Michael Levitz and the Uncanny Can

It was many years ago now that I made the discovery of my lifetime in rural Kyoto. Twin discoveries really. The one everybody knows is the lost Assyrian Codex, which gave us entire new psalms and an authoritative text of Tobit. It certainly made my Bubbies proud. But that is not what I, personally, treasure most; for it was in Kyoto that I had an extraordinary encounter that rekindled my belief in the supernatural.

We call them dybbuks or demons. But to the people of Hondo, they are yokai: creatures from someplace else who appear seemingly at random, for good or for ill, their defining feature being not goodness or evil but their very strangeness. I was a rakish young man back then, and I didn't believe in such things, I believed mainly in pleasure and adventure. I had not yet made my miraculous discoveries. I had not yet met Shirime.

1.

The sun was setting as I pulled my horse, with its saddlebag full of books and effects, up to the inn. This was a small village about 20 kilometers south of Kyoto city, along the road from the port of Osaka to the former imperial capital. I knew I should be looking at sacred sites in this part of the country, but not much else.

It turns out, there are many times many such places in Japan. According to the innkeeper, a chatty middle aged man with an impressive bun of dark hair, I would find several shrines within an hour's ride of this village alone.

I was tired from my travels, and while my Japanese was passable, I still found myself tiring of trying to absorb all this information. I had to beg to speak on matters other than business. It was then that our conversation turned to local lore of a different kind: hauntings, misadventures and the like. One such story was of a strange monster, a yokai, who made some of the locals afraid to go out at night.

It was said they never hurt people, although several women had fainted. The creature, you see, looked like a hooded man who would suddenly appear at the edge of the shadows. Those whom they approached would grow apprehensive as all attempts at conversation were ignored. At last, the creature would reveal their true face - most who'd seen it couldn't, or wouldn't, describe it - and then vanish into the darkness as quickly as they'd appeared.

"Shirime?" I asked.

"Yes, that is how the monster is known," said innkeeper Motosuwa. "Why isn't clear, but the eye is... wrong, somehow."

"Just one eye?"

"I believe so."

"And this is usually close to midnight?"

"Any time after full dark, really. I hope you brought all your things to the room."

"I have, but actually I am going to step out. Before bed I like to use this" - I gestured to the wood pipe sticking out of my breast pocket - "and look at the sky. I'm a... a night person."

"Then be careful, night person," he said. "And sleep well."

The night air was chilly that time of year. I bundled up, went out and stood by the single lantern that lit the path up from the village's main street. If I held my hand up to block its light I could still see the stars quite well. The American tobacco I'd brought on my trip was quite aromatic, not the best I'd had, but it traded quite well around here. A lazy cloud of smoke and condensation from my breaths wafted away towards the road.

When I first spotted movement in the shadows, partway across the clearing, I thought it was a bush waving in the slight breeze. Then the "bush" articulated and slowly strode forward, trailing dark robes. I gripped the hilt of my utility knife, meant more for bushwhacking than protection, but I resisted panic. I was conscious of my status as a guest in this country, where until lately visitors were unheard of. It wouldn't do to make something of nothing. Given their dress and the circumstances, I supposed they might be a traveling monk, come to stay the night.

I tried to recall the polite greeting for this time of day. "Konbawa? Sorry, I am only a traveler, stranger-San. But Motosuwa-San is awake. That way," I said, gesturing up the path behind me.

But the creature did not continue up the path, veering instead directly towards me. From up close, I could see there was something strange about their movements. As though the joints under those robes bent the wrong way for a human...

"Sir," I remembered the honorific, "The inn is that way."

The creature slowed its approach, but did not stop. By this point I had lost all composure, my mind frantically scrabbling for an explanation, so when my lips found the name, it came as a relief, a foothold.

"Shirime?"

They stopped short at the name.

"I knew it, you're the one they all talk about. It's, uh, nice to meet you."

The figure seemed to nod slightly, and in a faint, labored, crackling whisper that I couldn't be quite sure was actually spoken aloud and not a voice in my head, it affirmed: "Shirime."

"Do you call yourself something else?" This got no answer.

"I am called Levitz. I'm a traveler here."

The response drifted back: "Levitz."

For a long beat, they stood motionless as though no longer sure what to do. Weren't they going to show themself?

"Well, go ahead," I said, "vayzn zikh," lapsing into my mother tongue.

The creature turned themself around with motions that seemed to defy all reason. The cloak seemed not to turn with them. For a moment I saw them in profile, on all fours like a large dog, then suddenly upright again. Lanky digits, I wouldn't swear to whether they were fingers or toes, reached out from baggy sleeves to throw aside the cloak, revealing...

It was nothing like the picture in my head.

The yokai was crouched backwards, head and shoulders facing away and lowered nearly to the ground, powerful legs and... ankles?... extended to thrust forward a pale white butt that split to reveal a single, large, beautiful, hazel eye. The white of it seemed to glow in the darkness.

I stood dumbfounded. This was impossible. A yokai that understood me in Yiddish?

So I asked. "Tsi ir redn eydish?!"

"...Ya."

"Well now I've seen everything. Tell me, Shirime-San, do you smoke?"

2.

They did, in fact, smoke. I say "they" because, although I learned a great deal about Shirime, none of it shed any light to whether they were man, woman or neither.

They did possess what I thought were testes, small ones, nestled in a taut, smooth sack below the giant eye, although let's be honest it could have been any sort of bilateral vestigial sex organ; but no other sexual parts to be seen. I couldn't even see their mouth, although they'd managed to creak out a few hoarse words from somewhere, and they were puffing the pipe from roughly where one might expect a belly button.

It was evident they weren't about to vanish or run away, so, this being an increasingly chilly and windy night, I invited them inside. We stole hastily across the empty tavern to the rooms. I laid out some rice wine and leftover chicken broth, and beckoned for them to take a seat on the edge of the bed, since that's all there was. Comfortably perched, they cast about with their one eye, surveying the meager accommodations as they supped.

By way of yes or no questions, I learned a little about my guest. The locals seemed to have this idea that Shirime delighted in scaring or pranking people, but that couldn't have been more wrong. They were basically stranded on the island, lonely and friendless. They'd had another life somewhere else, although details were hard to get across. Now they lived in the woods and studied humans from afar.

They knew little of the wider world, although they did, oddly enough, seem able to comprehend any language, at least any of the four I knew. I asked if they'd like to hear a brief synopsis of the history of my own people, and was glad to impart it.

While we talked, the bottle of sake helped us into a state of profound relaxation, and the creature's pleasant company put to bed any notion of danger. I even broke out a tin of soybean oil for us to massage each other's weary muscles. In this lighting, I could see quite well how powerfully built Shirime was, how healthy their skin, how cutely dimpled their backside. Unbidden, I pitched a tent in my pants, one that they couldn't fail to notice. With a grunt they set down the wine glass and reached for me.

"What is it, friend? Oh. I guess there's no denying I find you handsome. Wait, wait."

They stopped and rested a hand on my knee. The eye gazed at me quizzically, or so I imagined.

"Shirime-San, are you asking what I think you're asking?" They nodded. "Well then my answer is yes. At least I'll try, friend. You may have to guide me. I've been with all sorts of people, but I'm not sure any of it has prepared me to please someone as special as you."

It turned out the yokai was quite eager to please, too, and they had plenty of ideas on the subject. Their four feet were intricately articulated, impressively dexterous, freshly cleaned at the washbasin, and eager to explore me.

"Oh! That tickles," I said, my butt clenching up as a finger grazed the rim. "I hope you weren't expecting to find an eye there."

Nothing fazed them, it seemed. In a moment I had rolled onto my back, legs spread wide. Shirime was sinking fingers (toes?) into me with one arm and massaging my stiff cock with the other. I caressed their butt cheeks with both my hands; they looked up, and we gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment.

"You're wonderful at this," I said, "but aside from appreciating your lovely muscles, I don't know what I can do to return the favor! Well, I suppose I could..."

I reached out and gently traced around what I took to be their scrotum. I heard a sharp intake of air.

The creature's eye went even wider, and despite the hidden mouth I could swear they were smiling. I beckoned them closer so that they could straddle me - if straddling is something four-legged beings do? - while I held onto their thighs and delicately kissed the sack. A different set of fingers took hold of my cock.

With something resembling a sigh they spread those muscular cheeks a bit wider. There, just below the eyeball, was a small puckered opening.

"You devil, you saved another little surprise for me. May I? Good. This, I know something about." Then I was kissing the rim, slipping in one finger, two fingers. The grip on my cock loosened, and Shirime scooted back, and I felt the most amazing wetness take hold of me.

"Blessed Name," I said, "you are gifted!" Their mouth enveloped me; somehow it had reappeared a good fifty centimeters from where I thought it'd previously been. And what a gift. The more enthusiastically I fingered Shirime's hole, the more wildly they sucked and swallowed at me. Thick, slippery, tears (for lack of a better word) began to run down the eye and collect on my fingers

"Are you okay?" I asked, but they only grunted in the affirmative. "Good..." I clambered away from the edge of the bed, got onto my knees, and cupped one hand to my cock and balls in a gesture of offering. "Come over here, beautiful." They seemed to understand.

"Is that eyeball going to be alright with my stomach bouncing off it?"

"...Ya."

"Do you, um, enjoy a little slapping on the cheeks?"

They made no sound, merely cocked their eye to one side. By way of an explanation I gave the right cheek a little smack. In response they let out a long, soft groan, and from the way their butt and balls waggled, I could imagine them lolling, drooling.

"That's exactly how I felt the first time someone did that to me. Now come here..."

With the greatest of delicacy, I took Shirime by the cheeks and slowly pushed into them. They opened up for me eagerly. The fact that we were both soaking wet certainly helped things along, of course.

"You are lovely, my friend, inside and out." I started hitting their butt, gently at first, then harder, feeling the little squeezes against me, until suddenly they weren't so little and they weren't in time with my movements.

Shirime was coming.

Slick fluid ran in rivulets down their cheeks and splashed off our legs as they collided. Gradually the clenching faded, but they gave no indication of wanting to stop. I raised myself up for better leverage, and not missing a beat they slid under me, cheeks held open to better receive me.

I began to lose sense of time as we went at it, this way and that. Maybe it was some unearthly gift of theirs - I don't think I would have lasted that long under natural circumstances, not with a partner so eager to please and so sweet to fuck. But after an eternity I said,

"Blessed Name, I'm going to finish. Do you want it inside you?"

They grunted twice, and reached out to grasp my ass and pull me closer. The display of enthusiasm pushed me right over the edge. I shot out what felt like ten normal loads of seed, spasming over and over until I was drained. Finally a cramp in my right foot managed to seize my attention.

"Ow," I said, rolling back onto my ass and reaching for the water pitcher at the bedside table.

Shirime was kind enough to rub my aching foot until it unclenched. Then the yokai curled up beside me, rested one baby-smooth butt cheek against my sweaty chest, and emitted a throaty purr that was somewhere in between house cat and mountain lion. Thusly serenaded, I was asleep before I knew it.

3.

I awoke to bright sunlight streaming through the room's only window and directly onto my face. Alone.

I did wonder for a moment if I'd dreamed the whole thing up, though there isn't a strong enough sake to conjure such vivid fantasies. Then I realized, the smell of sex was all over me and all over the bed.

I was going to have to pay Motosuwa-San an extra silver for his troubles. This was not subtle.

Indelicately I rolled out of bed, and found one more tangible reminder of the night we'd shared: a handwritten note on the end table next to me. It wouldn't have occurred to me that Shirime could write so well. Particularly in Yiddish. A strange scribble, which caused my head to throb if I looked at it for too long, seemed to be their signature.

Dearest Michael,

Last night meant more to me than you can imagine, and you are not a man lacking in warmth or imagination. Not only did you make me feel wanted, not only did you bring me pleasure like I haven't felt in the three centuries I've been trapped in Hondo. Your actions have set me free.

No one tells us the rules when we become stranded in the mortal realm. Long have I searched for someone who could appreciate me as I am, never realizing that to find mutual love, however fleeting, was the correct instinct, and the key to my escape. Now that my translation has begun, I do wish I could stay a bit longer in your arms. But I cannot. I must return to the place my spirit calls home.

I am, however, determined to leave you with a gift equal to the one you've given me. On the back of this note, you'll find the key to that which you were seeking. I wish you love and good fortune.

Slowly I turned the paper over. It was a hand-drawn map. It showed a path diverging east from the main road a few kilometers north of here. After meandering inland and passing several other landmarks, the path ended, marked with a kanji that looked vaguely familiar.

"It's a shrine, alright," said Motosuwa-San. "I was there once, many years ago, and I believe these directions are accurate. Where did you find this?"

I shrugged, and sped through my breakfast.

Several hours later, I was trotting my horse up a path into a dense forest. Up ahead I could just make out a distant hilltop cluster of especially massive trees. The shrine.

Once there, it took a few minutes longer to tie up the horse, consult the map, and positively identify the specific rock under the specific tree that marked the end of my journey. It looked as if it had been a hewn stone block before centuries of rainfall weathered it away.

With great exertion I managed to lever the stone up, and it tumbled away downhill. I kicked tentatively at the depression where it had been. Only now did I realize I'd packed no shovel.

A couple of Yiddish curses and several minutes of bare handed digging on my knees, and I struck something solid under the dirt. It seemed to be an elegant lacquered box. Gingerly I brushed away soil, uncovered the beveled edges and pulled it free. A quick glimpse of the contents set my heart pounding. Bound with leather cord was a tight reel of deeply yellowed, but miraculously intact parchment scrolls. The Codex.

I grinned, and whispered to the sky: "Now we are even, my friend."