The Demon of Asahi
Asahi-cho, Tsu-han, August 1864
The town of Asahi was plagued by a demon. When clouds obscured lunar glow, an amethyst mist would descend, depraving inhabitants of any opportunity to observe their predator. Although one could not see his hand before his own face, one could still clear the screams which permeated the haze with frightening amplifiance. They were screams that captain Akashi Kyoumu had heard every night since his arrival.
In truth, boarding up the windows and affixing extra bolt locks to the police station doors wasn’t exactly work befitting of a young sheriff – certainly eluding the itinerary he had been presented upon his departure from Iga two cycles of the moon previous. Yet whatever fell afoul of the mist risked a fatal dance. Akashi knew not what demon possessed the nightly fog that befell the town, yet he knew that over two dozen people had been culled since its unearthly arrival. There was no slice of katana through night air, nor crimson splayed across unfortunate abodes; just screams, silence and one less member of his flock come dawn. The captain, wise enough despite his youth, dared not bring musket to bear against this foe, content instead to imprison himself at every sunset. The villagers of Asahi were surely losing faith in their new sheriff, yet they were losing their lives at a far faster rate.
“Is it safe yet?”
Akashi glanced back at Norito. His assistant, by whatever grace of God, was younger even than he – barely qualified in puberty enough to avoid the moniker ‘boy’. A native of Asahi, Norito Tsuya served as the sheriff’s deputy. Despite his place of upbringing however, he remained the most recent acquisition of the local police force – only joining the captain a fortnight previous. He also remained its only other member.
“It looks like it,” Akashi spoke a little flatly. With practised eyes, he peered through a boarded up window. The mist had indeed retreated and the first lights of dawn had begun shedding across the graveyard town outside. The captain sighed. At first, the piercing sounds of his citizens succumbing to the midnight terror had shaken him to his core. Now they merely just kept him from his slumbers. Stifling a yawn, he patiently made his way to the station’s door, moving to unbolt the many Western appendages that guaranteed his safety every moonrise. Behind him, Norito buttoned his onyx hued tunic; still crumpled from its feeble use as a pillow that night. Opening the door out onto the silent street outside, Akashi slid silently out, making sure to grab a rifle before departing.
Together, the duo stalked down Asahi’s primary thoroughfare; Akashi’s ivory military garb standing at odds to his assistant’s local police uniform, despite the lingerings of darkness about them. Although Akashi bore himself with a professional indifference, Norito’s nervousness was apparent to all; or at least would be apparent to all were anyone around to see him. Instead, the streets were deserted – as they had been ever since the demon had arrived. Akashi had briefly considered enforcing a curfew upon his arrival, yet such measures soon proved unnecessary. The inhabitants not only fled to their homes upon night’s descent, they also feared so much as to deny themselves sunlight when dawn did finally rise to their rescue. The sheriff might have found the silence peaceful, were it not quite so eerie.
Yet sometimes walls were not enough to keep demons away; people had been ripped from their beds, snatched from their places of hiding or simply caught in futile attempts to escape. No bodies remained, no blood stained, nothing at all suggested the kind of agony so apparent in the screams they were forced to bear witness to every night. There were no clues to pursue, no witnesses to interrogate, no evidence to even give them any inkling about the true nature of their foe. Instead, it was Akashi’s only task now to catalogue the names of the dead.
“It’s the Itoguchi residence,” Norito spoke feebly, as they finally wandered upon the site of that night’s defilement. It appeared to be as ordinary a house as any other, yet a faint cries of the bereaved could be heard from inside. In truth, Akashi was still too unaccustomed to the town to discern one family home from the next. Whereas Akashi saw his once venerated position reduced to that of a glorified coroner, Norito was now merely a tourguide.
Yōkai (Abandoned)
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Although I have been watching a ridiculous amount of Lewis these past few months 
Originally Posted by Merchant of Venice
