Before this moment, Yukine never would have considered how easily Kofuku’s living room would fit into the back of a semi-truck. Indeed, the living room would slide in with enough space to spare for the entire kitchen to be stuffed in as well. Adding the bedroom or attic would exceed the trailer’s capacity, but the hall or the bath might make the squeeze. This was relevant because the pumpkins loaded in the back of the truck did not represent a flat area that could be folded up and stuffed in a closet. There were enough pumpkins to fill the living room, kitchen, and bath, floor to ceiling.
Yato threw an arm around Yukine’s shoulder. “You remember when Hiyori was talking about fads being a source of popularity? You know October’s fad? Halloween! It’s gotten huge! A few years ago, no one knew about it, then the marketers swept in, and now there are decorations, costumes, parades, Halloween themed anime figurines.”
“So you got pumpkins? I’ve never seen so many. Ever,” said Yukine.
“Exactly! Halloween is popular, but no one sells pumpkins. We’re jumping on the front end of a fad. We’re gonna make a killing!” said Yato.
“No one sells pumpkins?” Yukine repeated. “How are we supposed to sell pumpkins if no one else sells them? You have some sort of plan?”
“We’ll put up signs.”
“Where did you even get the idea to buy a bunch of pumpkins?!” Yukine hissed.
“I bought them from Joe, here,” Yato waved over to the truck driver. Joe patted a pumpkin from the back of the trailer. “And he gave me a secret insider deal too.” Yato dropped his voice to whisper in Yukine’s ear.
“You’re kidding.”
“In four weekly installments.”
Yukine let out a slow breath. The pumpkins were still on the truck. Maybe not all hope was lost. If he could get Joe to take them back, even if it were at half price, perhaps the disaster could be avoided. “Hey, Yato,” Yukine paused, deciding on a plausible way to distract Yato for a few minutes. “Why don’t you go find some work gloves to move the pumpkins?”
“Great idea, Yukine!” Yato ran off to find gloves.
As soon as he was distracted, Yukine ran up to the back of the truck. “Hey, are you Joe?”
“Sure am, kid, Joe Hisaishi. You ready to move some pumpkins?”
“About that, Mr. Hisaishi! So, I work for Yato—”
“You don’t say?” Joe’s face lit up, and he flashed Yukine a thumbs-up. “That man is a gift from heaven! You’re one lucky kid.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m ashamed to say I’d lost hope before I came across his phone number. I was afraid I couldn’t find a buyer for my crop,” said Joe, wiping a tear from his eye. “Farming’s a tough business, and with all of my wife’s recent medical bills, I haven’t been able to keep up with our regular expenses. I already applied for an extension on the mortgage payment for six months, but still don’t have enough to make ends meet. I was afraid we’d have to build an outhouse after losing our running water and spend the winter freezing cold after losing our electricity, but thanks to Yato, it looks like we’ll weather the hard times and pull through!”
Somehow, Yukine lost his resolve.
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Yato got the gloves. Kofuku brought over a wagon and wheelbarrow. They formed a pumpkin chain, where Joe passed the pumpkins off the truck to Yukine and Kofuku, who then loaded them in either the wheelbarrow or wagon, which Daikoku or Yato rolled away to stack pumpkins around the yard. Then after smashing four pumpkins, Kofuku was assigned an alternative task of painting cardboard ‘pumpkins for sale’ signs to post around the park.
Yukine had counted some 200 pumpkins, at which point his arms were trembling from excessive weight lifting, Yato had created a six-meter pumpkin pyramid, the fairly sizeable yard was morphing into an in-navigable orange maze, Daikoku was threatening to call the city dump to pick up the pumpkins, and Kofuku had an “Adorable!” fist-sized squash adorned with a pink bow, sitting it on the porch. They’d barely made a dent in the trailer.
Hiyori showed up an hour later, and judging by her school uniform and pink cord, she was skipping class. Yukine felt a visceral sob as she gawked at the truck, the state of the yard, the expanse of pumpkins. She gave one nervous glance to Yato dancing around the second pumpkin pyramid, and waved to Yukine, where he sat, now retired, on the front porch.
Yukine would have waved back if he could still move his arms.
Hiyori made her way over, her expression awash with bewilderment as she stepped over pumpkins. “What happened here? I’ve been trying to contact Yato all morning. He sent out this crazy group text to like, twenty different numbers.”
“What text?”
“It said, ‘Hurry, it’s an emergency, and bring money,’ so I figured no one would come.”
“Well, here’s your emergency,” said Yukine, only slightly surprised to hear his voice float away empty, wispy, devoid of all hope. “Yato bought a literal truckload of pumpkins. He thinks we can sell them.”
“… I guess I’ll tell the others that it’s not a real emergency.”
“Save for the fact that every yen I’ve earned is going down the drain for pumpkins.”
“Is it that bad?” Hiyori asked.
“What, you think Yato has money for anything?”
Seeing no actual emergency, Hiyori returned to school. Unloading the pumpkins took up the rest of the morning. The ‘pumpkins for sale’ signs went up in the afternoon.
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Managing the Pumpkin Patch
Day One
Their first potential customers wandered in that afternoon: Two high school girls who got out their cell phones and started taking pictures. There were giggles, exchanges of, “Wow!” “This is incredible!” “Wow, they’re so big!” “They’re everywhere!” “Look at this one, it’s got warts.”
“Don’t touch it, Erika! It’s probably rotten.”
“No, I think it’s supposed to be ugly. Try to pick one up. They’re sooo heavy! Can you imagine carrying one of these things home? My mom and I bought watermelons at the grocery store once. We walked half a block home and had to call a taxi.”
More giggles. “We’ll roll the pumpkin to the train station. If people stare, we pretend it’s a soccer ball.”
“What do people even do with these? Do you cook them?”
“Maybe. I thought they carved them for decoration. It sounds really hard.”
“Ow! I got a splinter from the stem.”
“I told you not to pick it up! It’s not like we’re buying it.”
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Day Three
Yato dragged a picnic table around from the shop and hung up a paper sign for checkout. Yukine manned the station, so far selling a grand total of nothing.
“Yukine, we have to up our advertising with actual jack o’ lanterns.” Yato dumped a pumpkin on the table, complete with a kitchen knife stabbed in the top.
Yukine’s first thought was, “You’re ruining the merchandise!”
“Display examples are a necessity. I’ve done the math. At wholesale, the average pumpkin cost about 300 yen- but they’re a rare find here in Japan. They retail at ten times that. Ten times! If we sell even half of our supply, the cost of creating display examples won’t amount to scratch.”
“Three thousand yen?” said Yukine. At 500 yen an hour, that was six hours of work. It was enough money to feed 5 or 6 people at a fast food restaurant. “Wait, is that the price you put on the sign?”
“Well, the larger pumpkins we’ll sell for more. Four thousand is more appropriate. Like I said, once we get these pumpkins on display, we’re making a killing.”
Yukine did a double take at the orange thing in front of him. “Who in their right mind would pay that much for a pumpkin?!”
“You don’t believe me?! I did my research.” Yato produced photo evidence: a local florist, with a pumpkin on sale for 3500 yen.
Yukine’s pumpkin barely got two eyes and a nose before the knife got stuck and the handle broke off. There it stayed, broken knife stabbing in the jack-o-lantern in the face where its mouth should have been. It sat in front of the ‘pumpkins for sale’ sign by half a dozen of Yato’s creations—An intricate twisting leaf pattern. A brilliantly detailed swan, splashing in the lake. A full carousel, complete with horses, carriages, and children riding. The unmistakable profile of Kim Jong Un.
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Day Four
Yukine stared out into the orange sea, possessed by the thought that Yato had actually bought something with retail value, and due to his and Yato’s status as far shore beings, combined with poor salesmanship, hundreds of Halloween pumpkins were going to rot away and not earn them anything. He did the math.
3,000 yen a pumpkin, with this many here? Yeah, right- but 600? Maybe 800? If they could actually sell these things, they could break even. They could profit. And yet, Yukine sat silent, undisturbed, at the checkout table, hopes dwindling. They only had a few weeks. After Halloween, there would be no use in selling them.
He found himself asking more important questions: How much would it cost to call a dump truck? How long would he need to work a minimum wage job to cover the cost of purchasing the pumpkins? Who would hire a dead junior high school kid?
They needed a different strategy.
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Day Eight
It was a Sunday, and Hiyori was at the pumpkin patch up bright and early. She had an idea. “You’re not going to believe it. I was out shopping yesterday and saw a holiday store selling Halloween things and pumpkins, the big orange ones, just like yours! The manager said they were popular and selling out. Maybe they’ll buy more.”
Yukine was doubtful, but with current pumpkin sales being non-existent, he and Yato agreed to accompany her. Half an hour later, they’d arrived at the designated shop. Yato put a hand on Hiyori’s shoulder. “I think you’re confused.”
She bit her lip. “No, look, it says Holiday Store. This is it. I swear.”
“You sure?” asked Yukine.
Hiyori’s head bobbed up and down, from the storefront to the map on her phone. The three of them had gone around the mall twice and ended up back at the same spot. “Yeah, it has to be. It’s the same address, same store name. I was just here yesterday. I swear, they had skeletons and pumpkins in the window!”
“This window?” Yato threw a thumb. “What’s today’s date?”
“October 10th,” Yukine replied, head cocked at the display: a plastic fir tree, candy canes, snowflakes, reindeer, and a perimeter sparkling with white lights. “Maybe they’re inside?”
Hiyori went ahead and pushed open the door. A life-size Santa greeted them as soon as they stepped in. There was a tree decorated with peppermints, a snowman display, gingerbread houses, a row of bows and wreaths. Sleigh bells jingled from the store speakers. Hiyori looked around with her jaw hanging half open. She pointed to a wall of ornaments. “This is the place, I know it. They had costumes over there.”
“Actually, there’s a Halloween display in the back,” said Yukine.
‘Halloween Display’ was too kind a word. A dozen or so costumes hung on a lonely rack, and below them, a plastic pumpkin turned upside down. An array of orange, black, goblins and monsters overflowed from a large bin labeled ‘80% OFF.’
“Uh… Let me ask someone.” Hiyori slipped away to find a manager.
Yukine slumped in defeat. They were too late. He didn’t have much hope, regardless.
“Hey, Yukine! Look at this!” In the time it took Yukine to blink, Yato toppled over the clearance bin. He yanked out a large black cape and flapped it like a matador. “Only 200 yen!”
“No!”
“Yato, you spent all our hard-earned money on a truckload of pumpkins. We’re not buying anything.”
“For 200 yen? It’s a sin not to!”
“Put it back.”
“I found vampire teeth, too! I vant your blood!”
“You already put them in your mouth?!”
“Here, you try them–”
“Ew, no!”
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Six o’clock in the evening, the street lights were turning on as Yukine, Yato, and Hiyori trudged back to Kofuku’s house. After failure to resell pumpkins to the holiday store, there was one thing left: They grabbed a wagon, stuffed it with pumpkins, and went looking for customers. Yato knocked on doors. Hiyori handed out flyers. Yukine made offers to street vendors. Now they pulled the wagon, still full of pumpkins, through the park, back to the house.
Hiyori was exhausted, Yato kept saying, ‘next time, next time!’ and even worse, he had gotten the stupid vampire costume. Yukine had about had enough.
“Next time, what? How much have we sold?”
“Next time, we’ll hit up a rich neighborhood.”
“And what makes you think they want pumpkins?”
“For Halloween, for carving—”
When they reached the shop, Daikoku was waiting for them. “Oy! Yato, you’ve got visitors out front. Kofuku’s trying to keep them occupied.”
The three exchanged glances, left the wagon, and headed to the front of the house. Kofuku had a giant stew pot sitting on the checkout table, doling out a stringy, goopy orange soup to the guests—one of whom spat it out on the ground. She didn’t seem to mind.
Yukine’s eyes widened as soon as he saw them. “Oh no.”
Kofuku gave them a grin and wave. “Yaa–to! You’ve got guests!”
And then the guest was storming his way up to the deck, grand long-reaching steps, black hair flying, features alight with fury. Takemikazuchi grabbed Yato by his fluff scarf and snarled in his face. “You, false god! You dare send out a ridiculous text message and keep me waiting for hours!”
Yato, oddly unaffected by the shouting in his face, scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “A text? I didn’t send you anything.”
“Then I’ll refresh your memory.” Takemikazuchi shuffled around in his pocket and pulled out his iPhone. He tapped the screen, impatient, pulled it up to his nose and tapped again. “Kiun! It’s locked again.”
A soft sigh came from behind Takemikazuchi, as Kiun stepped up and took the phone. Without a word, Kiun entered the code and passed it back. Takemikazuchi tapped the screen again. “Here it is. ‘Hurry, it’s an emergency, and bring money.’”
“Oh! Oh-ho ho!” Yato chuckled, sliding away like a slimy sardine. “You don’t check your phone often, do you? No problemo! Did you bring money?”
“Kiun.”
Kiun handed his master a rather large cloth purse. Takemikazuchi raised it ahead of him for all to see, and then let it drop. It hit the wooden deck with a resonant clunk. “I brought money.”
All eyes locked on the purse. The sound was not the thud of cash, nor the clink of coins. “In what currency?” said Yato.
And Takemikazuchi said: “Gold.”
Yato slipped an arm around Takemikazuchi’s shoulder, taking him down the steps. “See, I’ve started a new business, always rough when you get started. I would so greatly appreciate your help to make things stay afloat. Are you familiar with Halloween? No? American holiday, probably my favorite cultural import I’ve seen in years. Kofuku, do me a favor and get the lights for the yard?”
“Sure thing!”
Kofuku hopped back up on the deck, and slipped inside to flip the switch. Bright lights flashed over the yard full of pumpkins. Yato released Takemikazuchi and picked up a pumpkin to explain its features. Takemikazuchi looked like he’d taken a bite of rotten fish and was trying not to spit it out.
Yukine tugged on Hiyori’s sleeve with an imperative whisper. “I’ve got a bad feeling. You think we might want to…”
“Get out of the way?” said Hiyori, already backing up into the house.
“—an intricate part of the Halloween experience. They’re called ‘pumpkins.’ The idea is to carve them.”
“A target practice game for humans?”
“Not quite. For decoration, actually. The inside of the gourd is hollowed out and the outer skin and flesh are made into an artistic design. A small candle is placed inside to present a pleasant glow. Perhaps I can show you an example? The carving knife is still here on the table.”
Yato set a pumpkin on the table and got to work sawing of the top. Takemikazuchi threw his head back and laughed. “Are you trying to make a fool out of yourself, cutting up that thing with an inferior blade?”
“Ah, yes. This is how humans carve pumpkins, though I admit, as a selling point, I have been having a problem with that lately. Many of my customers think carving pumpkins is too hard.”
“Pitiful. Step aside, and I’ll show you how to chop up targets. Come, Ouki!”
Kiun wasn’t given an instant to register a protest. Takemikazuchi grasped his sword and swung. The blade slit the pumpkin straight through the middle, sending stringy orange insides flying into the yard.
Yato shook his head, a heavy mask of disappointment. “Yes, I figured it would be too hard.”
“What?!”
“No restraint. That poor innocent pumpkin, unnecessarily slain. You want to cut off the top so that the seeds can be removed,” Yato sighed.
Takemikazuchi glared.
“Perhaps you’d like to try again? We do have plenty of pumpkins, of course, they are rare produce in Japan, so I cannot offer them to you for free.”
A snarl. “Give me the pumpkin.”
Countered by an ear to ear grin. “Right away!”
A second pumpkin was placed on the table. A flash of the sword, and it, too, flew across the yard in sticky orange pieces.
Yato rubbed his temples. “Still too much force. Your technique is severely lacking precision.”
Take gaped at Yato, then looked to his sword. “Did you hear him, Kiun? — What, you’re blaming the target? —Yes, this is important!” After a long glare at the sword, he faced Yato once again. He picked up a third pumpkin and set it on the table. “I’d like to see you do better. Summon your vessel.”
“I accept your challenge! Come, Sekki!”
Yukine was inside the living room when his body turned to light. From Yato’s hands, he saw a splattering of pumpkin guts spread across the yard, and Takemikazuchi with his sword. “Yato! What are you doing!”
“We’re carving this pumpkin. Are you ready?”
“Using Me?!”
“Don’t let me down, Yukine!” And Yato crossed the double swords in front of him and swung.
Yukine had barely an instant to draw a proper borderline. He slid through the pumpkin rind like water. The top shot straight up, ten meters into the air, and fell on the ground. The body of the pumpkin remained intact. “First try, nice job, Yukine! Now to clean out the insides—”
Yukine glowered. “Let me go.”
Yato took the shorter sword to scrap the insides. “Hold your horses. We have to put a face on it.”
The table shook, the weight of another pumpkin slammed onto the target area. Takemikazuchi had sparks in his eyes, grinning like mad. “This time, Kiun, you will not fail me.” He swung his sword.
He hit the pumpkin with a sharp crack! The pumpkin flew, and with it, a blinding light leapt from the sword. It shot out into the yard with a booming clap of thunder, the largest object in the vicinity drawing in the electric current—
“Take cover!” Yato dove for the ground as lighting hit the pumpkin pyramid. A split-second pause followed the flash, and then, they exploded. Pumpkin seeds and guts flung into the air, orange debris turned projectile, aimed every which way with the speed and force of bullets. A window cracked. Kofuku shrieked, Hiyori screamed. Something hit the roof hard enough to elicit a crunch. Birds took off flying from the trees. A section of the fence toppled over.
Kofuku started giggling, Daikoku came running to see the damage. Yato pushed himself to his knees. What remained of the pumpkin pyramid was now on fire.
So Yukine told Yato again, “Let me go.”
Yato let out a shaky breath. “Yuki.”
Yukine stood by Yato’s side, lips tight, and sucked in the aroma of roasting pumpkins. Yato was laughing. Kofuku was laughing. Takemikazuchi looked smug. Because being a god clearly meant they had no common sense.
Yukine was right by the table, and seeing the large pot of pumpkin soup, immediately decided it would be a very good idea to pick it up and dump it on Yato’s head. So he did, and dropped the pot on him for good measure. “Don’t come asking me for help with this mess,” said Yukine. He pivoted on the spot and went back inside.
zamashi 
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