*engawa - the outer deck surrounding a traditional Japanese home
*kitsunenomen - stylized fox mask
How many nights have I watched you come out to the engawa? I've lost count. It takes great patience to lie in wait. Your presence is my reward. It is rare you have a moment to spare for yourself. This is where you come to stare into the woods. You yearn to be free. I see it in your eyes.
I love the way your head tilts just so when you gaze up into the evening sky, the hint of a smile on the small bow of your lips. You are so serene, beautiful, and a little sad. Then that woman calls you back into the light, and ever dutiful, you go. I watch your silhouette pass from screen to screen, busily attending those people. They are not gracious. You deserve better.
Tonight is not like the others. They left you by yourself, going out in their finery. I watch you haunt the old house, finishing your evening chores. Soon you will come out to the wooden deck. You always do. You will not be alone for long. I have wished very much to make your acquaintance, precious one. We have hours before they return. At last, my golden opportunity has arrived.
You hum to yourself as you work, such a pleasant sound. I creep steadily forward on four paws beneath the bushes, drawn in by your song. I have never dared come so close before. If you were not alone, I'd not risk it now.
Ah! The moment I have been waiting for! The boards creek under your tiny feet. You have come to watch the fireflies' frenetic dance. You sigh and stare into the dusk. The woods are dark and deep, and shadows lurk beneath the boughs of ancient trees. Again the longing in your dark eyes. You place your delicate toes out over the grassy sward, and for that spectacular moment, you dream of running away. If only...
Then you draw back, resigned to your life here. How could you survive, soft human woman that you are? You shove the wildness down deep inside and pretend it does not exist. But your secret yearning calls to me, lovely one. It beckons to my untamed heart.
From mist and shadow I take a man's shape, a kitsunenomen disguising my face. I stand in the twilight, lit silver by the full moon in the hazy summer sky. The hour of ōmagatoki is when my kind always comes. The blue hour, when the light descends and the eyes deceive, and yōkai walk abroad.
I approach silently from beneath the green, gliding from shadow to moonlight. You see me. You should go inside and shut the doors, yet you do not. Instead you creep out to the edge of the outer corridor and stare at me in fascination. I wonder that you are not afraid.
I stop before you and stand inhumanly still. I have never been so close to you before. I smell your perfume, flowers and sunlight in my nostrils, with earthy woman underneath, a scent more intoxicating by far.
"Who are you?"
I do not answer.
"Please, it is not polite."
I am a yōkai, what is your etiquette to me?
"A decent man would show his face." A note of nervousness bleeds into your tone.
I make no claim to decency, but I lift my fox mask regardless. I hear your intake of breath. I am not some foul beast in this guise. I hear the beat of your heart hastening. I smile, my lips drawing slyly in spite of my attempt to appear unassuming. You do not move, your speech caught fast in your throat. I please you, as I intend.
My miasma is quite inescapable, of course, charged with erotic energy. My own scent, of cedar, pine, and wild earth laced with amber musk, drifts to you on the mild breeze. My wild fox eyes shine in the darkness, the blue-green of sea foam. You cannot look away. I was designed to lure you in.
"My name is Isamu," I say most congenially.
It is only polite, of course, that you tell me yours in return.