Autumn hangs over the city of Gensokyo like gray purgatory. The colorless leaves shrivel on their branches until they pluck themselves off, tumbling through stagnant air into the city streets. Raking them is pointless, since they’re quickly stomped into bits of nothing by unconcerned passersby. The sun refuses to push through the thick overcast that’s lingered over the entire month of October. Yet winter still sleeps. What’s left is a bland, dry chill that I always feel but never quite seeps into my bones. As a miserable guy in the middle of my thirties who spends most days outside on my feet, I deeply prefer the mild, dreary weather to the heat or snow we could be getting instead. But as a human who can just barely remember the red, orange, and yellow vistas the trees of Gensokyo provided when I was a young boy, my heart weeps for the fading autumn season. And ironically enough, the name of the woman I’m meeting today is Minoriko Aki.

My phone buzzes at my side. I already know who it is, so I take many extra seconds to pull it out of my coat, flip it open, and put it to my ear. “Yes?”

“She still hasn’t shown up yet?” the tiny speaker blares into my ear. It’s the shrill, frantic voice of my benefactor that I’ve become very familiar with—but never particularly charmed by—over the past decade.

“I think you would know better than anyone, Hatate,” I quip back. “Aren’t you watching the cameras?”

My employer, landlord, and overall dictator of my current living situation, Hatate Himekaidou, mutters a smorgasbord of curses that drift in and out of the required volume to be picked up on the receiver. I stretch and then return to leaning back against the side of my apartment building, waiting for my new client. It’s an awkward, lonely spot between the big city and the edge of the Great Youkai Forest. Despite the city’s outward development, humans still want to stay as far away from the forest as possible, and most youkai can’t afford to own property. So, the two-story, six-room apartment building—along with the adjacent warehouse—became a great deal for Hatate. After we met, she moved me right into the empty room at the end of the ground floor, furthest from the stairs. It would be a nice, quiet place to live, if it weren’t for the frequent explosions, multifaceted invasions of my personal space and privacy, and flaky utilities. Hatate doesn’t charge me rent as long as I do my job, but really, she should be paying me to put up with all of it.

Hatate is still grumbling. “I told her exactly how to get here. Fucking hicks. Always on their own time. Would’ve sent her a GPS, but she wouldn’t even know how to use the damn thing.”

Our new and only client today, Miss Minoriko Aki, is a farmer with a missing sister. I have more than enough experience with cases like these. The bigger the city gets, the more people end up lost. Some of them are never found. Then there’s the ones who are better off not being found. It’s not my favorite type of work, but I don’t get a choice in the matter. “If you’re feeling impatient, you can always wait outside with me,” I offer mockingly. “It’s a beautiful day. You won’t even have to worry about the sun violating your pasty skin.”

She heaves a crunchy sigh directly into my eardrum. “And I’d have such charming company, too. No thanks. I’ll stay right here and watch.”

“Right here” is about fifty feet away, in the unit next to mine: Hatate’s nest of squalor and intrusive surveillance. Last I saw, she had twelve cameras that each fed into their own monitor inside her room. That number has probably doubled by now. I spot the glint of one of the newer cameras tucked under the nearby stairs, and give it a friendly wave.

Hatate makes an unattractive snort that, unfortunately, is loud enough to come through the phone. “Pfft, yeah, hi. Jackass.”

BOOOOM!

The thunderous noise pours out of the nearby warehouse, rocking the apartment building and scattering the various birds and rodents that poke around for scraps. The first time this happened, I thought the world was finally ending and spent five minutes cowering in the closet, making what little peace I could with my twisted life. Nowadays, I barely flinch. “That’s the second one today already. She’s up to something again, isn’t she?”

“Mmm, of course she is,” Hatate answers like she’s holding all the cards, but in reality, she’s playing Old Maid. “I’m sure you’ll find out what soon enough.”

Now I’m the one sighing. Hatate is right about that much, at least. Inevitably, I’ll get that neat, precise text message, written the same way every time: Hello! Could you please come to the workshop at your earliest convenience to finish testing my latest gadget? -Q. Usually, it’s a not-too-unwelcome distraction. But then there’s those times where they have to peel me off a wall and toss me in Eientei for a few days to recover. Oh well, at least I still get paid—in both money and the attention of those lovely rabbit nurses with their miracle drugs.

A little golden-headed something catches my eye, disappearing around the corner behind the building before I can get a chance to focus on it. If it is our new client, then she certainly isn’t one to make herself known. Strange behavior, but it’s nothing compared to what I live with everyday. I wait a few moments, then move to investigate.

Hatate scrambles at her keyboard. “Wha-what’s wrong? See something?”

Before rounding the corner, I stop and wait. No movement, or any sounds at all, besides the stray chirps of some brave or foolish critters that have already returned after being scared off by the explosion. After counting to five in my head, I hold a breath, whip my body out from behind the corner, and see only the small, blue dumpster that’s kept meticulously tidy by our devoted groundskeeper. There’s no walls or fence on this side of the building, so anything could walk right up from the city or the forest if it wanted to. But Hatate should have seen it.

“I thought there was something behind the building, but I don’t see anything,” I report, peeking in the dumpster just in case. All that’s inside is last week’s garbage. “Is Miss Aki a very shy person, by any chance?”

“Uh, no,” Hatate responds quickly. “She’s docile, maybe, but not to that extent.” There’s a few more taps on her keyboard, and then some clicks. “Nope, I rewound the footage and there’s nothing. You’re seeing things. Even a ghost would show up on these cameras. Sure your age isn’t starting to catch up to you?”

“I don’t wanna hear anything about my age from a youkai,” I snap back, before turning my attention to the thicket behind the apartments. “Something was here, I’m sure. Guess it hopped back into the forest.”

“Whatever you say, old man,” Hatate replies with that air of undeserved smugness that’s oh-so-typical of her. “Maybe I should get you a partner. Someone fresh and cute. Like how when a dog gets older, you get a puppy to soften the inevitable loss.”

None the happier from doing my due diligence, I make my way back to the front. “Oh, so you’re saying you’ll be sad when I’m gone? Thanks, Dear Leader. I love you too, and ‘til death do us part.”

A torrent of coughing from her end makes me put some distance between the speaker and my ear. “Don’t fucking joke around like that while I’m drinking soda!” she sputters out eventually. “Gross!”

She deserves it. “You may have every angle of me, but I can’t see what you’re doing, nor do I care. Signing off.”

Hatate’s voice is cut off by closing my black flip-phone with a satisfying clap. I don’t know if a kappa designed it that way, or it was just something else they copied from Outside, but it’s a genius idea for people like me who are in annoying conversations more often than not.

Then it’s back to waiting. My watch tells me it’s nearly one-thirty, which makes it nearly half an hour after our scheduled time. The minute hand shifts directly over the six, and I decide that if she isn’t here in five more minutes, I’ll go back into my apartment and pour myself a drink. Four minutes and forty-nine seconds later, I hear footsteps. Go figure.

A woman in a red apron and yellow blouse pauses on the lonely road, and her red eyes lock onto me like I’m the building’s guard dog. But my eyes can’t help but be drawn to the top of her head, where she’s attached a small bundle of grapes to the brim of her red hat. Now that’s a fashion statement. When she musters the bravery to step onto the property, I also notice that her feet are bare and white. My intuition screams that she’s a youkai, but that’s no reason to judge her early or harshly. There are plenty of humans in Gensokyo who are worse than a bundle of grapes and bare feet, after all.

“Minoriko Aki?” I call out as she approaches.

She stops about ten paces away. Her hair is blonde like whatever creature I spotted poking around behind the apartment building, but redder and shorter. It definitely wasn’t her. “Um, howdy! Are ya the, uh, PI person that works for Miss Himekaidou?”

It’s a mild case, but there’s no hiding that rural twang. I make a short bow. “That I am. You can just call me PI. Nice to meet you, Miss Aki.”

She returns it in kind. “Sorry I’m late. With my sister missin’, I’m really behind on work at the farm. Then I had trouble figurin’ out the directions. I don’t visit the city much, ya see.”

That doesn’t make it any less annoying for me, but I suck it up with what passes for a business smile around these parts. “Well, that’s a problem I hope I can solve for you.”

This is the part where I’d love to ask her to step into my office, but I don’t have one. Hatate refuses to believe that I need a space of my own to meet with clients, insisting that I use my apartment instead. It’s far from ideal, but no amount of complaining has made her even consider reevaluating that stance. So I have to ask Minoriko Aki to step into my apartment through a bluish-gray door with the number 103 engraved on the plate hanging next to it. My theory is that it’s easier for Hatate to snoop if I meet with clients here. I’m sure there’s still a camera or a bug somewhere that I haven’t found yet.

The entrance hall is just that: a thin corridor where I can slip my worn-out, black loafers off before walking into the living room. Of course, Minoriko Aki would never need to worry about taking her shoes off indoors in the first place. As I turn back and watch her make the step up from the entrance to the hallway, I notice that her feet, while white and delicate-looking from the top, have thick, hardened soles underneath that make it clear her lack of footwear is a lifestyle choice—not a one-off fancy. The tengu are an organization of rigid bean-counters, but I’m certain they pay their farmers enough to own a functional pair of shoes.

My makeshift office consists of only a few pieces of necessary furniture, because not much else will fit. The highlight is the black, L-shaped couch that separates into two halves. When I know I have a client, I’ll break it apart and face the two sofas at each other, keeping the wooden coffee table between them. Against the wall and currently behind one of the sofas is a hand-me-down television set I rescued from Hatate, who was about to trash it over some minor defect. Q eventually fixed it up for me, and now it works as good as new. Other than that, I don’t keep any pretty wall scrolls, paintings, or plants hanging around. There just isn’t that much room.

I gesture to the nearest couch. “Please have a seat, Miss Aki. Would you like something to drink?”

She looks uncomfortable but not intolerably so, as if she’s figuring out what exactly to make out of someone who converted their living room into a pitiful excuse for a detective’s office. This is the point where many of my clients have wondered to themselves, Is he for real? Should I be here? And yet, nobody has walked out after making it this far. If they’re meeting with me, then I can’t imagine they have many other options. “Just some tea’d be fine,” she answers.

Damn, I was hoping she’d want some liquor. I’m not a fan of tea, but I do keep some around for such an occasion. Stuffed into the corner opposite the television and my bedroom door is a kitchen perfect for a single man: a fridge and one burner across from a small sink, a couple of cabinets, and some meager counterspace. I pluck some Kappa-brand instant green tea powder from a box and set myself to preparing it, starting a pot of water on the burner.

“Miss Aki,” I begin after sitting across from her on the other half of the couch. “I know very little of the situation thus far. Please tell me the full extent of the circumstances behind your sister’s disappearance. Any detail could help, no matter how minor it seems at first.”

“The full extent?” she repeats, as if that’s something she needs to process. “Well, my sister Shizuha and I work some fields outside the city, and—”

“For the tengu?” I cut in. All the fields that I know of outside the city are part of commercial farms that are owned by the tengu and worked by the cheapest labor they can find. The kappa, who work under the umbrella of the tengu, also use some of the fields for experimentation. That part isn’t so widely known.

Minoriko Aki stops, blinks, and makes that kind of wishy-washy thinking expression that foretells a more complicated answer than I’d like to hear. “I still own the farm. The tengu kept buggin’ me to give it to ‘em, but they try a lot of fancy chemicals on those other farms to grow the food faster and keep the bugs away. I didn’t want that. Eventually they agreed to let me keep the farm as long as I only sell the crops to them, and then they market it all as being ‘organic’. I don’t really get what that means, but so far it’s been a decent arrangement.”

Come to think of it, I have seen organic food more and more often in the stores, even at the little Kappa Mart down the road. It’s always horrifically overpriced, so I’ve never bought any. Whatever arrangement Minoriko Aki has with the tengu is probably less decent than she thinks, but I’ll stay quiet on that unless it becomes relevant. “I see. Sorry, please go on.”

“Right. So, um, Shizuha and I have been workin’ on the farm. These past few years, we’ve been havin’ lots of pest troubles. Shizuha found out a certain youkai’s been behind everything and wanted to, um, take care of it. I told her to just let the tengu handle it—like we agreed—but she wouldn’t listen.” Her expression sours as passion creeps into her tone. “She’s always been impulsive like that. And she never liked workin’ with the tengu in the first place. I don’t either, but I know it’s better than goin’ up against them!”

Admittedly, it’s hard to keep my eyes off the grapes bouncing seductively on her head whenever she speaks with that kind of energy. Perhaps it’s simply in the nature of a man to be drawn to such a thing. But I more-or-less heard it all. “So then your sister goes missing. And what did the tengu have to say about all this?”

“They told me they were lookin’ for Shizuha and that youkai, but that was almost a week ago. All they said was to keep doin’ what I was doin’ while I wait. But I can’t do it without her!”

Not only are the tengu a rigid organization, but they’re also a slow bureaucracy. The white wolves do patrol often, but they have their own vested interests. Minoriko Aki’s farm is likely not one of them, or very far down on the list. “So she hasn’t had any contact with anyone else you know? Friends? Family? Anybody she would stay with?”

Her eyes waver away from mine. “We don’t really—umm, I mean, the two of us, we’re all we got.”

Now that’s interesting: two young woman farming outside the city all by themselves, with no support and no connections besides the tengu. And somehow, us. “You reached out to Hatate, but you don’t seem like the kind of person who would be a regular of her little blog. How exactly did you decide to hire us, Miss Aki?”

“Hina Kagiyama recommended ya. We used to talk now and then, and I was desperate, so when I saw her walkin’ around yesterday I stopped her and explained everything. Then she must’a let Miss Himekaidou know, because all of a sudden she was all over it, told me I could hire y’all and you’d take care of it.” Recounting everything must make the weight on her shoulders feel fresh, because she’s starting to deflate. “So here I am.”

Makes sense to me. Miss Hina Kagiyama, our groundskeeper, lives in the apartment right above mine. If there’s no work to be done around the building, she’ll just pick a random direction and walk. It’s not the first time Miss Kagiyama has stumbled upon someone in need and referred them to us, and I highly doubt it will be the last.

This short gap in the conversation allows me to hear wet rumbling coming from the kitchen. The water must be close enough to a boil by now, so I get up and shut the burner off. I carefully pour the hot water directly from the saucepan into two plain, white cups. Some of it splashes out onto the countertop, but I don’t care enough to wipe it up right now. The two cups each get one packet of instant tea, and then I stir the green dust in until it looks smooth enough—paying more attention to Minoriko Aki’s cup than my own.

I return to the table and set both cups down before retaking my seat. “It’s not much, but it’s a little something for coming out all this way.”

She doesn’t look too certain about it but nonetheless flashes me a pleasant smile. “Thank you.”

While the cups steam and cool, I continue our conversation. “Would you happen to know the name of the youkai who was bothering your fields? Did your sister mention anything about it?”

She thinks but doesn’t spend too much time on it. “No, just that it was a little thing. That’s what ticked Shizuha off so much. Thought she could handle it on her own.”

Unfortunately, it seems like this Minoriko Aki’s sister bit off more than she could chew. Maybe that little thing managed to get the jump on her, maybe it’s working for something higher up on the food chain, or maybe it wasn’t so little after all. If either of those are the case, then this probably won’t have a happy ending.

Maybe she can sense what I’m thinking, or she has something similar in mind, because suddenly the waterworks start. “I-It doesn’t sound good, does it?” she says with a quiver in her throat and wetness pooling under her eyes. “If I lose her, I’ll be all alone. I ain’t gonna be able keep up with the fields anymore. It’ll all be over.”

Tissues, tissues. Normally I keep some on-hand, but I might be out. Minoriko Aki will have to wipe her tears with a paper towel that I quickly yank off the counter. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem too picky about it.

I do my best to reassure Minoriko Aki while she dabs her red eyes with the Kappa-brand Disposa-Soaker™ paper towel. “When it comes to youkai, there are no constants. It’s also possible that your sister is still tracking it down and too stubborn to return home right now. Is that a possibility?”

She blinks some tears out of her eyes, then nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like her. You’re right.”

I don’t like giving people hope. Too many times, it’s misplaced. But my job is a lot harder if the client gives up. Forcing optimism in this kind of situation feels slimy, and I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. So, I just have to move on. “You mentioned your sister ‘taking care of’ the youkai. Not many people would take it upon themselves to do that. Do you and your sister have experience repelling or exterminating youkai?”

“We’ve had youkai try to bother the farm before, and we can usually handle it ourselves, but the tengu also started helping us. Once word got around that they were protectin’ us, things let up for a while.”

That doesn’t quite add up. “Except for this case?”

She lowers her eyes and nods. “Right. The tengu seem awfully preoccupied by somethin’, recently. Last time they were this quiet was when that vampire mansion popped up a few years ago by Misty Lake.”

I remember that. Hatate was chomping at the bit for me to infiltrate that mansion, but it was just too dangerous. Tengu were constantly patrolling the lake, and we had no idea what was waiting for us inside at the time. Given that it turned out to be vampires, I’m glad that I stood by my decision not to go. Hatate nagged me mercilessly about it, up until one of the mansion’s residents coincidentally decided to join our online chatroom. Thankfully, that was enough to satiate her. I think she typed up an article about it all, but I never bothered to read it and doubt anyone else did either.

Anyways, if the tengu are preoccupied, that doesn’t bode well. “I see. Well then, Miss Aki, is there anything else you would like to tell me about your sister that might help locate her? Likes? Dislikes?”

While I talk she tries the tea, taking a hearty sip from the rim and coming out of it with a face like she swallowed a bee. But she gets it down and then coughs once. “Excuse me. It’s just that it’s awful strong, and sweet besides.”

I take a swig of mine, and she’s right. Maybe I’m not supposed to use a whole packet in one little cup. Like I said: I don’t drink the stuff. “Sorry about that. I’ll keep it in mind for next time. What about your sister?”

“Oh, right. Well, she enjoys painting sometimes and don’t like bein’ in the city much. Ain’t a people person, either.”

I can relate. “How about where she spends her free time?”

Minoriko Aki rattles it around in her mind but doesn’t come up with much. “The farm and the woods around it, I reckon. Besides that, I dunno.”

I can’t help but cock an eyebrow at her. “Any habits? Gambling? Drinking? Smoking? Belly dancing? Any kind of pleasure at all, besides painting and maybe watching it dry?”

A glare forms in her narrowing eyes. She’s caught on to what I’m putting out there but isn’t sure what to make of it. “What are ya gettin’ at?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Aki, but I find it hard to believe that a young woman spends all her time with her little sister on a farm, has no other friends or family to speak of, and fills all her free time by painting ‘sometimes.’ Not even Hatate lives that stale of a life.”

She starts fidgeting in her seat like it’s uncomfortable. It may not be the lushest cushion in Gensokyo, but it’s a decent cushion that I even fall asleep on watching television if I’m not careful. So I’ll bet that I’m touching on something she doesn’t like. “We don’t spend all of our time together, Mister PI,” she replies sharply. “Maybe there’s somewhere she steals off to when she’s dog-tired or we get to fightin’, but I dunno where that’d be. We’re simple folk, and we got work to do.”

Minoriko Aki isn’t telling me something, and it’s probably what ties all this together. But if she’s decided it’s not something I need to know, then I’ll have to do without—for now. Being pushy will only alienate her, and this introductory period is the most sensitive time for my relationship with the client. If whatever she’s hiding is important, it’ll come out on its own as the case develops. That’s how these things usually work and I’m plenty used to it by now. I reach for the notepad and pen on the table. “Not much to go on, but I’ve had worse starts. Do you have a phone? Does your sister?”

“We got one phone for the two of us. Tengu made us get it. Was a big hassle back then, but I can work it alright now. Miss Himekaidou knows the number. Problem is, I end up leavin’ it at home more often than not, or I’m elbow-deep in somethin’ on the farm.” She pauses, then lets out a dry chuckle. “If Shizuha got one too, maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess. I told her it’d be nice, but she said she didn’t need any more tengu nonsense.”

I jot down my cell phone number on the top sheet, rip it off, and hand it to her. “And now you know mine. I always have it on me, so if you think of anything else or something comes up, don’t hesitate to call me. Any time.”

She accepts it and keeps it in her hand. “Alright, I’ll do that.”

After that, I stand and move past the table—and two barely-touched cups of tea—to the door. As I lead Minoriko Aki back outside into the cool air, her steps are heavy and her gaze somewhere far away. Maybe she’s already back on her farm in her mind, working the fields alone, doing housework alone, and fearing for the future alone. “I know we don’t give the best first impressions here, Miss Aki,” I tell her straight, “and I’d be just as worried as you are if I were in your situation. But if there’s one thing I take seriously, it’s my job. If your sister is still in Gensokyo, I’ll find her. And if a youkai or anything else gets in the way, I have my own tried-and-true methods of ‘taking care of it’, as you say. Just focus on your crops and leave the searching and worrying to me. I’ll be in touch.”

She gives me a not-quite-full smile and nods. “Thank you, um, PI. That does make me feel a bit better.”

I was hoping she might feel more than a “bit” better, but I’ll take what I can get. Minoriko Aki walks back to the road and begins the trek back to her farm. A vine from the grapes in her hat can be seen from behind, swaying back and forth as she walks, like it’s waving me goodbye. She certainly has her own gait, constantly favoring her left side. It’s then that I notice, after a double-take, that she seems to have two left feet—literally. That would certainly explain it. Maybe she doesn’t like shoes because she has to buy two pairs.

After seeing her off for longer than I should have, I pull out my phone, tap over to the recent contacts, and dial up my shut-in boss who is probably ten feet away from me, with her one of knife-ears pressed up against her wall.

Half a ring is all it takes, and she starts immediately when the line connects. “Well? What do you think?”

“I thought Q said the sewage runoff into the river from the city wasn’t that bad? The poor gal has two left feet. There’s your big story.”

“Aha, I knew you would notice that, pervert. We need to add ‘feet’ to our community-moderated list of your fetishes. But don’t worry, pollution has nothing to do with that.”

Just because Minoriko Aki’s feet in particular are fascinating doesn’t mean I have a damn foot fetish. But I’ve been around Hatate long enough to know that arguing back just makes things worse. The fact that there's a community list of my fetishes is proof of that much. So I’ll tune it out and move right along. “Whatever you say. That she can walk that well at all is insane. Does her sister have two right feet?”

“Does her sister have—no, you dumbass! Well, actually, I can’t remember. Maybe she does. Sure, why not? Now give me a real answer.”

“I can only tell you what I know, which isn’t much. But what I will say is that if her sister went after a youkai and now hasn’t been seen for a week, it’s hard not to assume the worst.”

Hatate shows about as much empathy as she can, with a dry “Mmm.”

“But,” I continue, “I think the family dynamics are more complicated than Minoriko Aki would like to admit. Shizuha Aki might have just run off, which is more work for us but a significantly better outcome for all. I’ll ask Miss Kagiyama when the next spirited away party is. Someone there might recognize her. She could even still be trying to get help with her youkai problem, who knows.”

A “spirited away party” is a bunch of youkai that decide to get together somewhere in the middle of the forest to drink and be merry. The word spreads quickly throughout the city, drawing in curious humans who are willing to risk being abducted into the night and never seen again. The tengu constantly warn humans against participating, but the clueless, the rebellious, and the perverse will still venture out to witness the youkai of Gensokyo in their most natural element. Sometimes there’s even performers.

“So business as usual, then?” she concludes. “I’ll whip up a photo of her for you to show around.”

Hatate has the ability to create photos with her mind, which is apparently unique among the tengu. I’m still not convinced she isn’t just really, really good with image editing software, but the results are undeniably helpful for a broad investigation like this—even if she does get some eye colors or clothing details wrong. I still love to give her a hard time for it, though. “You don’t even remember if she had two right feet or not. How can I trust your thoughtography this time?”

“Because you won’t be going around showing people pictures of her feet, idiot,” she scoffs. “I remember her face well enough. Those two are practically identical, anyways.”

I wonder how Miss Shizuha Aki would feel hearing that.

###