"Hey, Futoshi. Can you hear me?" Kumiko asked with caution as she sat on the living room floor and waved a hand in front of her landlord's face.

He had expressed his desire to take an afternoon nap while she'd been washing the dishes, but one could never be sure when he was telling the truth. Therefore, she raised her voice a little and tried asking again when he didn't respond.

A snore left his lips, and he rolled over on the couch as if he really were deep in slumber. Hesitantly, Kumiko withdrew her hand.

Really sleeping this time, huh? Guess I'll go ahead...

She rose to her feet and then headed to the peace and quiet of her bedroom so that she could use the power within her eight tails to examine the burning police station and determine the culprit's identity.

Confident that Futoshi wouldn't be bothering her this time, she took a seated position on Ichiro's futon to begin tuning out her surroundings. The world fell silent as she entered the void with considerably more ease this time.

She allowed her consciousness to drift past Futoshi's reclining figure and out of her apartment window to explore the streets below. Faint voices and heels clicking against concrete sounded around her, but she paid them no heed as she sped off in search of more concentrated sources of spiritual energy.

The journey to the center of Shinjuku was a long one, but upon arriving, she immediately sensed the acrid smell of smoke and heard the crackle of dying flames.

She followed both, eventually reaching her destination, where firefighters stood their ground, breathing heavily behind their masks as they did all they could to extinguish the rest of the blaze. Kumiko found their efforts admirable, and before wandering into the disintegrating building to investigate things for herself, she gave them a deep bow of respect.

Deep inside, she came across two charred and smoking bodies lying on the floor of what must have once been an interrogation room. Memories of the firebombings of World War Two came flooding back, prompting her to swallow in unease before she found the will to continue moving.

She discovered the probable cause of the destruction two or three rooms away. A large golden orb-weaver rested with all eight legs sprawled out, and it only barely acknowledged her presence as she slowed to a stop.

"Tell me the truth. Are you the one responsible for this?" Kumiko asked the creature, despite having never personally spoken to a spider before.

The golden orb-weaver raised its head and shifted every single one of its eyes in her direction.

"I'm not the only one. My brothers and sisters also played their part..." it answered in a raspy voice.

"Is that so? Where are they?"

"It doesn't matter. None of us expect to make it anyway..."

"What do you mean? Why would you-"

A deafening creak prompted Kumiko to stop mid-sentence and glance around for the source of the noise. The spider shut all eight eyes in resignation, right before the building's weakened supports finally gave way and crumbled around them both.

Wood and bricks came crashing down, shattering into hundreds of tiny pieces upon impact. They flew out in all directions, and although Kumiko was more than sturdy enough to withstand the onslaught, her would-be interrogee wasn't so lucky. The debris shredded apart their fragile body until they were little more than a misshapen, gooey mess.

The shocking sight was enough to send Kumiko hurtling out of her trance. With a jolt, she opened her eyes to find herself back within the confines of her bedroom.

She sought to recover from the ordeal by spending the next minutes inhaling and exhaling steadily. Her frantic mind soon calmed itself, and she found herself able to focus once more.

Her encounter with the golden-orb weaver had been brief but telling. There was little question as to the mastermind's identity, and the more she reflected on the happenings of the past two weeks, the closer she came to figuring out the bigger picture.

"Akane. Her name's Akane..." she whispered to herself, repeating the words Mr. Higuchi had said before he'd fallen unconscious outside the laundromat.

******

Tsutomu couldn't remember who the loud and blurry man in front of him was, but he couldn't care less. He was tired, and he just wanted to lay his head down and sleep.

Unfortunately, it seemed like the man wasn't keen on him doing such a thing, for each time he tried to brush them off, they came back to grab at him with even more determination.

His empty beer glass was within arm's reach, and at this point, he was quite willing to use it for defense in the event if they so much as came near him again.

As predicted, they did just that, so he shot his hand forward, only for something genuinely odd to happen. The glass slid across the bench, as if by magic, and then fell to the floor with a crash.

The noise was deafening, and he instinctively covered his ears to drown it out. The troublesome man behind the counter spun around and charged back toward him, raising their voice even more to shout something that sounded vaguely like 'get out now.'

Of course, Tsutomu was in no mood to leave this place where he felt so at home. He was reminded of when his mother would force him to stand outside the house as punishment, and just like back then, he resisted with whatever energy he could muster.

"Can't. Got nowhere else to go," he protested rather eloquently while giving his arm a vigorous wave.

"I don't care," the man behind the counter said loudly and clearly enough for him to hear. "There's another bar like this one a street away. Go there instead if you must."

"Don't wanna! I like this one!"

Tsutomu slammed his fist against the counter to further show his defiance before he felt something heavy settle upon his left shoulder. He swiveled his whole body around to find out what it was, almost falling off his stool as a result.

Fortunately, he managed to regain his balance and looked up to discover that the person looming over him was undeniably a woman.

Such a fact would have been most unremarkable if it weren't for how ethereally beautiful she appeared to be, standing under the bar's bright lights. She opened her mouth to speak, and he gasped in awe, for her voice was melodic beyond compare.

"It's fine, sir. He's with me," she uttered softly, coming to his rescue like some angel sent from the heavens above.

At that, she enveloped him in her arms, and he allowed himself to become lost in her warmth. The sensation brought a smile to his face, and with the last of his strength, he turned to smugly wave goodbye before blacking out.

******

Tsutomu opened his eyes with difficulty and shifted his legs in discomfort before observing the white expanse around him.

It would seem that he was back in the astral plane where his past incarnations supposedly lived, although he wasn't yet sure how such a thing had happened.

He raised one of his arms and, to his shock, discovered that his sleeve was dripping wet. He looked down, and a chill ran through him as he realized that the same could be said for the rest of his clothes.

Somehow, water existed in this place, and he'd had the misfortune of landing in a large puddle of it upon returning. Or, at least, he hoped that was the case. He was a thirty-eight-year-old man, and he wasn't ready to accept the possibility that he'd wet himself.

He forced himself up in haste to dry himself off as soon as possible, at which point he noticed the figure lying far away. It didn't take long for him to recognize the topknot and brown robes, and he was reminded of his earlier plan to reach a compromise with Ichiro.

Such a prospect was of no interest to him anymore after his failure to get through to Sachiko. Now, he wanted simply to move on and return the body that he'd hijacked so that Ichiro could enjoy a fulfilling life with his wife.

He closed the distance between himself and his previous incarnation until the young man's unconscious body was right at his feet. With a sigh of anticipation, he knelt down to wake the latter up before hesitating.

It wouldn't do to send someone like Ichiro into the modern world unprepared, so he straightened up a little to consider a possible solution. An indefinite amount of time went by as he came to terms with his feelings of despair and saw that perhaps, his predicament wasn't quite as dire as he'd believed.

Although the conditions would be pretty different from what he had initially envisioned, a compromise was still in order. Ichiro would undoubtedly be the boss and the one with the final say on matters, but he'd be an advisor and deputy who would intervene whenever the situation called for it.

He spent a few moments steeling himself for such a future, then extended his hand to nudge Ichiro on the shoulder. "Hey, it's time to wake up..."

******

A harsh and grating noise, not unlike how a demonic cat might sound if it were angry, jolted Ichiro back to consciousness with a gasp. In shock, he opened his eyes to be met by a low white ceiling, and as the hellish sound faded, something no less distressing took its place.

An eerie male voice began to sing, and its ghostly quality prompted him to sit up in a panic before scanning his surroundings to determine the source. However, there proved to be nothing within the room that suggested he wasn't alone, so he resorted to trying to sound brave and unperturbed.

"I... I'm not scared, I swear..." he spoke up, despite knowing that his trembling voice wouldn't fool anyone. "I just want you to be quiet..."

Unfortunately, the sinister voice continued to taunt him by chanting words that hardly made sense at all. Overcome by terror, he attempted to lift his blanket so that it would cover him entirely, only to freeze upon noticing his clothes.

Somebody had taken the effort to dress him up again after he'd passed out from his fall. It was clear that they had a rather odd taste, for his upper garment would have resembled a hanjuban* if it weren't for the fact that it was held in place by small round fasteners instead of a piece of cloth.

He let the blanket fall further, finding in relief that he was clad in a pair of dark trousers, as was customary for a man belonging to his social class. Maybe this unknown person wasn't such a fool after all, although that did not negate the fear he felt as the ghost kept singing with no sign of stopping. This... this is nothing. I've experienced far stranger things...

This attempt at reassurance did nothing to ease his sense of unrest. As he prepared to stand, the combination of a ghastly scream and the door suddenly swinging open made him jump in such a way that he toppled clumsily to the floor.

He landed on his side, and the impact stunned him for a moment before the appearance of a pair of socked feet prompted him to stare upward.

It was a young woman who, physically, appeared to be about the same age as Kumiko, but that was about the only similarity. She possessed the sort of eyes that one could describe as intimidating, and she had a long and robust nose that reminded him all too much of a conceited tengu that Kumiko had once introduced him to.

As for the woman's hair and clothing, they were more outlandish than anything else he had seen so far in the afterlife, and as she strode closer toward him, he could draw only one conclusion about what she was.

"Get away from me, demon!" he screamed, rising to his feet and charging forward to ram her in the chest. The force sent her sprawling to the side, and he seized his opportunity by rushing into the next room.

He slammed the door shut behind him, then spun around and froze.

A mirror hung on the opposite wall, reflecting his face and hair, the latter of which had been cut crudely short, like that of the worst outcast or criminal.

He dropped to his knees, a choked cry of despair leaving his lips shortly before he raised his head to the ceiling and let out a long wail of anguish.

******

Notes:

- A hanjuban is a kimono undergarment that covers just the torso, rather than the whole body