The first drops of rain falling from the heavy slate sky were not a surprise. Sekibanki wondered why she had even bothered to put her hand out: it wasn't as though the rain falling on her fingers was somehow more convincing proof than what was already streaming down her head and shoulders.
She adjusted her collar and pulled her head closer to her shoulders — easy enough to do when one has a liberal relationship with one's neck — and began her trek back towards the Human Village. She hadn't ventured far: the signs of poor weather had been in the air and in the eyes of the dragon statue since the crack of dawn, obvious even to the dullest of village humans.
It was too early in the night for critical self-examination, but Sekibanki couldn't help but wonder what had possessed her to go tramping through the undergrowth on the kind of night which every human with even a lick of sense spent snugly indoors. What was the point of a prowl if there was no chance of actually crossing paths with someone?
It was at that very moment that she became aware of footsteps trailing hers. She pricked her ears, struggling at first to focus on anything besides the patter of raindrops and the sound of her own feet shuffling through dead leaves, but soon enough she was convinced. Someone — someone wearing geta based on the slightly muffled sound of wood against dirt — was creeping after her.
Obviously, it's not a human, her instincts suggested, but it served to err on the side of caution. Therefore, instead of extending her neck and doing her best owl impression, Sekibanki halted and turned around.
The first thing she saw was a painted eye and a long, lolloping tongue. Then she took in the full picture. A distinctly turquoise girl wearing, yes, geta, huddling underneath a garish umbrella... no, Sekibanki had gotten it wrong. Rather, she was seeing a distinctly turquoise and garish umbrella tsukumogami blinking at her through the rain.
The tsukumogami had frozen in place as soon as she was spotted. Now, she was slowly thawing. "Um." After a moment's hesitation, she stuck out her tongue. "Boo?"
"...Sure."
The tsukumogami deflated. "I knew it. You're not human, are you?"
"As you see." Usually, the question would have been inane: youkai rarely had trouble recognising each other. The tsukumogami must have been tired.
"Okay. Sorry about that."
Sekibanki shrugged to show there were no hard feelings, then turned away and kept walking.
Soon after, she became once again aware of the tsukumogami's footsteps following in her wake.
"Are you heading for the village?" Sekibanki asked without turning to look back.
"Uh huh. I was thinking there might be some shelter there."
You're an umbrella. Why would you need shelter? Sekibanki nearly said the thought out loud, then decided otherwise. Umbrellas were supposed to get wet, sure, but why would that mean they enjoyed it? "Do you have a place in mind?"
"...I'm sure I'll find something."
Sekibanki glanced at the tsukumogami over her shoulder. It was ridiculous, but somehow, the tsukumogami managed to affect the impression of a lost puppy soaked to the bone. She was shivering, as well, which wasn't too surprising: it was chilly for spring, almost as though a yukionna was still lurking nearby.
Anyway, it wasn't Sekibanki's problem. It wasn't like any youkai worth their salt was going to die from spending a night in the rain. Hell, the kappa were probably having a some kind of "secret" rainfall dance at that very moment. A few days from now, she'd have forgotten all about this pointless encounter. She could freely ignore the footsteps awkwardly shuffling after her as she kept walking.
Yes. She was going to ignore them.
Sekibanki sighed as she undid the clasps on her sodden capelet. "Make yourself at home."
The tsukumogami took her geta off gingerly, like she was unsure if she was truly welcome. Which was the correct thing to worry about, especially since she was dripping water absolutely everywhere even before she was properly inside Sekibanki's room.
As it happened, Sekibanki had already stopped caring. At this point, her chief concerns were changing into a dry set of clothes and then resting her eyes.
She made a beeline to the wall closet and took out a spare shirt and skirt. She should probably offer a change of clothes to the tsukumogami if for no other reason but to protect the floor. "You want to change?"
"If it's not too much trouble."
Sekibanki's old, patched yukata was still at the back with her geta and spare boots. She tossed it over. "Here. Take it or leave it."
She changed without paying further attention to the tsukumogami. From the sound of wet clothing falling onto the floor, the tsukumogami had decided to take it rather than leave it.
Once Sekibanki was done, she placed the old clothes to dry near the entrance and watched the tsukumogami follow suit, still nervous. Or maybe she was displeased with her surroundings? Sekibanki had never cared how bare her ramshackle little room was as long as it was quiet and dry and private. So what if she had only one cushion and no furniture but an old table? It wasn't as if she ever had guests around. If the tsukumogami had a problem with sleeping on the floor, she could always go find shelter elsewhere.
At least for now, it looked like the tsukumogami meant to stay. She combed her damp hair with her fingers and kept eyeing the corners of the room like she was expecting something to pounce on her. Sekibanki supposed that was irony of some kind. "Um. Do you actually live here?"
"I only come here to sleep and change my clothes." Sekibanki nodded at the wall closet which contained her spare clothing as well as her meagre cooking implements. "But it's mine." She settled herself against the wall and closed her eyes. "Good night."
"You don't have a futon?"
Sekibanki opened one eye to see the tsukumogami pale in the patchy yukata, still standing uncertainly at the centre of the room. "No."
"So you sleep sitting up?"
Was there no end to these pointless questions? "You can lie down if you want. Or leave." Sekibanki closed her eye again. "If you're still here in the morning and get up before me, wake me up."
She allowed herself to drift off. One of the last things she heard before the darkness behind her eyes snuffed out her consciousness were the sounds of an umbrella being pulled shut, shy footsteps stumbling towards the opposite wall, and the soft sigh of someone lying down after a long journey.
The tsukumogami was still fast asleep in the morning, curled up against the wall like an over-sized cat. It wasn't a real surprise: most youkai preferred to sleep during daylight hours, and she had seemed exhausted to boot.
Sekibanki let her be. As she wasn't most youkai, she got dressed and stepped out into daylight. Today was a workday, after all.
She walked across the village, acknowledged by few and suspected by none. Of course, unless she tossed aside her capelet and allowed her neck to encircle the entire village, why would anyone suspect her? Most humans couldn't tell a youkai from their left foot as long as the youkai put on the thinnest veneer of subtlety.
She had never bothered to hold down a permanent job — why would she, when she would rather have more time than more money? — but she did take occasional odd jobs to keep up appearances. Courier work, temporarily assisting at a shop, moving things... the last task especially was something people went out of their way to offer to her. The real challenge with such a job was making a convincing show of merely being exceptionally strong rather than supernaturally so. She had become adept at masking her true strength, although sometimes she wondered if people would even notice if she dismissed her facade and picked up everything at once. In any case, she'd make a few coins, or perhaps take home some food or fabric, and that was that. It was a perfectly fine if boring way to live.
Today, her task was carrying building materials. She did the job by rote, speaking little and listening carefully to the mostly idle gossip of her co-workers. It didn't happen often, but one could sometimes discover kernels of important information in such chatter. If nothing else, it gave her an opportunity to gauge the general mood in the village, which she could then report ahead to her allies. She pocketed her wages in late afternoon and headed home, having learnt nothing of value.
The tsukumogami was still there. She was back in her own clothes and looking marginally more presentable than when Sekibanki had first met her. She had also made an effort to clean Sekibanki's room: everything was in neat order, which admittedly wasn't hard to arrange when there was so little to place in disorder in the first place, and the floor was newly swept and washed. On the table was what appeared to be a bowl of dandelion salad.
"Welcome back!" It was the first time Sekibanki had seen the tsukumogami smile. There was something distinctly impish about it in spite of its radiance. "Are you hungry?"
Sekibanki looked at the lone set of utensils on the table. "Salad, huh?"
"You don't like it?"
"I don't mind." She sat down by the table.
The tsukumogami settled down on the opposite side, seemingly indifferent to the lack of a second cushion. "By the way, I'm Kogasa Tatara. You can call me Kogasa."
"...Sekibanki."
Kogasa tilted her head. "Just Sekibanki?"
Sekibanki didn't bother clarifying the obvious and helped herself to some salad. Once she had taken her share, she frowned at Kogasa. "How are you going to eat?"
"Surprise! I have my own chopsticks!" Kogasa brandished a lacquered pair which she had until then been hiding who the hell knew where. "I had a bowl for a while too, but you know how it goes."
Sekibanki nodded. Youkai living wherever they pleased in the wilderness usually didn't worry much about carrying around excess tools, let alone crockery. They would always wind up lost, after all.
For a while, they ate in silence. The salad was fine, if insubstantial, but it was strange sharing a meal with someone. Sekibanki couldn't recall the last time she had done something like this.
Eventually, the ridiculousness of the situation made her lips twist. "Would you look at us. A pair of youkai enjoying salad."
Kogasa hesitated. "Does it taste bad to you?"
"It's fine. I just thought of the old days. If youkai meant to share a meal, shouldn't it have been meat?"
"You mean like in the Outside World? Before Gensokyo?" Kogasa set her chopsticks down, her eyes suddenly sparkling. "What was it like?"
Sekibanki paused with the chopsticks halfway to her mouth. She had spoken carelessly and hadn't meant to imply any personal experience. Was she now supposed to clarify to Kogasa that she had only ever known Gensokyo? Ultimately, she finished the mouthful before speaking. What a pain. "How should I know?"
"...Oh." At length, Kogasa resumed eating, her shoulders slumped.
Sekibanki ignored her. Should she have pretended to be some great fount on knowledge on the Outside World? Ridiculous.
Once the salad was demolished, Sekibanki got up and stretched herself. Should she go for another midnight stalk tonight? She really couldn't be bothered. "I'm taking a nap."
"At this hour?"
"I follow the village's rhythm whenever it suits me." Sekibanki didn't need sleep to survive like humans did, but the insides of her skull grew obnoxiously muggy if she went too long without it. Keeping that sensation at bay was a luxury she could easily afford herself.
"I get it!" Kogasa was nodding vigorously now. She bounced to her feet, holding the handle of her canopy close to her shoulder with both hands. "I'm going to head out now."
"Try not to be seen when you leave. I'd prefer it if my neighbours didn't get curious."
"Okay! Sleep tight!"
Sekibanki watched Kogasa practically traipse to the door, then closed her eyes and tried to drift off. This was almost certainly the last time she would ever see Kogasa, barring a surprise run-in during an incident or something. No doubt it was for the best: the tsukumogami seemed like a handful.
When Sekibanki next woke up, Kogasa was sleeping in the exact same spot as the morning before. Sekibanki stared at her, then shrugged and got on with her morning preparations. There had been no rain in the air when she had retired for the night, but the weather in Gensokyo could change abruptly. Of course Kogasa would have chosen to return to shelter in a situation like that.
As she was putting her boots on by the door, Kogasa stirred. "Sekibanki? Are you leaving?"
"I'm going for a walk." One tug to ensure her collar was firmly covering her neck, and she was good to go. Perhaps it was just her memory of the previous night that brought it to mind, but she glanced over her shoulder before she left. "Sleep well."
Kogasa was still there when she got back. Maybe Sekibanki should have seen it coming, but she hadn't, and so she found herself staring at the tsukumogami from the door.
"Do you like them?" Kogasa gestured at the bundle of wildflowers in a tall glass next to what appeared to be another light meal. "I wasn't sure which flowers you might like."
"I have no preference." Sekibanki focused on putting her outdoor clothes away. Everything in the closet was in neat order, but organised different from how she liked to keep things.
"What do you think?" Kogasa was suddenly right by her shoulder. "I put a lot of thought into re-arranging them. This way you can move from one side to another and get everything you need without doubling back."
Sekibanki sighed and folded her capelet into its new assigned spot. It was annoying, but not big enough of a deal for her to immediately restore order. Maybe later. "What's for dinner?"
"Guess what? I managed to get some bamboo shoots."
There was indeed a platter of those next to what looked like another dandelion salad. "Is that all of them, or did you get more?"
"More!"
"In that case, I'll buy some rice tomorrow to eat with the rest."
Kogasa beamed through the entire meal. Sekibanki tried ignoring her, but her eyes kept climbing back to the smiling face before her out of sheer bafflement. Kogasa knew she was being weird, right? Sekibanki hadn't asked for any favours in return for letting her spend the night. Even if Kogasa had somehow misunderstood and thought this was a transaction, sweeping Sekibanki's room the one time would have been enough.
"I'll do the dishes!" Kogasa said after they were finished, gathering up the bowls and proving that whatever else she was, she wasn't a mind-reader. "Are you going to sleep soon?"
"Not tonight. I'm going out."
"Somewhere special?"
"I'll just skulk around. Maybe menace a human or two if they're stupid enough to be about." It was what she almost always did if it wasn't time to convene with the other members of the grassroots youkai network, after all.
"Can I come too?"
Sekibanki stared at Kogasa. "I just said it's nothing special."
"I know. But maybe we'll be able to spook more people if we work together."
The odds of actually running into spookable humans in the wilderness after sunset on a night with no notable events was slim, but Sekibanki didn't feel like pointing that out. In any case, why not? The worst that could happen was Kogasa talking her ear off. "Just don't expect it to be a grand adventure."
Kogasa grinned at her and vanished outdoor with the dishes.
A lone owl's call pierced the darkness. It was the only sound echoing in the woods besides Sekibanki and Kogasa's footsteps as they trekked the narrow paths in the woods without sharing a word. The conversation hadn't dried out; there hadn't been any in the first place.
Sekibanki found herself quite content with the status quo. She enjoyed silence, and travelling with a companion had proven notably less annoying than she had anticipated. If Kogasa was disappointed they hadn't run into anyone but fairies, she hadn't complained.
Although... Sekibanki glanced to her side. Kogasa did look like she was debating with herself whether to say something or not. Sekibanki sighed and cut to the chase. "What is it?"
"Oh!" Kogasa tilted her head. "I was just thinking about something. But since you ask, maybe you could tell me your opinion?"
"Why not?"
Kogasa smiled. "So, I've been thinking about what I'd like to do with my life next, and now I've made up my mind. I'm going to become a blacksmith."
Sekibanki nearly stuttered to a halt.
"Surprised?" Kogasa's eyes sparkled. Sometimes, there was a real fairy-like glint of mischief to her gaze. "Anyway, that's my plan for the time being. What do you think?"
Did Sekibanki have thoughts on one of the most random things Kogasa could possibly have sprung on her? "...Smithing's a useful skill. People will always need tools and pots and pans, and there's nothing wrong with learning to craft blades."
"So you think people will take notice? Do you think they'll be surprised?"
With Kogasa practically bouncing with good cheer, it seemed churlish to point out the surprise wouldn't last, and so Sekibanki didn't bother. "Do you already have the things you need to get started?"
"Not exactly." Kogasa twirled her canopy in a way Sekibanki had begun to associate with her being nervous. "Once I start gathering tools, would it be okay if I stored them in your room for a while? Just on a temporary basis, of course."
"As long as I have enough room left to stretch my legs, I don't really care."
"Thank you!"
"If you mean to cater to humans, you'll want to set up shop somewhere close enough to the village so they dare to come over, but not so close Reimu Hakurei comes over to knock your walls down." Sekibanki was already picturing a small forge by some oak trees, with a small stream bubbling not far away. "There should be a water source nearby and room for storage."
"Wow." Kogasa blinked like an owl. "Do you know any spots like that?"
"Not out of hand. I'll let you know if I stumble across one."
"That'd be nice. But you don't have to go out of your way to find one. You've already helped me enough."
Helped, huh? What had Sekibanki done besides not bothered to get in Kogasa's way? In any case, she just shrugged and walked onwards, with Kogasa firmly in tow.
The next day, Sekibanki came home to a gift of apples. The day after, it was rice crackers and a wall scroll depicting spring peonies. The day after that, it was tea leaves and a spool of thread, as well as another vase of wildflowers.
She took in the daily accumulation of food and small knick-knacks with confusion and apathy. Was this Kogasa's idea of paying rent? She did spend more time in Sekibanki's room than Sekibanki herself, but Sekibanki had never asked for anything of the sort. If Kogasa wished to bunk with her for an extended period of time, it was fine with Sekibanki as long as she didn't make herself into a nuisance.
Still, she could see the writing on the wall. The moment the neighbours started talking, Kogasa would have to go. Exceedingly few humans would agree to have a youkai room-mate, and Sekibanki's cover could never handle the kind of scrutiny that would follow. There was only the slimmest of chances the humans wouldn't care, and it relied on them coming to the same conclusion about Kogasa as Sekibanki had: that she was the sorriest excuse for a youkai in all of Gensokyo.
Slowly, Kogasa's plans for a smithy went from a whimsical thought to an actual project. Sekibanki found herself idly scoping out possible locations on her night-time walks and reported them back to an always pathetically grateful Kogasa in the morning, then guiding her to them the following night.
One night, after inspecting what Sekibanki had thought would be a particularly suitable spot a few stone's throws away from the village, Kogasa whirled to face Sekibanki. "This is it. I can already picture it here."
"What do you need to get started?" Sekibanki wondered why she asked that. She could already see the inevitable scuffle which would follow when it turned out the location was too close to human habitation after all and the local meddlers — sorry, "incident-solvers" — stuck their spell cards in the matter. What an absolute pain. Still, it was Kogasa's problem, wasn't it?
"Just some basic tools and lumber, I think. I have a good feeling about this." And she must have, because as Kogasa moved to leave the clearing, she took Sekibanki's hand as though it was as normal as blinking. "Let's go home! I'm going to cook a special meal to celebrate!"
Home, huh? Still, Sekibanki felt no need to correct Kogasa as the latter dragged her towards the village like an overly excited puppy.
Sekibanki set the box in her hands down and coughed as a spire of dust assaulted her.
Another week, another odd job. This one was simple enough: one of the eldest residents of the village had died quite suddenly in her sleep. With no family to speak of, it had fallen upon her friends — and Sekibanki — to arrange the funeral, and, as was the case today, clear out her house.
She paused to stretch her back after stacking three more boxes. Unlike the coughing, this was a feint: it was for the best to allow the old woman's two friends to see Sekibanki struggling at times in spite of her having, as they said, the strength of a young bull. Even if they seemed too busy reminiscing about their friend while sorting pieces of crockery and clothing in esoteric ways to really pay attention to her.
Whatever the old woman had believed in, she hadn't bought into the notion of only owning what one needed. The little house was brimming with things: mostly useful things, granted, but in excess, along with a truly stupendous amount of paper flowers. So much of what Sekibanki had found in the boxes looked it had never been used, and some items had a layer of dust on them which suggested they had languished in storage for literal years.
There was a sigh behind her. She turned to look as one of the women pushed a stray strand of hair from her brow and peered into the box she had just opened. "Oh dear. It will take weeks to sort all this out, won't it?"
"I'm sure I can persuade my daughter to help out," the other woman said.
Sekibanki said nothing. She was certain she would get roped into helping out regardless of what she did here and now. It was the cost of masquerading as a human, but that didn't mean it couldn't be a pain. She shrugged and picked up an armful of dried roses from the floor.
The first woman saw this and smiled at her. "You can leave them in the corner there, my dear. You should really take a break now."
Sekibanki followed the first suggestion and ignored the second. She returned to hauling boxes as soon as the rose avalanche was out of the way. "I want to get as much done today as possible."
"I understand." The woman returned to sorting through what looked to Sekibanki like a collection of the least useful knick-knacks imaginable before abruptly raising her head. "Oh, and Sekibanki, if anything you find here strikes your fancy, feel free to take it."
Sekibanki set the box down because that was what a human would have done. "What?"
"She was always fond of you, my dear, and she would be happy to know her possessions went to good cause. Take what you will."
It was the first Sekibanki had heard of the old woman's supposed fondness for her. Eventually, she nodded.
She kept arranging the boxes, assuming her silence would be taken for deep respect and not for puzzling over what seemed like a sudden hole in her mind, an anomaly in her sentiments she couldn't name. None of it mattered. It wasn't like she was going to take anything. She already had everything she could possibly need.
At least, that was what was on her mind until she cleared her way to the closet in the spare bedroom and opened it.
Welcome ba—" Kogasa's smile metamorphosed into a perfect circle of surprise. "Oh."
Instead of replying, Sekibanki focused on hauling the futon into the room without letting it touch the ground, then tossed it into the empty corner.
"It's brand new," she told Kogasa. "Or at least, it's never been used."
Kogasa said nothing, choosing instead to goggle at the futon. There was something very gratifying about surprising the master of surprises — well, the apprentice of surprises — like this.
"And I got this." Sekibanki took the cushion from where it was still tucked under her arm and dropped it next to the futon. "You can sit on that instead of the floor."
"I..." Kogasa sounded oddly distant, like she had somehow managed to phase outside of the room while still standing there. "I mean... wow."
"Is that the good kind of wow?"
"Of course!" Kogasa attempted to rearrange her expression and wound up blinking rapidly at Sekibanki. "Was today special in some way I forgot?"
"Why would it be?"
"I don't know. It's just..."
"It's not a big deal." Sekibanki said to affirm the point as much to herself as to Kogasa. It was just an old futon. Presumably it had lain completely forgotten in the back of the old lady's closet for years. "I got it for free, so I figured why not. It's just the one, so we'll have to share."
Kogasa nodded. "Of course!"
"It should be fine. We hardly ever sleep at the same time."
"...That's true." Kogasa eyed the futon. "Do you think we could fit on it at the same time if we needed to?"
In response, Sekibanki unfurled the futon. It wasn't big, but it still took an alarming amount of floor space. Would it even fit into the closet with all of Kogasa's whatsits already in there? Maybe this had been a stupid idea after all.
Even so, a few moments later, she was lying on her back on the right side of the futon, her hands resting on her stomach and one leg slung over the other. She had neglected to consider pillows, but just having a soft layer between her and the floor, while perhaps slightly too luxurious, wasn't bad at all. Maybe she could get two pillows, slightly different so that she and Kogasa could tell theirs apart at a glance.
She looked to the side. Kogasa lay right next to her, very nearly elbow to elbow, looking oddly stiff. In fact, she was sporting an expression Sekibanki had never seen on her face before, like she had tried out an extra sour pickle for the first time and wasn't sure if she liked it.
Sekibanki nudged her with her elbow. "Looks like there's plenty of room."
"Uh huh." A smile flitted across Kogasa's face as her shoulders relaxed, but the rest of her remained tense.
Sekibanki closed her eyes. It was still pretty early in the evening, especially considering she liked to see the sun set before sleeping to maintain some connection to being a proper nocturnal youkai, but now that she was already lying down, the idea of trying out the futon by taking a nap right there and then was irresistible.
"Sekibanki?"
"What is it?"
"This is really nice."
"It's not half bad."
"I like it." Fabric rustled as Kogasa shifted in place. "But more than that... I like you."
Sekibanki chuckled. "You don't have to say stuff like that. I have no plans to start charging you rent."
If Kogasa made a response, Sekibanki didn't hear it. She was already riding the futon off to dreamland.
Some weeks after the acquisition of a futon, Sekibanki fanned herself with her hand at the dinner table. "When will this ridiculous heat wave end?"
"A hot summer means a cold winter." Kogasa helped herself to some side dishes. "Do you have plans for tonight?"
Sekibanki finished chewing through her rice before responding. "I'm meeting Kagerou to bring up the glittering water incident. I think it's a flash in a pan, but it's about time for the regular report anyway." She reached for the spinach salad. "What are you up to?"
"I haven't decided yet." Kogasa replied around a mouthful a broccoli. She swallowed and tilted her head to the side. "Maybe I'll even surprise myself."
Sekibanki suppressed a smile. "Did you already get paid for those knives you made?"
"Not yet. Do you think I should go ask if they've done their job in practise?"
"Why not? It's not like they'll be asleep at the Scarlet Devil Mansion." Sekibanki was still amazed the reputation of Kogasa's little forge had spread so wide in so little time. People had already begun to go out of their way to place an order with her. She got up. "Thanks for the meal. Want me to do the dishes later?"
"Yes, please." Kogasa was still beaming as Sekibanki made her way to the door. "Have a nice night!"
Sekibanki found the world exceptionally beautiful as she made her way across the empty roads beneath a moonless sky. The air wasn't as stultifying as she had feared it would be, and while the squeals and giggles of overly active fairies mucking about in the dark still irked her, she found them exceptionally easy to ignore in the moment.
Kagerou was already waiting at their usual meeting spot at the edge of a copse. Her ears twitched as she saw Sekibanki. "You look like you might almost smile."
Sekibanki shrugged. "Aren't I allowed to be in a good mood?"
They settled down for business as usual. It was soon evident nothing alarming had happened anywhere in Gensokyo in the past two weeks, which was in itself almost alarming. If anything, the curiosities Kagerou had to report were even more benign than Sekibanki's.
Sekibanki eyed the stars. "How big's the stage?"
"Big enough that if it wasn't in the forest, we could see it from here." Kagerou spread her arms to her sides to either suggest the sheer size of the stage the rabbits had constructed in the Bamboo Forest of the Lost, or else to exaggerate the results of a recent fishing trip. "I've been following their rehearsals. I don't know what type of a play it's supposed to be, but there's a big shark in it. It takes five rabbits to operate the puppet."
Truly riveting stuff. "Do they mean to invite non-rabbits to watch it?"
"You mean as an excuse to lure people into the woods so that they can get lost?" Kagerou shrugged. "Maybe. But honestly, I think they just really want to put on a show."
Sekibanki got up to leave. "Doesn't sound like it's going to be trouble. Unless they mean to set the forest on fire as a part of their performance, of course."
"Oh, that reminds me. I know a good source of firewood."
Sekibanki was pretty sure this was the first time she had heard Kagerou utter the word 'firewood' without repressing a shudder. "Yeah?"
"The storm last week felled several trees in the Forest of Magic. You could easily take a couple without bothering anyone."
"And why would I want to?"
Kagerou stared at her as if she had sprouted additional heads where humans could see her. "For your girlfriend's blacksmith shop, obviously."
"...What?"
"What do you mean what? She must need fuel for her forge."
"Kogasa isn't my girlfriend."
Kagerou blinked slowly. She studied Sekibanki's face for signs she was joking. As she found none, her ears began to droop. "Oh. I'm sorry. I really thought..."
"It's not a big deal." Sekibanki waved her hand, hoping the sudden storm in her brain didn't show on her face. Kagerou could probably smell it on her anyway, which was all the more reason to end the meeting right now. "I'll let Kogasa know about the firewood."
"Okay. Take care now."
Kagerou loped away, her ears flat. Sekibanki stared after her, trying to figure out just what could have led to the misunderstanding. It wasn't like everyone who lived together was automatically also dating. Had Kogasa suggested something strange to Kagerou behind Sekibanki's back?
She began making her way back to the village. Would she do that? Maybe if it was to surprise someone, but it still feels weird. It's more likely Kagerou simply misunderstood on her own. She's thought she's a master of romance ever since Wakasagihime started smiling at her.
It was such thoughts that ushered her back to her and Kogasa's room.
Kogasa was still there, mixing spices. She beamed at Sekibanki before she had even made it through the door. "Welcome back!"
"Thanks." Sekibanki sat down to take of her boots, then hesitated with one of them in her hand. "Hey, Kogasa?"
"What is it?"
Sekibanki almost said it. But then, demanding to know whether Kogasa had referred to her as her girlfriend for some stupid reason seemed like making a needlessly big deal over a nonsensical misunderstanding. And so, she instead asked, "Do we need more poppy seeds?"
"Mm... it would be good to have some more."
"I'll keep that in mind." And, lacking anything else to say, Sekibanki added, "I'll do the dishes now."
"Thank you!"
It was fine, Sekibanki thought as she gathered the dishes. If it ever came up again, she would bring it up then. And why would it ever come up again?
Sekibanki frowned at the solitary red leaf in the scrawny maple tree. The goddess who painted the leaves usually dealt with the entire tree or at least large swatches of it at once. What had possessed her to change the colour of one lone leaf in the village before flitting off elsewhere?
"Oh! If it isn't young Sekibanki?"
Sekibanki turned to see two elderly ladies who lived in the neighbourhood approaching her like sharks on a prowl and held back a sigh. She didn't need to make friends with humans, but a certain degree of politeness was almost essential for maintaining her cover. "How do you do?"
"Well enough, well enough." The shorter of the two women, the one whose cat kept climbing up to the rooftops at every available opportunity, was already right by Sekibanki. "Have you been eating well lately?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"I will make sure to set aside some pickles for you." She patted Sekibanki's arm. Funny how proprietary old people could be of other people's bodies. "Even if the harvest isn't quite what we wished for. Isn't that right, Hide?"
"It will have to do." Hide joined the conversation with aplomb. "Young people these days simply don't have what it takes for proper agriculture. Back in my day..."
Sekibanki allowed the torrent of lamentations about the younger generations, joint pain, and the overly dry weather wash over her. While her low opinion of humans hadn't exactly changed through living amongst them, she did find in herself a grudging respect for the sheer stamina of these little old ladies. She entertained herself by trying to recall the short woman's given name. Suekiku? Yes, that sounded about right.
"And what have you been up to lately, Sekibanki?" Hide suddenly said, dragging her back into the conversation.
Sekibanki shrugged. "I've been doing some flower deliveries."
"Oh yes. The florist's daughter is ill, is she not? The poor child." Sekibanki's hope that the conversation would move onto the ailing girl came to naught as Hide kept watching her as closely as an owl about to swoop. "But surely that can't be all you have done this summer?"
"You shouldn't allow yourself to become so set in your ways at such a young age," Possibly-Suekiku observed.
"Indeed not! You should be more adventurous, my dear! Meet new people, and perhaps find a nice young man who—"
"Hide!" Suekiku suddenly chimed in. "This is Sekibanki we are speaking to."
"Oh! Of course!" Hide shook her head as though chiding herself for some folly before fixing her gaze back onto Sekibanki. "And how is little Kogasa these days?"
"...She's fine." Sekibanki answered slowly, trying to see how this non-sequitur tied to the previous discussion. One answer seemed obvious, but it was also ridiculous. Kagerou she could almost understand making that mistake, but these humans?
Still, when both women continued to stare at her with beady, eager eyes, she found herself saying more. "She's been cheerful lately. Her business is picking up."
"Yes, my grandson asked her to fix a pot for him. He said she was very polite for a youkai." Hide smiled broadly. "She always greets me with courtesy when our paths meet. A sweet girl, really. Not at all frightening."
Kogasa would likely have burst into tears upon hearing herself described as such, which in turn would only have reinforced Hide's opinion of her. Which worked just fine for Sekibanki. "She is... very different from what I thought youkai could be like."
Suekiku nodded. "Yes, yes. She does seem as trustworthy as a youkai can be. I cannot imagine anyone complaining about the pair of you." She raised her finger, suddenly in lecture mode. "But don't let her harmlessness fool you when it comes other youkai, my dear. Most of them are just as bloodthirsty and vicious as the stories say they are."
"...I promise to remember that."
"That's good." Suekiku reached up to pat Sekibanki on the cheek. "Such a respectful, clever girl."
And with that, the avenging angels finally moved past Sekibanki, their clamouring voices ringing in her ears long after they had strolled away arm in arm.
Sekibanki stared after them, shaking her head. How would they react if one day when she decided to stretch out her neck to the level of rooftops? She had an annoying feeling their only complaint would be that they could no longer reach high enough to pat her cheek.
For the time being, it was time to decide which detail was more troubling: that Kogasa living with her was apparently common knowledge in the village (unsurprising, since they hadn't exactly been stealthy about it lately, but still not great), or that no-one seemed to mind and further seemed to think she and Kogasa were an item (...why?)
She shook her head, glaring again at that lone red leaf. They would have to talk about this. Preferably tonight.
The night was almost supernaturally cool for the beginning of autumn. By the way she shuddered, Kogasa was already regretting wearing a short-sleeved shirt, but she simply clutched the handle of her canopy more tightly and kept soldiering on.
Sekibanki hunched her shoulders as she navigated the labyrinth of roots. She wasn't sure when these shared walks through the forest had become a weekly ritual. Much like most things relating to Kogasa, it had simply happened. The presence of another person on Sekibanki's prowl had gone faintly irritating to unobtrusive to... something Sekibanki couldn't immediately find a word for.
Pleasant. It was pleasant.
In the distance, a punk concert raged, but between the pair of them, there was silence. As so often these days, Sekibanki found herself asking a question she would have once considered completely inane. "You warm enough? Should we turn back?"
"It's okay. I'll manage."
Sekibanki watched Kogasa's brave smile, her funny, mismatched eyes, the waves of her hair which never seemed to settle the same way twice, and tried to peer into her skull and figure out what she was thinking. As usual, she couldn't even begin to guess. Whatever Kogasa's faults were, predictability wasn't one of them. "You should know that people have started to talk about us."
Kogasa's face fell. "Oh no! Are you in danger?"
"I don't think so. They know what you are, but they're not scared of you." Sekibanki shrugged. "At worst they think I'm eccentric for shacking up with you."
Kogasa's mouth twisted in a complicated way. "I-I see."
"I guess you'd rather not hear that about yourself."
Kogasa sighed, but kept walking by Sekibanki's side. "Maybe it's for the best. But I wish they could somehow both not mind me and be afraid of me at the same time."
If wishes were horses... "As things are, we could probably get married without anyone doing more than raising an eyebrow."
It was dark, but there was no mistaking it: Kogasa flushed as red as Sekibanki's hair.
"Speaking of which..." Sekibanki halted and turned to fully face the still blushing Kogasa. "Are we dating?"
Kogasa hesitated. The silence which followed wasn't ultimately that long, but for some reason, Sekibanki felt it lasting for hours. Perhaps it was because she was counting her heartbeats, which for some baffling reason were thumping in her chest at least twice as fast as normal.
"No. We're not," Kogasa finally said. She met Sekibanki's gaze, her eyes even more luminous than her cheeks. "But... if you wanted to, we could be."
Time came to a standstill.
Sekibanki stared at Kogasa, unable to tear her eyes away. When the realisation struck her, it was a thunderbolt.
That's right. We could be dating. And I...
She stepped closer to Kogasa.
I... want that?
...I want that.
She reached out.
But before she could take Kogasa's hand, Kogasa was already on the move. Using Sekibanki's outstretched arm for leverage, she leapt in and kissed Sekibanki.
Another bolt of lightning coursed through Sekibanki. Its strike was warm and gentle.
Kogasa landed back on the ground. Even her footfalls barely sounded through the warm cotton suddenly cushioning Sekibanki's mind. Only when Kogasa began to fidget did Sekibanki breathe in the night-time mist again.
"Um..." Kogasa tilted her head. "Were you surprised?"
Sekibanki shook her head in awe rather than denial. "...I don't think I'll ever stop being surprised by you."
Kogasa giggled. "You know, I've never seen your smile reach your eyes before."
The admission startled Sekibanki back into frowning. It didn't, however, do anything about the aftershocks of yearning still coursing through her.
Kogasa pouted. "Aww. I jinxed it."
Sekibanki shrugged. "So it goes." She did what she had meant to do all along and took Kogasa's hand. In contemplation, she stroked the heel with her thumb and watched the crimson which had began to evaporate into the night air reclaim Kogasa's face. "But who knows? If we keep at this, you might surprise it out of me again."
And as Kogasa laughed and met her gaze with eyes full of joy, it began to dawn on Sekibanki just what a treasure she had found on a rainy night that spring.