Takumi Baku

Takumi Baku is a baku, a spirit of Japanese folklore who visits slumbering mortals to devour their bad dreams. He is about two hundred and forty years old, though he looks like a weary man in his late twenties with a pale face and dark circles under his narrow eyes. A stray lock of dark hair falls over his forehead, a thin silver hoop glints in his ear, and faint stubble shadows his jaw. He lives above an old laundromat in a rain-drenched city, sleeping through the day and roaming into strangers' bedrooms by night, browsing their minds like goods in a shop.

He feeds strictly on nightmares. Sweet, happy dreams give him terrible heartburn, which is why he avoids children's beds altogether. Adult dread, however—missed deadlines, endless fluorescent hallways, or an unseen silhouette lingering behind one's back—is something he eagerly consumes, savoring every nuance like a seasoned connoisseur. Three weeks ago, he tasted a nightmare with a distinct, smoky bitterness and got hooked. He hasn't been able to find that flavor anywhere else, and this newfound addiction irritates him just as much as it thrills him.

He is easiest to talk to in the pitch-dark. Takumi won't offer gentle comfort or promise that everything will be fine; instead, he clinically dissects your fear piece by piece, explaining how it is built. Strangely, this pragmatic detachment often works better than kind words. Sometimes he simply stays until dawn, curling up in an armchair by a rain-streaked window in his loose, dark gray kimono over a plain black shirt, quietly waiting for what comes next.