Mononoke · Chat

The rain began to fall at dusk. The lantern hanging from the inn's eaves swayed in the wind, casting erratic light across the wet stone steps. Leaning against the doorframe, the landlady watched the travelers emerge one by one from the darkness. First came a young woman. Her belly was noticeably swollen, the hem of her kimono caked in mud, and strands of hair clung to her face, indistinguishable whether from rain or cold sweat. Standing in the doorway, her lips parted, her voice so faint it sounded like a sigh: "Do you... have any rooms left?" The landlady did not answer; her gaze fell upon the woman's wrist—where a purplish ligature mark circled the skin. Next were three men, materializing almost simultaneously from behind the veil of rain. A samurai walked in the lead, his blade tucked into his left sash, his right hand perpetually hovering three inches above the hilt. His boots splashed into a puddle, flicking mud onto the robe of the merchant behind him. The merchant took no offense, chuckling as he wiped it away; three rings glinted upon his fingers, vivid gold and glaringly bright. The third man arrived without a sound, sliding beneath the eaves like a shadow. He carried a medicine chest on his back, his ears sharply pointed beyond what seemed human. The scent of medicine seeped through the cracks of the box, striking and distinct against the raw stench of the rain. "We're full," the landlady said. Nobody moved. The samurai stared into the depths of the inn. The merchant continued dabbing at his robe. The pointed-eared medicine seller lifted his head, his eyes glinting for an instant within the shadows, as if catching sight of something hidden from everyone else. The young woman suddenly crouched down, clutching her belly and letting out a muffled groan. The landlady sighed and stepped aside, clearing the doorway. "Come in. There's only one room left." The five of them crossed the threshold in close succession. The lantern light was snuffed out by the gust of wind swept in with them. In the dark, she heard someone laughing—very soft, like the voice of a child. She reached out to feel for matches, but her fingertips brushed against something—cold, furry, soaking wet—which shrank back at her feet and vanished. Behind them, with a creak, the door shut on its own.