二十一Part 21 (Doctor)

Shichi had never slept so long before. After sliding into the soft futon, the tengu lay unmoving for an entire day. In his attempts to outrun Zaisei, he had lost count of the nights he had forgone sleep—ignoring his stomach, forgetting his wounds—all to simply survive. His body had been running dry, fueled only by his last dregs of instinct. Now, he was safe. Instead of huddling on the frozen ground, he could rest in a thick, warm bed. He had eaten food—a true, cooked meal with broth and spices. Every muscle in his body had collapsed into a grateful heap before using the following hours to rest and repair.

The sun was rising for the second time when he finally stirred. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, noticing Chiyo on the other side of the room.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, still not entirely conscious.

“For you, maybe. I just had to pay the innkeeper for a second night,” Chiyo said, watching her reflection in a small bronze mirror. She was cutting her hair with a set of shears, allowing the white strands to flutter down to the sheet of cloth she had laid on the floor.

“What?” Shichi blinked as he attempted to focus. “Why?”

“You have no idea how long you slept, do you?”

Shichi stared at her, trying to comprehend her words. “I didn’t—”

“You did,” she said. “All day. I guess your body had had enough of your nonsense.”

“I’m sorry for the cost. I’ll make it up to you.” Shichi rubbed the side of his face in embarrassment. He had spent nearly his entire life waking up before dawn, and following a strict, disciplined schedule. He couldn’t believe he’d been so careless. “But why didn’t you wake me?”

“Why should I?” Chiyo said, looking at him through the reflection of her mirror. “You’re so precious when you sleep.”

Shichi cleared his throat. He considered mentioning that Chiyo looked like a fluffy white cat when sleeping but decided to let it go. She did, after all, have scissors in her hand.

“Are those shears? Where did you get them?” he asked as he began to fold up the bed and blanket.

“The innkeeper uses them to groom her weird dogs,” Chiyo said as she trimmed her bangs. “It was all I could find.”

“How fitting,” he said, locating his robe on a low set of shelves. He held it out with both hands to dress himself but paused. To his surprise, it had been washed thoroughly, showing barely a hint of the scuffs and stains it had held prior.

“Did you clean this?”

“Me?” Chiyo said with a laugh. “No, she did. Oh, she also lent you a needle and some thread. You can sew, right?”

Shichi had a sudden flashback to his childhood, recalling the time he had attempted to repair a torn sleeve and had only succeeded in attaching it to the back of the shirt. His parents had both been weavers, but he had clearly not inherited any of their skill.

“Of course I can,” he mumbled, taking the sewing supplies with feigned confidence. Hopefully no one would notice that his method of sewing was exactly the same as his method of binding stitches over an open wound.

Soon, each nick and cut had been successfully repaired, allowing him to tie it on without the worry of holes. There was only one more thing he needed before he could feel completely rested—a bath.

Following Chiyo’s directions, he made his way into the second floor hallway. There was an approaching sound—a steady, faint thumping that drew his attention down the hall. His eyes caught a low figure. It was a kasa-obake, an old umbrella hopping on a single leg, complete with a melon-sized eye. Its paper husk was worn and moth-bitten, a testament to the yokai’s age.

“Morning,” the umbrella said as it hopped past.

“Good morning,” Shichi replied automatically, doing his best not to stare. He watched the kasa-obake hop around the corner, then turned his attention back to the stairs. The bath was on the first floor, past the garden.

Shichi had been looking forward to seeing the garden itself, but his excitement dropped the moment he stepped outside. Though there were many types of winter vegetables, the soil was dry and covered in weeds. It looked as though the plants had once been well-maintained, but had become neglected over time. Resisting the urge to dirty himself by tending to it, he followed the path toward the bathhouse in the back.

It was a modest structure, looking much like a small house at the end of the garden. A fire had been lit in the base below, allowing steam to rise from the opening in the side. Someone must already have been inside.

Sure enough, Shichi found a pair of male oni in the bath. Their skin was a striking blue and stretched over seemingly endless muscles. Both were over a foot taller than the tengu, their horns adding several inches to their height. Shichi had never spoken to an oni before and hesitated before entering.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said, wishing that his voice wasn’t so quiet. His clothes had already been left in the changing area and his nakedness only heightened his trepidation.

“You’re fine,” said the taller of the two, his voice coarse and low. “Come on in.”

After a breath, Shichi complied, sitting beside the tub to wash his body. The stone-floored bath was smaller than Kurohane’s, suitable for only a handful of bathers—or two oni. A square tub took up half of the room, its steep walls composed of smooth, dappled cedar. The water was deep enough for even the tallest of figures to sink down to their collars. Steam filled the air, dulling his thoughts with a dizzying heat. Oni apparently liked their water even hotter than tengu did.

“So, tengu, what brings you to Osaka?” asked the other, sighing as he sunk lower into the tub.

“Ah,” Shichi said, not having expected a conversation. As he struggled to think of a response, he began to realize just how silly his goal would sound when spoken out loud. “Just looking for some work. How about you?”

“We’re on our way to Tottori. Hajime wants to visit his hometown.” The tall one laughed, slapping his companion on the back as he spoke. “He gets homesick too easily.”

“Hmph.” The other oni snorted, resting his elbow on the edge of the wooden tub. “So, what kind of work can a tengu do in Osaka? Are you a merchant?”

Shichi poured water over his arm. It beaded over his feathers, washing off the grime of the last few days. “I’m a physician, actually. I was hoping I could volunteer at a clinic.”

“I didn’t know there were any yokai hospitals in this town,” Hajime said, rubbing his beard thoughtfully.

“Oh. Well, a human clinic.”

Both of the oni stopped to look intently at the monk. They were silent for a moment, their brows crinkled in serious thought. Their reactions made Shichi uneasy, and he set his bucket down to look back.

Shichi swallowed, taking a moment before speaking. “Is something wrong?”

“This is your first time in a city, isn’t it?”

Shichi nodded. The men glanced at one another, then returned their attention to the tengu.

“A word of advice: Just because we’re tolerated here doesn’t mean we’re welcome.”

#

As the day went on, the oni’s words continued to run through Shichi’s head. From his experiences on their first night, he could already see what the other yokai meant by “tolerated.” Yet surely not all humans were the same. In a city as great and wide as this, there had to be someone he could help.

“Why are we going this way, again?” Chiyo eyed the shops as they walked. It was afternoon and the winter sun was barely visible through the overcast sky.

“They said there’s a doctor working at the end of this street,” Shichi said, walking with his hands folded into his sleeves.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” he replied, though his voice was uneasy. “I have to at least try.”

“Well, I just—” Chiyo paused at a shop entrance. “Oh! This store has manju.”

“Go ahead, I’ll stay out here,” Shichi said with a nod, not wanting his presence to get her kicked out of yet another establishment. She entered in a hurry, her hands fisted in excitement at the prospect of sweets. Shichi had noticed that she seemed particularly fond of azuki, staring longingly at any confection with red bean in the shops they’d passed.

“Hey, tengu.”

At first, Shichi didn’t realize he was being addressed. It was only when the voice repeated that he glanced over his shoulder. There was a human behind him, dressed in the clothing of a commoner. Though it was only midday, it seemed as if he’d already had a bit to drink.

“Tengu! Are you a man or a bird?” the man said with a wide grin, nudging his friend as he spoke. “Eh?”

Shichi’s face heated at the question, quickly turning back toward the shop. This was different from the teasing he had received as a child or from his friends—the human was trying to provoke him. He stared at a stack of crates, wondering if ignoring the man would make him lose interest.

“Why don’t you answer me? Don’t be rude!” The human’s voice carried further as it rose. A few passersby paused on their way, their attention caught by the man’s wanton shouts. Shichi didn’t move or speak, silently wondering how much longer Chiyo would be.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!”

With those words, Shichi could feel the man’s hand clamp onto his shoulder. Fingers clenched around the cloth, forcing him to turn toward his aggressor. Before the human could speak again, a different voice cut through their moment.

“Let him go!” Chiyo snarled, gripping the bag of sweets she had just purchased. Her other hand grasped the man’s wrist, wrenching it free with a hard twist.

“Oh, who’s this?” The human was unfazed by the anger in her eyes. She didn’t let go of him, only tightening her hold as he spoke.

“You touch him again and I’ll kill you!”

This brought forth a hearty laugh, shared by the human and his companion.

“Letting a lady defend you?” He chuckled. “I guess you aren’t a man after all!”

The man had barely finished his last word before he was smashed headfirst into a crate. Splinters of wood went flying as his nose broke the surface, its crack ringing loudly across the open street. Chiyo’s hand was fisted in his hair, jerking him sideways before leaning in to speak.

“Say that again,” she said, ignoring the blood dripping onto her feet. Their eye contact broke only when Shichi tugged her backward, forcing the kitsune to relinquish her grip.

“Chiyo! That’s enough,” Shichi said, both of his arms hooked beneath hers. She struggled against him, her eyes wide and white as they locked onto the bloodied human.

“I’m not finished, I—!”

“I said that’s enough!”

Shichi didn’t let go, dragging her backward in spite of her protests. The man coughed as he looked up, clutching his throbbing face with both hands. He seemed to realize that the tengu might lose control of her at any moment, and hurriedly staggered off with his companion.

“He’s getting away, let me go!” Chiyo said, paying no mind to the crowd that had stopped to watch them.

“Let him.” Shichi only relaxed his hold when the humans were out of sight.

“Fine.” She pushed herself free, dusting her clothing with one hand. Somehow, the other hand had managed to keep a perfect hold on the sweets she had purchased. Noticing that things had quieted down, the shopkeeper peered out of the entrance, looking at the broken crates with dismay.

“Ah, we’re very sorry,” Shichi said with a bow. “We’ll pay for those.”

Once Chiyo had handed over a few more coins, they continued on their way. There was an uncomfortable silence between them as they walked.

“Are you angry?” Chiyo finally asked.

“No. I’m grateful that you’d look out for me,” he said, his eyes cast down as they walked. “But I don’t want you hurting anyone on my behalf.”

“But he was going to hurt you first,” she said.

“You don’t know that.”

“He grabbed you! He was a—”

“He was a fool who’d had too much to drink,” Shichi’s tone had grown curt. “You’re the one who drew blood.”

“Stop being so naïve! It’s easy being a pacifist up in some temple, but this is a city with real people. You’re going to get yourself killed with that attitude.”

Shichi slowed to a stop. “You seem tense.” His voice had lost its color and his eyes were low and unreadable. “Maybe you should go back to the inn.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry. I can handle myself.”

Chiyo scowled at him, her breath coming forth in an irritated huff. Without another word, she turned in the opposite direction, leaving him alone on the street. He felt suddenly guilty, wondering if he was taking her protection for granted. If it hadn’t been for her, he wouldn’t have made it to Osaka at all. Still, he couldn’t have her throwing people into crates at the slightest offense; she would have to learn self-control sooner or later.

It wasn’t long before he found the clinic. It was a small, one-storied building on a busy intersection. Shichi made his way inside, his mood eased by the familiar scent of herbs. There were a few patients in line to see the doctor. Shichi joined them. Despite his anticipation, he knew he would have to wait like everyone else. A few of the humans glanced backward at the sight of a tengu, then averted their eyes. He could sense a strange feeling in the air—it was sticky and agitated, making him wonder if he’d made a mistake. He remembered, however, just how far he had come. It was too late to turn back now.

A long time passed before his turn came. Rather than the gentle welcome the other guests had enjoyed, Shichi only received an uncomfortable stare by the attendant at the door. After a moment, the man gestured for him to enter.

The doctor didn’t look up from his writing. “What do you want?”

“I—” the tengu said, then drew his hand into a fist. “My name is Shichi, of the Kurohane Temple in Shikoku. I was wondering if you could use any assistance in your clinic.”

“We’re not hiring,” came the man’s flat reply, his attention still focused on his work.

“I don’t need any payment. I’m willing to—”

“I said we’re not hiring.”

Shichi fought through the sting that was coursing through his chest, struggling to stay focused on his goal.

“I can assure you I’m competent. I’ve been trained in—”

“You’re scaring away our patients,” the doctor said, finally looking up. “Do I need to have you escorted out?”

Shichi felt his resolve withering with every word. His body locked up, burning in embarrassment. Chiyo had been right—they had all been right. He could feel the eyes of the attendant and the patients, each one a witness to his complete and utter foolishness. His feet became lead, unable to move, incapable of the escape he longed so desperately for. Finally, he remembered how to speak, his voice coming forth in a pathetic murmur.

“ . . . I’m sorry for wasting your time,” he said, his head lowering to a shallow bow.

He didn’t look back as he left. Though his eyes were locked on the road, they were vacant, barely seeing anyone that passed. Absently, he made his way back toward the inn, not looking forward to facing Chiyo upon his arrival.

By the time Shichi arrived at the inn, he was practically dragging himself. He mumbled a response to the innkeeper’s greeting before noticing Chiyo seated in the dining area. The sweets she had bought sat untouched on the table, ignored as she poked at the bag. Though he wanted nothing more than to go up to their room to bury himself in a futon, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He had made many mistakes that day, but there was at least one he could fix.

With barely a sound, he sat across from her. He looked down at his folded hands, waiting a moment before speaking.

“Chiyo . . .”

She looked up with a weary gaze. “Hmm?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, matching her eyes. “I was wrong. You’ve done so much for me and all I could think to do was criticize you.”

“Yeah.” The kitsune’s lips curved into a grin. “I have done a lot for you, haven’t I?”

Shichi almost regretted apologizing but found himself happy to see her smile—arrogant or not.

“But, please . . .” he started to say, unsure of how to word it.

“I know, I know. I’ll wait before resorting to violence.”

He had been hoping she would avoid violence altogether, but it was a start. The important thing was that Chiyo was no longer angry. After a long day of rejection, the last thing he needed was more of it from his friend—his only friend.

“But you’ve done a lot for me, too,” she said under her breath. “It’s . . . well, anyway. How did it go? Did you go to the clinic?”

Shichi didn’t respond, only letting his eyes drop to the table.

“Oh,” Chiyo said.

“Maybe I’m wasting my time,” he muttered. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Shichi . . .”

“I came all this way. I thought I could make a difference. Even a small one.” He remembered the look of disgust the doctor had given him. “But no one wants my help.”

“But you just got here,” Chiyo said. “There must be someone you can help. You’re a good doctor.”

“They don’t want a good doctor. They just want a human.”

Chiyo didn’t know what to say, not having much experience in consoling others. Neither of them spoke, sitting in silence until it was broken by the innkeeper’s voice.

“Here.” She set a bottle and cup on the table next to the tengu. “You look like you need a drink.”

Shichi glanced up, taken by a sudden swell of gratefulness. Her gesture was simple, but it was all he needed to remember where he was; he was alive and fairly healthy but, most importantly, he wasn’t alone.

“ . . . thank you,” he said, accepting the cup after she had filled it with warm liquor.

“Of course,” she replied with a smile. “Ah, sorry for eavesdropping, but did you say you were a doctor?”

“I’m trying to be.”

“Do you think you could take a look at my neck? It’s really been killing me lately.”

“O-of course,” he said, surprised by her request. He supposed, when he thought about it, a woman whose neck could stretch across an entire room might experience a kink or two in the process.

“May I ask your name?” Shichi said as he felt down the back of her spine. The bones seemed to multiply and extend as needed, aided with a healthy dose of magic in the process. His fingertips found the proper points at the back of her jaw, applying a steady, constant pressure.

“I’m Fumie,” she said, her head now stretched across the table. “I’m honored to be hosting a doctor! Your name is Shichi, isn’t it?”

“Ah, I’m not . . . quite . . .” Though he had been thoroughly trained, he still didn’t feel as if he deserved the title.

“Nonsense,” she said. “The pain is already going away. You’re definitely a doctor.”

“That’s good. So you don’t need a massage, then?”

“Oh, no, no, no. I need that too.”

Soon, he had properly worked out the knots and aches, allowing her to return her neck to its normal length. She cracked it from side to side, her smile even wider than before.

“Ah, much better! Thank you.” Fumie pushed a few loose strands back into place.

“You’re quite welcome. You should drink gingko tea, as well. It will help with your blood flow.”

“You’ve studied herbs, too?” she asked. When Shichi nodded, her eyes brightened hopefully. “Oh! Have you seen my garden?”

“I have,” the monk said, though his tone was wary. “It’s . . . very nice.”

“You don’t have to lie. It’s in poor shape,” the innkeeper said with a sigh. “I’ve been short-staffed recently, so I haven’t had time to tend it properly.”

“I would be happy to help you with it.”

“Would you?” She grasped both of his hands in her own. “That would be wonderful. Hmm . . . Ah! I have an idea.”

He blinked at her enthusiasm. “An idea?”

“You’re planning on staying here for quite some time, aren’t you? Maybe if you gave me a hand around here, I could waive the fee for your room.”

Chiyo and Shichi both looked at her in disbelief—it was enough to make the kitsune set down the drink she had stolen from him.

“R-really?” the tengu said. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, yes. There’s plenty of space here.” She waved off his incredulous response.

“Thank you,” Shichi said, feeling positive for the first time that day. “That would be very helpful.”

“Yeah, for me,” Chiyo added, not-so-subtly reminding him that she was the one paying for the room.

“Don’t get me wrong, though. It won’t be easy.” Fumie released the monk to place both hands on her hips. “And you’ll have to work that magic on my poor neck whenever I need it.”

“Of course. Whenever you like,” he said, wondering if the innkeeper could possibly work him as hard as Sagiri had.

That night, Shichi found himself staring at the ceiling as he waited for sleep to take him. Though he had encountered new obstacles that day, it was comforting to no longer worry about shelter. He could only have used Chiyo’s money for so long. Eventually, guilt would most likely have forced him out of the inn and into the streets with the beggars.

“Shichi,” Chiyo said, whining from the bed next to his own. “My neck is hurting, too.”

“Go to sleep, Chiyo.” Shichi finally closed his eyes. He had been able to help one person that day, as minor as her complaint may have been. Perhaps, if he looked hard enough, he would find others who needed him. He would simply have to look forward, swallow his pride, and try.