Ichiro had lost count of the number of times he'd drifted back and forth past the most grotesque buildings imaginable, the sheer height and skeletal white color of each one plunging him into a pit of unease. All the while, strangely shaped boxes flew by on the neighboring road at an alarming speed despite the absence of horses, taking their occupants to destinations unknown.

The people he came across were unmistakably Japanese in appearance, but like with the mysterious Yukari, their hairstyles and clothing were outrageous and, dare he say it, indecent beyond belief. Almost all the men were dressed uniformly in dark, tight-fitting garments, with none of them sporting topknots as was proper. In regards to the women, they were perhaps even more appalling to the eye. Many of them hadn't even bothered to tie back or pin up their hair. Instead, they let it all hang loose in an awful mess while walking around in attire that accentuated the shape of their breasts and, in some cases, even left their lower legs exposed.

Once again, Ichiro stopped by the tall black pillar with beacons of light suspended from it like leaves on a tree branch. They were colored blue, yellow, and red, respectively, and after staring up for a few moments, the blue one glowed bright, prompting him to swallow in dread.

Feet clicked against the ground behind him before he experienced the fleeting sense of nausea that resulted from somebody phasing through his body. The back of the person's head came into view, and the way their hair cascaded past their shoulders indicated that they were a woman.

With an anguished sigh, he resisted the urge to grab at them and plead for help, knowing that they could neither see nor hear him now that he had been expelled from his corporeal shell and become a ghost. Despair fell upon him like a blanket, and he sat down by the side of the road before curling up to cry. His thoughts drifted to Kumiko and everything she'd said and done over the past couple of days.

He realized now that none of it had been sincere, which brought to mind the question of why she had not only deceived him but doomed him to existence in this never-ending hell. He had loved her with all of his soul, and she'd clearly felt the same, so it made little sense for her to sink to such treachery.

Unless she was no longer the impulsive but kindhearted young woman who had once charmed him so. Perhaps the events that had shaped this nation into something unrecognizable had also hardened her to the point that she'd lost all tenderness and morality.

Even so, it simply couldn't be possible for her old self to be completely gone. Although there was no hope left for him, he could still find Kumiko again and try to unearth her humanity, no matter how deep it was buried.

With renewed determination, he raised his head and wiped away the tears before getting to his feet. The world that he'd known had been replaced by one that was alien and unforgiving, so it was only right for him to fight against all odds for the sole remnant of his past.

He took an unsteady step forward, setting his right foot down upon one of the white stripes that contrasted starkly against the dull gray road, then did the same with his left, all the while wishing to the heavens for success.

******

It was one thing to know that Akane had preyed on people in the past, but something else entirely to stumble into a cobweb-ridden dining room and come face to face with a desiccated corpse seated at a dusty table.

Hollow eye sockets stared vacantly back as Kumiko dragged her chair of choice against the rough floorboards towards the open door. She noticed the bony neck jutting out from a faded blue shirt, and with a shudder, realized that this had once been a young man whose desire for intimacy had led to a painful death by venom.

She turned away from the ghastly scene and tried to focus solely on finding her way back out of the house. With her right hand still gripped around the top rail, she placed her left beneath the chair's apron, lifting it up so that she could carry it along without making too much noise.

A few minutes later, she was in the front yard once more and overcome with relief to be breathing fresh air again. Setting the chair down, she saw Tsutomu pacing around on the footpath, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

She feared that it would be rude to interrupt him, so she sat and composed herself before entering the meditative trance that would allow her to trace Akane's path.

A narrow road illuminated in the darkness, and she began to walk on it, seeing traces of the jorōgumo's spiritual energy in the form of wispy, dark purple clouds stretching out as far as she could see.

She reached out to touch one, only for it to dissipate between her fingers. With a sigh, she withdrew her hand and continued on, keeping a safe distance away from the trail to avoid destroying any more of it by mistake.

Eventually, she quickened her pace until she was as fast as a divine wind. Houses, shops, and street signs rushed past, with the only constant being the clouds that flanked her on either side, leading the way towards a dilapidated white building marked by a gray van parked outside. Purple vapor billowed out from the main entrance, and she stopped to hold her nose at the stench emanating from the trash bags nearby while trudging inside.

A flight of stairs took her down to the basement, which she entered by phasing through the black door.

She found herself inside a small room containing a swivel chair and white dressing table. An array of red and pink lipsticks were lined up by the mirror, which would have been surprising enough if not for the purple mist swirling in from underneath a dark curtain. She approached and swept it aside with caution, just as the loud voice of a young man reached her ears.

"That's it! That's the spirit! Keep up the sexy pout!"

A camera flash sounded, and Kumiko stopped in her tracks, feeling utterly confused at what was going on. In the center of the room, wreathed in purple, was an alabaster-skinned young woman clad in a tight black corset and fishnet stockings. She posed with a whip in one hand and her foot upon a wooden chair, altering her expression as per the photographer's wishes until he was satisfied.

Wait a minute. That's Akane?

Akane took her foot off the chair and relaxed. The photographer stepped away from his mounted camera, allowing Kumiko a clear view of his face. He wasn't as much of a knockout as Ichiro, but he was still rather good-looking, with a mischievous smile and ebony eyes that appeared all the more striking in the bright studio lights.

He was just the sort of person a jorōgumo was prone to target, and Kumiko knew that she would need to act fast to save him from probable death. She considered observing the rest of the photoshoot in case something unusual happened but soon remembered that Tsutomu was still waiting for her to come back.

With a sigh of resignation, she turned and raced back the way she had come, all the while racking her brains trying to think of other viable plans. If it's any consolation, I now know the address of her place of employment...

******

Tsutomu was eager to prove himself a good watchman despite his fear. He paced back and forth, scanning the surrounding street and giving the unconscious Kumiko an occasional glance until she finally began to stir.

She opened her eyes with a groan, then to his shock, suddenly bolted upright.

"Are you all right? What did you-"

"No time," she interrupted him breathlessly while rising to her feet. "I know where she is, and we need to leave now."

"Leave? But-"

She stumbled forward to grab his arm, then pulled him along with her. "I'll explain later when we've gotten off the train."

"Train? Are we-"

"Yes!" She broke into a run, thus forcing him to do the same. They returned to the station within minutes and managed to board the train to Shinjuku right on time before finding a seat big enough for them both.

As the railway platforms outside gave way to views of distant trees and buildings, Tsutomu realized in surprise that her hand had come to rest upon his. Feeling sheepish, he cleared his throat while gesturing downwards as subtly as he could.

Kumiko turned away from the window and blushed upon noticing her mistake. "Sorry. I forgot you're not him..." she whispered in embarrassment.

"That's fine. No harm done," Tsutomu quickly replied, though a part of him already regretted bringing an end to such physical contact.

The sunlight had brightened her features in such a way as to make her appear ethereal, and the longer he looked, the more he understood how the men of old could have been so vulnerable to the charms of beings like her. Nevertheless, he managed to remind himself that there were plenty of mortal women who equaled her in beauty in this day and age, even if their celebrity status made them unattainable.

He leaned back in his seat, watching Kumiko clutch her handbag tightly through the corner of his eye, then allowed himself to wonder what revelations she would soon impart.

******

After spending the better part of four hours posing provocatively in skimpy costumes, playing with a range of gear, and even being tied up like some helpless prey, Akane felt rather upset that the photoshoot had come to an end. The intense thrill was gone, and she sat in front of the mirror, glaring at her reflection until Mariko entered in concern.

"Are you okay there? You seem on edge."

Akane spun around to express her dismay. "Yes, I am. I need to know what happens next."

Mariko crossed the room to stand by her side before placing a hand on her shoulder. "I understand your fear, but I wouldn't worry if I were you. Shinji says you're a natural and that it will be hard to find someone better."

"So, does that mean...?" Akane asked, her hopes returning as she also remembered her original purpose.

"Yes. He's willing to speak with you now if you're ready."

Akane wasted no time in getting up off her chair. "I am."

"That's good. Just follow me." Mariko guided her back into the studio where Shinji was packing up his camera equipment. He noticed their presence and rose to his feet to greet them.

"Ah, there's our girl of the hour! Mariko, would you mind giving us some time alone?"

"Of course, Shinji. I was just about to..."

Mariko left, thus making Akane the only woman in the room. She faced Shinji and tried her best to smile sweetly. He beamed in response.

"You know, I had a feeling you were special, and now, it seems like I was right."

Akane gave a slight bow of gratitude, then focused on making her move. "I'm glad to hear that. You like me, don't you?"

"I do. Very much, in fact."

"I see. Would you go on a date with me, then?"

Shinji's cheery expression faded. His gaze shifted to the side as he tightened one fist. "You know I can't do that, right? I'd like to keep our relationship professional..."

"Oh," Akane moaned in disappointment, taking a step back. "I was starting to think you were the one."

"Well, I'm not," Shinji said with a nervous chuckle. "But you know what they say. There's plenty more fish in the sea."

The thought of any sort of fresh meat reminded Akane of her hunger, and as if on cue, her stomach gave a loud rumble that attracted Shinji's attention.

"Woah, sounds like you're starving. How about I treat you to lunch as your superior? I promise I'll pay for everything-"

A sudden knock caught their attention before Mariko came striding in, her focus glued on Akane.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but did you make plans with anyone earlier? There's a girl outside who says that she's your friend..."

Akane stiffened at such news. She didn't have any acquaintances apart from her loyal subjects, so it was suspicious that someone might claim to be such a thing to her now.

With a shallow sigh, she stared at Mariko and made clear her wishes. "No, I don't know who they are. Please tell them to leave."

******

Note: You might have picked up that one of the traffic lights was blue from Ichiro's perspective (no, it's not because he's colorblind). Green ('midori') was considered a shade of blue ('ao') for much of Japanese history, and even in the present day, the word 'ao' is occasionally used for both colors.