I lit the candle for the lantern and let it float in the darkness, a ghostly orange dot that passed through the trees, swerving through the forest like a butterfly. The crickets sang in a strange summer cacophony, and little by little, fireflies appeared, giving life and helping to illuminate the trail.

There is nothing particularly fascinating about my work, I am just a guide to really interesting people: the spirits who just appeared, not knowing how they died, why, and what to do next. My lanterns help them, the sound of my steps and my voice guide, but the most interesting part is listening to them.

It’s usually easy to know how they died.

They remember it as they tell, and then, when the memory comes back, they manage to go on without me.

“Okay” I said with an air of mission accomplished “This is for you “ .

This time, I held out a smaller paper lantern to the lady in front of me. She had told me about each of her grandchildren along the way, and her cat, Amu, that I was sure would become a nekomata, and would soon come to the mountain to join other yokai as well. She told that she had closed her eyes and then woken up in the forest, like a spirit. She had felt a strong pain in her chest — A heart attack, we found halfway.

“In this part you will have to go alone, Mrs. Sayuri” I smiled at her, trying to convey confidence “it is a safe place. Just follow the lanterns and when you reach the gate, you can pass.”

She looked at the lantern suspiciously, and then looked up at me. It reminded me of someone, someone that I no longer recognized the face, or the voice, but the same nostalgic and comforting sensation hit me.

The bittersweet part of my job was letting them go. Many are afraid and that’s normal, but she… she was afraid of being alone. That was why she loved that her grandchildren had gone to live with her after her husband’s death years ago, having other company besides the cat. I wanted to comfort her about that, but I myself don’t know what happens to whoever passes through the gates.

“Why don’t you pass, my child?” although I’m sure I am more than three times her age, I didn’t correct her “It must be cold out here.”

“I don’t feel cold anymore “ I extended my pale, bare arms, without a shiver, despite the humid mountain air .“One day, maybe, I’ll pass. But I promised a person that I would help as long as I can.”

The old lady smiled and did not question. She was already a spirit, she no longer needed to endure the stubbornness of those who did not want her advice. I, on the other hand, was something there at the limit, I had a body and a soul that shouldn’t be here anymore, but they were, and I would continue here advising and listening. After a while, I just stopped trying to understand why it was me here, and accepted my job. I feel that in the end I used to have the curiosity to question it, now, I don’t know anymore.

She gave a subtle nod and swallowed, walking slowly along the trail of branches as fragile as what her bones must have been. She looked a little nervous. “Ah!” she exclaimed, her voice a little choked “Since you’re going to stay, take care of Amu for me!”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine” I waved. From what she said, Amu was a very old cat, more than most cats. When he appears here, walking on two legs and talking, I will tell how much his owner loved him.

I started down the mountain, seeing the yokai out of the corner of my eye. They don’t talk to me much, although most are kind. Others are dangerous, and I have to make more complex trails to outwit anyone who might want to feed on souls.

The bushes rustled below.

After so long on the mountain, I knew exactly when it was a yokai, or an animal. This time it could be a fox, a squirrel, or … a cat?

Despite being dark, it clearly was. The cat was out of shape, a little fat and furry, but with some flaws near the ears and feet. He had yellow eyes, alive and intent.

“You wouldn’t be Amu … would you?”

The cat meowed in response. This, no doubt, had been faster than expected.

“But you are not a nekomata yet, otherwise you would be talking.” I realized, crossing my arms “What did you come here to do?”

He dropped something on the ground. A piece of paper. I picked it up, somewhat curious, watching the animal as I unfolded it. “A prescription for medicine.” The cat meowed, clearly sulky. I read it a second time, more carefully, but it was exactly that.

“I don’t understand” I returned the paper to the cat “maybe you should show me?” I could have sworn that Amu had rolled his eyes at me. Nekomatas used to be somewhat arrogant. Once they were able to speak and act like humans, they also became arrogant as such. Amu started to walk in a hurry, taking shortcuts like only a cat would know, down the mountain. Well, a cat and me.

Despite being at night, I knew my trails, and under the full moon and my lanterns, it was even easier, so it was not long before we were on the steps
of the mountain gate. The stone steps were slippery because of the slime, and the statues here and there were slightly cracked because of the damp rain. The air was warmer here, although my skin did not react to the change in temperature. Amu continued on down the stairs, ignoring my dazzle.

It had been a long time since I last left the mountain. Usually, for cultural reasons, souls knew where to go, guided by the lights that only they can see. It was strange to step on the dirt road that led to the village. I walked all the time starting to wonder if humans could still see me. How yokai, spirit and human I was. Is there any percentage for this?

But soon my questions disappeared when we arrived at the village. The old lady had died on a festival day, so even though the city is small, they probably would not fail to celebrate whatever it was. Much brighter than my mountain, the street glowed orange and white. Lanterns hung from side to side framing the food and game stands, which I knew were summer classics. People paraded in kimonos, some wearing masks and some not. Just out of curiosity, I bumped into some, and with a certain relief, I saw that I did not cross them, as if I were a soul, but also was not noticed, receiving only a few glances. Amu meowed, brushing my legs and guiding me to one of the narrow alleys. I already knew where we were going before we even got to her house.

It was a traditional country house, with a small vegetable garden behind and no special ornaments. I could hear, through the window, the sound of laughter from a family that didn’t look like a mourning at all. I looked at Amu, questioning, but he just went into the house, and I followed, attentive to the words.

“Don’t be like that, brother! She was about to leave.”

“But … what if they catch us?” I was sure that if I were one of the foxes I used to see, my ears would have moved towards the sound, attentive.

“Who could?” said a female voice “she took all the wrong medicines, there is no way to prove that we changed the bottles. Besides, love, now we don’t need to take care of her anymore, and without being judged for it!” I swallowed, stunned. And then I heard Amu meowing at my feet.

That was when I started running, desperately, back onto the road, hitting masked people, children, almost stumbling, lifting my dress so as not to fall.

I realized two things, in just a few seconds. First, Mrs. Sayuri had not died of a heart attack naturally, and therefore did not know how she had died; second: if she did not know how she died, she would not be able to cross, and now she was alone, on the mountain, with yokais hungry for an unsupervised soul.

I knew my heart was not beating like what I once had; it was a memory of beats, magic or whatever it was, going through my body every day making me feel alive. Now, the feeling was that my heart was really there, punching my ribs as I approached the bottom of the stairs, skipping the low steps four by four. I slipped on the moss, but got up right away with restrained ferocity. Anger at her grandchildren, anger at they making her feel abandoned
again, and anger at leaving her alone believing it had been another simple job.

The thought of the yokai devouring her soul froze my spine, and the images that came were just as frightening. I prayed for any mountain spirit, absolutely any god, to help Mrs. Sayuri stay safe until I arrived.

I went through the forks of the trail, the lanterns shining brighter with my presence and returning to the delicate glow after I passed, like a wave. I got where I left her.

Nothing.

“Mrs. Sayuri!” I called, screaming at the top of my lungs “Can you hear me? Mrs. Sayuri!”

Panting, I started looking around. There was only the sound of crickets, the fireflies glowing softly. There were no screams, no worse sounds. So I faced the trail that went towards the crossing gates, a trail that I don’t usually go on. I went up slowly, feeling the slight repulsion in the air, the power of the gates saying that I shouldn’t come so close. My place is not here.

And then I heard, behind me, the delicate sound of a song. I turned and started down, hesitant, following the sound that bounced among the trees. After a few seconds I saw her.

Mrs. Sayuri was perfectly fine, sitting on a log with small yokai around her. Three little foxes, whom I knew were Huli Jing cubs, were looking at the her in delight. Also there was a mountain spirit on her lap, swaying from side to side, and a Kenmun looked forward to his turn.

The most dangerous yokai could have appeared. Usually they show up but … maybe, just maybe, they understood that like me, she was someone who would be part of the mountain now.

“Mrs. Sayuri” I called, letting out the breath I didn’t know I was holding “Are you okay? “

“Oh, girl!” she exclaimed, smiling “I couldn’t get through the gate, I don’t know what happened …”

I opened my mouth to explain, but I couldn’t. There was too much bitterness in all of this.“…but I’m happy here! If you don’t mind… I don’t think I want to cross.”

I smiled at her, nodding. She doesn’t need to know, not until she asks to pass. I know she’ll be happier here, and I’ll guarantee that, teach her how to turn on the lanterns and listen to stories.

Just like he did to me, a really long time ago.