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"Ow!"

I cringed, rubbing my head where the suitcase fell on me. Looking up, I could see where the luggage rack had broken during flight. Apparently my decision to book second-rate air to save money was a bad idea. Well, at least I was here, rather than a corpse littered across the pacific ocean. Yes, I had arrived quite safely in my chosen vacation spot: Japan. I had always wanted to go. I was fascinated with Japanese culture, although less so than with the culture of my ancestors, which were Celtic. However, I opted to go to Japan rather than Scotland or Ireland because I was getting into the video game industry, and had arranged networking opportunities with many bigwigs inside of Nintendo and Sony, as well as several game studios. In fact, I was meeting with Square tomorrow. That was something I was definitely looking forward to. I picked my bag up off the aisle floor and began to pick up the other bag that had fallen with it, when a hand caught mine.

"Sumimasen, I am sorry," the Japanese girl behind me in the aisle said, reaching for what must have been her bag, "I am so sorry. How can I make it up to you?"

"It's no worry. It didn't hurt that much," I lied through my teeth, doing my best to ignore the throbbing pain and force myself not to clutch my head. Sticking my hands in his pocket, I smiled, "Of course, I've never been here before. I could always use a good guide," I chuckled.

"A guide? I can do that!"

I blinked, dumbfounded. Did I hear right? She had to be kidding. After all, I was when I said what I did. Maybe she picked up on that? Oh, well. A joke's a joke, right? I figured I might as well go along with it for now. "Then it's a deal. Now, all we have to do is book adjacent hotel rooms!"

An obvious blush crept across the girl's face, "Umm..."

"I was just kidding," I interjected, before letting her get too far. Apparently, she wasn't kidding. I slipped into the nearest seat to let her pass, quoting chivalrous intent and the ubiquitous 'ladies first' rule, eliciting a cute giggle from the girl, much to my surprise. As she passed, I slipped back out into the aisle and followed her out, eventually slipping away in the crowd.

***

I looked from the travel brochure to the hotel front and back again, sporting a puzzled look. On the brochure was a fancy-looking corporate hotel with glass elevators and indoor gardens, continental breakfast, and a heated pool. In front of me was a handwritten motel sign that read, "Hourly Rates Available!" Actually, that's not what it said. That's what it was supposed to say, but in place of rates was another word. At least they rhymed.

Unfortunately, I had already booked it. Paid way too much for it, too, apparently. And they charged extra for cancellation. So, here I had to stay. Preparing myself mentally for whatever horrors I may find inside, I opened the door and approached the counter, where an old, wrinkly man with hair as white as a sheet of paper sat looking through a magazine. I cleared my throat, starling the old man to the point that he almost had his chair roll out from under it.

"Excuse me, but I think I have a reservation here," I said sheepishly.

The old man burst into a hearty chuckle, "Son, no one makes reservations here!" After a few seconds where he seemed lost in thought, a light bulb seemed to go off in his head, "Oh! Okusan said something about a new marketing campaign online. I told her it was nonsense, and that no-one would be fool enough to fall for it. Looks like I was wrong."

"Surely there are laws against that here, too." I looked around for pictures of the man, but didn't find any. I knew enough Japanese to get by as a tourist without having to flip through a dictionary every five seconds, but I was beginning to second guess myself. Was this old lecher really married?

"Oh, sure. But who's going to report us? Certainly not you."

I could feel the heat on my face as it turned a deep red, less from anger than from embarrassment. He was right. I'd never admit to having been suckered into booking a room in such a disreputable place. "Fine. You win. What's my room number?"

The old man set down his magazine and pulled out a tray with little hooks on it and stood it in front of me, "Pick one. You're our only guest, and we only have one kind of room."

I looked at the rack. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the magazine was in fact not typical "reading" material. Pervert. With a great gulp, I closed my eyes and reached for a key. Grasping one, I pulled it off the rack and looked at the number. It was a nine. I vaguely remembered something about that being unlucky, but I didn't put much stock into superstitions.

"Oh, that room, huh? It's on the second floor. Just go down the hall until you reach the stairway."

"Thank you," I said as I started to walk away. Something was nagging at me in the back of my head, but I couldn't quite put a finger on what.

The old man audibly cleared his throat, startling me. He held up a jar clearly labeled "Tips" and shook it. I put in what I thought was an appropriate amount of yen, only to elicit a scowl from the man. Apparently, the amount was so small as to be insulting. Oh, well, old man, I thought. The hotel was insulting to me. I simply returned the scowl, and proceeded down the hall.

Reaching the stairway at the end, I couldn't help but feel a tingle go up my spine. I passed it off as cold air and continued up the steps. When I reached the first landing, I tried to look out the small window, but it was so dirty on the outside it looked more like a sheet of paper than a window. And a very dirty sheet.

"Klarke-san!"

My hair stood on end as I froze. Slowly, I turned around. In front of me, at the bottom of the steps, was none other than the girl from the plane.

"Klarke-san, don't go up the stairs."

"Why not?" I paid good money for this crappy hotel. I wasn't going to let it go to total waste, even if it was the worst place I'd ever been to.

"Step outside and I'll show you."

Ordinarily, I wouldn't have listened, but this girl had a look of genuine worry on her face. We'd never met, so it couldn't have been for my own well-being, so there must be some other reason she didn't want me to go up there. Then the thought struck me: if we've never met, how does she know my name? Things were getting weirder; I decided it would probably be wise to go along with her just to see what was going on.

As we left the stairwell, it felt as if a fog in my mind had lifted. I hadn't noticed it before, but now that it was gone, I felt strangely...liberated. I looked at the girl, who looked rather relieved. She obviously knew my name, but how? I decided to ask her hers.

"Tamamo."

I was taken aback: she just said what her name was. I hadn't even asked.

"That's what you were about to ask, right? My name is Tamamo."

"Hai," I began to introduce myself in response despite the fact she seemed to know my name. I was more or less trying to test her. "Watashi wa--"

"Klarke."

"How do..."

"Long story. Look up."

I looked up. We had made their way out of the hotel, and were turned facing it. Once again, I felt like something was off.

"Your room was upstairs, right?"

"That's it!" I exclaimed, "How were there stairs? It's a one-story building! There's no way there could be an upper floor."

"Dark magic. Hotel keeper is a bakemono. I've been trying to bust him for a year."

"Bake...mono?"

"A monster. He's not human. He feeds on them, though. He's a nasty sort. Very rare, too. Stupid tourists what don't know 'bout shi and ku brought 'em back."

I looked at the girl. All of the sudden, the cute, innocent girl I met on the plane was gone. In her place was a girl seething with rage, with a look of murder in her eyes. She even sounded totally different, talking more like a spunky girl from L.A., with only a hint of Japanese accent left. I stepped back; I could feel her rage in the very air.

"Stay here."

"No objections here," I said, holding my hands out in front of me as if to surrender.

Tamamo stormed into the hotel. A few second later, a loud crash made me jump. A few moments later, the girl walked out, carrying the old man from behind the counter under her arm as he flailed wildly. She carried him over to the trash can in the nearby alley and took the lid off. "Sukebei," she yelled as she dumped him in head first. "Chican," she yelled as she slammed the lid back down. Finally, she yelled, "Hentai!" and kicked the trash can into the air. As it rose, she pulled out a slip of paper from the pouch she was carrying and slapped it onto the can. The kanji on the paper began to glow, and the can shimmered and vanished.

I stared at the scene, completely shocked. I couldn't even think straight enough to wonder what was going on. I sat, more or less, on the ground, head spinning, as Tamamo approached me. She waved her hands in my face, but I couldn't even react.

"What is wrong with you?"

"M-m-me? Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Me? Me?"

"Why are you-- oh, kuso! Mimi."

I stared, transfixed, at the pair of orange-furred fox ears sprouting from the head of the young girl. "Kemono...mimi?"

"Kitsune-mimi. Klarke-san, yurushi."

The world went dark as she clutched my throat with one hand and struck me in the back of the head with the other.