Jason Rohan - The Stone of Kuromori

WHACK! The slap was so hard it rattled Kenny’s teeth and made his ears ring. Spots flickered before his eyes.

‘Don’t you know I’d be better off dead than have you help that filthy, treacherous, lying, slimy piece of –’

‘No, you wouldn’t!’ Kenny fired back, rubbing his jaw. ‘You can’t fool me. I remember how you were before . . . You didn’t want to die. You wanted to live . To be normal, to hang out, to have friends, to laugh and play. You even wanted to be kissed.’ He wiped his swelling lip with the back of his hand. ‘Somehow, I don’t think being stuck in Yomi with a thousand oni lining up to torture you forever is a better option.’

Tears glittered in Kiyomi’s eyes and her voice was little more than a murmur. ‘But still . . . you should never have done this.’

Kenny slipped his arms over Kiyomi’s shoulders and drew her closer. ‘It was worth it,’ he whispered.

BRRAAPPP!

Startled by the sudden noise, they glanced round to see Poyo squatting on top of the counter. He waved a paw to clear the pungent air, then held out two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

‘Great. Talk about a mood-killer,’ Kenny grumbled, taking one of the cups.

Kiyomi joined Kenny at the counter and they sipped their drinks.

‘I didn’t figure everything out,’ Kiyomi said. ‘I made Poyo tell me the rest, about your little trip to Matsue.’

Kenny glowered at the tanuki . ‘Thanks for nothing. Some partner you turned out to be.’

Poyo ignored him, rolled on to his back and aimed the nozzle of a can of whipped cream into his open muzzle. FW-AAAWSH! A cloud of surplus cream clung to Poyo’s whiskers, making him look like Santa Claus.

‘Well, I am not going to see Inari, I can tell you that,’ Kenny said, eyeing Kiyomi. ‘Besides, you heard what Susie said in your dream. He’s giving me four days to find this precious stone for him, or you’re going full oni .’

Kiyomi flinched and stared down into her Newcastle United mug.

Kenny leaned closer. ‘Kiyomi, I need your help. That’s why Susie summoned you in the dream. He knows I can’t fetch this jewel on my own, so he’s brought you in to help me.’

‘This is wrong,’ Kiyomi insisted.

Kenny’s grip tightened on his mug, his knuckles whitening. ‘What choice do we have? Go to Inari? Beg for forgiveness?’

‘You can do your duty, as she commands.’

‘Not if it means losing you.’

He slid off the stool and went to the desk, where he scooped up the map printout. After studying it, he returned to the computer screen and adjusted the map scale.

‘According to your dream,’ Kenny said, ‘the mirror showed that this stone he’s after is at the bottom of the East China Sea. If I’m reading this correctly, it’s somewhere off the coast of Taiwan, about a hundred kilometres east. Man, why is this never easy?’

‘Because if it was, Susano-wo wouldn’t need us,’ Kiyomi said, coming over to examine the map.

‘Does anyone mind if I have a look?’ Kenny’s father said from the hall. He yawned and closed his bedroom door. ‘I was trying not to listen, but you two hardly keep the noise down. As for you . . .’ He fixed Poyo with a glare. ‘You’d better clean up this mess. I’m tired of picking tanuki hair out of my food. Got it?’

Poyo straightened up, snapped a salute and fell into the sink.

‘Dad . . .’ Kenny began.

‘I know, I know,’ Charles said. ‘I’ve heard it all before. Not my concern. It’s for my own good. Blah-blah-blah.’ He held out his hand for the map. ‘Well, not this time. Last month, you pulled that routine on me and look where it got you. Lost in the mountains before ending up in orbit of all places. If not for me, you’d both be space dust by now, so I think I’ve earned the right to know what’s happening. Besides, if there’s any treasure hunting going on, I don’t see why you and my father get to have all the fun.’ He winked.

Kiyomi plucked the map from Kenny’s grasp and handed it to Charles with a winning smile and a small bow. Charles collected his reading glasses from the desk and scanned the map.

‘This isn’t so bad,’ he said. ‘Technically, these are still Japanese waters. The tiny island is Yonaguni. It’s the westernmost of the Ryukyu Islands and it’s accessible by plane. I can make the arrangements.’

‘Whoa,’ said Kenny. ‘Just like that? No arguing? No telling me I can’t go without an escort?’

‘There’s no need,’ Charles said, taking off his glasses. ‘I’m going with you. If you don’t like it, I’ll phone Harashima- san right now and the trip is off.’

Kiyomi’s face fell at the mention of her father.

‘Dad!’ Kenny protested. ‘We have to do this.’

‘Good,’ Charles said. ‘Then you won’t mind me coming along.’

The twin-propeller airliner touched down with a bump at the tiny Yonaguni Airport at 13:15 the next day. Compared to other airports Kenny had seen, it hardly merited the name, being little more than a 2000-metre runway with a flat, single-storey white building to one side that served as the terminal.

Stepping out of the Ryukyu Air Commuter plane, Kenny felt like he was walking into an oven. After the chill air conditioning of the pressurised cabin, the warm tropical breeze was a wonderful welcome to the island.

‘I hope you packed your deodorant,’ Kiyomi said, skipping down the steps. ‘It’s nearly thirty degrees here.’

‘That’s because the latitude is not dissimilar to Hawaii,’ Charles added, bringing up the rear. He shielded his eyes from the dazzling sunshine and looked out over the sapphire sea to the north.

‘Is that where we have to go?’ Kenny asked, following his gaze.

‘No. The coordinates you were given are to the south of the island. Let’s get settled first before we discuss that. Follow me.’

Kenny’s father led the way through the baggage-claim area and out into the arrivals lobby where they were met by a white-gloved taxi driver holding a placard. He escorted them to a waiting car and they all piled in.

‘Lucky I booked ahead,’ Charles said, once the taxi started moving. ‘There are only three taxis on the whole island and I didn’t fancy walking.’ The narrow grey ribbon of road followed the coastline, bordered by parched fields of yellowing grass.

Looking out of the window, Kenny noted the island was relatively flat, with some steep hills and outcrops rumpling the wooded interior. There were few tall trees – testament to the scouring power of the typhoons that wound their way through during the summer months.

‘Oh, look,’ Kiyomi said with delight, her nose pressed against the window. ‘Cute little horses.’

The taxi slowed to allow them a better look at a small herd of chestnut ponies grazing by the road, each about a metre tall at the withers.

‘They’re like Shetland ponies,’ Kenny said, ‘only not as hairy.’

‘Yonaguni horses,’ Charles said. ‘They’re a native breed, found only on this island.’

The road curved to the left and skirted the tops of steep black cliffs before descending to the little port of Kubura.

‘This is us,’ Charles announced as the taxi pulled up outside a white-walled, seafront bungalow property.

Stepping out, Kenny paused to sound out the Japanese writing above the entrance. ‘Ta . . . ka . . .’

‘ Takahashi Minshuku ,’ Kiyomi read for him. ‘Looks cosy.’