chapter twenty three

They spend the rest of the day in his apartment, going over what they know. He starts with his father's funeral, going to Joe's house and Joe passing the box to him just to piss off his sister-in-law. Precise recollection. How he'd put the box just over there, on the shelf near the window. How he'd brought it to Rob at MIT. Rob's story about the gas main explosion, the lab in darkness. How he'd brought it into the moonlight for a different look and it had done its cobra-explosion thing. How he'd noticed the paper doing its changing. Coming home last night to a disaster of an apartment, concentric circles of debris around the box.

She talks about history, Oni and the relationship the Japanese have with them. The push northward and 'integration' with the Ainu. Of Japanese monks, demon-binding and spells written on paper. How the signal had set off alarms, the level of concern high because of the source of the signal. Oni cannot long survive away from the Home Islands. The inability to decipher the message, both its creation and its contents. The theories she'd developed.

They order out and keep working. She looks at the progression of the shifting kanji, he looks at the signal and its bounceback effect. Late in the evening they're sitting on the couch drinking beer.

"So if it's talking to Hakodate," Ben says, "and Hakodate's talking back, that means what? That they're the only ones who they can talk to. Unless some new signal has come up, that is. And it was like what, you said? Like Little Box Guy woke up dark alone and scared and let out a peep to its Mama?"

"Something like that," Kitsune says. "What we haven't determined is the trigger event. What made it 'wake up?'"

"You think it had something to do with moonlight, right? That the moonlight somehow powered and facilitated the signal? Is that really possible? I mean, the power available from moonlight is practically nil, like one candlepower or less."

"Yes, but don't think of it as a power source, rather like a low-power carrier wave."

"Low power? I'd hate to see it at high power. I'd probably be dead."

She smiles. "Then I'm glad that didn't happen, Ben-san. No, it's more like the Oni can generate the signal, but it needs a medium to facilitate transmission. And that's where the moonlight comes in." She gets another slice of pizza. "Would you care for another beer?" She gets two from the kitchen, pops the tops and returns to the couch. "I like this beer, this... Smuttynose," she says, reading the label. She stretches out, working the knots out from the day's stress. "I could see how one could enjoy several of these. But what I don't understand is how the moonlight carries the signal around the curve of the earth..."

Ben takes a pull off his bottle, leans back. "You know what I think? I mean, if you're willing to buy into the whole idea that there exist actual demons, and that they can use moonlight as a medium for carrying messages, then it's not too much of a stretch to figure that they can talk to each other around the 'curve of the earth.' According to your job description you're willing to buy into that. I think that the box is some kind of puzzle box, and that the puzzle is in trying to remove the spells." He picks up the box, shows Kitsune. "You tape the thing up, right? So it can't just pop open. Put big warning labels on it to keep some damn fool from opening it. But the spells are to keep what's inside from breaking out."

"This is, I believe, very close to the truth," says Kitsune.

"Okay, so let me think this out," says Ben, "I have an idea here. So say the thing inside is working on the puzzle, finally figures out some way of breaking the spells. That would show itself in the paper being ripped, or cut, yes?" Kitsune nods. "But here's the cool part. Whoever made the spells, taped up the box -- they made it so that when one of the spells was broken, it would jump to the next spell strip. And if that second strip gets broken, then the first two spells would move on to the next strip, and so on and on. Which is why the last strip, that sixth strip has five layers of writing underneath. Those are the old spells." Kitsune looks at the box, at the last strip of paper.

"Which should make it progressively harder to break each spell," she says. "That's very clever. It may explain, too, why each signal has been more and more powerful, too. More energy needed for each breaking."

"I don't know that I'd want to be around for the last one," says Ben.

"I'm sorry that you had to experience any of this," says Kitsune. "It is far from the experience of anyone not Japanese, and even most Japanese have not had to deal with things like this. It must be strange."

"Well, it is, I guess. I mean, I guess I was kind of freaked out by that night when the thing went all nuclear on me, but what was I supposed to do? Run screaming? Come on, it's a puzzle, it's one last connection I have with my Dad. And you know, now that I have an idea that Little Box Guy here is connected to some kind of badass Oni over in Japan, I can't help but think that he might be somehow connected to my father's death. I mean, the doctors said that it was pneumonia, but Dad was pretty healthy, you know? He'd gone off, done some sort of dig, I guess, and then he was back and in the hospital. Then he died. So quick, but we thought, you know, that it was just pneumonia."

"Ben, there is some chance that the Oni had something to do with your father's death, but I think that chance is very slim. It is not typical for Oni or their agents to visit illness on someone. They tend to be more... up-front with their actions."

"I know," Ben says, "but it feels personal. Dad dies, my home gets messed up..."

"You cannot make it personal," she says, "you must remain detached. And I feel that I must tell you that this is something for which I have been trained. Eight years of classroom study, eight years of hard physical training, just to become eligible for the job. Then a lot of office work. Promotions to field work. I have faced Oni under many circumstances, and none of them have been pleasant. Some easier, some harder, but none pleasant. This is more than an intellectual exercise. It can become life-or-death in an instant." That thought hangs in the room, and they're quiet with only the sound of cars passing over on Trapelo.

"It's late," he says. "I can clear off the bed, roll out a pillow and blanket for me here on the couch. Or you can head back to the hotel, your choice."

"I should get back to the hotel," she says, "I have a lot of work to do. Reports to write, I need to explain why I'm working with you instead of being on a plane headed back to Tokyo..." He leans over and kisses her, gently but with promise.

"Okay," he says, "But call me when you can." She's very quiet, eyes wide and smiling. She gathers her things, leaves the box on the coffee table in front of the couch, heads to the door.

"I will call in the morning, hopefully with information, perhaps some manner of plan," she says, then turns and kisses him back, gently but with promise. "Good night, Ben." She closes the door, walks to her car. Drives away.

Ben cleans up the pizza, beer bottles, organizes his notes from the day. Brushes his teeth, turns off lights and goes to bed. Lying there in the dark. "Holy shit," he says aloud, "She kissed me back." And he falls asleep.