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Novelo Rectangle

The night was rich with life. Stalls lined the narrow streets of Hayasegawa from end to end. Women wearing elaborate kimonos and young men in fashionable yukatas gleefully paraded around the market. Fireworks rocketed into the hot night sky, sending a starfall of color reflecting onto the water below. It wasn’t only the color that was exuberant; the smells of ramen, yakitori, yakisoba, and other street foods delighted the newly christened Ronshin. Mitikori Kotoba, Kazuki Dosuke, Enraku Ranjiro, and Mitikori Seihiro walked the stone paths near the river, searching for an elusive prey; Hana-Ika Ramen. There was only one shop in all of Hayasegawa that sold it, and each year it got more and more difficult to find the illusive shopkeeper. But the reward was too great to miss; free ramen for the group of five or under that found him first. And this year, Seihiro had a plan.&nbsp;	“Hold,” Seihiro said, holding up his fist in mock severity. “We mustn’t alert our quarry!”&nbsp;	“What do you see, sensei?” Ranjiro questioned. He lunged forward on all fours, lifting one hand above his eyes and scanning the river.&nbsp;	“Radish.” Seihiro pointed to the flower water. Pure green radish leaves floated down the waterway.&nbsp;	“It could be anyone’s radish, sensei! Surely we should investigate further!” Dosuke repeated Master Nagashi’s constant warning.&nbsp;	“Otouto, fetch the radish, but be careful not to slip on the rocks! A Ronshin must always watch his footing before he enters the realm of the yokai.” Kotoba nodded resolutely. With tense muscles, he paused right before stepping into the waters. The boys all held their bated breath. Then Ranjiro pushed him in. Kotoba laughed as the others cheered for finally getting some action. The water was cool and shallow. Kotoba easily waded through to the radish leaf and fished it from the narrow creek. He brought it to his older brother, who took it with a bow. Seihiro narrowed his eyes at the leaf. He ran it under his nose, leaving a streak of water on his upper lip. After a long fake sniff, he nodded his head and stated,&nbsp;	“Yup. It's for Hana-Ika Ramen!”&nbsp;	“Such wisdom!” Ranjiro exclaimed.&nbsp;	Well, he would know; he does eat the most ramen,” Kotoba chimed in. Ranjiro smirked,&nbsp;	“All this time you told us you were doing leadership training to be the next Master Nagashi. Turns out you were just sniffing radish leaves!” Dosuke chided.&nbsp;	“It’s true,” Seihiro admitted, “You discovered my ruse.”&nbsp;	“Then lead us! To the mighty Hana-Ika Ramen!” Dosuke commanded. The boys scampered along the narrow ravine, much to the laughter of the passersby above.&nbsp;	The four boys bounded up the rocks leading to the old theater street. Along the alley-way shops of all kinds have been erected. Food stalls, trinkets, and games all beckoned. The sounds of drums from behind them caused the boys to separate. Kotoba and Dosuke took the right side, with Ranjiro and Seihiro across from them. Shouting and clamoring, the taiko drummers marched past. As they passed one of the tallest drummers stopped. As the others pounded away with their wooden rods, he stopped. Kotoba cocked his head at the unusual sight. The man’s eyes seemed to fade he looked down at the much smaller Ronshin. “Ko-to-ba,” The words came from somewhere else. The young boy’s blood ran cold. “Ko-to-ba.” Someone was repeating it. Slowly. Inconsistently. Suddenly, he was frozen. Terror gripped at his chest. He couldn’t move his shoulders properly.&nbsp;	“Kotoba!” Dosuke shouted, yanking the younger boy out of the way of the passing troop. Suddenly, Kotoba was back. He felt the heat of the pavement and the resounding hum of the fireworks.&nbsp;	“What happened?” Dosuke glanced around. “I don’t see any more Kitsune women?” Kotoba shoved him off.&nbsp;	“I’m going lucid from the lack of ramen,” the young Ronshin lied.&nbsp;	“Seihiro! You’re brother’s getting faint, we must find the Hana-Ika!”&nbsp;	“He’ll survive!” Seihiro protested. The drummers rounded the corner, and the patrons all wandered back out to get more food. The four boys regrouped and searched the street. While the food looked enticing, none of it was their fabled Hana-Ika ramen.&nbsp;	“The shop’s not here,” Dosuke admitted. The four spread out a bit, each searching for the stream that might have carried the radish leaf. Ranjiro sampled some of the rice from a table, and Kotoba was almost ready to give up and get something to eat when they heard their fearless leader proclaim,	“Further in, my young student.” Seihiro beckoned them around the other corner. Cross the threshold to the next street felt like walking into a dark closet. Most of the buildings were dark, and only a few artisans twirled about on homemade displays. Seihiro looked around the masked performers.&nbsp;	“We’ve lost the trail,” Ranjiro muttered.&nbsp;	“Lost are we?” A tall, pale skinned woman approached the young Ronshins wearing a red and gold fox mask and a pink silk kimono. She reached out a thin finger to take Kotoba’s hand. The young Ronshin stared into her intoxicating eyes and was lost in an instant. His dreams of ramen flew away with his heart. Ranjiro slapped Kotoba’s hand down.&nbsp;	“We’re hunting yokai!” He said with a smirk.&nbsp;	“Maybe she can help,” Kotoba offered. The mysterious woman laughed coyly. Other performers had gathered, continuing their routines as if in a trance. The music was muted in the small alleyway, creating an alluring atmosphere.&nbsp;	“Save it for later,” Dosuke suggested. From under her mask, the women winked at Kotoba.	“Then I eagerly await your return, young Ronshin.” Seihiro had to yank his little brother away.&nbsp;	The four boys wandered through the performers. Lights were dim. Another wave of fireworks went off. The performers began to crowd around, blocking the Ronshin from their hunt.&nbsp;	“We’ll never get far like this,” Ranjiro complained.&nbsp;	“We could go back; maybe that kitsune knows a faster way,” Kotoba offered.&nbsp;	“She knows a fast way to steal all of your–,”&nbsp;	“I brought masks,” Dosuke cut off the hot-headed Ranjiro. The boys huddled around, making a walled in circle. Dosuke passed out animal masks to the others. To Seihiro he gave a red deer mask. To Ranjiro a red panda. To himself, a red tortoise, and to Kotoba, he gave a white rabbit mask. The boys slid their masks on without a word and stood up again. Now they matched.&nbsp;	The performers began to drift away in a ghostlike step. Kotoba heard his own breathing against the wooden mask. It obscured his vision a bit, but he could still make out the road. Seihiro led them down the narrow road to a lantern-making park. Children knelt silently, holding the paper lanterns, ready to let them go into the sky.&nbsp;	“Where are the parents?” Ranjiro whispered through his wooden mask.&nbsp;	“Enjoying the sake,” Kotoba chuckled.&nbsp;	“Seihiro, where are you taking us?” Dosuka asked.&nbsp;	“The water leads back here.” Seihiro motioned to the short bridge in front of them. Kotoba wasn’t sure about his brother’s reasoning, but he wouldn’t argue. He glanced back over his shoulder as the children let off their lanterns. Three red, animal-painted lanterns drifted into the sky. One unpainted one had failed to lift off.&nbsp;	The water led them to a pond just outside the city block. A crowd flowed into the entertainment district, blocking their path. Kotoba shoved through the sudden flow, and when he burst forth, he found himself alone on the bridge to the island in the center of the park. He looked back and found his brothers wading through the water to reach him. He stood on the high stone bridge, watching their ghostly forms float through the water. Then he turned to the center of the pond. Radish leaves fell, white like snow, into the water. Despite the large crowd not far from them, Kotoba felt an unholy silence. He stepped down from the peak of the bridge, descending the red-rail path. His brothers still marched through the waters without making a sound. A chopping sound disturbed the peace. There, under a green wooden pagoda, was a tanuki. It stood about as tall as the average man. It wore a black apron over an equally black yukata with tied sleeves. Atop its head, keeping its ears and hair in place, was a neat red band. The tanuki kept chopping away at the radishes, sending leaves flying in the air. It would diligently chop the vegetable and then produce another in just a few movements.&nbsp;	“You have the hana-ika ramen?” Kotoba asked.&nbsp;	“As much as you’d like!” The tanuki beamed. “After all, you’ll be here forever.”&nbsp;	“What is this place?” Kotoba questioned. He began to cautiously approach the red and black yokai.&nbsp;	“The Seizan Matsuri, one last firework show before the day ends for good.”&nbsp;	“Death?” Kotoba realized. The tanuki sighed.&nbsp;	“You pick up fast. I’m sorry, Ronshin, but your brothers have been waiting.” Kotoba looked back at the others now entering the waters. Patrons, all wearing red masks, began to wade through the infinitely deepening waters. Kotoba couldn’t even find his brothers among the thousands surrounding the island.&nbsp;	“I’m not ready to go,” Kotoba countered.&nbsp;	“Few are,” The tanuki had stopped cutting. He put the finished bowl of ramen on the table.&nbsp;	“This can’t be right.” Kotoba began to feel panic in his throat.&nbsp;	“You tried your best, but nobody, and I mean nobody, can beat death,” the tanuki consoled. “Trust me, I tried and tried.”&nbsp;	“No!” Kotoba whirled around to find the bridge gone. The dark waters lapped at the edges of the island. The bodies began to sink as a pale skull lifted out of the pitch black liquid. The foreign yokai emerged from his victims, baring his straight-edged sword.&nbsp;	“Ko-to-ba,” the sound echoed around the island. The tanuki took off his hat in reverence. Kotoba rushed to the sticky water. He plunged in, splashing past the looming forms. The waters felt heavy, like honey around his legs. The bodies began to reach up, clawing to pull him down. Water. Death. Kotoba began to thrash and kick wildly, desperate to cross the corrupted depths. The pale yokai began to descend into the water itself. While Kotoba struggled and fought, it moved with ease through the waves, sending any nearby forms deep under the black waters. His desperate breathing echoed off the tight mask. In an act of rage, Kotoba threw the wooden mask off with a shout. The white mask was bleeding red. It sank slowly under the water. A green horn forming on the right side just as it went under. Kotoba felt the grip of death upon his back as the yokai neared. He fought against the waves clawing towards the far shore.&nbsp;	The foreign yokai easily reached out and grabbed his back. Kotoba spun around and slashed with a sword he didn’t have. The skull peered down at him without a word. Kotoba stumbled back, and his back hit hard ground. He looked around in shock. He had made it to the far shore. The island had been swallowed up, but here he was. The yokai stood knee-deep in the dark waters, but Kotoba was sitting on solid ground. His breathing began to slow. The yokai waited for a moment, staring at the ground. Then it lifted its legs and stepped out onto the shore.&nbsp;

Yokai

TeamPanic

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Juneau Thorne

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