Yasuragi
Interest notes / Seeds of Semi-Sci-Fi Curiosity
The demon had grown bored of abducting women from the village, so he went to Tokyo.
He had heard there were prettier women in Minato Ward.
The demon abducted women from Minato Ward, and if they had husbands, he ate those men.
Then he took the women back to his island.
The people of the village heard the terrifying rumors spreading through Tokyo, but still celebrated the safety that had come to them.
As for the demon, he was blessed with many children.
Eventually, he decided to move.
Since old times, it has been the nature of demons to live at the edge of human settlements.
Minato Ward was too glittery, and somehow he hated it.
So, with no better choice, he made a suitable landfill in the Tokyo Bay area of Koto Ward and turned it into his home.
Onigashima TOKYO.
There, the abducted Minato girls served the demon every day, and the children grew up.
One day, the demon suddenly felt something was off.
The children’s faces seemed, somehow, different.
It was not that they were ugly because they had little mini-horns like the demon.
The mini-horns were actually kind of cute.
The problem was that their eyes, their nose bridges, and things like that did not look at all like the type of women he had abducted.
At first, the demon thought some other children from around Chuo Ward had come to play on the island.
But that was impossible.
The island was cut off from the world, and almost nobody came except Uber Eats delivery guys.
Though, of course, the food was the Uber Eats guy himself.
Come to think of it, the Minato girls, who used to be beautiful, also seemed to have different faces lately.
For simply getting older, every part of their bodies had become much too saggy and slack.
It was not fat.
It was the skin-feeling that was saggy and slack.
The demon asked the Minato girls.
“Why do the children’s faces not look like ours? And before that, why have even you become so saggy and slack?”
The Minato girls suddenly looked at him with eyes full of hatred and said,
“It’s because you won’t let us leave this island!!”
“Give it back!”
“Give back my doll-like body!”
“You broke it!”
“You brooooke it!”
The demon felt an extraordinary pressure.
At that moment, the skin of the Minato girls suddenly began melting into sludge, and in wax-doll forms they surrounded the demon.
The demon, terrified, ran and tried to escape toward Chuo Ward.
The wax dolls chased him.
A silicone-like liquid spilling from their melting skin glossed the ground.
From some of their eyelids and noses, things like thread and string, things like metal, were poking out.
The island’s center of gravity suddenly leaned toward Chuo Ward.
Cracks ran through the weak foundation of the landfill.
The children, thinking it was fun and knowing nothing, were running around excitedly.
The demon told them not to run around.
But it was already too late.
The island collapsed and sank into Tokyo Bay.
The demon was heavy, so he sank at once.
The wax dolls thought they would be saved because the collagen and hyaluronic acid all over their bodies floated on the water, but because they were water-soluble, they dissolved into scraps of the sea.
Only the children were floating on the water, and they were safely rescued by a passing ship.
They are orphans now, but they go to school with the other children of the world while working part-time jobs.
One of the children says this:
“I want to grow up fast, work properly, make money, and get plastic surgery. First, maybe I’ll have my horns removed.”
Tarachine
Life logs / Transcript of a monologue
『The Hand Soap in the Kitchen』
In a kitchen where I live alone, the scent of new hand soap brings back a crowded family table and the air after someone’s bath, almost thirty years ago. For a moment, an old household returns to the present.
###
I have been living alone, a man by himself, for over five years now.
I wake up early in the morning, head to work, come home sometime between seven and eight at night, eat with no one there, take a bath, and sleep.
This life, the kind that probably will not change much from here on.
Recently, a bright, and nostalgic, element was added to that room of mine.
When I put it that way, the usual guess would be that spring has finally come for me, or that I have brought in some cute dog or cat as a pet.
But this time, that thing stays in a much more practical, much more plain place.
When I get home, the very first thing I do is touch it.
Hand soap.
Recently, the hand soap in my kitchen ran out, so I bought a refill pack at a nearby 100-yen shop.
After I refilled the bottle, I immediately gave it one push, two pushes, and washed my hands to try it out.
At that moment, memories flashed back of going to my cousin’s house during elementary school summer vacations, winter breaks, and spring breaks.
And quite clearly too. I remembered the time around one or two hours after dinner at my cousin’s house, when my uncle, my aunt, my grandmother, their three daughters, and then me, my mother, and my older sister, about nine of us, had eaten dinner together.
After dinner, because that cousin’s house was a very large old house, with even a detached building, everyone would scatter off into their own rooms.
My family, the branch side, would stay in the room where we had eaten, together with my grandmother, watching nighttime variety shows and things like that. And always around then, one of my older girl cousins would cross in front of the TV to go take a bath.
Then, after several dozen minutes, she would cross in front of the TV again, wiping her wet hair with a towel.
At that time, I had no idea what ingredient it was, but I think it was probably the shampoo used only by that older cousin.
That scent would float out and fill the after-dinner living room.
That scent is the same as the hand soap in the kitchen where I live now, almost thirty years later.
I come home from work and wash my hands.
Each time, I remember things like how we once sat around the table, nine or ten of us, and how after my older cousin got out of the bath, everyone would yield to each other about who should go next, saying that if someone did not hurry, we would have to reheat the bath water again, so anyone is fine, just hurry up and get in—those kinds of scenes.
Bisho-An
Micro fictions / narrative works
Work: Two Insects in the Night Forest
The Work
Stag Beetle: ...
Cockroach: Why?
Stag Beetle: What’s wrong?
Cockroach: You and I are both brown insects.
Stag Beetle: We are.
Cockroach: Then why are you the only one people love?
Stag Beetle: I don’t know.
Cockroach: You’re always out in the forest at night.
Stag Beetle: I only want the tree sap.
Cockroach: I go out of my way to visit people’s homes.
Stag Beetle: Right.
Cockroach: And you hardly ever run.
Stag Beetle: Rushing only wears you out.
Cockroach: I’m always sprinting at full speed.
Stag Beetle: Maybe that’s the problem?
Cockroach: What is?
Stag Beetle: Nothing.
“Sometimes it is not how hard you try, but how you approach people, that makes them dislike you.”
Rinri
Soundscapes / auditory meditations
0:00 - 0:04:42:00
🎧 Track: DoingTheDishes
🧠 Field Note / Background
🗂 Technical Info
- Recorder: RODE Wireless PRO,ZOOM M2 MicTrak
- Format: 48kHz / 24bit / Stereo
🪶 Metadata
- Recorded: 20260706, Home
- Duration: 0:04:42:00
- Genre: ambient,lifestyle
- License: All Rights Reserved
Endnote / Reflection
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© 2026 不得井（enui） / Futagu
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This work is part of the Futagu series — a four-layered cycle exploring consciousness through curiosity, reflection, creation, and sound.
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