The Booklender Who Dreamed of Venus Flytraps
Edo period booklender meets bridge ghost
Content warnings1
Hoisting the heavy pack higher on her shoulders, Nabi approached the wooden bridge that led to Moriya village.
Before crossing, she paused to drink from her water flask and wipe her forehead with the small towel slung around her shoulders. She stomped her feet on the muddy road--the boots the vendor in Nagoya had sold her were two sizes too big. He'd insisted the "young lad" would grow into them and Nabi had taken them purely to avoid suspicion. Once the boots felt more comfortable around her slim feet, she stepped on the bridge.
Dusk was falling over the narrow river and surrounding hills. Nabi was too busy imagining what she'd order at the village inn--barley broth cooked with the first fresh vegetables of the season--to notice that each of her steps on the deserted bridge was followed by an almost human sigh.
When she'd reached the middle of the bridge, a column of smoke rose from the weathered planks. Gasping, she stopped and watched as a white figure materialized. "Little thief!" it snarled.
Not it, Nabi realized, her. The woman's curves, more lavish than Nabi could ever hope to grow into, were covered by a white kimono, her face just as white and her head of long black hair crowned by an iron trivet. Three candles burned steadily on top. "Give it back, little thief," she hissed, extending one gaunt hand.
"W-w-what do you mean?" Nabi stared at the woman's too-sharp fingernails.
"There is a book in your possession," the woman said with a voice like a drowned cat's snarl, "that was stolen. Give it back or I shall gouge your pretty eyes out!"
Even though she was trembling, Nabi still straightened to her--less than impressive--full height. Indignation burned through her fear. "I'll have you know that I'm the most trusted booklender in all of Owari province!"
The ghost sneered. "You are bragging, little kappa!" Candles flickering, she floated closer as Nabi retreated, one step after another, like an archaic dance.
Nabi fumbled in her pockets, praying she hadn't lost it, until she remembered. Reaching behind, she snatched the woven talisman from her pack‘s wooden frame and brandished it. "Be gone, evil spirit!"
But the ghost only howled with laughter and her three candles burned brighter in the fading light. "That flimsy rag won't keep me away. I am Hashihime, protector of this river! All who cross my bridge shall pay a price."
"No! I don't have…"
Wailing, the ghost floated closer. "Oh, you do! I can smell it on you, little liar!"
"But…" Nabi's foot caught on a loose plank and she fell. Her behind hit the wood so hard that she and the bridge groaned in unison. Her heavy pack full of books slid from her shoulders and toppled.
The topmost volumes spilled out. In an instant, the white woman was tearing through them, shredded paper flying everywhere.
"Oi, leave my…" Nabi jerked back, rubbing and blowing on her singed fingers. Merciful Kannon, that candle crown was hot! She could only watch, begging and howling with helpless fury, as the ghost tore through her books--her livelihood, more precious than a mountain of white rice.
Finally, one volume rose as if carried by invisible string between the ghost's hands: a small but thick yellowed tome. Nabi remembered it. A colleague had all but forced it on her back in Nagoya, claiming all his regulars had read it already. That in itself was standard practice, but Nabi had never figured out what sort of book it actually was. There were lists of ingredients, recipes for teas and tinctures but also many pages she couldn't decipher at all. She'd figured her more wealthy and learned customers might appreciate its novelty.
"Thief and liar, what shall I do with you?" the ghost whispered and, to Nabi's horror, zeroed in on her again.
"P-Please, just take the book," Nabi cried wetly, crawling backwards and wincing as splinters dug into her palms, "take it and be gone!" Oh, she'd just wanted a place to sleep for the night, a warm meal…
The ghost rushed towards her.
Nabi buried her head in her arms, closed her eyes and…
A blast of frigid air tore at her ragged tunic, her short hair, her face. When it finally lessened, Nabi didn't look. She hurled herself up and ran, ran, ran, never stopping, not when something wet and hot trickled over her cheek, not when she reached the first shacks of Moriya village and not when baffled peasants called out to her.
She found the inn, dashed through the door and slammed it shut.
When she realized she'd left her pack at the bridge, she collapsed in a heap.
It took a while for the innkeeper to calm her down, help her up and get a bowl of hot broth in front of her. Someone treated the cuts on her face and her hands. She barely tasted the first vegetables of the season. The memory of those three flickering candles, the ghostly face was still too vivid. Eventually, though, the warm fire and the everyday chatter of villagers all around reached her ears and began to relax her muscles. She was among living human beings. She was safe.
That night, Nabi tossed and turned on her straw mat. When she finally slept, she dreamed of a large wisteria on a riverbank. It was pitch-black night and its branches, heavily laden with lilac flowers, drooped over the water like curtains. Between them, she glimpsed a white figure.
Not ghostly white but cream-colored and pristine like something a high-ranking warrior's daughter would wear. The lady turned her head towards Nabi but her face was obscured by a wide-brimmed reed hat. "Thank you for returning my spellbook," she said and Nabi saw that she held the strange yellowed book in her hands.
Nabi bowed--a lowly booklender paying respect to a lady.
"It is a shame though," the lady continued meditatively. "You can read, you are clever. Why hide yourself? Why be a wallflower when you could be a Venus flytrap?"
"Milady?" Nabi whispered.
But when she looked up, the lady in white and the wisteria had vanished.
In the morning, she found her pack in front of the inn, undamaged and with all her books except one neatly stacked into its wooden frame.
Ghosts, blood