Daija somersaulted up the tree, landing quietly on the thick branch beside me. Spells were on the ground. If it will work was a different story. Last thing was for it to trigger and alert its creators. Kakuriyo was not an option to use because of those damn booby traps lying around hidden by the tall grass.
"I wish I didn't return to the council meeting. See what it got me into…," I grumbled.
"Look over there, that's the kominka which the Kijo and oni spoke of," Daija pointed to the wooden farmhouse.
I looked around the mountainside. It was indeed unusual to have such a manicured landscape in the middle of nowhere with a pristine looking kominka, traditional Japanese farm himself.
"Twelve humans," I said.
Daija nodded and gestured towards the far side of the kominka near the base of the mountain. Layouts of these kominka make it easy for us to slip in and out if they built it to the original design. A sudden wall won't be good news.
The only reason to be in the deep rural area of Nagano is because of the kominka's occupants. The price was too good not to ignore. Momiji, the Daiyōkai of this mountain, wanted them out or dead.
Momiji had the powers to chase them out. Her reasoning was that we were not familiar with the area. All that sweetness about supporting fellow yōkai businesses, that old witch of a Daiyōkai must have thought that I am stupid. Or mistaken me for a male yōkai who is easy to be swayed by beauty.
There was something going on with the humans.
And true enough, after the staff had checked through the targets, it was one of those bothersome newfangled cults on the fringes of Japanese society. A few decades of non-religiosity and a few weirdoes claim that they are a prophet or god.
Not that we have anything against a group of humans who might think that a chair is god - those yōkai, or tsukumogami, that occupied or were formed from furniture or tools would be happy.
We usually leave weirdoes alone. Unless they pose a viable threat to blowing the cover of our kind. This particular cult had been making certain claims which were only half true about exorcising or enslaving us.
There is a vast chasm between common yōkai and a Daiyōkai when it boils down to sealing or enslaving us. Even a Buddhist monk or a Shinto priest had to invoke the gods on us. If the god is willing, then we are screwed. If the god doesn't show up… well, tables turn.
"Let's go, they are gathering in the main room," Daija leaped from tree branch to another at a faster pace.
I followed. Nothing like exercising the inner ninja. It's been a while when we flew about like this. More entertaining in the old days, where there were more trees surrounding the riding paths.
We would reveal ourselves to the superstitious humans, who would scream out of their minds or falling from their horses.
The kodama of the trees were watching both Daija and I.
"Pssh don't go to that tree," they will whisper to us as a warning that some spell was on it. Each time they did that, I would notice that the affected tree did have a kodama.
Kodama, these tree sprites, are not helpful most of the times but when there is a benefit to them, information will be freely offered for self preservation.
Whoever these humans are, they must have done something to the missing kodama of those trees.
We were approaching near the roof of the kominka. About 5 meters from the tree Daija was on.
No doubt that something wrong with the kominka. Old Japanese farmhouses like these have a zashiki warashi, child spirit, or at least another type of ghost.
In the olden days, farmers would have a lot of children. No television or modern day distractions, the only entertainment was in bed with their wives.
Most children in those days did not live past three years old. Shichigosan festival that the modern humans celebrate by over dressing up their children started, as a humble festival of the peasants who were grateful to the gods for protecting their child's lives at 3, 5 and 7 years old.
"Toryanse, toryanse, koko wa doko no hosomichi ja?" Daija sang the line softly.
"What are you doing?"
"You are humming Toryanse," he said.
Come to think of it, toryanse was a nursery song about a peasant begging the guard to let him pass to a Tenmangu shrine. He wanted to give thanks for his child's seventh year in life. Or a helping farmhand of a kid.
Lives of the peasants were unpleasant. Both men and women slog under terrible conditions in the fields for their land masters. Even pregnant women had to toil in the fields. They would give birth and then return after an hour or two to tend to their crops.
Many infants never survived the harsh conditions, and if they did, there were still the milestones. Children worked in the fields, once they were of age, sold off as servants, or sent to the brothels.
I remembered silently watching Death and his minions go from farmhouse to farmhouse to collect the souls of the dead. They were so busy that some souls of the children were left behind as zashiki warashi. Funny how birth brought mortal life into the world only to be snuffed by life itself.
Humans now would be screaming about child slavery and abuse now. Sometimes the newspapers make me laugh.
"Probably wondering why there is no zashiki warashi around. Usually these houses have them," I said.
"They are not the only ones missing. The Akaname too. No presence of any yōkai." Daija searched the area with his eyes. "Not even a ghost within the surroundings."
Akaname, disease spreading yōkai, would usually wander about. This kominka is too sterile, almost dead. The condition of the wooden structure was a dead giveaway that the kominka was around a hundred years old.
"Go around the roof?" Daija motioned his head towards the thatched hay roof.
"Unless you want us to knock on the front door and announce our arrival, sure, why not?"
"Ha Ha, very funny. Use one serpent to see if there is a trap waiting on the top," Daija retorted.
I turned my neck and the serpent tattoo detached itself. For a minute, it hovered in hesitation before flying straight into the kominka.