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It’s a quiet day, as I like. There are many ways to pass the time, some very exhilarating, others collected. Mine is often associated with the former.
I puff a hit of smoke from my pipe, my pride and joy. Smoking isn’t what I’m referring to, though. That’s very much the latter.
No, the pastime that I prefer and give to the people of this land of Gensokyo is that of gambling. In this room suffocated by my pipe smoke there are many Youkai of all creeds who roll dice, draw cards- and some even bring in tiles on occasion. The regulars are tengu, kappa, and various other miscreants that live on this cutely named Youkai Mountain. I’ve taken residence in my own little corner called the False Heaven Shelf for so long that people who come to play don’t even remember my species, though that’s not their fault. Over the ages everyone began to look closer and closer to humans in appearance, until one day I noticed that my own robes were filled by someone I didn’t quite recognize. Not the worst thing to happen to a mountain hag.
The changing times didn’t stop anyone from enjoying foolish risks or having luck be in their favor, no. I would say it let them enjoy their pastime more than before, treating those human compulsions like their own. The only changes now are remnants of the world we left behind appearing on occasion. Nothing so grand as lost writings or treasures. We’re the kinds of people to look for western card games or new house rules for games on hand.
A couple weeks ago, one of these house rules came into my den. It was a funny little thing at first, just an old hanafuda game called Koi-Koi. Seldom played in my view, the many Youkai decidedly considering it too juvenile for them to participate in. Quite ironic to hear coming from the diminutive kappa, with their upturned heads planted on oversized packs. I thought it no more than nostalgic novelty to see the hanafuda cards broken out, with the preference for western playing cards over the last decades.
What truly caught my eye was when they suggested different house rules. They would shorten the game length from the original twelve rounds to just three. Twelve represents one year, like how the cards of hanafuda also represent months, three would be for a singular season. No one knew where it came from, only that it caught on. And so it was that the regulars took to these quick, ruthless games of chance.
Koi-Koi isn’t meant to be a high stakes game. The length of a normal game should even out the scores, so shortening it to three rounds made for an explosive difference to onlookers. It’s a change I didn’t care to partake in, personally. Instead I took to making easy profits off their playing. Only a bit of smoke and persuasion were required to keep them going, but the energy was nothing like it had been for the past years. I pride myself on my respectful and calm establishment, but the hooligans made it sound like no more than a backstreet bar near daily.
This sudden shift was off. I kept careful track of the atmosphere, figurative and literal, and for my regulars to be up in arms over something almost mundane struck me like an unfamiliar stench. Some days into the clamor and excitement I caught a glimpse of someone among the crowd of onlookers. I didn’t recognize them nor could I place their attire amidst the blues of the kappa, the greens of the yamawaro, nor the whites of the tengu. They were something different. The way they carried themselves, seemed to stay away from my eye, made it all the more obvious that they were the cause of this change.
More days passed much the same, this unidentified customer coming in and out at seemingly random. They hadn’t attempted anything untoward me, my establishment, or even the other gamblers, so I let them be to sitting in the smoke and enjoy their odd spectating. It would have been the end of the story had they not invited a friend, much like themselves. Two unknowns with little information on them I could gather from the regulars, save that they were fiendishly rowdy and loved “my little hovel.”
I’d love to hit them straight for calling my fine den a hovel, though I’d rather not scare them off. They instantly became new regulars, even finding the den daily. I often change my location to different buildings on the cliff side plateau as a way to ward off unsavory types. Regulars know this is the case, but how the two new faces never had issues finding me is a mystery. What I could tell was that they were gambling addicts. They took to the tables and never stopped until closing.
It became a problem after even more joined in. Around eight days in they seemed to start multiplying, each day two more, until they crowded the parlor as much as any other Youkai. Only then did one of them let slip who they were.
Spirits. Animal spirits, of otters to be precise, had begun to flood my establishment daily. For all of the business that brought me, they quickly shouldered out the rest of the crowd. By the two week mark there were more of these otters than there were mountain dwellers.
I’ve had souls come by on occasion, those meandering before heading to the Sanzu river or those visiting from the Netherworld, but never ones from the Animal Realm of hell. I was more than beside myself with what to do.
Today marks the most unusual day yet. Sixteen days in and they’re nowhere to be found. It’s as if they all got it out of their system just yesterday, and now there’s only the sparingly few regulars that come even in hurricanes.
Nothing seems to happen for the entire day. The only thing notifying me of time passing is the smell of smoke seeping into the walls. One of the less than savory parts of my leisure habit, but also better than any clock I could use.
I shuffle away the patrons for the night, reminding them they need to go home at some point. Once the last of the drunkards shuffle out, I get to cleaning. Grab the games, grab the tables, grab the seat pads, snuff the lights. I’m close to finishing when I hear the sliding paper door shuffle across the room.
First a little tanuki girl I don’t know steps in, but while I usually tell off idiots that come in late, my gut tells me to hold for a second. She spots me across the room with the remaining candlelight and waves someone else in. More than one, actually. Two larger men with slick hair and fine suits step in, splitting past the entry to usher in who I assume to be their boss.
A woman dressed in Chinese attire steps in, prominently bearing two golden antlers, a spiny turtle’s shell, and a dragon’s tail. I’ve heard enough to say that the sharp eyes staring me down belong to one of the gang bosses of the Animal Realm, Yachie Kicchou. Her tail slithers along the ground as she steps my way, backed up by the large men.
The little tanuki girl makes herself scarce to the side of the room, but doesn’t leave. Where’s her boss when I need her?
Miss Kicchou’s presence must have something to do with the sudden lack of otters. I take a couple seat pads from the stack I made and set them down, relighting a candle to a holder before settling onto one. She stops before the set out pad, giving me the leisure to take a hit from my pipe, maybe even feign some nonchalance.
“Miss Komakusa,” Kicchou greets me.
I gesture to the cushion in front of us. “Please, relax,” I simply reply.
She relaxes down to her knees, her proper posture suggesting that it’s anything but. Her smile is quaint but about as genuine as tengu journalism.
“Do you know who I am?” Kicchou asks me.
“No,” I lie. “You know who I am but not my hours?”
“Correct and incorrect. I find it amusing that you would not try to drive us out after hours.”
“Who am I not to hear someone with an escort out? Clearly you have some position of importance, even if I’m unrelated.”
Kicchou smirks at the comment. “As it happens, not entirely. My underlings have made quite the fuss, or so I hear. The lot of them fell into quite the bad habit.”
A bad habit, huh? I know how easy it is for my enjoyable activity to be more than a leisurely sport. “So it was an addiction, then. I was worried I was being overrun,” I confirm for no one.
“Oh, no. Nothing so deliberate. Mine would be more subtle about it if that were the case.”
I take a hit, and chuckle, puffing out, “Well that explains quite a bit for me. Thank you for clearing up the misunderstanding. But if that’s all, I need to move the furniture and games for tomorrow.”
“Oh, you needn’t do that,” Kicchou states. “There’s no need to move to another house at all.”
I pause, building up smoke in my lungs, waiting for the gang boss to continue. She keeps a placid smile, clearly waiting for my reaction to such a claim.
I decide the awkward silence isn’t worth the trouble and blow out, “What do you mean?”
She shifts her grin, the angle reminds me of the tanuki when they think they have a new clever way to cheat. Reaching to the back of her skirt, Kicchou takes out a roll of paper. She unfurls it under her chin, popping the sheet tight for emphasis. I reach up taking the lit candle from its stand before leaning in. The light in here is terrible for this nonsensically small writing.
Kicchou guards the paper away from the light, complaining, “No damaging the goods. If you can’t read it, it’s a deed.”
“No, I’ll read it, I’d like to see what’s got you so excited,” I talk back, restraining the urge to retaliate at such an insult.
She pushes the paper my way again, keeping a very tight grip on the page such that I wouldn’t be able to snatch it from her. How very rude of her to assume my upstanding character would stoop so low. I squint, barely able to tell one word from another, but with enough time I start to put context to what she said.
This… ‘deed,’ if you could call it that, looks to be giving ownership of the entirety of the False Heaven Shelf to this… respectable individual. The thing is, this should be unclaimed land from any particular group, as far as I remember. That’s why I’m able to open in any old abandoned house. I haven’t really laid claim myself, since I wanted to be able to move in case any big shot tengu got uppity, but I haven’t thought about that in forever. This spit of the mountain is owned by me in every way short of records.
“Whose signature is this at the bottom?” I ask.
“One high tengu. You needn’t worry about who specifically,” the turtle claims.
“I think I do need worry,” I argue, waving about my pipe. “In case you haven’t noticed, I run an establishment here. And there. And out of several other buildings.”
“Well, now you run it out of here and here alone. You are now under my jurisdiction as I own you.”
My head jolts by reflex. “Come again?”
“Oh, sorry, poor phrasing,” she chuckles to herself. “I meant that I own your business here if you plan to continue squatting. I won’t bother taking any land tax from you, however.”
I stare at her for a moment, trying to understand what the hell is going on. “So… hold on.”
“Mm?”
I point with my pipe and start, “You bought the rights to this land from a high tengu?”
“Yes, I did.” She rolls up the page back into her skirt, taking great care to not fold it in any way.
“Who said that this land was available? Since when?”
“Since about a month ago. Did you not hear about the release of ownership of the lands?” she explains.
“Well, sure I did, but this is my land. Yamanba like myself don’t let go of our land. It wouldn’t affect me,” I point out.
Kicchou steeples her hands and announces, “Then after the tengu reclaimed their lands, it seems they decided to claim the places here, too.”
I lick at my lips, stowing a frown with a pensive purse. This isn’t the best situation to be in. What should I do from this position? While being kicked out isn’t good, I really don’t own my own home. Not the way other yamanba do. Ahh, I should have set up a backup location away from the shelf, but then I wouldn’t attract the same crowd that’s been so good to me…
“Now, now,” Kicchou consoles, snapping her fingers at me. “This is no different than you are right now. You’ll just be under a higher management. There’s no problem here, you can let this happen.”
Something about how she said that… why does it feel wrong? I mean, she is wrong, right? I… I don’t take this sitting down. But what choice do I have?
The sliding door slams open and in come wolf tengu. Based on their drawn patrol weapons, they’re obviously not here to gamble.
The sliding door slams open, and in file three tengu in white. The wolf tengu, and their patrol weapons. These aren’t late gamblers.
Their weapons are all drawn but they don’t rush at the suited otters. “And who is this visiting the mountain?” their leader, Inubashiri, greets all of us, sheathing her sword and mounting a shield to her back. Her permanently fixed scowl makes her harder to read than her cohorts.
Kicchou returns a snake’s smile. “Only someone who doesn’t like interruptions from the small fry,” she warns.
The wolf puffs at the comment. “Doing my job is more important than your complaints, or privacy, or you. I don’t remember you being allowed on this mountain.”
“My, how about that? I have a little paper here that says otherwise,” Kicchou counters. She wields the rolled paper once more, handing it to one of the large suited men. He crosses the room, unfurling it for the tengu to view. “See the signature at the bottom?”
The wolves look across to Kicchou and back to the bottom of the paper. One of them exclaims, “Captain! That’s lady Iizunamaru’s name!”
Inubashiri leans forward and groans, “Is she even allowed to make property decisions after she was part of that incident with the market god? What stupid trouble.”
Kicchou fixes her eyes on the three, venom on her tongue, stating, “I bought her signature to that contract, so you’d better hope there was real rights traded. You’ll all have hell to pay otherwise.”
The tengu aren’t happy to hear such an open threat, but also don’t have a way to counter such a bold claim. It’s weird that one of their own would sell land, but it’s not impossible. Many of my kind stake claim to the unused land without tengu privileges, after all.
“Even if it’s all the case, I want to personally see that this is true, so if you could leave the area for now, miss Kicchou,” Inubashiri attempts to remain diplomatic about the situation. It’s impressive how she’s staying calm. I’ve seen her drag off her coworkers shirking their duties. I’d mistaken her for an oni on multiple occasions because of the experience.
“No, I don’t believe I will,” Kicchou remains implacable. “I most certainly have a real claim to these buildings in this region of the mountain. I will not be pushed out from what is rightfully mine.”
Inubashiri stares for a moment, then closes her eyes to take a deep breath. Once she cycles out her disbelief she orders the other two wolves, “Return to the village. I will oversee this ‘guest’ until you can bring Iizunamaru herself here.”
One of the wolves gives a worried look and beggars, “But captain, you being here alone is–“
She holds a hand up to stop her comrade. “I could choose a worse crowd. They’re no crows,” she jokes. I’m not sure if I should resent that comment.
With Inubashiri here it does stop anything physical from taking place. I have a feeling that’s the last thing Kicchou wants, too. But on that thought, what does Kicchou want? Hasn’t she said her piece? There’s not much I can do.
Inubashiri travels across the room and stops behind me, releasing the great sheathed sword from her belt and stands it against the tatami mats. She rests her hands atop its end and stares at the crowd around her, keeping watch from her new station.
“What were you all discussing before?” she questions.
“I don’t see a reason to tell you,” Kicchou bickers at the interloper, receiving her precious document once more.
I puff a bit of smoke through my nostrils at the dragon-turtle’s disagreeable attitude, and answer the wolf, “We were discussing how she owns all of the buildings on the shelf, and so she would own my place, too.”
“Is that what really happened?” Inubashiri drills into the back of my head, further digging, “You finally gambled your own den away? I always thought you were the type to do that, Miss Komakusa.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say to an acquaintance, Miss Inubashiri,” I retort, not daring to challenge the intense glare of the forever seeing guard dog.
“We are only acquainted in that I need to drag my comrades from your disgusting habit.”
“That I will not stand to hear,” I proclaim, turning to face the dog in a newly found fervor. “Gambling is no nasty habit for those that can restrain themselves properly.”
Inubashiri shows her ire, interjecting, “Miss, that is no excuse for–“
“It is no different from swimming in water: exercising for the mind to those who know how to and a horrid death to those who don’t know their limits. The thrill of a game of chance is meant to keep in check even those who can tell me the weather next week while allowing beginners the chance to jump in without always being outmatched.”
Inubashiri attempts to interject again, “Miss that’s no argument for–“
I take a hit from my pipe before continuing my tirade, blowing wafts of smoke for the first several words, “I’m here because I want to give others the same love for these games of chance that I have. Some fools don’t realize they aren’t cut out for it after their beginner’s luck fades, and they’re always the problematic ones that cause a ruckus.”
“Alright, Madame Komakusa, you’ve made your–” Inubashiri relents, backing up with her weapon and warding away smoke as I get into her face.
“What I want are those that understand what makes a game of chance so enjoyable. Those that know not only how to play, but how to play with the odds, not against them. I had to take so many years to learn it myself and even then I’m no master of fate. I can still lose hands. I can even lose games. But I enjoy playing. This is no ‘disgusting habit!’”
I hear a bit of shifting behind me, followed by a concerned, “Is she… alright?”
I glance back to Kicchou, leaning over from her seat with a concerned look. She seems interested in how I could sway this guard so.
The dog stows her arrogant attitude for the moment and plugs her nose of the smoke to answer, “The madame here is an avid gambler. It’s impressive she let you have a conversation before playing a game.”
“You can only be so rude before I dismiss you myself,” I warn. Even if this hell woman is insisting that she owns the den, I am still its madame. “Though, I can’t argue with wanting to play a game with someone so prominent.”
“Oh?” Kicchou utters, raising her eyebrows at the offer. “That would be quite the challenge for a novice gambler such as myself to play against the owner of a gambling parlor, would it not?”
“No such thing,” I persist, returning to my seat and flashing the dangerous woman a smile. “Games are meant for all ages, creeds, and skill levels. Like I said, games of chance are to allow even beginners the chance to win.”
Kicchou rubs her chin to hum, “Perhaps it will pass the time, if we’re to wait. What do you propose?”
“Well, that rowdy bunch of yours had a fondness for one game in particular,” I note, leaning in and glancing at the guards. “A variant of Koi-Koi of all things.”
“Variant?”
“Yes, the little quirk of having only three rounds. I assume your group had come up with the idea. High stakes and high speed. Very hot blooded.”
Kicchou sighs, “It certainly sounds like them. Maybe they weren’t punished enough. They decided to play outside of the holt, but now it’ll take weeks to make up the money they collectively lost here. Not to mention the attention they were catching.”
“Well, that’s for you to worry about when you leave. For right now...”
I get up and fetch a set of hanafuda cards from the wooden chests I store game materials in. I take a well worn set, tied up with a frayed string, and grab a table with my other hand, my pipe tucked between my lips. I take care to place the set by my guest, ensuring she doesn’t need to move to play. She’s found her smile again, her wickedness hidden by the most basic body language.
I adjust my seat across the table and untie the cards, taking a few moments to make sure the cards are all accounted for. While I don’t expect cheating from my other patrons, some do come with their own alcohol, and plenty of it. As I finish flicking through the cards my pipe has trouble smoking up. I puff it from my lips a few times as a hand brings in one of the set aside ash trays.
“You should really see to yourself before your game, madame,” Inubashiri grouses, moving back to her post. I hadn’t thought about it before, but she must not be happy to have such a heavy musk of smoke in the room.
“Feel free to open the windows if the smoke is thick,” I offer the temperamental guard.
“Never mind me.”
I puff in humor at her stubbornness. The wolves are all too proud to admit when they’re having it hard, but neither am I so nice that I’d save her from her complaints.
“Now, since we are gambling, there should be some kind of pot…” I whim, making sure to keep my attitude light.
“Oh?” Kicchou shows her interest again in what is going through my head.
“Money would be a little droll for someone like yourself… What about I formally hand over the gambling den and its supplies should you win?”
The little tanuki girl gasps in shock, doing a poor job of hiding herself. One of the remaining escorts clears his throat to stifle the same reaction.
Kicchou takes a moment to interpret my seriousness, unsure if I was joking, and beggars, “I’ve already told you that you can keep this building. Money would be fine, I had my coffers plundered by a certain groups of pilferers, you know. You’re not serious, are you?”
“Oh, here we go…” Inubashiri moans.
“Shush, hound,” I scold, clicking my pipe against the ash tray again. “And I’m sure about this wager, since there wouldn’t be any fun in a game of chance where neither side loses or gains, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Wha-? But, that’s just causing yourself trouble. It’s unsound,” Kicchou argues.
“Oh it’s perfectly reasonable. Destroying the buildings and my belongings out of spite, that would be unreasonable. This is a game to give all rights of the den to one side or the other.”
“Come again?!” Kicchou loses her composure, rising from her seat in a spot of anger. “How did the conversation come to this? I already own the rights to this building, I’m allowing you to stay here free of charge!”
Inubashiri comments for me,“It’s what happens when you talk to Madame Komakusa. Everything ends up being about smoking or gambling. She’s only looking for something to keep her interest.” She sounds equally worn down by my train of thought.
“If that’s enough commentary from the unfriendly spectator...” I assert, trying to head the conversation again. I point the deck of cards to the tanuki girl, “We could use a proper dealer for this game. Changing dealers each turn is too much busy work.”
The girl in question points to herself, the silly oversized coat the tanuki wear slipping to her elbow. I nod back. Tanuki tend to keep themselves quiet and gather information, but make a good third party mediator when strong armed into it. She pokily takes the set from me, her hands trembling at the weight of the task.
“You’ll be fine, little thing,” I cheer for the girl. “You’ve just gotta pass and shuffle the cards, no stress.”
She looks between a perturbed Kicchou and I, still uncertain but not voicing any complaints.
“So, do you need a reminder of the rules, Kicchou?” I ask of the woman with fingers to her forehead.
“I haven’t agreed to play, you realize? What would I gain even if I win?” Kicchou interrogates.
“My worldly possessions and the house all to yourself?” I act like I’m asking in return. “I’m sure a new manager of the den would find the business so bad they would close down, and then no tengu, kappa, or yamawaro would have a reason to come by here. How unfortunate that would be.” I puff a bit of smoke in Kicchou’s direction explicitly. If she’s trying to get into my head, then I’ll get into hers just as well.
“I…” she starts to contend, but gives it a second thought. She cups her chin to mull it over. “Hm. A valid point... Very well, let’s play. And I know the rules. The basics. The winning hands are easy to remember, but I might need a reminder for what hands extend or have multiple win conditions.”
I don’t fully buy into the idea that she’s a beginner, but I’m not sure if she thinks I’ve caught onto that. It’s hard to say how that might even come up, if at all. We’ve likely been lying around each other this entire time.
The tanuki girl passes the cards in pairs. Her hands are practiced to the motion, taking very little time to pass eight to me, Kicchou, and the table.
“So who goes first when you have a third person dealing,” Kicchou asks, investigating her cards against the ones on the table.
I answer, looking through my own draw, “Let’s just say the guest gets that privilege. I’m sure you don’t see any issue with that, Kicchou?”
“That sounds fine by me, Madame.”
“Oh, please. We’re playing each other, so call me Komakusa,” I insist.
“Very well, Komakusa,” Kicchou sniffs.
I remind myself of Koi-Koi. Specifically with this few rounds, I need to close out each round fast. No need to try and get a lot of cards for more points, nor wait for a really good set to show up. There is no waiting that can happen here. If Kicchou is doing the same,
Looking at my own cards I have an alright hand in terms of the value of the cards, but the field has only one match right now. Hard to find a set I could make with that.
Actually, on second glance, I have a very defensive hand that could score me well if I play it right. Four of my cards are chaff, a low scoring card meant for gathering ten to close out a round fast, but the other four are of interest. The deer is part of a three card set worth five points, so is the poetry ribbon, and the blue ribbon. The real standout is drawing the cherry blossom curtain, part of a two card set.
It would be good if I score off of that last one this round, but the other two rounds might not be so fortunate. I could focus on gathering chaff for quick sets. With only three rounds, though, Kicchou could get lucky and find the same hand I have now, putting us at even or worse.
“Hm,” I hear from behind me. Inubashiri is trying to act like she isn’t hovering around, but woefully fails at doing so.
“This isn’t a game of go. Sit by the dealer if you wish to watch,” I scold the hound.
She shuffles by the tanuki girl as Kicchou makes her first move. She takes a blue ribbon from the field, a sound play to take high value cards from the field first and foremost. I can rest easy knowing that I have the last in that set, however. She draws a cherry blossom poetry card from the deck but doesn’t have a match on the table.
Looks like my best play will be going for the poetry ribbons, since the last one is still on the field. It’s only too bad I won’t directly take it. Just holding the cherry curtain puts me in a dominant position for multiple high value win conditions, so Kicchou will look to close the round with a fast and low score if she doesn’t have something of her own.
“So what is the point of this?” Kicchou asks, turning her eyes up to me while I read her. She keeps her cards tight to herself as she leans against the table. She’s not letting any little emotion slip. She’s either a natural, or she knows exactly what she’s doing in this game.
“Whatever do you mean? We’re playing a game,” I pass off. She shifts her mouth in doubt, but shelves the thought for now.
Sadly, I’ve never been as dexterous with cheating in cards like I am with dice, so this is an honest game. Most people would say it’s foolish to make such a high stake bet like I have without intending to cheat to victory. To me it sounds like a fun turn of fate to let life go whichever way it decides.
Gambling should have stakes involved. If you wouldn’t be sad to lose it then it wasn’t really a stake.
We continue through the round, quickly securing me the last poetry ribbon. A quick five points if I call the round over as is. It’s possible for me to go after two more of the nine total ribbons to net seven points, doubling to fourteen because of the rules, but two ribbons are in Kicchou’s scoring pool while four are in mine. I have one in my hand, but the last two could be anywhere in the deck. Overall not a fantastic idea.
“Shobu,” I call to end the round.
“Spread your cards for me to see, please,” the dealer requests as I set down my hand.
Kicchou squints at the last blue ribbon I was holding onto, knowing that she’d played into my defensive strategy. I pulled one over on her this round.
“Three poetry ribbons, no other yaku, so five points for the Madame,” the tanuki girl quietly states, as if not to further disturb Kicchou.
We hand the cards back and begin a new round. While the tanuki is busy dealing I decide it would be good to converse a little more. Koi-Koi was designed as a simple game so that you could talk to others while doing it.
“You said your people play this in some kind of ‘holt,’ was it?” I make small talk. “Do they have gambling nights?”
Kicchou smirks when replying, “If only. They seem to play games instead of doing actual work. It’s what happens when all of your subordinates are otters.”
“Sounds like the kappa,” I chuckle. I still can’t pin down her skill level. Regular gambler? Played this game before? First time seeing it? It would be strange if she didn’t know something her subordinates play regularly.
My next hand is decent, but doesn’t reassure me against possible fast plays. Two lights, but the phoenix and the rain man don’t make any desirable combinations unless there are more lights on the field. A blue ribbon in hand and on the board is something to work towards, though. We go through the turns in a similar motion, I grab ribbons as soon as they come up but Kicchou doesn’t seem to build anything but chaff.
I draw a chrysanthemum to the table, nothing to pair with. I get a bad feeling about that, and Kicchou’s skewed face contemplating her next move only makes it worse. She plays the sake dish, the animal card capable of making winning hands using only two cards. Her next turn she plays the full moon, the other card of that set. Thankfully, it’s only worth five points, so we should tie.
“Koi-Koi,” she calls. She wants to keep going to try and double her score. That would mean she needs chaff or the cherry blossom curtain to make another win condition. A daring move while I’m close to a win by ribbons. I puff a hint of smoke in her direction, hoping to calm her from any risks that could net her a large score.
So long as I can get one ribbon I can still deny her of that. Usually this is meant as a way for me to double my score while she finds her last card, but while I’m already ahead there’s no reason to play for anything but denials.
Of course, all of this knowledge doesn’t help when she draws the cherry blossom curtain into a chaff she placed down. That’s… very lucky. I’m almost a little jealous of it, frankly.
“Shobu,” she ends the round.
Thankfully, she didn’t wait for me to call Koi-Koi myself, which would have quadrupled her points, but she does net a total twenty points, fifteen over me. Worse yet, I doubt my smoke will fool her anymore. There’s some lucidity in her eyes, an expectation, that I try something for this last round.
We pass the cards back in. The tanuki girl keeps her pace passing the hands for the last time.
“So, do I keep the pipe, too?” Kicchou taunts. “I think I would look very refined with one.”
“Sorry, but this piece is going with me to the grave, whenever that is,” I hold. “Don’t forget there’s one more round.”
We receive our cards. The set in my hand is not much better than last round. The rain man is a light that could net me a victory with more lights, but there’s only one on the field right now and I don’t have cards to capture it or any others in the deck. Kicchou has trouble hiding disappointment in her own hand when looking at the field. Whether that is only because she can’t capture that light or because of something else I’ll have to see.
She plays for two chaff, then drawing a full moon. She clicks her tongue when there’s no card to pair it with. One of the men behind her strikes in a breath as she has to set it down to the table.
She looks behind her, and tells the man, “Go join the other nosy one.” She thumbs over to Inubashiri, who grunts at the provocation. The two guards eye each other as the man steps over to the side of the table.
There are two lights on the table. That could get me somewhere, but again, I don’t have anything to capture it with. I play down a chaff I know is safe, having nothing I can capture. The next draw is a twist, though, as I get a suzuki grass chaff to capture the full moon card with. Kicchou clicks long nails into the table at the quick turnaround. With the sake dish unaccounted for or in her hand taking the full moon is a lifeline.
Since she’s at a higher score, she might try and close it out like I did in the first round. No, she definitely will. She’s more the calculating type who shores her losses than the type to let fate decide for her. It’s a bad situation for me to be in, honestly. But this is the sort of situation I wanted to be in. Right?
The thought did cross my mind that it makes no sense for me to do this. Kicchou is entirely correct to say that I’m causing trouble for myself by making a bet like this. What really drives me to do these things? I’ve often wondered when it was that I first got into these games, these vices. It was certainly long before my appearance changed. It’s funny, the person that once had my skin still had all the same bad ideas as I do now. Down to the smoking.
Honestly, betting my home and possessions on a single high stakes game? I’m crazy.
“What are you laughing at?” Kicchou pulls me from my inner thoughts.
I glance around at the members of the room, giving me looks ranging from confused to concerned. A smile has crept onto my face enough that I can feel it, to which I add, “I’m just enjoying myself.”
Kicchou furrows her brow, the comment with so little meaning direct or ulterior must be driving her up the wall. There’s nothing to analyze in my self contradictory nature, though. I really just can’t help myself, sometimes.
My turn comes again.
I decide to play the rain man to the table.
The tanuki girl looks at me, mortified by the play. While the rain man himself isn’t much of a high value card on its own, discarding him to the table could deny me of a higher scoring hand with more lights. This is not a good strategy to win, by any means.
I draw, a paulownia flower to capture the phoenix that has been on the table since the start. The rain man remains for Kicchou to take as she pleases.
And I can tell what’s going through Kicchou’s mind right now. She’s trying to think through every possible move I could do to get a victory from here. Dissecting the odds that I can pull together something else like ribbons, the boar, deer, and butterfly combination, or even find the sake cup and cherry blossom curtain. I could be trying to asphyxiate her hand from chaff, stopping a close out victory. The list is too open for her to catch anything with certainty. She’s looking into my strategy when there is none.
To which I mean I’m testing the true limits of my luck.
She plays for more chaff on her turn, netting her eight of ten to win. I play a chaff to the table, and draw a willow seed to take the rain man back. With no chaff remaining on the table, Kicchou is forced to take a seed and a chaff, netting her nine total chaff. She draws a pine ribbon to the field.
Sweat starts to bead above her eyes. Moments ago she was in control of everything here, now she’s on a knife’s edge to win a game. A simple, old fashioned game. If she’s nervous now, then that means she doesn’t have one of the last lights, at least. But at this early into the round, finding two cards out of the deck with seventeen cards remaining and then being able to capture it is practically begging for loss.
I don’t beg for loss, though. I play into my luck.
I set a ribbon to the field and draw.
The room remains silent as we inspect the last card. The crane and the sun. A light.
“A yaku?” Inubashiri cautiously determines.
“Three lights… and three lights with rain man. Two yaku worth six and seven. Thirteen points to double and make twenty six…” the tanuki girl announces, stunned by the egregious play.
“Shobu,” I call. My grin must look like a maniac’s right about now. By the skin of my teeth, I won thirty one to twenty in just three rounds.
“That’s…” Kicchou shows a lapse in thought. “… That’s not possible, right? How the hell?”
“That is what they would call great luck, Miss Kicchou,” Inubashiri comments.
Kicchou takes a moment to curl in on herself, forcing down a rising anger. Mounting frustration overcomes her will, though, as she slips her hands under the table and flips it to her side. The tanuki girl falls over in surprise. Inubashiri lifts her weapon from the ground. One of Kicchou’s men squares up against the wolf while the other frets over their boss. I remain calmly seated.
“There’s no way you won like that! You clearly cheated!” she yells, the facade of calm sophistication giving way to some unrecognizable snake of a woman.
She stands to approach me, long nails raised, but Inubashiri and the bodyguard are quick to step in and keep her back.
“You’d better get up and say something,” Inubashiri kindly suggests.
I hit my pipe, the soot clogging up again. “That was all purely luck, Kicchou. If you want someone to complain to, there’s several gods who smiled at me just now.”
Inubashiri looks back and rants, “That’s not what I–“
Kicchou shouts over her guard as the poor man attempts to sate her fury, “You can’t just– I already own this place, this wasn’t a contractual bet!”
“Ei!” the tanuki girl shouts as she pounces from behind Kicchou, stealing the rolled paper while the guards were distracted. She steps over to me and chirps, “This is yours, then.”
I claim the paper from the dutiful girl and clasp my pipe in my lips. Before Kicchou gets a moment to speak, I tear the deed in half. Destroying something important is one of those strangely satisfying things that I didn’t think my species was prone to, but I won’t deny the joy. I take the strips and continue to tear them into smaller and smaller pieces, making sure to leave the thing unusable. With my act of ruin finished, I toss the scraps up into a wonderful confetti.
Kicchou is yelling a stream of obscenities as her bodyguards and Inubashiri see her out. A dramatic end to the night, to be sure. I breath a sigh of relief now that everything has sorted itself out.
The tanuki girl starts to walk out, but I call to her, “And where do you think you’re going, Mamizou?”
She stops in her tracks and slowly looks back to me. I offer her the cushion across from mine, now conspicuously open. She struts back over, her fake nervousness and tiny demeanor shed for the pride and arrogance I expect of tanuki. She drops down, causing a burst of smoke far thicker than my own. The air clears revealing a tanuki twice the girl’s size in her place. One Mamizou Futatsuiwa, leader of the tanuki of Gensokyo.
“When’d you find me out?” she asks, fishing her own pipe from her shirt pocket. The ashtray waddles back to us at her beckon. The thing is a tsukumogami I don’t remember owning.
“Right at the start,” I claim, tapping the soot from my pipe. “None of your girls come here since I don’t let them cheat. If we really want to talk about nasty habits, you might want to talk with them about it.”
“Bah, I’ll sooner teach them to cheat well enough that you don’t notice,” she ignores the point.
“You may need more than luck for that one. Speaking of, you didn’t need to act that shocked at the end. I know you fed me the cards to win,” I point out.
“Hm? What do you mean?” she asks.
“Well, I made you the dealer specifically to rig the last round. There’s no way I could have drawn those cards naturally. It was a four turn play. It was fun to imagine that I was really pressing my luck that much, though.”
“Uh…” Mamizou utters. I give her a questioning look, and she turns away to continue, “I… didn’t actually do anything. You were so proud of your speech to the tengu earlier that I thought you wanted to win by your own skill.”
I choke on the smoke I was breathing in, coughing my lungs out for some seconds. I look back up at my acquaintance, and blurt, “Nothing..? You did nothing?!”
“I mean… I dealt the cards?” she jokes back.
“I was doing bad plays at the end to taunt her, how in the world did I get four lights like that?! I almost just lost my home! All of my game sets! Mamizou do you understand how close I almost came to losing everything I had?!”
“I guess those gods really were smiling down on you. And like you said, you’d keep that pipe to the grave.”
I dump the ashtray over her head, the thing’s legs flailing upside down. She puffs through her pipe in reaction, slowly taking the piece from her mouth.
And in true fashion for Youkai, we end up brawling for the rest of the night.
Finally have some time to properly give my thoughts on the story. Sorry for the surprise, but I've actually been wanting to give this piece a proper critique since it first showed up in the front page. I love gambling stories, and all I want from this critique is to simply encourage more writers about this genre. That said, let's begin with the positives...
This version definitely have a better and more concise description than the previous one; I have a good time following the game - as opposed to the original version - and, as a result, the game felt pretty intense too. The little girl from the original is removed, allowing the story to focus more into its main conflict. The story still retain its strong points from the previous version: Sannyo's laidback characterization and her love of gambling is still good. The 'atmosphere' (couldn't find the right word) of Sannyo's gambling life is also great, adding more to the story and making it feel more alive. I also love that you've made Sannyo use her smoke against Yachie, adding more layer of depth into the strategies of the game.
Frankly, I don't think I could point out any real weakness from the story without being overly nitpicking, since the previous version's main weakness (the difficult flow of the game) has been resolved. Perhaps the exposition could flow better if the story starts from Yachie's appearance? Maybe the hook could start immediately with the game they're playing so it would grab the reader's attention? These are merely suggestions. Though, it seems there is an editing mistake in the line when these wolf tengu show up:
>The sliding door slams open and in come wolf tengu. Based on their drawn patrol weapons, they’re obviously not here to gamble.
>The sliding door slams open, and in file three tengu in white. The wolf tengu, and their patrol weapons. These aren’t late gamblers.
It doesn't bother me much, but it's pretty funny to imagine them going over the door twice.
Overall, I really enjoyed it, and I'd say that this is definitely an improvement from the previous version. I'd like to see you (or any other writers) do more of these kinds of stories.
>>3010
Damn, I was trying so much to make sure I didn't really make that mistake but I guess it was inevitable. A little bit of insight, I basically took the chunk that people gave the most critique on, the beginning, and highlighted the whole thing before writing a whole new section effectively on top of it. That was also how I did a bunch of other paragraph redrafts, and that's how it ended up with the wolf tengu coming in twice, I simply forgot to highlight the old to delete. The former quote is the new version whereas the latter is the old.
And I really appreciate the thoughts that you've put in here, I was really happy getting through this and using the major points from the exhibition to touch up the parts that weren't quite landing right. Atmosphere and character is something that I really like to get right when I have the room to add it in, something that I don't give myself the privilege of doing as much in my main story Ecology.
I stated it before in my self critique on the original commentaries, but I originally set out on this idea as a way to practice telling a story using something that I only have a general feel for and that readers would not know on the outset. Using gambling games was a great chance to practice that scenario as even if people think I didn't do well the first time, and even if people will say I didn't do well this time, if I can sway the opinion of some people then that makes the effort worthwhile.
>>3011
Yet another case of Murphy's law taking its victim. Don't worry that much, though. I just find it hillarious more than anything.
I'm glad that my thoughts are appreciated. I personally have difficulty in forming words, so it's good to know that my critique reached you well. I also want to improve my wording as well, so giving these critiques is a nice exercise for me.
