A Banquet of the Fairies FInal Part -- The Lair & The Yōkai

A creepy folklore story set against the moonlit gardens and rivers of rural Japan

If you haven’t read the beginning of this story, stop right there and follow this link:

Part two is in the same page called “The Oni.” So be sure to read that in sequence.

If you are up to date—keep reading!

Haruki looked around and saw that the light in the room was primarily coming from a single large candle. The candle was melted at its base and stuck to the surface of a low bench which formed the major component of a sort of ramshackle kitchen space the Oni had set up to Haruki’s right. The bench was scored, as if by the strokes of a heavy blade, and was stained and clotted with a dark rusty substance. Dirty clay pots and vats, some broken, were piled up in heaps around the bench. Beside it was a small fire with a black cast-iron cauldron hanging above it, within which bubbled some ghastly brew of river weeds. All Haruki could smell was the foul steam of cauldron and a stench, like that of rotting animal carcasses.

Haruki, with sudden curiosity, triggered by some subliminal stimulus, looked back at the pots. He noticed, with wide-eyed horror, some of the contents of those messy vats: In one, a woman’s head looked outward at him, half obscured by shadow, half lit by the candlelight, giving the face the impression of a Rembrandt painting. The eyes were glassy and stretched unnaturally wide, as if the woman had died in an attitude of inconceivable horror. There in another, a shadowy hand. There, a decomposed foot.

Haruki quickly looked away, clenching his eyes shut and trying to black out the sights that he could not unsee. Still, the images haunted his mind’s eye as he wrestled to drive them from his memory. As he struggled with these thoughts, he heard the eerie noises of the Oni shuffling about at his kitchen bench, moving things around and slapping something metallic against the countertop. This only made Haruki struggle the harder.

Then, Haruki, in his paroxysms of fear and disgust, almost inadvertently wrestled his right arm free. The sounds of the Oni stopped and the chamber went completely silent. Fear, which had originally compelled Haruki to close his eyes, now forced him to open them—he wanted to see what the Oni was doing. However, he soon wished he hadn’t. The Oni was standing deathly still by the kitchen bench, staring at Haruki with an expression of lewd, idiotic mirth.

In that moment of horrific confrontation, Haruki got a clear view of the Oni’s form, illuminated in the flickering light of the candle. Its body was similar to that of a man’s, wearing only a dirty and stained loincloth. Its limbs were long, pale, and emaciated. Its hands and feet were over-large, and its great head sat like a swollen squash on top of its lean shoulders and slightly concave chest. Somehow, despite its leanness, its abdominal region was yet swollen into a bulging potbelly. In one hand, it held a crumpled and dilapidated piece of parchment. Perhaps a recipe? In the other hand, it held a large rough-hewn cleaver, which tapered to a narrow, jagged tip.

Slowly, it placed the recipe and cleaver down on the bench. Then, it went still and began to stare at Haruki once more. Its eyes were wide and limpid, its lower lip drooped in a ludicrous grin, quivering slightly. It raised a single pale finger and placed it thoughtfully to its drooping lip, accentuating the absurd lunacy of the smile.

Haruki realized it had been a grave mistake to attract its attention. He had seen the pernicious curiosity of a cat suddenly revived, when a mouse, which had previously been still, imprudently began moving again. The interest of the Oni in him was much the same. Gone was the Oni’s civilized talk, now it seemed animalistic-- What inordinate self-restraint must have been necessary in order for it to execute its previous duplicity.

Suddenly, it leapt, in one great horizontal bound, to land in a frog- like squat before Haruki, its slick pale legs spraddled wide. Even squatting, it was taller than Haruki and its large misshapen face leered down at him.

As if picking up on Haruki’s thoughts, it spoke for the first time since bringing him to its lair: “Oh? Are you sad?” It said, calling once again into effect, the mild tone it had previously used to trick Haruki. “Did you miss this encouraging voice?” It tittered with mirth for a moment and continued to stare down at him with wide eyes. “Oh, but you should have behaved!”

“I don’t understand! You said you were having us over for dinner!” cried Haruki in response.

“I would have, but now you have been a naughty boy. You should have stayed politely in your chains. Don’t you see, you have interrupted the chef from his preparations. Wouldn’t your mother chide you thus, if you had done the same in her kitchen?”

Haruki heard his mother whimpering and muttering in the background. “Yes Sir Oni,” he finally said, trying not to cry.

“Ah, there, that's better. Such a good boy.” Then, muttering quietly to itself, “So fresh. So pure. Perhaps I will just... taste a little now.” Then, looking back to Haruki, with a wan smile, “You tempt me, but I must finish my recipe."

“Taste what, Sir Oni?" Said Haruki, unable to hold his tongue.

The Oni didn’t respond. Instead, it closed its eyes and sniffed the air near Haruki’s neck. Its lean body was suddenly wracked by a shudder of anticipation. It hummed for a moment, deep in his chest. A sing-song sound--the sing-song sound Haruki had mistaken for his mother's calls...

The Oni then seemed to make up its mind. It opened its eyes, which were now heavy-lidded with ecstasy. It stared into Haruki’s face with that lewd smile and began to lean slowly towards him, raising its cleaver. Haruki began to struggle in his bonds and stared in horror towards his mother in hopes of gaining some form of succor. No use. Her head hung listlessly downward. She was stricken with the Oni’s magic and could not respond.

For a tense moment, all was silent in the den but for Haruki’s grunts and the slow breathing of the Oni. The Oni’s face was right before his now. Its eyes began to glow with a pale blue-white light and seemed as large as lanterns. The gaze threatened to mesmerize Haruki. Again, that same sub-sonic sound rumbled through the air, a tangible pressure, a yearning which pulled upon Haruki. Oddly, he wanted nothing more than to be devoured by the Oni. But now, a burning sensation at his chest distracted him, making him want to look down. A certain warmth was radiating from the breast of his robe. The warmth began to itch; he couldn’t resist it. He broke contact with the Oni’s eyes and looked down. At once, he found himself wanting to be free again. With a sudden resurgence of courage and the will to live, he tugged his left hand free from its manacle. He clutched at Ame-no-Nuboko inside his shirt.

The oni looked at him quizzically, "Oh? What do you have there?"

An idea entered into Haruki's mind, perhaps it came from his familiarity with fairy tales, or perhaps it was the courage leant him by the spear he now clutched in his hand--it was an idea, a chance.

"One question before you kill me, sir oni?"

"Yes child?"

"What is the cleaver for?"

"It's so you can fit in the pot."

"Oh... but I heard that the great Onis in the past... never mind."

The Oni became suddenly tense, curious. "The great Onis in the past what child?"

"Well... I heard they could eat grown men whole... but, I guess you must be a small Oni, its ok. I don't blame you."

The oni began to curse and spit most horrifically, pacing back and forth with its cleaver raised to strike. For a moment Haruki thought he was surely doomed. But then the oni stopped and smiled.

"Small am I?" "I shall show you." I shall eat you in a single gulp!"

"Oh I don't believe you, not until I see it."

The oni's eyes burnt with a feverish fire as it cast down its cleaver. It whispered in a new voice now. Its true voice... "Then see this, before you die and let it blast your soul!!!" Its mouth stretched, longer and larger than ever before. Now it stood above Haruki with its lower jaw dangling on the floor.

"Step inside boy" It spluttered, its speech garbled by its disfigured jaw.

Haruki stepped inside the Oni's mouth. Then, gripping the miniature spear with both hands, he jammed it up into the roof of the oni's mouth with all of his might. The miniature spear penetrated the Oni's upper pallet, sinking in deep. Did the spear seem suddenly longer, or was he just imagining it?

The Oni gurgled in sudden pain and snapped its mouth shut, just as Haruki tumbled out to the floor. Whatever damage was dealt by Haruki's feeble blow was completed by the snapping force of the oni's jaw. The tip of Ame-no-Nuboko appeared like a red nail from the oni's pasty scalp. The oni's lambent eyes rolled up into its head and it fell with a thud to the floor. A long leg kicked out once spasmodically, then it lay still. Dead.

Haruki stood frozen in awe for a moment. Then the recollection of his mother's plight urged him back into motion.

He ran over to his mother and hugged her around the waist. She bent her head down and rested it on top of his, murmuring quietly. The next ten minutes in that den of nightmares was a blur for Haruki, like an indistinct section of a terrible dream. Haruki numbly struggled with his mother's bonds, without much help from her, then finally went and located a key on the Oni’s corpse, before returning to his mother and freeing her. She was silent, listless, dazed, and only partially conscious. Haruki pleaded with her to follow and, taking her by the hand, went and collected the single candle from the bench. She allowed herself to be pulled along by Haruki and followed him, zombie-like.

Haruki led the way through the winding dirt passage towards the burrow's exit. After a short time, they arrived in another cramped chamber, cut in half by a pool of still, dark water.

Haruki realized that this was the way the Oni had brought them in. There was no other means of egress to the surface. They must once again traverse the black depths of the river bottom. If they could hold their breaths long enough, they should be able to return to the surface.

Haruki was afraid. He could not swim. His mother would need to carry the weight of both of them to the surface. It was a long way to the top, and she was barely aware of what was going on. "Would she be able to get them there? Or would they drown in those black depths?" These were the morbid thoughts that pulsed through the six-year-old’s mind as he stared down into that pool of black water. He looked to his mother. Her face was wet with tears.

She looked down at him with haunted eyes. Eyes clouded with fear and unreality. "Oh what a terrible nightmare this is..." She mumbled.

Haruki grasped his mother’s hands and squeezed them tightly. “Please mother. I need your help to take us home. I cannot swim. Please!”

Her son's words and familiar contact seemed to revive her a little. “Huh? This is just a dream” She answered dully.

This prompted Haruki to exhort his mother with such energy and earnest conviction that she was inadvertently impressed, whether it be a dream or not. Her head seemed to clear a little.

“Come on.” She finally said, taking his hand in hers. “Even if you are a figment of dream-stuff, I will do as you ask, my son. Besides, since it is only a dream, what harm can be done?”

Together they waded into the cold, inky water until it reached Ayami’s chest. Then, she pulled Haruki onto her back and told him to hold on tight, close his eyes, and take a deep breath…

Haruki’s senses were once again plunged into icy blackness. He felt his mother kicking and struggling through a tight and winding tunnel of endless murk. Too quickly, Haruki’s lungs grew tense and his heart began to pound.

An irresistible tickle of panic started to form in his chest. He fought this down with the only tool of discipline available to his naive mind: his father's teachings—the simple concepts of honor and courage. He held on tight and continued to resist the urge to suck up a great breath of cold water. He would not give in!

After what seemed an eternity, a silvery light appeared, high above, dimly radiating down through the murk. Haruki’s lungs were now burning fiercely, seemingly ready to burst, or more likely implode. A great rushing sound began to fill his ears. His mother's kicks and arm movements slowed. Slowed. Ceased. She had over- exerted herself and could go no further. Either that or, thinking it was only a dream, she had finally given up.

The silvery moonlight was now bright, its rays impinging through the murk all around them. They must only be five or ten feet from the surface now. Time seemed to slow down for Haruki and he gazed abstractedly at the rays of moonlight as they penetrated the murk all around him and struck upon motes of sediment, which had been stirred up in the water. The moonlight illuminated the floating particles, made them shine, adding depth and perspective to a scene previously stark, dim, and two- dimensional.

Haruki’s lungs no longer burned. His head no longer spun. He felt perfectly at ease now. He observed all with great clarity. His mother, on whose back he still rode, was no longer moving at all. She too was at peace now. The underwater realm took on a dreamlike quality for Haruki and he began to see things: Illusory shapes and colors, imaginary figments.

He imagined he saw swarms of Yōkai approaching from all angles towards him and his mother. Green-colored, ugly, and indistinctly shaped Algae Yōkai; strange white-faced, pucker-lipped Yōkai of the Fish People; beautiful women with pale blue skin and flowing turquoise hair—the Water Yōkai. And even, from the mud below, the ill-mannered Buta-no-Yōkai, squealing and pushing upward in an ugly, squirming mass.

The Yōkai surrounded Haruki and his mother, pressed in on all sides to cover them, like ants on honey. At first their intentions were unclear, but now they began to push, push, push Haruki and his mother towards the silvery light above.

The last thing Haruki saw, before falling into black unconsciousness, was the indistinct shapes of the Lilypod men, above the water’s surface, gathering like a fleet of ships and preparing their lily-pad rafts to ferry their guests to the shore.

Haruki awoke in his mother's arms among the glaringly bright rays of the morning sun. Recalling the adventures of the night before, he instantly disentangled himself, clambered to his feet, and took stock of his surroundings. His cotton robe was still damp and, furthermore, was spoiled terribly with mud, what seemed to be river algae, and even, here and there, a few small lily pads, clinging on defiantly. He was on the earthen ramp where they feed the Yōkai—the one closest to their kitchen. He looked down at his mother in sudden alarm. But, she was okay. She was only sleeping peacefully, with a gentle smile on her lips. She too was bedraggled, soiled, and littered with river muck and detritus.

Just then, Haruki heard his father shouting for them, “Haruki-kun! Ayami-san!!?”

He must have returned from his night's work. Haruki called back to him, “Otōsan! Here! In the garden!”

He heard his father’s footsteps approaching at a rapid pace through the garden path. Then, there he was, larger than life, as always. Seeing their bedraggled condition, he quickly knelt down by Ayami, without concern for his expensive suit. He peered into Ayami’s face, his jaw set with worry. Then, his strong face relaxed as he saw Ayami was okay and only sleeping.

He turned to Haruki and spoke sternly, “What has happened here, son? Did you foolishly fall into the river and cause your mother to have to rescue you?”

“No, father...” Haruki began to explain...

But then, Ayami stirred, waking to the sound of her husband’s voice. She lifted her head, speaking drowsily, “No, be easy on him, husband, for it is I who have been the fool. I slipped into the water whilst feeding the fish and must have hit my head. I don’t recall anything. I surely would have drowned. Haruki must have braved the river himself and pulled me ashore. He must have… for here we are, and I was still unconscious until now.” She rubbed her head and shuddered. “I… I remember none of it.”

Haruki’s father inspected her with tender eyes, full of concern.

“What of the Yōkai!” exclaimed Haruki in sudden consternation.

His mother gave him a tired smile. “Oh? You had a dream too last night? I had a terrible nightmare. But, in the nightmare, you protected me.” She beamed up at him. “Such a brave boy.”

“Well done, son!” His father exclaimed and lifted Haruki high into the air. “You have earned much honor this day! And, a special treat of your choice!” Haruki giggled as his father tossed him into the air. Then, his father sat him down and spoke earnestly, “First, we must get you and your mother cleaned up and warm before you two catch a cold! Come, let us go.”

At that, his father turned to his mother, aided her to her feet, and began guiding her down the garden path towards the house.

Haruki was disappointed for a moment, since his mother hadn’t believed what had happened. He wondered if she would ever believe him. It was real. He had defeated a real Oni!

His father called out to him from the garden path, “Come along, son, don’t tarry. We must get you into a hot bath!”

Haruki started towards the garden, but before he could get far, he heard something. A strange buzzing sound, like the humming of a distant bee. He knelt down by the water’s edge. It got louder. It wasn’t a "buzzing," it was the sound of… the sound of "squealing."

There, in the water, amongst a group of floating lilies, was a single Buta-no-Yōkai, greedily daring the sunlight in hopes of getting some breakfast. Haruki chuckled and waved his thanks at the single tiny spirit. "Sorry, I don't have any food left. Come back tonight!" Then, he turned and walked up the bank and back into the garden.

He smiled quietly to himself as he walked down the familiar path, towards the waiting open doorway... He knew what had happened: The Yōkai had rescued him and his mother, as a thank you for all of the meals they had given them.

"Well!" he thought, "I will make certain that they get more than scraps. From now on the offerings will be prepared properly--like they should be. And tonight, tonight they will get a feast!”

The End...

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