Book II 六 Part 06 (Fortune Teller)

“Ah, there you are.”

Shichi glanced up in an instant. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy to see Chiyo. He’d been sitting in the cold for nearly an hour. The villagers had eventually returned, their weapons unsullied and their hands empty. Luckily, it seemed the nekomata had managed to escape. His only remaining concern had been the cold night air. Try as he might, it was impossible to keep the egg warm on his own.

“Were you off playing with that cat?” she asked, her arms folded in annoyance. Even after an hour, she could still smell the feline in the air.

“I… I was looking for the egg,” he replied, having half a mind to scold her for letting it roll away.

“Oh, this,” the kitsune said, kneeling to pick the egg up with both hands. “This thing is more trouble than it’s worth. Are you sure I can’t eat it?”

“Chiyo…”

“Ah, since we’re here,” she said, ignoring his glare. “Maybe we should find an inn.”

Fortunately, the town was larger than they had imagined. It was a hub along a major road and there were several inns nestled past the market. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any vacancies.

“Sorry, there’s no room,” said the innkeeper from the second ryokan they passed. “Lots of people headed to the Ise Shrine this week.”

The kitsune folded her arms, scowling as the door closed in her face. “Good thing I love sleeping in alleys.”

“Look, there’s another one,” Shichi said, now perched on her shoulder. “Down the road.”

“Well, don’t get your hopes up.”

The entrance slid open, rattling on the wooden track. It was a rather small inn, looking as if it held only three or four rooms. The interior was cramped, but warm, its walls plastered with inked papers. The sitting area was silent — neither customers nor the owner were anywhere to be found.

“Hello? Innkeeper!” Chiyo called, craning her head around a wall. After a moment, they could hear a door opening down the hall, followed by slow, steady footsteps. A man approached, his hands folded behind his back. He was an elder of very slight stature, barely meeting Chiyo’s shoulder.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t accept any guests now,” he said, his head bowed in apology.

“Why not? The place looks empty,” she said, gesturing to the vacant sitting area.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time. My son is quite ill and I have no wife to care for him.”

“Say ‘I’m a doctor,’” Shichi whispered, hoping the man’s hearing wasn’t sharp enough to catch his voice. It would probably be best if the villagers weren’t aware that he could talk.

“I’m a doctor?” Chiyo repeated, squinting at the raven as she spoke.

“You are?” the innkeeper asked.

“Say ‘yes,’” Shichi quickly murmured.

“Yes?”

“A female doctor? I don’t think—“

“What?” Chiyo snapped, her demeanor taking a sudden shift. “You think a woman can’t be a doctor?”

“Well, healing is just so—“

“Show me your son. I’ll heal the hell out of him!” she said, now shamelessly looming over the old man.

“A-all right,” the man stammered, holding up both hands. “If you… if you really think you can help.”

Shichi sighed. It wasn’t quite the act he’d been hoping for, but it seemed to have worked. They were led down the narrow corridor, its floors creaking as they walked. The inn was indeed empty, its silence almost troubling to the monk. At the end of the hall was a small tatami room. A lantern sat on a shelf, casting dim light on a lone figure in a futon.

“This is Munetoshi, my son,” the innkeeper said, gesturing to the young man in the bed. “He’s been vomiting all day… do you have any idea what’s wrong with him?”

“Well, ah…,” Chiyo began, staring at the patient from the doorway.

“Look at his tongue,” Shichi hissed, snapping her out of her stupor.

Clearing her throat, she knelt beside the bed. Hesitantly, she reached for the sleeping man’s face, then recoiled at the last second.

“But he’s all sweaty,” she whispered back. “I don’t— ow!”

Having no time for further argument, Shichi had simply pecked the kitsune’s shoulder. She gave him a sideways glare before taking the human by the chin.

“Yes, it’s definitely… a tongue,” she said, lowering her brow in feigned concentration.

“Food poisoning. Ginger.”

“It looks like food poisoning,” Chiyo added, doing her best to sound informed. “Do you have any ginger?”

“Ah, yes. Yes, I do,” the old man replied, his face brightening with the diagnosis. “I’ll be right back.”

The innkeeper hurried off, shutting the door behind him and leaving the two alone with their patient.

“You’re lucky he has poor hearing,” Shichi said, hopping down from her shoulder. “And he probably can’t afford a doctor.”

Chiyo was already wiping her hand on her hakama, her face contorted in disgust.

“Ugh, I don’t know how you do this. Is it really food poisoning?”

“Let me see,” Shichi replied, resting a clawed foot on the man’s wrist. Though it was difficult to take a pulse without proper fingers, he eventually nodded in confirmation.

“Yes, it seems so. We should find out what he ate,” the bird said, taking note of the man’s fevered complexion. “Ginger will help for now. If he’s still sick in the morning we should go to the market so I can make a formula.”

“Why don’t we just do some acupuncture? I can—“

“No, Chiyo,” he interrupted before her terrible suggestion could complete itself. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? I’d just have to stick a bunch of needles in him, right?”

Shichi could only stare back at her, his face deadpanned.

“Fine, fine,” she groaned. “We’ll buy your smelly plants.”

“Thank you.”

A shift in the futon startled the two and they both stiffened at the sound of a third voice.

“Is that bird… talking?” the human mumbled, his tone weak with exhaustion.

“Your fever is making you hallucinate,” Shichi replied. “Go back to sleep.”

“Oh,” the man replied. “All right.”

Once the innkeeper’s son had been treated, the old man decided to grant accommodations for the night. It was a narrow room, barely suitable for one. Luckily, birds didn’t require much space.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” the innkeeper said, standing in the threshold. “The only meal I can offer is—“

“It’s all right,” Chiyo interrupted, waving her hands as she recalled the symptoms of food poisoning. “I’m not hungry.”

“And what about your pet?” he asked, gesturing to the raven on her shoulder.

“My…? Oh. Um, he’s fine, too.”

“In that case, sleep well,” he said with a courteous bow. “Ah, and…”

Chiyo looked back up, noticing the man’s expression soften.

“Thank you for looking after my son.”

“D-don’t mention it.”

The door closed, letting the room fall into silence. Chiyo waited on the floor, taking a moment to realize that Shichi was in no shape to lay out the futon for the night. With a sigh, she stood to prepare it herself.

“Looks like I have to do everything now,” she mumbled as she pulled the bedding from the shelf. “Well, at least we only had to pay for one person. Maybe you should just stay a bird.”

“I couldn’t,” Shichi said from his perch beside a tea pot. “I don’t want to be in this form anymore. I keep… I keep losing control of my emotions.”

“I noticed,” Chiyo replied with a grin. “You should do it more often.”

Shichi exhaled, noticing that she was still in her human form. He supposed it wouldn’t do for the innkeeper to come knocking and find a fox instead of a woman. This time, she settled down with the egg on her own, holding it to her chest as she nestled beneath the blanket.

“Ah, Chiyo…”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let it roll away again.”

Shichi continued to wake throughout the night, his eyes repeatedly falling on the egg in his friend’s arms. True to her word, Chiyo kept it secure in her hold. Eventually, he stopped worrying, tucking his beak below his wing until sunlight leaked in through the window seams.

Their first task of the day was to visit the market. Munetoshi’s condition had improved, but the young man continued to bemoan the pain in his stomach. The shopping street was busy, crowded with both locals and travelers. It was a new experience for Shichi — to move openly through a human town without the typical serving of stares. It was a bit odd for a small, white-haired girl to wander about with a raven on her shoulder, but nowhere near as strange as an actual tengu.

“Looks like we’re on the Tokaido Road now,” Chiyo said, eyeing a wooden sign posted on a gate.

“We are?” Shichi replied, speaking softly beside her ear. He had heard vaguely of the highway, only knowing that it ran through the center of the nation from the capital to Edo.

“This is the fiftieth station. We still have a long way to go before Edo,” she said, turning to follow the crowd. “At least you have plenty of time to get back to your old self.”

Chiyo was right — their destination was still a long way off. If he were to regain his tengu form, they would have to return to using back roads and forest paths, making the course even longer. Either way, their journey would not be easy.

“Ah, there’s a pharmacy,” Shichi said, picking up his head to look over the crowd.

“Can’t we get something to eat first?” the kitsune mumbled.

“While Munetoshi suffers in bed?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The raven bumped Chiyo’s ear with his beak; it was too early in the morning for a debate with a hungry kitsune.

“Yeesh, you’re so violent as a bird,” she muttered, begrudgingly turning towards the medicine shop.

Upon entering, the pair was enveloped by the strong scent of herbs. Shichi closed his eyes. When he ignored the sounds from outside, he could almost imagine he were in his temple’s infirmary. He could see the light filtering in through the slatted window and hear Sagiri’s voice as she explained the proper way to cut kuzu roots.

“Welcome,” came an older woman’s voice as they stepped through. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for…,” Chiyo began, then paused. She had no idea what they needed.

“Peony root, milkwort, cinnamon bark,” Shichi murmured. “And licorice root.”

“Peony… peony root. Milk, ah, wert… no, wart,” Chiyo stammered, rubbing her temples as she struggled to keep up.

“Milkwort. Wort.”

“I know. I got it. Slow down, would you?”

“Are you… all right?” the shopkeeper asked, leaning sideways as she watched the young woman mumble to herself.

“I’m fine!” Chiyo insisted. “Ah, give me those. And cinnamon leaf!”

“Bark!”

“Cinnamon bark!”

“Ah, I see,” the woman replied, nodding gently. “Are you running errands for a doctor? You poor thing, he didn’t even give you a list.”

“Yeah. A list would have been really helpful,” Chiyo seethed.

“Well excuse me if I can’t write,” Shichi hissed.

“Here, this is all the peony root I have,” the shopkeeper said, removing a drawer from a wall of herbs. “How much did you need?”

Before Chiyo could answer, Shichi hopped down to the wooden counter, flapping to keep his balance. He lowered his head, examining the drawer of root slices with scrutiny. He couldn’t trust Chiyo’s judgment on the best pieces, nor could he allow her to determine measurements.

“Ah, your pet,” the woman said, touching her chest in surprise. “It’s-“

“Don’t worry. I trained him to do that.”

One by one, Shichi began to pick out root pieces with his beak, setting them aside for purchase.

“And that, too.”

“Is he… clean?” the shopkeeper asked, looking disturbed at the sight of an animal digging through her wares. Shichi’s feathers ruffled as he turned to shoot the woman a look. She took a step backwards, startled.

“Oh, don’t worry. I give him baths,” Chiyo said, holding in a nervous laugh. “Every day!”

“Well, I… I suppose that’s all right, then,” she said, still visibly unsettled.

Soon, they had a proper selection of herbs, including a few staples for their journey. The shopkeeper bowed gratefully as they exited, though she was undoubtedly glad to see them go.

“Now can we get some food?” Chiyo groaned, her eyes trailing towards a stall selling fresh sushi.

“We spent a lot on the herbs. I don’t know if—“

“Oh, no you don’t. Not after putting me through all of that,” the kitsune said, folding her arms over the egg sling. “It’s a good thing I ‘trained’ you so well.”

Chiyo trailed off, her brow lowering in thought. Without warning, she smacked a fist into her palm, looking up with intention.

“I have an idea.”

“Oh, no,” Shichi breathed. Somehow, those words put a sick feeling in his stomach.

“Listen up!” she called, attracting the attention of the people walking by. “How would you like to see the best-trained bird in Shiga? No, in Kansai!”

“No. No, no,” Shichi murmured to himself, shrinking in an attempt to hide behind her head. A few passersby glanced over, curious about the odd girl and her pet.

“Okay, hop down,” she instructed once she could feel the eyes of onlookers. Shichi remained put, only burying his head below his wing. Chiyo retained her smile as she jerked her arm.

“Go on,” she hissed. Another hard shake sent the raven flapping down to the road. He shook his head upon landing, instantly turning to glare at her.

“Now, watch!” she exclaimed, holding up a simple chestnut. “As he catches this in his beak.”

Shichi quickly shook his head, his glare intensifying. Chiyo ignored him, giving the nut a light toss. It hit the ground unceremoniously, rolling a bit before stopping at the bird’s feet. A few of the villagers mumbled amongst themselves, clearly unimpressed.

“Come on, you’re embarrassing me,” she hissed, her smile starting to falter. Once again, Shichi shook his head. Her hands went to the egg, her fingers clutching it threateningly.

“What, you want to catch this egg instead?”

“Don’t you dare!”

A hush fell over the crowd. They stared at the bird who, somehow, had just spoken back to its owner.

“I’ll do it!” Chiyo insisted, her face twisted into a scowl. “So help me—“

“You wouldn’t,” Shichi replied, too concerned about the egg to worry about the surrounding humans.

“Just watch me! You keep playing dumb and I’ll drop it right on your head!” the kitsune retorted, her eye twitching.

Murmurs began to rise from the audience, the size of which had suddenly grown.

“Did that bird just talk?” one villager whispered to another.

By now, Shichi’s feathers had risen in agitation. “At least I know the difference between a root and a leaf.”

“Who cares? They all taste the same!”

“Have you been eating my herbs?”

At that moment, applause began to rise from the crowd. Both Chiyo and Shichi froze at the sound of coins being tossed to their feet.

“It sounds just like a person!”

“How did you train him?”

“Can he sing, too?”

“Ah… ah, yes, maybe next time!” Chiyo replied, crouching to gather the money with her palms. “That’s it for today! Thank you!”

By the time the people had dispersed, the kitsune had collected a pile of money in both hands. She had completely forgotten her anger, too distracted by the glint of coins.

“I can’t believe that worked!” she said, her eyes practically glowing. Shichi couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her so happy.

“That was dishonest,” the raven muttered. “It’s practically stealing.”

Chiyo only scoffed, placing the coins into the bag at her side. She was so pleased with herself that she barely noticed as a shadow fell over her body.

“Quite entertaining,” came a man’s voice from above. The kitsune glanced up, squinting at the human who was in her light. He was dressed differently from the other villagers, his clothing much more ornate than a typical farmer. There was gold thread embroidered into his high collar and strings of wooden beads hung loosely around his neck. His hat left a shadow over his eyes, both of which were cast down at the girl and her bird.

“Oh,” Chiyo said after she had gathered herself. “A fortune teller.”

“So, you think you know me,” he replied, his mouth slipping into a smile. “But I am not exactly as I seem.”

He paused, focusing on the raven at her knees.

“And neither is he.”

Shichi stiffened, wondering if he had gone too far by speaking in public. He said nothing, only staring up at the strange man with tense, yellow eyes.

“It’s all right, you may speak. I know what has happened to you,” the fortune teller said gently. “And I can help.”

“You… you can?” Shichi asked, his chest rising with hope.

“Please, follow me,” the man instructed, already turning to leave. Chiyo frowned, her brow knit in suspicion.

“I don’t trust fortune tellers,” she said under her breath, glaring at the man’s back.

“You don’t trust anyone,” Shichi said, hopping up onto her arm. “Please, this might be my only chance.”

“Well, all right. But any funny business and we’re done.”

They followed the man down the road and through an alley, their path finally ending at a small shop. Its walls were lined with trinkets and talismans and a strange, ethereal odor hung in the air. One wall held nothing but shelves of books, each one dedicated to some kind of superstition. Chiyo eyed a tapestry depicting a descending goddess, clearly unimpressed with her surroundings.

“So, what was it that cursed you?” the fortune teller asked, glancing back at his guests as he rummaged through a shelf. “An oni? Or perhaps this kitsune?”

Chiyo bristled, her mouth flattening to a thin line. “Excuse me, I don’t-“

“Ah, I jest. Please calm yourself.”

It seemed that being told to calm down only angered Chiyo further and she bit her lower lip to keep from snapping at him once more.

“It was a jorogumo,” Shichi explained, his eyes lowered in embarrassment.

“I see,” the man said, raising his eyebrows. “I must say, you’re quite lucky. Most victims of spiders do not live to tell of it.”

“I suppose so,” Shichi murmured as he stepped down onto the counter. “Do you know a way to change me back?”

“As I said, you’re quite lucky. I have just the thing,” the fortune teller said, removing a small satchel from a cabinet. “This will do the trick rather nicely.”

“Wh-what is it?” he asked, lifting his head curiously.

“A simple tea,” the man explained. “Drink one cup and you’ll return to your proper self. Ah, but this is quite powerful magic. It won’t come cheap.”

“I knew it,” Chiyo muttered. “He’s nothing but a scam artist.”

“But Chiyo, what if it works? What if—“

“We don’t have that kind of money,” the kitsune huffed, folding her arms.

“If I remember correctly, you recently came into quite a bit of money on the street,” the fortune teller said, his smile never faltering.

Chiyo took in a slow breath, hesitantly glancing down at Shichi. His eyes were drawn up pitifully, begging without words. After a moment, she shut her eyes, reaching for the bag on her belt.

“How much?” she asked.

“Five ryo.”

Chiyo’s hand twitched, but the kitsune said nothing. With grit teeth, she removed five gold coins and slapped them into the man’s open palm. Just as he moved to pocket the money, he found his wrist locked in her grip.

“You listen well,” she said, pulling him close to hiss into his ear. “If you got his hopes up for nothing…”

The fortune teller swallowed, motionless as she tightened her hold.

“You won’t be as ‘lucky’ as he was.”

They made it back to the inn before noon, the tea satchel in one hand and herbs in the other. Despite his anticipation, Shichi thought it best to tend to their patient before trying the tea. If something were to go wrong, there would be no one to help the innkeeper’s son. With precise instruction, Chiyo managed to grind, mix, and settle a proper herbal formula. As the day progressed, so did the young man’s condition, and by evening he had ceased his sweating and moaning.

“All right,” Shichi said, lifting the tea satchel with his beak and setting it on the table before Chiyo. “I’m ready.”

The kitsune frowned at the small bag, recalling the questionable fortune teller and his shop. There was the possibility it wouldn’t work, but there was also the chance it would harm the bird. She was already regretting her purchase. With a sigh, she prepared the tea in a clay teapot, allowing the leaves to steep inside.

Steam rose in curls as she poured it into a small cup. Below the rim, the water swirled with color, darkening to a rich, earthen red. The surface glistened in the dim light, emanating a deceptively sweet scent. Shichi looked down into the cup, his heart thumping below his wishbone.

“Are my clothes ready?” he asked. Though Chiyo’s garments seemed to shift along with her, it was clear that his had no connection to his form. If he were to return to his tengu body, he would most certainly be unclothed. Chiyo nodded, placing her hand on top of the folded pile at her side. After a steady, deep breath, he lowered his head to drink.

Though the cup was small, he was only a bird, and only after some effort did he manage to finish its contents. Shichi closed his eyes, focusing on his body. His belly was warm and his head felt light. Silently, he waited, intently visualizing his true form. Seconds passed, then minutes, until finally he looked up once more.

“Anything?” he asked, hopeful as he caught Chiyo’s eyes.

The kitsune only exhaled, lightly shaking her head. Shichi looked down at himself. His body was indeed still that of a raven’s. He slumped, flattening himself on the table with a sigh.

“I’m sorry, Chiyo,” he murmured. “For wasting your money.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said, narrowing her eyes to the side. “We’ll get a full refund tomorrow.”

Her knuckles cracked as she spoke, emphasizing her intention.

“It was my fault,” he said, his body weak against the tabletop. “I… I really am naive.”

“It’s fine. Why don’t we get some rest? We’ll get our money back in the morning.”

Shichi nodded; he did feel quite tired. Soon, the room was dark, and he nestled into place against Chiyo’s back. Hopefully, she would be able to get her coins back and, more importantly, do so without resorting to violence.

By the time Shichi awoke, the sun was already quite high. It seemed he had slept in. Perhaps the stress of the previous day had drained his energy. With a light groan, he glanced sideways to see if Chiyo had also overslept. Her side of the futon, however, was empty. Perhaps the kitsune had gone for an early bath.

Sluggishly, he rose, attempting to shake the sleep from his head. It was only when he opened his eyes that he made a sudden realization.

He was sitting up.

Beneath the blanket, he grasped the fabric of the futon. Hands — he had hands. His heart began to race as he pushed off the cover, lifting them to get a better look.

“It worked!” he exclaimed, wondering if his companion was in earshot. “Chiyo, it—“

As his eyes focused, he forgot how to speak. There were no feathers on his arms. There was only skin — bare, pinkish skin running all the way to his hands. His claws were gone, replaced only with flat, impractical nubs. He turned his wrists, staring down at the pale color of his palms. These weren’t his hands. They didn’t belong to a tengu, nor any race of yokai he could think of.

These hands — they were human.