Please to Kitsune-sama!

Chapter 167 : Kitsune-sama Heads to Toshima (3)

Kisaragi Station.

Among the urban legends of the old world, it was one of the newer ones—and one of the least understood.

The tale went that people sometimes found themselves at a mysterious station called “Kisaragi Station.” But whether those people survived or not, and what “Kisaragi Station” truly was, remained shrouded in conflicting theories. The only consistent detail was that Kisaragi Station was not part of the ordinary world, but an otherworld.

And there it was—exactly where the signboard said it would be.

“So this is what they call ‘Kisaragi Station,’ eh.”

The Kisaragi Station before Inari looked like a forgotten stop along some rural local line, even in its own age.

A large, weather-stained sign reading “Kisaragi Station.” A wooden station building with wide open doors. An unmanned ticket gate. Old ticket machines, unlit, each with slips of paper hung upon them. Beyond the building, she could see stairs leading up to the platform.

“Well, well…”

Stepping closer, she saw the slip hung on one of the ticket machines. Its faded ink read: “You cannot go anywhere.”

For the moment, someone—or something—calling itself “Yatabe” seemed to be inside the station office. His name had been on the list of the first team’s members as their captain, but that hardly guaranteed it was truly him. Inari stepped into the station and looked around.

Inside the aged wooden building were rusting benches, a timetable board with nothing written on it but the words “Timetable,” and a door labeled “Station Office.” A counter window was shut tight, curtains drawn behind it. Through those curtains, a faint glow of light leaked. This, then, was the place. Without hesitation, Inari turned the metal knob and opened the door.

The room beyond was lit by a single weak bulb. Desks. A washbasin. A door leading further back—likely a toilet. Every window curtain was shut, and the light barely held the gloom at bay.

In the corner stood a man in armor. A flat-topped haircut. Facing the wall. He stood silently, unmoving, his back to her.

At last, without turning, he spoke.

“Who’s there?”

“I was dispatched for this matter. Art thou ‘Yatabe’?”

“Yeah. I’m… Shinichirou Yatabe…”

“Hmm.”

Inari raised Kogetsu in blade form and gave it a casual swing.

“So? Dost thou intend to leave this place?”

“I can’t leave…”

“Oh? And why not?”

“Because everyone dies here!”

“I see.”

With a snarl, the man whirled and leapt at her with monstrous strength. His eye sockets were nothing but pits of black. Inari slammed him aside with the flat of Kogetsu. He rebounded, clung to the ceiling, and cackled hideously.

“Hyah-hyah-hyah-hyah-hyah!”

“I held back in case there were a chance… but unnecessary. Just a wraith.”

“Nobody leaves, nobody leaves, no one can ever leave! You toooo!”

Inari cleaved the false Yatabe clean in half. His form disintegrated into black dust, leaving behind a magic stone. Picking it up, she gave a firm nod.

“A monster that mimics men perfectly, then. That’s what we’re dealing with.”

Even so, the real man might have been here once. To be sure, she searched the office. Most of the papers on the desks were smudged beyond reading, but a few stood out—new, and different.

One was a folder labeled “Operation Plan.” Another, a hastily drawn map of the town copied from a signboard, with annotations scribbled here and there.

The school was marked with an X and the word “Danger,” suggesting something had happened there. Perhaps they had been using this office as a command post. If so, where had they gone? At the very least, not a single body remained here.

“Which means… survival is still possible. I must search.”

She still didn’t know what kind of spell or power maintained this space. But blasting it apart wholesale could bring disaster—if any survivors were hiding on the second or third floor of some building, their footing might vanish beneath them, sending them plummeting to their deaths. That would defeat the purpose of her coming here.

“Hmm… the school is out, then. But where…?”

Studying the map, Inari pondered. Then, from outside the office, came a voice. Distorted, neither male nor female. Exactly like the ones she had heard in the Saitama 4th Dungeon.

“Now arriving on the platform is a train. But you cannot board. Next stop: Dismemberment. Dismemberment. We hope you enjoy your screams—please take care.”