Chapter 7 — Uchōten Kazoku (Part 2)

A long time passed.

The clock on the wall finally struck five in the evening, and as the bonging rang out through the room, the face of the clock suddenly seemed to blur in my vision. I must have been crying.

Tanuki are easygoing creatures, but there are some things you just can’t laugh off. So long, Yaichirō, I thought to myself. Memories of him flooded my mind: Yaichirō scurrying frantically around the Kamo Bridge looking for Mother; Yaichirō transformed into Hotei and sulking by himself; Yaichirō scrubbing Master Akadama’s back at the bathhouse; Yaichirō proudly driving along in his automaton rickshaw. In my head, Yaichirō was tearing at his hair, shouting, “What have I done to deserve to be saddled with such a useless lot of brothers!”

It had always been hard for Yaichirō to lead us useless brothers along. He had striven in so many ways to follow in Father’s footsteps, yet instead of taking his place as head of tanuki society, he was now following him into the pot. “Please, don’t any of you turn into stew!” Mother had told us so often, and yet here we were making her cry yet again.

“Are you crying, Yasaburō?” asked Kinkaku. “Your brother was a fine tanuki. A pity. It almost brings tears to my own eyes.”

“Liar!”

“I’m serious. Of course, my butt still twinges from time to time. He did almost tear me a new one. But I won’t deny that he was a very upstanding tanuki.”

“Then help him!”

“That just won’t do. We have to follow Father’s orders. It’s not easy being in the family business.” Kinkaku glanced at the clock. “It’ll be dark soon.”

It happened then.

The false soba shop shook with a whump, and I felt a sensation like we were being carried away. My cage slid along the floor, Kinkaku staggered and fell on his rump, and the lucky cat statue rolled away. The tables rattled violently and the chairs toppled, and the wall clock crashed to the floor with a sound of breaking glass.

“What’s going on, Ginkaku?” Kinkaku yelped as he rolled along. “Why is everything shaking?”

“I don’t know, Kinkaku! I feel like I’m going somewhere really fast! My butt’s wubbling like jelly. I’m scared!”

“Calm yourself, Ginkaku! Don’t let your transformation come off!”

“I’m scared, Kinkaku! I can’t take it anymore!” Ginkaku screeched, just before everything went sideways.

“No!” yelled Kinkaku, but once a transformation starts to slip off it doesn’t slip back on. The false soba shop warped like it was made of konjac jelly, and my head started to spin along with it. The tables and the chairs and the daruma stoves and the wooden menu tags and the lucky cat statue all slid towards the back of the shop and were swallowed into the kitchen.

“I said nooooo!” wailed Kinkaku, attempting to cling onto the sliding furniture. But his efforts were in vain, and at last even the walls and ceiling were slurped into the kitchen like paint being washed away—and then the world flipped itself.

We were riding inside an Eizan railcar.

The train seemed to be rolling along Teramachi Street. Kinkaku and Ginkaku scampered over to the windows, placed their faces up to the glass, and simultaneously said, “Huh?” before putting down the window and starting to shriek, “Heeeeelp!”

As I sat wondering what on earth was going on, a boy came running up to me and opened my cage. I tumbled out, gave a big, long stretch in relief, and exclaimed, “Boy, does that feel good!”

“Yasaburō! We came to rescue you!” said Yashirō with a huge grin, and I heard Yajirō disguised as the train call out, “Hey, Yasaburō! How’s the ride?”

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The fake Eizan train rushed south past the forests of the Kyōto Gyoen National Garden.

Kinkaku and Ginkaku were losing their minds staring out the window, so surprised that they had reverted to their normal furry selves. Together Yashirō and I pounced on them, wrestling off the iron underpants that protected their behinds.

“Stop! You reprobate! I say, get your hands off our underwear!”

“You’ll regret this, really you will! Stop it!”

Ginkaku tripped over Yashirō and went sprawling, so I ripped off his pants and sank my teeth into his behind. “Kyaaa!” he shrieked. “Kinkaku, my butt’s splitting in half!” he bawled, clinging to his brother. Seizing advantage of Kinkaku’s immobility, Yashirō tore off his underpants, and I swooped in for the kill. Needless to say, I made sure to give him an extra bite.

“Owch! Owie! My butt’s splitting in eight!”

I picked up the two writhing tanuki by their necks and mashed them both into the cage, exacting my vengeance for my previous indignity and improving my mood considerably.

“It’s very cramped in here!” complained Kinkaku. “This violence is unbecoming, Yasaburō!”

“You’re one to talk!”

At last, I had recovered the Fūjin Raijin fan I had been searching for since summer. “So you had it all along!” I kicked the cage, drawing high-pitched squeals.

“I found it by the Aoi Bridge,” pleaded Kinkaku. “We didn’t steal it!”

“Same difference. It belongs to Master Akadama, so back to him it goes.”

The fake train was passing through Marutamachi. The sky, which had been so turbulent only a short time ago, had done an about face, and with the rage of Fūjin and Raijin sated, the storm clouds dispersed and moved off in no time at all. The sun was already low in the deep azure sky. Streetlights blinked one one by one along Teramachi Street, another indicator of just how little time was left. Yaichirō could already be walking the plank over the edge of a bubbling pot. That, of course, was a crisis, and knowing how useless Yaichirō was in situations like those I wasn’t sure how long he could hold out.

Yajirō raced faster than greased lightning along Teramachi Street. The bare trees trembled and swayed in his wake; astonished drivers hastily yielded the road and pedestrians pressed themselves against the buildings at the sight of the train barreling down from the north.

“Make way! Make way!” Yajirō blared. “Eizan train coming through!”

I stuck my head out the window and felt the cold wind going by.

The city was gleaming with all sorts of lights: house lights, streetlights, shop window lights, lanterns hanging in front of bars, restaurant lights, lamps adorning antique shop storefronts, all glittering and washing over the train as it surged by. Reflecting the illumination of the night, the fake train continued on, people moving out of its way as if it was parting the Red Sea. Taking in that thrilling spectacle, it was like seeing Yajirō’s glory days come to life once again. And Yajirō’s glory days had been Father’s glory days; I could almost see Father in the hefty form of Hotei, urging Yajirō on and shouting, “Keep at ‘em!”

“I remember now!” Yajirō cried, flying faster than the wind. “This is it. This is it!”

Yashirō and I got on our knees atop the seats, leaned out through the windows, waved our hands, and screamed, “Woo-hoo!”

“What do I do, Yasaburō? Yaichirō’s in trouble, the head of our family’s in trouble, but somehow I’m just having so much fun! It doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

“Don’t worry about it, just keep going! It’s just your fool’s blood talking!” I cried. “Fun things are good things!”

All of a sudden the train started veering left and right all over the road, grazing the rain gutters on the buildings and even almost smashing the bright store windows.

“Whoa, Yajirō, you okay?”

For a moment Yajirō said nothing and continued to sway all over the road, but after a while he replied, in a voice half-choked with sobs, “That was the last thing Father said to me. That’s what he told me that night. All that time down there in the well I couldn’t remember, but finally, now, I remember!”

I could almost feel the fool’s blood heating up in his veins, almost hear his heart beating, and together he, Yashirō, and I shouted out as one:

“Fun things are good things!”

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Past Nijō the road started to narrow. Only just avoiding crashing into the building at the edge of the intersection, the fake Eizan train narrowed its own frame down and continued hurtling southbound. I stood at the front of the car and looked on as we passed the greenery in front of city hall. Before us the Teramachi Street arcade was rapidly drawing near on the other side of wide Oike Street, glowing white in the deepening evening gloom like a portal to another world.

“Yajirō, you just going straight into the arcade?”

“What’s that? I can’t hear you!”

“Pontochō! We’ve gotta get to Pontochō!”

“Pontochō? Where’s that again?”

Taking full advantage of the fact that the traffic light was green, Yajirō ploughed straight through the intersection without slowing down, straight into the arcade, and in flash we were enveloped by dazzling lights.

Yajirō blew past the gate to Honnōji, scattering illegally parked bicycles, blowing away racks of dresses in front of clothing stores, and rippling the pages of the innumerable art books on display in front of the secondhand bookstores. Closely packed stationary stores, cafés, art supply stores, confectioneries, and restaurants appeared and vanished just as quickly outside the window. Yajirō was going so fast that he was generating a strong wind behind him, and behind us I saw gorgeous fans and writing paper that had been sucked out from Kyūkyodō dancing in the air in the middle of the arcade.

“Yajirō, do you think you can turn left on Sanjō?”

“Don’t think that’s happening.”

We approached the Teramachi Sanjō intersection, but it was practically impossible to change our direction. In fact, Teramachi Street, usually so straight, bent slightly to the right here, so as we passed between the local police box and the Kani Dōraku, Yajirō got flustered and ended up turning to the right. A sign saying “Please walk your bike” went flying into the window of a fast food joint, sending shattered glass everywhere.

“Oops, my bad,” Yajirō muttered, clipping the side of Mishimatei and shearing off a lantern as he proceeded ever southward.

“Yajirō, don’t you think it would be best to stop the train and go on foot?”

“Sorry, Yasaburō, it just ain’t working out right now.”

“Fine, let’s just get to Shijō Avenue.”

We raced on towards Shijō, but strangely enough Shijō Avenue just wasn’t coming up. Stranger still, it should have been a straight north-south shot on Teramachi Street between Sanjō and Shijō, yet the path seemed to be curving ever so slightly. We kept passing the same familiar storefronts over and over again. What really tipped me off that something funny was going on was the second time I saw the multitude of orange lanterns decorating the Nishiki-tenmangu shrine. There could only be one Nishiki-tenmangu.

“We’re going around in circles, Yasaburō!” Yashirō shouted, hanging out the window.

On closer inspection, the dazzling lights on the street shone fixedly, the startled pedestrians had all disappeared, and the stores lining the street were all deserted. As a test I tread on the floor and noticed that it seemed to be slanted upwards, even though Teramachi Street was supposed to be level.

“Yajirō, something’s going on. Slow down a little!”

“Awful particular with the driving, aren’t we?”

Yajirō did his best to slow down, but the fool’s blood coursing through his body refused to be tamed. As we plunged on helplessly through the vacant Teramachi Street, the road inclined ever more heavily until it was pointing upwards at an impossible angle, and in front of us was no longer Shijō Avenue, but rather the full moon shining in the night sky.

“This Teramachi Street is fake!” I turned around to see Kinkaku and Ginkaku in the cage, whispering into Yajirō’s cell phone. They squealed as I fell upon the cage and ripped the phone from their paws. “Who were you talking to?” I cried.

They both smirked. “Now now, Yasaburō. Haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘Out of the fire and into the frying pan’? We called the Ebisugawa Guard Corps and tipped them off, we did!”

“You rat, what does it take to stop you sneaking around?”

“How do you like that?” said Kinkaku, smugly flaring his nostrils.

“How do you like that?” echoed Ginkaku.

And they both cheered, “To the bottom of the Kamo you go!”

“This isn’t looking good, Yajirō!” I called, returning to the front of the train, but overwhelmed with all the excitement Yajirō only grunted in reply.

In front of us, the fake Teramachi Street veered sharply to the left, heading towards the Kamo River. The moon vanished from in front of us. There was nowhere to go for the fake Eizan train but along the fake Teramachi Street. The uphill climb sharply leveled out, and I felt the churn in my stomach that comes when you’re sitting in a rollercoaster at the top of a hill, right before you started freefalling. The glittering arcade traced an arc downwards and to the left, like a gigantic slide. Yajirō could no longer stop himself. The leftward curve of the road slackened, and at last we saw the end of the fake Teramachi Street, and beyond it the gleaming surface of the Kamo River.

“Yajirō, we’re going to crash straight into the river!”

“The Kamo’s pretty cold at this time of year. You’d better do some warming up now!”

“We got you, we got you!” Kinkaku taunted us. “Back in the game! Back in the game!”

“Hey, you’re going into the river with us too!”

“Hmph. We’re just in the same boat, that’s all.”

“Strange boatfellows! Strange boatfellows!”

Tracing a path in the sky above the city, the fake Teramachi Street came to an abrupt end, pointing straight at the Kamo River.

The fake Eizan train came flying out, carried on by its momentum. Looking through the window I saw that glowing white tunnel rising up from Teramachi Sanjō, zigging and zagging through the night sky over Teramachi and Shinkyōgoku and Kawaramachi and Pontochō, stretching all the way over to the Kamo River. It was pretty gutsy stuff, I had to admit, and I had to tip my hat to that transforming, even if they were my foes.

Below us I saw the coursing Kamo River.

“We tricked you! We tricked you!” Kinkaku chanted with delight.

But Yajirō shouted out bravely, “You’re the ones getting tricked!” and jumping up to grab a red strap, he pulled down on it with all his might.

The floor of the fake Eizan railcar opened up, and a familiar chagama rose up from underneath. It was the very same chagama that was at the heart of the engine that powered Benten’s Inner Parlor through the sky. Pulling out a bottle of Akadama port wine hidden under the seats, Yashirō filled up the kettle to the brim, and in no time Yajirō had transformed into a Flying Eizan Railcar And Fake At That, something so ridiculous I had a hard time coming to grips with it.

The fake Eizan railcar came skimming to a stop, hovering just over the surface of the river. “Oh, that’s cold!” gasped Yajirō, who apparently was low enough to feel the spray coming off the water.

Rocking softly in midair, I looked out the brightly lit buildings and old ryōtei of Pontochō lining the river. One of them was Chitoseya, and beyond its glass doors I saw an assembly of faces that I knew only too well. They were the Friday Fellows, and they were preparing to devour Yaichirō.

The year-end party had already started.

“It’s not fair. How did you outwit me again?” Kinkaku blubbered. “I’m finished. I can’t think of any more schemes.”

I grabbed them both by the scruffs of their necks, lifted them out of the cage, and carried them to the window.

“Just a moment!” they shrieked. “Timeout! Give us a timeout!”

“Nope, don’t have the time for that. I hear Ōsaka Bay’s lovely this time of year.” I tried to toss them into the river, but they fought tenaciously, grabbing onto the window frame with their furry little paws and refusing to leave.

“I don’t wanna go back in the water! It’s cold, I-I’ll freeze in there! Really!”

“See here. The Friday Fellows are holding their year-end party right there.” I looked at the two of them dangling from the window frame with a sardonic grin. “Would you prefer the freezing Kamo River, or a boiling iron pot?”

Faced with such a draconian choice, Kinkaku and Ginkaku clung on to the edge of the window for a minute, twitching their noses with indecision.

“We’ll take the river,” they muttered sullenly, and dropped into the frigid water, leaving two plopping sounds hanging in the air.

Sometimes they just were so bumbling it was impossible to hate them, but on the whole that pair of idiots were simply detestable. Now that they were off on their long journey towards the distant ocean, there remained but one thing left for us to do. Yajirō poured more port wine into the chagama, and Yajirō came around to point himself square at Chitoseya.

“It sure feels funny floating in the air like this.”

“Yajirō, the Friday Fellows are right there. Put us up right behind the restaurant!”

“That might be a bit tricky. It is my first time, after all.”

“Should I give you a push with the Fūjin Raijin fan?”

“Try not to overdo it, alright?”

“I’ll be gentle.”

I opened a window and gave the fan the lightest of waves, but even that seemed to have been too much. The fake Eizan train wafted over the Kamo River towards the restaurant, but with far too much momentum. The glass doors leading into the room approached with alarming rapidity, and without slowing down the fake flying Eizan train slammed straight into it.

The second floor of Chitoseya exploded.

Tatami mats flipped, lightbulbs shattered, ashtrays went flying, and pots overturned. The Friday Fellows screamed and shouted, and somewhere in that cacophony I could have sworn I heard Benten laughing hysterically. After crumpling the splendid folding screens like so much tissue paper the train’s momentum was finally halted.

“Oh, my nose…” Yajirō quietly groaned, and the fake Eizan train rolled over, ejecting me and Yajirō and the chagama into the room.

His true form completely exposed, Yashirō hid himself by the chagama engine, which had rolled into the decorative alcove.

I transformed into the college student and stood up in the dark room. Picking up my cowering brother by the scruff of his neck, I placed the Fūjin Raijin fan in his mouth. “Yashirō, you hurry over to Sensuirō and disrupt the elders’ meeting.”

“Okay!”

“Draw it out as long as you can. If things look dire, just give the fan a little wave. Once you’re finished, return it to Master Akadama. He’s supposed to be there too.”

“What about Yaichirō?” Yashirō mumbled through a mouthful of fan.

“We’ll come after you once we rescue him. Get on now. Stay around any longer looking like that, and you’ll be eaten up!”

With a frightened little squeak Yashirō dashed off into the hall and out of sight.

All the lights had been extinguished, but I could hear the Friday Fellows groaning somewhere in the room. Where had Yajirō gone? And where were they keeping Yaichirō? As I sniffed around in the darkness, I heard a muffled whisper. “Yasaburō?”

It was Yaichirō, locked in his cage.

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I opened the cage, catching Yaichirō as he tottered out. “Damn it all, damn it all!” he cursed, his fur bristling, his face glistening with tears of rage. He tried to shake my hand off. “You must think me a fool. Imitating the humans, running around campaigning and electioneering, and this is how I end up. I didn’t realize how frightening it all was. How could a pathetic tanuki like me ever hope to shoulder the fate of the tanuki world? It would have been better for me to be eaten.”

“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think? Or are you aiming to make Mother cry again?”

“Yes, but still, what a worthless tanuki I am…”

“That’s just your fool’s blood talking, Yaichirō.” I slapped him on the back. “What’s so bad about imitating humans? What’s so bad about doing what you like? Weren’t you going to follow in Father’s footsteps?”

“…Yes, you’re right.”

“Let’s kick Ebisugawa’s ass, and get revenge for Father!”

“What do you mean?”

“It was Sōun who handed Father to the Friday Fellows.”

A small object hopped out of the shadows onto the back of Yaichirō, who looked up with suspicion.

“It’s me, Yaichirō!” chirped the shadow.

“Yajirō!”

“Hurry up, Yaichirō, let’s go. I sent Yashirō to Sensuirō already. Mother will be pleased.”

“Oh! Mother!” Yaichirō grabbed at me agitatedly. “Have you rescued Mother? Well?”

“No, not yet. I don’t know where she is.”

“The Faux Denki Bran sales office, in the warehouse. They’re keeping her in a cage. We’ve got to help her!”

“Calm down, Yaichirō. I’ll go.”

At that moment, a lantern flared up in the middle of the room.

“Who’s there?” a hoarse voice rasped.

In the pale flickering light an eerie shadow rose up swiftly, stretching through the broken sliding screens all the way up to the ceiling. I attempted to flee with my brothers, but from behind us a cord came snaking up and wrapped itself around my foot. It looked like it would take some time to undo, so I pushed Yaichirō and Yajirō into the hallway, away from the light of the lantern.

“Get out of here, Yaichirō. Leave Mother to me!”

Looking as if he was holding back tears, Yaichirō nodded, then waddled off through the corridor along the wooden floorboards, underneath the hanging antique lanterns.

I looked back to see a well-built old man, sitting formally in the middle of the ruined room.

That looming shadow belonged to this old man. Beside him Benten sat unassumingly, a smile on her face. The other Friday Fellows, including Professor Yodogawa, were still suffering from the lingering effects of the earlier shock, sprawling on the ground in the corners of the room, cradling their heads. Only Benten and the old man remained ensconced there, unperturbed.

Benten whispered something into the ear of the old man, whose face broke into a felicitous smile. His attitude was nonchalant, almost as if he were merely a spectator, which made me think that he was not quite ordinary. This must be Jurōjin, the doyen of the Friday Fellows.

“Well, well, how extraordinary,” said the old man, looking at me. “Who might you be?”

“I heard a commotion, so I came to check it out,” I replied, untying the cord from around my leg.

“A mere passerby, then, eh?” The old man eyed me critically. He flicked his hand, and in the blink of an eye the cord had returned to him. It was almost like magic. Benten stuck her tongue out at me, so I scowled back at her. Jurōjin looked at her doubtfully. “An acquaintance of yours?”

“That’s right, Jurōjin. He’s quite an amusing fellow.”

“Is that so. It is good to be amusing.”

Sensing that things had come under control, the other Friday Fellows turned towards us and came one by one into the light of the lantern. I recognized them as the same people I had fought with over sukiyaki, what seemed like a long time ago. The one with the shaved head whom I didn’t recognize must have been Fukurokuju. Thrusting his gleaming pate aside, Professor Yodogawa came scrambling towards me. His scarce remaining hairs were disheveled. He took one look at the empty cage at my feet and shrieked, “Agh!” He sounded heartbroken. “My tanuki’s run off!”

The professor grabbed my shoulder in distress. “What happened here? Something came banging in from the Kamo River, and now it’s all gone out of kilter! Look, the room’s all askew, and the tanuki’s gone…”

“Calm yourself, Hotei,” Jurōjin ordered.

“But I worked so hard to get that tanuki!”

“I tell you, no good will come of arguing with a mere passerby. Mysterious happenings like these occur in this city from time to time. There is no sense in shortening your life by going to pieces all the time.”

The professor sank to the floor.

Jurōjin proceeded in a more soothing tone. “Fear not. Earlier, while I was at the Faux Denki Bran sales office by the Kamiya Bridge, I saw a tanuki. It is in the possession of one of my acquaintances, but fearing that this sort of misfortune would come to pass, I have already made preparations. Tonight, we shall have that tanuki for our stew.”

The dismay I felt at those words was indescribable.

Jurōjin smiled and looked around the room. “Well, well,” he said. “What a state this place is in. Most unfortunate. It is time for a change in venue. Where shall we go?”

“Perhaps this would be a good chance to see your fabled private train?” suggested Bishamon, the manager of the Gyōunkaku hotel.

“Alas, it is currently undergoing repairs. In its stead, let us consider Sensuirō. It is a quite distinguished ryōtei, just down the river from Shijō Kiyamachi, by Toriyasa. Anticipating that something of this nature would occur, I arranged to take ownership of it some days ago. Tonight it has been reserved by another group, but I will have them squeeze us in.”

“Just a minute!” I raised my hand. “Could I be allowed the honor of accompanying you?”

“You would wish to join us?”

“I’ve always wanted to try eating tanuki. And I’d love to see it live and moving around before I eat it. I’ve never seen a real, live tanuki before.”

Jurōjin’s long eyebrows up and down as he looked at me. His expression was genial, but somehow the smile pasted on his face didn’t quite seem to reach his eyes.

“I don’t mind at all,” Benten cut in. “Why not?”

“Very well, if Benten is of such a mind. I must apologize, but as you are a young man I have work that needs doing. There is Faux Denki Bran in the galley. You will carry it to Sensuirō.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“I must say I’m impressed, Jurōjin. Getting your hands on a tanuki at the eleventh hour…and here I’d already given up!”

“It was nothing. I merely happened to lay eyes on it at the warehouse in the office. My acquaintance entrusted it to me, therefore what happens to it is my affair.”

“Doesn’t its owner treasure that tanuki? Won’t he be angry if we eat it?”

“No, no, he will say nothing. But, Hotei.”

Still brooding down on the tatami, the professor jerked his head up in surprise.

“You are most fortunate that we were able to obtain another tanuki. Whatever the circumstances, if we do not eat tanuki stew tonight, you will be expelled from the Friday Fellows.”