Oni (Demon)

•  O N I  •

  Demon

  A short story by Nina J. Lux

  O N I

  Kodokuna stiffened, ending the gesture that had caused the guide to scold him. From underneath unkempt eyebrows the accused sent a wild look at the man opposite him who, in turn, seemingly unfazed, flattened the hem of his kimono.

  “Soo desune—I know,” was his curt reply to the guide’s reproach.

  Outside, the sky released a cacophonic symphony of thunder. The sky seemed to be gathering all its hibernating power as if in the face of a battle field slowly awakening, getting ready for combat. Kodokuna regarded the army of heavy grey clouds through the window. The dark mass concealed the hovering moon—the only source of light in the crammed room except for a flickering candle—and as it withdrew behind the clouds, Kodokuna’s face vanished into obscurity before anyone in the company could put to memory what it looked like. From that moment on, he was nothing more than a formless voice amongst the shadows.

  He had happened upon the group of five tourists and their guide in the village of Fujigoko earlier that same day. It was October and the famous rowan trees were the main attraction in the area. Kodokuna had found them wandering the park in the village and instantly taken an interest in the little company. As one of the usual autumn storms seemed to be approaching he had invited them to dine and shelter in his house until the storm passed. Delighted over such a generous offer from a local—“so it is true what they say about the Japanese!”—they had accepted without delay, though the guide had shown some doubt at first.

  Now they were all seated on the tatami mat in his house and the clicking of hashi, chopsticks, filled the room.

  “I know, gaido,” Kodokuna said in reply to the guide’s scolding, “but let’s go back to my story—or have you perhaps already heard of Takeshi Iwamura and his tragic fate?”

  From within the darkness where Kodokuna knew that the guide was seated, no reply came. This despite his broach against etiquette in not adding “san” when addressing him. Kodokuna allowed himself a smile.

  “Just as I thought,” he continued. “And even if you had heard of him, you would not have heard the true story. In fact, not many people know it. Let me tell you.”

  And so he began his tale.

  “A long, long time ago, in the dark past we barely are aware of anymore, there lived a man called Naoki Iwamura. He was a successful and well-reputed man from the village of Fujiyoshida, a village found by the majestic foot of Fuji-san mountain—not far from here. This man was famous far and wide for his work ethic and discipline, and was highly regarded by his kinsmen as well as other folks around the region.

  What he lacked in money, he made up more than twice in respect for himself and his family. Hiromi, his daughter, was at this time young and, according to many, the most beautiful girl in all the five villages of Fuji-san. Her younger brother, Takeshi, had also been granted potential for success. With his bright mind he would accept any challenge thrown his way—and showed great promise! His physique was envied by fathers and their sons for miles around, and there were even stories floating around recounting that he had emerged from the Kawaguchi Lake, a son of the water people, and that he had been trained by the Emperor himself. Despite the apparent falsehood of these tales, they persisted.

  Takeshi was to marry the enchanting beauty Mizuki Kagami, who most thought to be the most desirable woman on the north side of Fuji-san both in terms of appearance and of spirit. The wedding plans were finalised and the ceremony was due to take place on the twenty-fifth day of the eighth month—at the commencement of himatsuri, the Fire Festival. The whole village was invited to take part, as tradition stated the newly wedded couple would open the festival by lighting the first bonfire. The pure and untouched love between the two was believed to bring happiness and to intimidate evil spirits and demons who might otherwise disturb the festivities.

  As the final preparations for the himatsuri were completed, the sun smiled on Fujiyoshida. In every tree sat chirping birds, in every lake the fish leapt with joy as if they, too, wanted to participate. By and large, it looked like it would be precisely the kind of warm summer’s day they were all hoping for.

  But when the morning of the twenty-fifth day came, the blue skies were replaced by dismal clouds and the rain fell heavily all over Fuji-san.”