Holiday Magick (11 page)

If spirits
are
captured within these dolls, how are they trapped and what happens once they are floated down the river? Is it wise to trick a trickster?

“Flying Fish!”

The warning came from a three-year-old girl on the other side of the fountain. A rag doll arched through the air, bounced off the parasol of a Gothic Lolita living statue, flew over the head of a busker playing a black acoustic guitar, and was caught by a juggler. She incorporated the doll into her five-ball cascade.

“Just another Sunday in Yoyogi Park,” the busker said with a sigh. He smiled thanks at passersby dropping a few yen into his guitar case. The busker was dressed as an aristocrat in shades of black from his spats to his top hat. His velvet coat was open to show off the black-on-black paisley pattern of his vest. The look was completed with a cane and round sunglasses.

“Beautiful chaos,” replied the juggler. She changed her pattern to include behind-the-back passes. She was wearing khaki cargo pants, a yellow tank top, and blue canvas shoes. Her dark hair was cropped short and spiky. Around her neck was a silver fox paw against cherry blossoms on a leather cord.

The living statue said nothing, holding still despite the impact. She wore a knee-length Gothic Lolita dress, black-on-black. A crinoline peeked out under the hem. Lace adorned the fitted corset-style top and cap sleeves. Black boots laced up to meet the hem of her skirt and a tiny top hat rested on a cloud of black curls. Her velvet-gloved hand held a black lace parasol, which now tilted slightly to the right.

At least, that's how they appeared to the casual observer. Someone who looked closer, perhaps squinted a little, would have seen two black feathered birds—one crow, one raven—perched on a bench as a six-tailed fox frolicked near them. A wise fool would tell you both views were absolutely and simultaneously true. From the perspective of the spirits, the form the observer saw depended on how the spirits chose to interact with the world at that moment. They could twist reality at their whim.

The busker set aside his guitar and checked his pockets. Always aware of his audience, he conjured a bottle of orange soda from his vest pocket with an obligatory flourish. More coins landed in the case. “Are either of you lovely ladies thirsty?”

The living statue regarded him, and then shrugged. “Yes.” She closed her parasol and sat down on the bench next to him. “Thank you, my love.”

“You are quite welcome, dear heart.” He pulled a bottle of blue soda from his pocket and handed it to her. “It's blueberry—I think.”

“Never trust blue food,” the juggler quipped.

“And yet there is so much blue in
your
diet,” said the living statue. “Might explain a bit.”

The owner of the rag doll came running up. She was wearing yellow Pokémon rain boots and a pink Hello Kitty coat. Her short hair defied gravity and combs. She looked in the case, under the bench, and then at the busker.

He pushed down on the marble sealing his soda and took a drink, staring back at the child. Tilting his head toward his companion, he asked out of the corner of his mouth, “What do you think it wants?”

The Gothic Lolita sipped her soda. “It doesn't taste like blueberries.” She regarded the child, then added, “The flying fish?”

The girl nodded, eyes wide. “Fish!”

The busker pointed to the juggler.

“Fish!” She held up her hands.

“Your doll is named Fish?” asked the juggler, keeping the balls and doll airborne. “Why?”

“She likes fish.” This seemed a sufficient explanation. The girl added, “My mommy made her.”

The juggler threw the balls into the air where they disappeared. She proffered the doll to the girl. “Why was she flying?”

“Catapult. Whoosh!” The girl arched the doll through the air, and then hugged it. “My name is Mei.”

“I'm Fox.” The juggler bowed. “This is Raven, and Crow.” She indicated the busker and Gothic Lolita respectively.

“Where is your mother?” asked Raven.

“Don't know.” The girl stared at Crow. “Why is your dress all black?”

Crow raised a thin eyebrow. “Because I like black.”

Mei considered this. “I like black, too. But I like yellow better.”

“Your father, then?” asked Raven hopefully.

“He's on a trip across the ocean,” said Mei. “He plays guitar in a band.”

“Then where is your caretaker, hatchling?” asked an exasperated Raven.

“Mei!” called an old woman from the other side of the fountain.

“Gotta go! Zoom!” Mei took off at a full run, stopped, and ran back. She bowed. “It was nice to meet you.” Then she was gone.

“Cute kid,” said Fox. She sat down on the bench beside Raven.

“If you like that sort of thing,” said Crow.

Raven handed Fox a bottle of red liquid. “It claims to be watermelon.”

Fox held up the bottle. The liquid looked gray to her. “If you say so.” She popped down the marble and took a deep swig. “Not bad.” Mischief sparkling in her eyes, she leaned across Raven and asked Crow, “You don't like children?”

“They are acceptable in their proper place and time,” allowed Crow.

Raven said, “I suppose the park
is
one of their natural habitats.”

Fox nodded. “I think that one is a natural-born trickster.”

“Really?” asked Raven. “How can you tell?”

“I have a nose for these things,” Fox said knowingly as she stood up, holding Raven's pocket watch.

Raven checked his jacket pocket. He smiled and inclined his head. “Well played.”

Fox grinned and snatched up Crow's parasol. It was launched into the air followed by the watch. A pearlescent ball joined them in a three-object fountain.

“First a flying fish and now a mischievous fox,” sighed Crow. “Do be careful with the parasol. I just bought it.”

Fox laughed, a sharp barking sound. “No promises.”

The next Saturday afternoon, Raven went strolling idly through the park with Crow on his arm. They were promenading in their Lolita and aristocrat personas through the rose gardens, by the tea house, around a lake, and back toward the fountain. Raindrops glistened on leaves and the air had a pleasant, fresh smell following an early March rain. Crow's ever-present entourage of crows complained about wet feathers as they circled in the air above them. Fox was nowhere to be found.

“What is that sound?” asked Crow.

“The Rockabilly club,” hazarded Raven as a pair of girls in poodle skirts ran past.

“No. The low drone.”

Raven smoothed his goatee. “Ah, a didgeridoo.” He cocked his head to one side, listening. “Three, actually.”

“It adds a curious undertone to the rockabilly.” Crow added, “It's a wonder Fox isn't somewhere in the middle of this, given her penchant for musicians.”

“True. Didn't the two of you meet over some mishap involving these musical creatures?” mused Raven.

“Yes. We were stalking the same band. I enjoyed the fireworks resulting from the exploding amplifier trick she orchestrated. It was the culmination of a series of impressive pranks.”

“Which band was this?”

“I don't remember. Doesn't matter anyway; they broke up after the third show of their first tour.” Crow shrugged. “Fox and I found we worked well together and have been good friends ever since.”

“A shame,” said Raven. “About the band, I mean.” He smiled faintly.

Crow looked up at him and winked. “I had nothing to do with it, of course.”

“Of course. Ah, there's Fox on the lawn.” He pointed with his cane.

They changed direction, stepping onto the wet grass. Crow froze and looked down, horrified.

Raven looked perplexed. “Is this the time for artistic expression, my love?”

Crow scowled. “Mud.”

“Ah.” Raven smiled. “It can't be helped. Unless you wish to take to wing.”

“Yes. Mud stains satin.”

The space around them twisted as reality changed to accommodate them. In the old reality, Crow and Raven were humans who made their way through the world as street performers. Raven also took acting jobs in summer Shakespeare troupes when the mood struck him. Crow preferred living statue gigs, as they were an excellent cover for people-watching. In the new reality, they were two black feathered birds flying over the park. They glided over the lawn where Fox, in her juggler persona, was playing catch with Mei, and landed in a nearby cedar tree.

Fox caught the pearlescent star ball, with a twinkle in her eye. It was rumored to be a source of power for a fox, whispered that it housed her soul. The twinkle in her eye hinted at a private joke. She was allowing a human to touch it as if it were an ordinary item.

Crow asked, “Isn't that her star ball? But…isn't it powerful? Should she be so nonchalant with it?”

“I believe it is, and I believe she shouldn't,” answered Raven. “Which leads me to ponder what sort of mischief she has planned for today.”

Fox flopped down under the tree and said, “Just teaching the kid to juggle.”

Mei flopped down next to her and stared up at the branches. Leaf buds were just starting to form. “Why are you talking to the tree?”

“I'm not. I'm talking to my friends. See?” Fox pointed up at Crow and Raven.

“Oh.” Mei frowned. “Those birds?”

“Look again, only squint your eyes a little.”

Mei squeezed her eyes half-closed, and then squealed. “Raven and Crow! How did you get into the tree?”

Crow answered, “We flew.”

Mei consulted with Fish. “Fish says she wants to fly, too.”

“That worked out so well last week—” Raven started to say, but was interrupted by the approach of a frantic old woman.

“Mei! Where are you?”

“Granny!” Mei hopped up and ran to her grandmother. “Come meet my new friends!” Mei dragged her grandmother over to the tree and looked around, confused. “Where'd she go?” She turned in a circle, then announced, “Ah! Fox is playing hide and seek!”

Her grandmother frowned at the flash of six red tails behind a tree. “Come, Mei. We need to go home now.”

“And Crow and Raven are up there in the tree!”

“That's nice, dear. Now come along.” She was looking around anxiously, holding Mei close to her as she ushered the child away from the park.

Crow watched them go, head cocked to one side. “Let's follow them. I sense a story.”

“As you wish,” answered Raven.

It was easy to follow Mei. Her bright clothing, combined with her constant chatter, provided an excellent beacon. Crow's entourage of common crows was digging through trash bags and scavenging litter, useful as additional eyes and ears. She and Raven glided from streetlight to signpost through the streets of the Shibuya Ward and up to a three-story house. They landed on the second-story balcony. Crow peered through the window while Raven pecked at a wind chime with his beak.

Crow hopped down next to a planter to get a closer look into the living room. “Shush.”

“It's supposed to keep evil spirits away. They've been used around here for centuries—although not that much anymore,” said Raven a bit wistfully. He tugged at one of the metal chimes.

“Does it work?” she asked as she watched Mei and her grandmother come upstairs.

“That depends on how you define evil.” The chime refused to be liberated and clattered loudly as it sprang out of his beak.

Crow cast him a disapproving look and hid under a chair. “Keep up that noise and they'll come drive you off. Would be proof of your evilness, and the chimes would have done their work.”

As the grandmother put away the groceries in the kitchen, Mei ran over to her doll shrine set up near the balcony windows. She adjusted the Emperor and Empress as an excuse to touch the smooth silk clothing and cool porcelain. Then she threw open the balcony doors. The birds scattered for cover; Raven flew up to the roof while Crow hopped into the shadow of the table. Mei, oblivious to her feathered audience, climbed up on a chair and leaned out over the railing, dangling Fish over the side.