I Fell In Love With A Girl Who Died Before I Was Even Born

I had everything all set up. Mic? Check.

Two of them actually. And, of course, my recording equipment. I've since learned that showing up with a Talkboy and a pile of cassette tapes is NOT as impressive as it played out in my head.

This time, I had a grown-up budget, real recording equipment, a sound mixer, and only the very best of intentions.

What I needed, though, was a guest.

Sadly, Michael Caine was busy. Sean Connery was still dead. And I doubt Christopher Lee is going to return ANY of the countless letters I've sent him.

Look, I know what happened to Lee. However, in my defense, the man didn't just play Dracula. I'm pretty sure he is.

The station? Technically a supply closet. The ambiance? Somewhere between late-night jazz and a haunted CB radio signal.

The host? Me. Inego Fallensworth. Amateur interviewer, professional enthusiast, and lifelong collector of strange company.

I was afraid that no one would come. I sent out invitations, and then the waiting game began.

They said no one would listen to a broadcast hosted out of a moldy onsen boiler room.

They said I wouldn't get guests.

They said "Yōkai aren't real, Inego."

Well guess what, Basil.

My guest today eats coins, turns into a futon when drunk, and once staged a coup in a karaoke bar.

Her name is Azuki, and she is, according to her, both "smoking hot" and "a national treasure."

This is Inego Interviews.

Let's get weird.

Okay. Enough monologuing in my head.

I turned to Azuki, who was sitting across from me with a grin that said "You should be questioning your life choices right now, buddy."

I am, Azuki.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Welcome to Inego Interviews," I said.

"Oh! Yeah! You told me that, already, Inego," Azuki said, bouncing in her seat. "Just let me know when we start recording, okay? I've got a joke I want to tell people."

Oh my gosh.

"Azuki, we're on."

She grinned at me even more.

"Perfect! Just say that and I'll tell my joke. Oh, I should ask first. Is it okay if I tell a dirty joke?"

I jumped a little, resisting the urge to reach across the mixing board and throttle her.

Not that it'd do any good.

She'd just rearrange herself, and I'd be there with my hands wrapped around a garden hose, and she'd be giggling like it was cute.

"You know what?" I said, sighing. "Go for it. I mean, how bad can it be?"

Her eyes lit up.

"Alright! Okay—"

Full reverse! I could tell I'd made a mistake, so I interrupted her.

"U-uh. I mean, this is meant to be… semi-professional!"

Her face dropped a bit.

"Oh no," she said, eyes wide. "Are you telling me this is a family-friendly podcast, Inego?"

She tilted her head, innocently enough.

"I… I didn't say that," I muttered into the mic. "I mean, your judgment is magically compromised by centuries of shapeshifting mischief, so... yeah. I'm doomed."

She shrugged in a way that the listeners totally couldn't hear.

"Because I can totally clean it up," Azuki said, tapping her chin with a finger. "Like, instead of saying what I was going to say, I could just say 'tanuki balls.' That's safe, right?"

I'd made the mistake of sipping tea at the worst possible moment. Cue spit-take. All over the damn mixing board.

Thousands of dollars in audio tech. Baptized in tanuki shock humor.

"Oh my gosh! Were you doing an impression of a sprinkler?" Azuki asked, eyes sparking with mischief. "Do it again, Inego!"

I grabbed a napkin and tried to wipe off the board.

"Nope. Nope. We're moving on. Question one." I shuffled my cue cards like they were talismans.

"You didn't even ask me what the joke was," she pouted.

I whispered a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening.

"Azuki."

She reached across the soundboard and put her hand on my shoulder.

"You're so tense," she said.

She gave my shoulder a squeeze.

"Hey, here's the idea," I said. "I'm really glad you agreed to do the show. I was hoping we could make it kinda informal but educational, you know?"

She nodded.

"Like Doctor Who?"

I blinked.

It couldn't be that simple… could it?

"Yeah," I said. "Like Doctor Who."

Then she burst into giggles.

"I've never seen Doctor Who, Inego! I only said that because you're British!"

I felt something inside me just then.

It was fragile. Like a flower that had never seen a ray of sunshine, but had survived a long winter alone on some hidden mountain pass. Only to be squashed by an idiot hiker who stepped off the trail to take a selfie. Who stepped off the trail long enough to take a selfie.

I didn't cry, but I could have.

I looked across the table at her, and she smiled, letting it reach her golden eyes, magnified by the round glasses she wore.

Damn almond-shaped eyes. I swore she knew they turned my will into butter.

"Okay, so, let's try one more time," I said. "You're a tanuki."

She nodded.

"She's nodding, folks," I said.

She rolled her eyes.

"She'll become verbal in a second," I said.

Then she scrunched up her nose, trying not to laugh.

"Yes!" she said at last. "Yes, I'm a tanuki. A mischievous yokai from Japan, and I'm known throughout the region for my shapeshifting abilities."

Oh my gosh.

Paydirt.