Chapter 1: Silver Soul (Era of the Anti-Foreign Campaign)

Beneath the shade of the trees, a handful of children bounced and tumbled about, their laughter drifting over the rice fields to where adults toiled. Even the grown-ups couldn’t help but smile knowingly at the sound—children truly were the embodiment of innocence and delight.

But wait—an unwelcome figure was approaching.

Everyone lifted their heads to peer down the narrow path ahead. A small form strolled slowly toward them. Judging by the slender build and the ponytail bobbing behind, it was a girl. She wore drab, earth-colored clothes and clattered along in wooden clogs, her face growing clearer as she drew near.

An elderly woman gasped, ducking her head, and the others, upon seeing the girl, quickly followed suit. Several adults exchanged glances and began to whisper in lowered voices.

The girl walked straight to the shade without so much as a glance at anyone. The children who had been playing froze, shrinking together in fear and staring at her in alarm.

“Shengmei, it’s time to go home for lunch,” the girl called out, her voice ringing clear and calm.

From among the huddled children, a petite girl emerged, stealing a cautious glance at the newcomer before murmuring, “Cousin.”

The girl nodded. “Father and Mother asked me to fetch you for lunch.”

“All right, I’ll come with you now,” the little girl replied softly, then turned to bid farewell to her friends. “Everyone, my cousin came to get me for lunch. Let’s play again later.”

“Shengmei, come back soon. We’re digging for loaches this afternoon!” a tall boy called after her, then shot a wary look at the girl. “Hey, ugly, take good care of Shengmei. If you dare bully her, you’ll answer to me!”

“Brother Yamada, don’t say that about Sister Zhu,” Shengmei protested, glancing nervously at the girl.

The girl showed no reaction, simply lowering her head to ask, “Shall we go? Father and Mother have been waiting a long time.” With that, she turned on her heel, and Shengmei hurried after her.

Once the two girls had walked out of sight, the adults’ voices rose.

“That’s the Okakura family’s child,” the old woman hoeing the earth remarked, gesturing toward the tall girl.

“Yes, but just look at that face—how did she end up so ugly?” another woman chimed in, joining her.

“It’s true. Both parents are good-looking, especially Okakura’s wife—she’s a real beauty. How did they end up with such a homely daughter?”

A younger woman sidled over, waggling her eyebrows. “Maybe that pretty wife of his fooled around with some rich lord. How else could she have such an ugly child?”

Laughter rippled through the group; country women delighted in gossip more than anything.

On the dusty road, Okakura Zhu walked home with her cousin Shengmei.

“Cousin, please don’t mind what Brother Yamada said. He never thinks before he speaks,” Shengmei said, eyeing Okakura Zhu with concern.

“It doesn’t bother me. No need to apologize for him,” Okakura Zhu replied, sucking on a wild foxtail plucked from the roadside. As she ambled along, her thoughts drifted far away.

Okakura Zhu had always felt that the world was deeply unkind to her—because she was extraordinarily, catastrophically ugly! The kind of ugly that was almost tragic, the sort that made people flinch. She was convinced there must have been some genetic mutation, since both her parents looked perfectly normal: her father honest and solid, her mother stunningly beautiful. How on earth had they produced someone as hideous as her? Glancing at her little cousin beside her—rosy lips, white teeth, altogether adorable—Zhu couldn’t help but think Shengmei looked more like her parents’ real child than she did.

Okakura Zhu was fifteen years old. From behind, she looked like any other girl, but from the front—she could have been mistaken for a ghost from a horror film. Even she had to admit her appearance was rather frightening.

Just how frightening? Her complexion was tinged with blue and purple, with pallid undertones; her eyebrows were faint to the point of invisibility; her lips were a garish red, and her eyes were so large that the irises seemed alarmingly small—truly, she looked no different from a specter. Whenever the adults in the village scolded misbehaving children, they would threaten, “If you don’t behave, I’ll call Okakura Zhu!” Instantly, the children would fall silent. Some adults, too, found their hearts pounding in her presence, half scared themselves.

Soon, the two girls arrived home—a dilapidated old house in the Japanese style, with weathered wooden doors, a crumbling little yard, and drafty paper screens that silently spoke of the family’s poverty.

“Zhu, Shengmei, go wash your hands before eating,” called a beautiful woman, emerging from the house. With graceful arms, she swept the two girls off to clean up.

This striking woman was Okakura Zhu’s fiery mother, Okakura Mari (having taken her husband’s surname), the village beauty famed for miles around, the dream of many a local man. It was said that in her youth, she was pursued by suitors without number, and everyone was astonished when she chose Okakura Zhu’s father.

“Zhu, your father made your favorite grilled eggplant today—and your mother’s, too. Shengmei, there’s miso soup for you,” said a sturdy middle-aged man, carrying over the food. This good-natured man was Okakura Zhu’s father, Okakura Takehiko, a master of household chores who prepared every meal without fail.

Takehiko had once been a low-ranking samurai in Kyoto. Over a decade ago, aliens had invaded, forcibly opening Japan’s borders. The shogunate bowed to their might, and the once-glorious samurai class was cast aside. After the decree abolishing swords, many dojos went out of business. In such times, Takehiko brought his wife and daughter back to his rural hometown, taking up farming. The family scraped by, barely making ends meet.

The four of them sat around the table. Takehiko picked up his chopsticks first, and the others followed.

Midway through the meal, a knock sounded at the door.

Takehiko motioned for his wife and daughter to continue eating, then went to answer it. Standing outside was their neighbor, Aota Taro, a young man in his twenties.

“Uncle Okakura, my uncle’s been pinned under a car belonging to the aliens. Nobody can move it,” Taro said, glancing nervously into the house. “Is Zhu at home?”

“Aliens, huh? I’ll go fetch her. Best not to make trouble with them,” Takehiko replied.

“Oh, thank you, Uncle Okakura, thank you so much!” Taro bowed repeatedly.

Takehiko nodded and went back inside.

Seeing her father return, Okakura Zhu turned and asked, “Dad, who was it? What do they need?”

“My good girl, finish your meal. Taro’s uncle is trapped under an alien car. I’ll need your help in a bit.”

Zhu nodded and hurriedly shoveled rice into her mouth.

Her mother, watching her gobble down food, poured her a glass of water. “Zhu, don’t choke.” Then she turned to her husband. “How did his uncle end up under an alien’s car? Is it safe for us to get involved?”

“I don’t know yet. Let’s go see first. It’s good to help the neighbors when we can,” Takehiko replied.

At this, Mari snorted. “Hmph. When they need Zhu, they’re all so sincere, but the rest of the time, they talk about her behind her back—especially Taro’s mother, always spreading rumors.”

“Country folk love to gossip, dear, don’t get upset. I love our daughter, too. That’s why I have her help out in the village—it’ll change how people see her over time,” Takehiko said placatingly.

“Hmph, those fools. My daughter Mari will grow into a true beauty yet,” Mari declared, throwing her arms around Zhu. “Eat up, Zhu. Go give those useless people a fright.”

Zhu glanced at her mother. She’d been told for years she’d grow into a beauty, but had only grown more unlovely with time.

“I’m finished,” Zhu said, setting down her bowl and heading to her father. “Let’s go, Dad. Taro’s still waiting outside.”

“All right, let’s see what we can do. If we can help, we will.”

“Mm.”

“Cousin, Uncle, be careful,” Shengmei called timidly, her bowl in her hands as the pair left.

“Don’t worry, Shengmei, they’ll be fine,” Mari reassured her, returning to finish the meal with the girl.

Outside, Aota Taro watched father and daughter approach, nervously squeezing his hands together and muttering silent prayers before daring to look at Zhu.

“Sorry, Zhu. I know it’s mealtime, but we’re desperate,” he stammered, heart pounding as he caught sight of her ghostly face—surely he’d have nightmares tonight.

“It’s fine. Let’s hurry,” Zhu replied, unfazed by his fearful gaze. She was long accustomed to it.

With Taro leading the way, father and daughter soon arrived at the scene. A crowd had gathered, voices raised in commotion.

“You filthy monkeys! How dare you block my way!”

Okakura Zhu saw at once—it was an alien! She hadn’t expected to encounter one here, in such a rural backwater.

When the aliens had first arrived on Earth, their bizarre appearances had drawn much attention; people had even mistaken them for monsters at first. But as time passed, they became less of a novelty. Still, in these parts, sightings were rare enough to cause a stir.

In the center of the crowd stood a black sedan, crashed into a battered cart. The car had completely crushed the wooden cart, and beneath it, pinned, was a middle-aged man—Taro’s uncle.

As it turned out, Taro’s uncle had been hauling straw home when the black sedan lost control and plowed into his cart, flipping it and pinning him beneath. The aliens inside tried to drive on, but doing so would have injured the man further, so the bystanders blocked their way. They’d tried to lift the heavy limousine themselves, but it wouldn’t budge.

Infuriated, the alien lost patience, and Taro had run to fetch Okakura Zhu.

“Get out of my way, you brainless monkeys! Out of my way!” the octopus-headed alien barked, attempting to climb back into the driver’s seat. Villagers grabbed at him, refusing to let him pass, and the confrontation became a tug-of-war.

Suddenly, the front of the car lifted off the ground. All eyes turned forward.

A small, gray-clad figure was lifting the car with one hand…

Okakura Zhu looked up at the stunned crowd and broke into a wide grin.

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“A ghost!” came the collective shriek.