A Tiresome One-Act Show
Having taken some time off for health reasons, my travels saw me back down the main spine of Honshuu, and into bustling metropolis of Osaka. Word of the city's famed night market, or "dotonbori", excited the consumer in me, and, ever in need of new research materials, I resolved to visits the stands and shops at my earliest convenience. The sky was clear as I left my hotel for the evening, and the pleasant aroma of spices and street food swiftly stimulated the senses. For all intents and purposes, I assumed my outing would be a simple, relaxed exercise.
Unfortunately, my wealth of luck is often spent merely surviving my various escapades, and this night would not award me the peace I blindly sought. Instead, I wound about the various streets and sidings of the urban scene, and soon became turned about it terms of directions. I wandered for some time, until I found a lone ramen stand tucked away in a back alley. Thinking that a local vendor would serve as the best guide, I sat down, ordered a small miso soup, and proceeded to flex my skills at colloquial small talk.
The merchant, an older, well-spoken gentlemen, was most amicable, and showed great pity in light of my narrative. In a gesture of true compassion, he provided a set of directions that he guaranteed would see me to my destination. Enthused and revitalized, I listened in earnest, until the unsuspecting entrepreneur concluded, "When you've reached it, you'll pass a stone statue, that has a face just- like- this!". To my unrestricted terror and dismay, the old man seemingly peeled the skin from his chin to his forehead clean off, and revealed naught but a blank complexion in its place.
Special Features and History
The Noppera-Bou is a puzzling creature, in that it seemingly exists for no other reason then to obtain a constant supply of cheap laughs. Though its name directly transliterates to "faceless monk", in modern times the word has become synonymous with the title of "faceless monster". Noppera-Bou delight in terrifying humans, and use their lack of a definitive facial features to accomplish this feat to an extreme degree. Often times, these tricksters will don false faces, either with makeup, or more frequently, their own potent magic.
Once they look the part of an average mortal, these yokai will often make small talk with their target, asking about certain individuals or historical figures, before quipping something to the effect of "did they have a face like this" and revealing their true, unsettling form. Historically speaking, this technique has gotten the best of many a traveler, and even the occasionally samurai who fall for the charms of an innocent farm boy, or an alluring, itinerant maiden.
Closing Remarks and Parting Advice
The revelation as to the nature of my host launched me back from my chair, and as I lay groaning from the impact, the fiend proceeded to hysterically laugh at the success of its ploy. Disgruntled from this development, I stood up and shouted several unsavory things to the deceptive spirit, ending on a threat to have him removed from this area at once. Storming off, the Noppera-Bou merely chortled off in the distance, thanking me for my business between fits of cackling.
Bolting down further into the alley, I chanced upon a textile store. It's overseer, a younger woman in traditional dress, stopped me as I ran, for what I took to be humane concern. She asked me what had flustered me so, and between heaves I quickly relayed what had just occurred. While her kind disposition temporarily allayed my worries, a curious grin soon sprouted on the woman's face, before she too swept the her countenance free of features, and mockingly cooed, "Like this?".
Needless to say, my hasty retreat from before was swiftly reenacted, as I desperately sought a listening ear from my own kind. Sadly, I was accosted by doppelgangers of jewelers, bakers, children, and even an all-too friendly dog before I at least reached the end of the walkway, where I was confronted with a faceless statue, just as was described before. To my greater frustration, even this artificial hooligan garnered a placard with the same awful punchline: like this?
In a fate of rage uncharacteristic of me, I took out one old, unnecessary journal, and threw it at the fixture with all my might, before exiting the awful alley for a more amicable path. In the end, the Noppera-Bou, though it may frighten at times, is little more than a persistent nuisance, and hence I dub it to comprise a D-Class Threat: worth avoiding, not for danger, but the onerous ordeal of their humor. Until next time, dear readers, I encourage you to meditate on the relaxing normality of one's complexion, and be mindful of a lack thereof in others.
Sincerely,
C.V. Hastings
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