to the bathroom, and end up lingering on the outside. It’s obvious enough that she wants to talk to me about something.

“Nobu-kun,” Yuura says. “Are you being held hostage, or something? Does she have explosives strapped to your private parts, and a detonator in her right pocket?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Yuura-san. Nothing at all. I know this whole situation sounds weird, out of the blue, and very weird, but I promise. It all makes a lot of sense if you take the time to think about it.”

“Okay.” She nods. “Supposing everything is true. Supposing she’s not threatening you. Even supposing she has your best interests in mind. Do you know the scope of what you’re doing? You told me you saw a dead body. You told me someone sent you a picture of it, and explicitly attempted to lead you there. Does that not feel a little—I don’t know, a little dangerous to you?”

“Well, yeah, Yuura-san. Of course, it does. Investigating a potential murderer, sticking my head where it shouldn’t? It’s a recipe for trouble. But truth be told, I’m set on the job, and I’m going to get it done anyway.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because… It’s the right thing to do. So, if I’m going to see where this red thread takes me, I’d rather warn one of my closest friends in the event something happens to me.”

“Warning me?” I hear her annoyance. “That’s beautifully ignorant of you. If you wanted to warn me, if you wanted to get me away from this trouble, I think you would’ve not contacted me in the first place. Am I right?”

There it is.

The look of righteous indignation. Written on her face. Expressed in the upward tilt of her chin and the tremble of her right eye.

“So, am I right, or am I wrong?”

“Both, actually. You know I’m a coward. I don’t want to die, I just so happen to be stupid enough to put myself into situations where I can.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, if I did happen to die, well… at least you’d know what happened. I’m sure you’d hate me a bit less if you at least knew why I disappeared."

That has a good ring to it. It’s not a lie either. At best, just a slight obfuscation of some detail. Enough to give it a sense of realism without showing the full extent of things.

I breathe in slowly, waiting for the response my friend will give. For a few seconds, there’s nothing. Then—it comes.

“Idiot.” Yuura looks away. She exhales in a deep mix of irritation and minor sadness. “Listen, Nobu-kun, I like you, and you’re an adult, so I’m not going to scold you like a schoolboy. But in the future…” She pauses. “Just tell me you want help, and I’ll come running anyway.”

“Thank you, Yuura-san.”

She gives a cute, self-assured smile. “After all, you need my magic, don’t you?”