Ito and
Taisho
A roughly human or monkey shaped thing, like a thick and wide bow-legged man, emerges from the forest and peers around the fire site. It’s around five feet tall and it has a crude face, a wild shock of thick black hair with stubby horns poking through, and warty tan skin. It is wearing a rabbit-skin breechclout and a peasant’s shirt with some large blood stains. It has a short but stout knotty wooden club. A smell like rotten carrion and something else is in the air. The travelers have never seen one before, but they know what it is-- a bakemono-sho. Part beast, part kami. Or a crude kami embodied in physical form.
The thing again looks all around the little clearing, sniffs the air, and fixes its gaze on Kentaro’s horse. The horse lowers its head, snorts, and tries to back up. But its reins are tightly tied to a strong pine. “I eat that rice that horse,” it announces to itself in a guttural Nipponese.
Three more heavy footsteps sound from the trail and a big humanoid strides into the circle of the firelight. It’s built like the other creature, but 6.5 feet tall and with bright red, comparatively smooth skin. Two longer horns poke at its forehead rise above tangled black hair that hang from its huge head to past its shoulders. The thing is naked except for the skin of a boar around its waist. A hard, wide pot belly protrudes above that, and a thick arm holds the end of a club of knotty oak root that rests on its shoulder. Around the wrist is a great silver bracelet with domed studs. It also peers around the clearing and its eyes light on the horse. The other, non-carrion smell in the air grows stronger.
An o-bakemono. But perhaps a juvenile one? It’s big, but not as big as the tales tell. And it doesn’t seem to have the face of a very experienced, grizzled demon in a body. Having never seen an o-bakemono, Taisho and Ito have no way to know.
The bakemono-sho says, “I eat that rice.”
The o-bakemono opens its great wide black hole of a mouth, white-ish fangs showing, and a deep voice like a cross between that of a young man’s and hog’ says, “You don’t eat. Where are the humans?”
“No humans. Rice and horse,” the -sho says.
“Stupid little!” the red one booms out. The smaller creature starts and backs away. “If there’s rice and a horse, there's a human. Find it.”
The two begin circling around fire, peering into the brush, sniffing in and snorting out great drafts of air. The big one looks directly at where Taisho is hiding, the smaller one at Ito. They look to each other, both making a kind of satisfied
hnn hnn huh laughing sound. Hideous mouths part, showing hard teeth. The smaller one has upper fangs, the bigger one lower ones. The big one ignores Taisho in front of it and peers long at where Ito is concealed. It seems to be appraising the situation. It speaks.
“Unnn. You humans have been bad. Very bad for humans. Was it you, armored bushi? I think so. Don’t try to lie. You woke up the singing girl ghost. You killed something on the mountain and it had a name. If you run I won’t chase. I’ll eat the rice and the horse. I think so.”
“I think so,” says the smaller, warty, and blood-stained shirted one. “Maybe samurai’s mistress from village? Where meat?” Copious drool escapes the thing’s mouth and drenches its chin.
The big red one whips its head to the right and hiss-grunts, “That one is mine!” It takes its eyes off of Ito, shifts its club to the other shoulder, and its eyes upraised in thought. A flood of drool escapes its black mouth and rains down on the leaves of the forest floor. “If the woman then also the man. The meat of the mistress and the samurai on the mountain. Take us to the meat armored bushi. You too.” [Glances menacingly at Taisho]. If you do it, we’ll just eat the humans, the rice and the horse and not chase you down the mountain. Not until the Moon sets. I think so.”
“I think so.” The –sho casts an eye upward at the floating Moon and grins a black grin. Kentaro’s horse tugs hard at its reins, trying its best to break free.
Katsumi, Kentaro and
Omi
The bushi and shinobi are on the trail back to the campfire. About halfway up, they hear from up ahead something like the voice of a hog yell, “That one is mine!” And then it continues talking. “Horse,” “singing girl,” “bushi,” and “I think so” can be made out.
