If you were to ask me how the Yokai live, my answer would be simple: like stray cats. They wander through forests and mountains along lonely paths, occasionally visiting nearby villages in search of entertainment, food and revenge.
Sometimes, like humans, the most formidable representatives of the mythical creatures gather to throw extravagant banquets. They wear elaborate costumes and engage in conversations that are often haughty and rude, full of jokes and innuendo that only they can understand. In such gatherings there is little room for the warmth and joy I am used to experiencing in my native forests, where by day we search for food by hunting small animals or gathering roots and berries. At night we gather in small groups and share stories of our travels and experiences.
- I'm so tired of this... When will they let us go? - the young man whispered with a heavy sigh, his golden eyes fixed on the wine glass in his hands, lost in thoughts far removed from the bustling crowd.
Dressed in a once pure white kimono that had faded with time, he hid his face behind a horned paper mask that blended seamlessly with his porcelain skin, accentuating his quiet beauty. But despite his efforts to conceal his aura and appearance, a single glance revealed the young man to be far more complex than he appeared.
The chatter of the crowd around him flowed like the chirping of cicadas on a hot summer's night. Each laugh struck his eardrums like a sharp blow, leaving the young man in a state of deep confusion. The absurdity of imitating human behavior struck him as particularly strange.
Carefully placing his wine-filled glass on the table, he moved towards the balcony, contemplating how to escape this endlessly exhausting banquet. Suddenly, he noticed a lone figure standing in a secluded corner by the window near the balcony.
The man was draped in a dark silk haori, from which a wakizashi peeked out on the left side, secured by an exquisite belt. Like many others, he hid his true identity and aura behind a ceramic demon mask adorned with sharp horns, giving his appearance a menacing yet captivating allure.
"You're not a fan of such events either?" the young man casually approached the tall figure, making no effort to hide his curiosity about him.
The man's head slowly turned towards the ringing voice, revealing deep, penetrating eyes filled with darkness through the slits in the mask.
With a slight smile, he assessed the stranger who had suddenly appeared before him, leaving the young man momentarily stunned.
"He is definitely no ordinary Ayakashi...", the young man thought, sensing the power hidden in the depths of those eyes. But knowing that, he didn't leave, stoking the intrigue that was already sparked in the man's dark gaze.
"Yes, you're right," he spoke in a deep, melodic voice that did not match his lifeless eyes. "I'm not a fan of these gatherings either," he added, not hiding a hint of irony.
"What makes you think I don't like banquets?" the surprised young man asked, forcing a smile.
"It's written all over your face that you want to escape," the dark-haired Ayakashi grinned, carefully adjusting a jet-black lock that had fallen out of his neat hairstyle. For a moment, the young man thought he saw the pupils of the man's eyes bursting with vivid colour, like a blooming crimson flower ready to unfurl its delicate petals at any moment. The image was so vivid and mesmerising that he froze, admiring the otherworldly beauty, but when he blinked, he bitterly saw only the usual dark pupils. Maybe it was just an illusion...
"Well, you were right too, but unfortunately I can't leave," the young man said with a hint of sadness in his voice, once again declining the alcohol the waiters persistently offered.
- Don't you like wine?" the man asked curiously, watching the boy behave strangely.
- I don't understand what's so great about it. Maybe it's just the smell that repels me, and maybe that's a good thing. You know, drunken ayakashi are a terrible sight! - the young man blurted out, trying to scratch the itchy wings hidden under his clothes.
- Drunken ayakashi? - the man repeated, bringing his glass to his crimson lips and taking a sip. - Like me? he added, taking a step forward and slowly invading the boy's personal space, gradually pushing him towards the balcony.
"I've never thought of myself as fragile, even though I'm a heron spirit. But why do I feel such a strange and unsettling sensation right now?" - the young man pondered, trying to keep some distance.
The man didn't stop, he continued to assert his presence over the weaker ayakashi. The boy, feeling the power of his aura, finally snapped back and stopped him with amber eyes:
- Excuse me, but I think you need to sober up, sir. You've already had more than one drink. - he said, hiding his emotions with an impartial tone.
There was an awkward silence, and only after a while did the man decide, with a smile, to take a few steps back to make room for the younger man. Ignoring the onlookers, the young man reached into his clothing, tucked away the unruly translucent feathers of his snow-white wing, and let out a soft sigh of relief.
- I am afraid I must leave soon, and I still do not know the name of my shy companion," the man said suddenly, feigning sympathy as he pulled the young man away from his task. As he spoke these words, the man realised that a name for a yokai is the essence of their existence. Without it, an ayakashi becomes a lifeless puppet or a soulless creature that destroys everything in its path.
A sudden gust of wind was so strong that it blew a few unruly strands of light from the young man's neat ponytail, threatening to blow the mask from his face. There was a moment of silence... The temperature around him dropped, and while the boy's body stubbornly refused to obey, the man suddenly appeared behind him as if nothing had happened, and whispered directly into his ear:
- Don't worry, winged rabbit, you don't have to answer. I'll see you soon..." he said, leaving the bewildered young man with a lycoris flower in his hair as a symbol of his promise.
"What was that? Winged Bunny? Was that strange nickname a hint that he knows I'm a stork?" - the thought pierced the young ayakashi like an arrow.
"I'll never show up at these banquets again, even if the demon's servants mistakenly send me an invitation with threats!" - Clenching his icy palms into fists, he tried to push away the growing feeling of fear and left the banquet while the guards were distracted, taking another victim of Morvan with him.
The life of a Yokai had always been like that of a stray cat: free and carefree, until one day, like snow on a summer's day, he appeared - Morvan, the demon who wasn't afraid to reveal his true name to the world, making both Yokai and humans take notice.
Stripped of his only weakness, the blood-red eyed Ayakashi became the embodiment of death, consuming those who aroused both dislike and deep interest in him. By his will, the strongest representatives of the Ayakashi gathered from all corners of the earth, and once endangered exorcist clans announced a mass hunt upon us once again.
"Because of him, ayakashi like me, blessed by the heavens with immense power, have quickly become a coveted trophy - both for him and the Hattori clan!" - Cursing Morvan once more, the young Yokai spread his wings and flew forward, towards his homeland, where the air was filled with the sweet scent of freedom.
- I wish I were just an ordinary Ayakashi... - the young man said sadly, gazing at his reflection in the still waters of the lake, where glimmers of light danced on the surface and gently touched the reed-covered shore.
- Lumi, are you there? - came the old woman's creaky voice. Her trembling hands struggled to hold a rusty bucket as she slowly made her way, step by step, along the path to the water. When the young man saw her, he was taken aback at first, but quickly and carefully took the heavy burden from her, at the same time begging her not to make him do her chores anymore.
- I'm not helpless enough to ask you to bring me water! - she grumbled, once a spoiled girl, now a wise old woman with kind blue eyes full of life and memories. She had sent her grown children and grandchildren to the city to seek happiness beyond this silence, while she remained in the old temple by the lake, where the walls recorded the chronicle of her last moments on earth.
- Do you still feel sad when you look at your reflection in the water? - the old woman asked gently, addressing the young man by name. Filling the bucket with water, he nodded and looked again at his familiar reflection on the surface, realising that his voice would never reach Shimidzu-san again... And that only her eyes, once so capable of seeing Ayakashi clearly, could still catch the faint presence of his essence.
- Why are you so quiet now, when you used to tell stories all the time? - she huffed and patted Lumi on the shoulder. A smile appeared on the Ayakashi's face, and tears filled the corners of his eyes, carrying away his selfish desire: "Please, don't leave me, Shimizu-san..."
- Look! Don't ruin such a pretty face with your sniffling! I don't want to remember it like this! - she continued grumbling, stopping only to offer the young man her patchwork handkerchief.
- I don't understand why you don't appreciate what God has given you. I wish I had skin as smooth as yours, soft, light hair, beautiful golden eyes like a cat's, and those two wonderful wings, crystal clear as glass! - exclaimed the old lady in admiration, making the young man's face turn the colour of a ripe tomato.
- Maybe, - Lumi murmured sheepishly, - but sometimes it becomes a burden...
The sky turned crimson with the hues of sunset, and as they continued their light conversation, they slowly made their way to the temple - a little run-down, but such a treasured home to their hearts.