The Cursed (Yokai Watch)

Chapter I: Awakening

The staccato ringing of the phone spooked Fumika Kodama into dropping her book. She knew she should have sat in her bedroom rather than the living room. She considered ignoring the shrill ringing, silently punishing the caller for interrupting her, but for all she knew it was her mother, and she didn't want to risk getting in trouble.

"Hello?" she said into the receiver, her tone controlled and tight despite her best efforts to avoid sounding annoyed.

"Hi, Fumi." It was her friend Keita. She had met him about five years ago when they were both in the fifth grade, and since then he had been elevated from "schoolyard pal" to "family friend" status. "I think you know why I'm calling."

She sighed, this time making sure he was fully aware of how inconveniencing she found him. "No, I didn't forget. And, no, I haven't found your silly Moximus Mask comics yet."

Technically they weren't really Keita's comics – they were her grandfather's. Keita had an intense interest in the comics largely because his own grandfather had once collected the exact same books. The ones Fumi owned happened to be the very first volumes, which were the only ones lacking from Keita's grandfather's collection. Fumi didn't understand the attraction Keita felt towards the story of Moximus Mask, something he unabashedly adored, but she did appreciate the history behind the old cartoons. She just didn't want to appreciate them at that exact moment.

"Please can you bring them over today?" He stretched the word 'please' out as if he were a little kid begging his mother for candy. "I know you're not doing anything today."

"I was reading," she said flatly.

"Same thing. You can read anytime, but you only have so much summer vacation left to hang out with your friends. C'mon, Kuma and Kanchi are coming over too."

A part of her wanted to argue with him, but another part of her admitted he had a point. When school started she could always read in between classes, but with all the homework her teachers intended to shovel down their students' throats, none of them would have much time to spend with each other outside of weekends. That, and her parents would be scrutinizing Fumi's every move, hounding her until they were certain she was writing, reading, and testing to the utmost peak of her abilities. Even then, she often felt they wanted her to perform into the realm of the humanly impossible. Suddenly the desire to spend time with her friends eclipsed her desire to read.

"Alright, you win." She set the book down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. "I'll be over in a bit. I just have to go into the attic and find them."

"Alright! See you then!" Click.

---

The dust was everywhere in the attic like newly fallen snow, untouched for years save for the tiny footprints of mice and insects tracing helter-skelter trails along the brittle cardboard boxes. Fumika didn't really want to root around in her parents' filthy attic for a bunch of old comic books, but after how Keita had begged to see her cartoon family heirlooms, she felt rude to arrive at his house with no comics to show. It wasn't like anyone in her household was enjoying them. When her parents returned from work Fumi decided she'd ask her mom if she could give the comics to Keita. They'd be safe with him, and she knew he'd cherish them. The first trick, however, would be to find them.

Tiny beams of light filtered through the single, shuttered window to the attic, illuminating the clouds of dust that rose as Fumi moved about. The dirty, heavy air stank of dried must and baked cardboard. Fumi couldn't wait to get out. Thankfully, she knew she wouldn't have to hang around the dark and cramped space for long. Her parents were careful about organization, having labeled the contents of each box before sending them up into storage, and very few possessed her grandfather's name. Fumi crawled over to the first box she saw with "GRANDPA'S STUFF" scrawled upon its side in black magic marker and opened it up, coughing violently when she was greeted with a grey billow of dust that stung her throat and lungs. She tilted the beam of her flashlight into the box, illuminating a messy tangle of jewelry seated upon a stack of old family photos featuring her grandfather and grandmother long before they died. She didn't think the old Moximous Mask comics would be under the photos, but she began to carefully remove the jewelry and framed memories just in case they were.