There were times when Kantarou thought perhaps he had chosen the wrong career.  Not novel writing.  That was easy enough.  No, he was thinking about his current job; exorcising Youkai.  More precisely, exorcising demons.  And there it was again; an almost gentle burn in his chest warning him that a demon was close by.  But it was pain like he had not felt before.  It seemed to come in waves rather than stabs, as though the demon was all around him.  He rubbed his chest absently, trying to fathom what was going on.

  “Is it a demon?” Haruka asked.  Kantarou stopped and looked up at his friend.

  “I’m…not sure…”  Haruka raised an eyebrow and set his eyes to where Kantarou’s hand lay on his chest.  Kantarou giggled humourlessly.

  “I suppose that was a give-away,” he murmured.  “But…it feels different.”

  “Different how?” Haruka asked.  Kantarou looked around the room in which they stood, its walls as dark as the hearth room downstairs and the steep staircase up which they had climbed moments before.  The floor looked dusty and moulding, deep indents and shadows in the old mats indicating where furniture used to stand.  Watermarks could be seen trailing down the papered doors revealing yellow and patches of red patterning beneath black paint.  How odd, Kantarou thought, to paint doors black that way.  He breathed in deeply, trying to concentrate on the pain, but faltered and coughed, dust and musty smell irritating his nose and throat.  He tried again.  

  “It’s like the presence emanates from the room itself.”  He shook his head, not understanding at all.  He looked back at Haruka questioningly.

  “There’s something vague…but I don’t know…” 

  “Let’s get out of this room,” Kantarou said, but he had not taken three steps when he was struck with a new wave of pain.  He stopped and lurched forward, cursing at the sudden discomfort, but then Haruka was there in front of him, asking if he was all right.  He grasped the tengu’s sleeve for balance and took a step toward the door, indicating to Haruka that he wanted to leave the room.  And it was only a few steps too.  Haruka shut the door behind them and the pain was gone.  He breathed heavily in relief.

  “What happened?” Haruka asked, his master still clinging to him.  Kantarou straightened up and let go.

  “It was as though, all of a sudden, I was standing right on top of a demon. Or it was just below me at least… but there was just the tatami…”  He shuddered at the memory, but couldn’t help laughing a little.

  “Maybe the tatami is possessed,” he giggled wearily.  Haruka gave him a most disapproving sideways glance. 

  “I don’t understand this and I don’t like this,” he said and turned towards the staircase.  “We should leave.”

  “Ah… Haruka… wait!”  Kantarou grabbed for Haruka’s sleeve again.  “We still need to look around the rest of the house.”  Haruka considered his master for a moment.

  “Kantarou,” he said, “You look ill.”  Kantarou let go of Haruka and sighed.

  “Maybe so, but I promised Suzuki-san. And I want to know what’s going on here.”  He turned away from the tengu and headed up the hall towards the rooms at the back of the house.  Haruka hung back for a moment in indecision before giving in to his master’s stubbornness and following him into another room.

  It could not have been more different.  The room was about the same size as the other, but lighter and cleaner.  The tatami looked relatively new and a large, beautiful silk painting hung on one wall, untainted by watermarks or neglect.  The doors were of cream paper, intricate flowers patterning the lower half.  It was certainly a room that had been lived in.  A well used looking chests-of-drawers stood in the corner beside a low dressing table.

  “This room must be Suzuki-san’s,” Kantarou concluded.  “Isn’t this a strange house, Haruka? This room feels so different.”  He walked over to the room’s large window and looked down at the garden below, rain still poring down, leaving great tracts of water in the recesses of the sodden ground.  Even with the rain and the constant chill, Kantarou certainly felt a lot better away from the dark and away from that room.  And Haruka was still staring at him.

  “Haruka,” Kantarou said softly, turning to the other man.  “I feel fine. It was just that room…”  As if his body was staging a rebellion Kantarou suddenly felt lightheaded and flushed, even though he had been cold only moments before.  He held onto the windowsill and attempted to get himself under control.  “I’m fine…” he reiterated, more to convince himself than Haruka.  Haruka in reply took Kantarou by the arm and dragged him from the room and out into the corridor.

  “I’m taking you home,” he growled, annoyed by his master’s insufferable obstinance.

  “Wha… No! Stop, Haruka!”  Kantarou ordered, pulling against the stronger man’s grip.  Haruka felt himself halt mid stride, bound to the power of his name.  It seems the strength of that hasn’t lessened any, he thought cynically.

  “I told you I was fine. Now we are going to check the rest of this house.” Kantarou declared vehemently.  Haruka frowned deeply.

  “You can barely stand up! This is ridiculous!” he argued, and pulled Kantarou further up the corridor to the stairs.  Kantarou resisted feebly, his frustration and annoyance at being dragged about growing with every step.  By the time they reached the top of the stairs he had had enough.  He was tired, his head hurt and all this fighting was making him feel sick.  It occurred to him that he should just let Haruka take him home, but his pride would not allow him to lose a disagreement.  He squirmed in the tengu’s grasp.