Yukari told Yuyuko a story about jikininki.
The snowfall was not the last one of the year. It was followed by a blizzard that only a yukionna could love. In the chill that followed, the new snow formed an icy crust over the old.
Yukari told Yuyuko the story of Aoyagi.
Ever so slowly, the snow beyond the manor grounds began to recede, leaving behind ravaged grass and frozen puddles that glittered in what little sunlight made it through the clouds.
Yukari told Yuyuko the story of the humans' first moon landing and what had eluded the astronauts there. As always, Yuyuko followed the logic behind the anachronistic details as though they were already familiar to her, nodding softly at each addition to the tale.
She always sat close to Yukari, close enough the fabric of their sleeves would frequently touch. Still, she never quite closed the gap between them. Neither did Yukari, for that matter.
Time passed. Yukari slept through long, tranquil days and quiet, cut-glass nights. Even when awake, she felt like she was dreaming: the edges of the world were too fuzzy, the previously sharp borders too ill-defined, the sudden and rare peals of Yuyuko's laughter too bright, too beautiful, too strange. She would have to wake up soon in earnest.
But for now, she kept slumbering.
The man was dead. That much was obvious from the outset.
Yukari had been alone in the pre-dawn garden looking for signs of spring. She had mostly done so out of boredom: while Yuyuko slept less than humans usually did, and certainly far less than Yukari slept, she had been deep in slumber when Yukari had woken up. Without her, there was little to keep Yukari entertained.
She had looked up at the faint suggestion of light behind the shroud of clouds and briefly considered leaving the estate. The longer she had stood there alone, the more suffocating the air became. Weak or not, she could always throw herself at the mercy of the river of time.
Yet she had remained where she was, thinking about what she and Yuyuko might do that day.
She had more or less ceased noticing the butterflies by then: they were simply a fact of life around Yuyuko, crowding the air around her and crawling freshly formed from within the folds of her kimono.
This butterfly, however, had been much farther away from the manor than usual. Yukari had followed its fluttering flight across the grove until it abruptly descended to join an entire swarm of butterflies clustered atop something large on the ground.
Most of the butterflies dispersed when Yukari's shadow fell upon them. The rest remained on the dead man even as she crouched down to study him more carefully, only to flee when she turned him onto his back. His skin was like ice.
She peered at his features. Lividity had long since set in, distorting his face where blood had pooled to the extremities closest to the ground. His frozen expression spoke of no great distress or fear, only surprise. He looked like any other human: faintly familiar, but not familiar enough to trigger a memory. A humble traveller, perhaps, or simply a local farmer, although she suspected locals were more likely to give the manor a wide berth.
One of the butterflies startled into flight settled down on Yukari's sleeve, slowly opening and closing its azure wings as it rested there. Yukari waved it away and stood up as she heard a chiming bell rapidly approaching.
Youki stopped some steps away and ignored her in favour of the corpse. He sighed, then looked to see where the garden ended and the meadow began only a few paces away from them. "Must have been on a journey. All the locals know of the curse."
"How many of them died before they all believed in it?"
"None of them were this far away from the manor." Youki's expression betrayed nothing. He turned to look at her. "You can return. I have means of disposing of corpses."
"So do I. I can spirit it away with little more than a thought."
Youki considered this, his laziness warring with something dark within his eyes. At length, he nodded.
The corpse vanished with ease. Yukari barely thought of where she sent it, choosing the path of least resistance.
As soon as the deed was done, a curtain of weariness settled upon her.
"That's that." Youki looked graver than ever. Yukari suspected he hadn't cracked a single smile during his lifetime. "This should remain between us."
"Are you suggesting I should keep secrets from my dear friend?"
"I'm not in the mood for jokes. You know as well as I do nothing good would come from her knowing of this."
Yukari did know that, yes, but watching Youki's poorly concealed frustration flicker on his face was reasonably entertaining. "I never thought you would suggest entering a conspiracy with me."
"You must see the sense of it. She can't leave, so why make staying here harder for her?"
"You are very eager to keep your job here, aren't you? Shame that will only last until I take her away."
She left him standing there without a rebuttal and watched the butterflies lingering in the area slowly disperse in all directions.
Dawn had begun in earnest when Yukari found herself back at the manor. She assumed Yuyuko would be awake, but if not, perhaps she could catch a few more hours of sleep as she waited. This time it might finally eat away some of her exhaustion.
She found Yuyuko in the kitchen wearing a lilac kimono and seemingly unaware that the teacup in her hand was empty. Only the brief constriction of her pupils gave any indication she knew Yukari had entered the room.
"Have you begun to sleepwalk?" Yukari kept her tone light and teasing as she decided to make the tea Yuyuko had clearly forgotten about. No amount of weariness could prevent her from manipulating a pot of cold water to hot between blinks.
The entire time she busied herself with the tea, Yuyuko said and did nothing. She sat down when Yukari gestured at her to do so, seemingly on reflex, and did not react to being served.
Yukari sat down opposite of her, half slouching and suppressing a yawn. The tea would do little to help keep her awake, but at least its warmth was soothing.
Just as she began to suspect Yuyuko really was asleep, Yuyuko jerked her head upright. She stared at Yukari through the steam rising from the cup. "Where was it?"
Yukari finished her draught before answering. "Where was what?"
"The person who died. Where were they?"
"You can sense corpses?"
"Not exactly. But the butterflies are gone. And I feel..." A visible shudder ran through Yuyuko as she wrenched her head aside. "Just tell me where."
It would have been easy enough to lie, but Yukari rather suspected Yuyuko already knew the truth and was simply seeking confirmation. "Within the garden. Close to the northern edge of the grove."
Yuyuko set the teacup down with shaking fingers and buried her face in her hands.
Yukari gave her a moment. She would have given her more time had she been sobbing, as she discovered to her surprise that she would rather not see Yuyuko in tears. Ultimately, however, she spoke up. "It's not as though you murdered him."
"I may as well have." Yuyuko's voice was muffled by her hands and wavery in a way Yukari had never heard before. "I saw him in my dreams. I saw the moment the light left his eyes."
Even knowing Yuyuko couldn't see it, Yukari shrugged. It didn't seem helpful to point out she had seen people die as well.
"It's all my fault," Yuyuko continued, her voice breaking further with each syllable. "He wouldn't have died if I wasn't here."
"But you are here. And why shouldn't you be?"
Slowly, Yuyuko raised her head. Her face was blotchy with colour, her eyes liquid with tears threatening to spill at any moment. Somehow, they remained perfectly fixed as she stared at Yukari.
"I don't know how a human winds up with powers such as yours," This wasn't perhaps the best time for Yukari to explain her thoughts, but the best time would have been before this incident. "But regardless of your exact nature, they are a part of you. You may as well embrace them. It may ultimately make you a youkai, but aren't I proof that being one isn't such a horrible fate?"
A single tear fell down Yuyuko's face like an afterthought. It streaked her cheek before falling down on her sleeve.
As the silence stretched on, Yukari took another drink from her cup. The tea had turned oddly bitter.
"So... what you are saying is..." Yuyuko faltered, then continued more coldly. "You think I should simply ignore those who perish because of me."
"All humans die."
"Then why are you here? Why waste your time with one?"
"Some humans are interesting. Do you refuse to admire cherry blossoms simply because they will fall long before you do?"
Slowly, Yuyuko's gaze turned opaque. She appeared oblivious to the butterfly settling onto the back of her hand.
"I see," she said finally. She turned her head to the side, staring at nothing. "I should apologise. I have done nothing but misunderstand you from the very beginning."
Yukari looked on in silence as Yuyuko finally noticed the butterfly and continued to speak as if addressing the insect rather than Yukari.
"When you first came here, I expected you to devour me. After all, why else would a youkai seek out a human?" Yuyuko's lips turned faintly upward in an expression brutally divorced from a smile. "I was afraid, of course, but a part of me almost welcomed it. I was glad simply to have someone to talk to before I died."
She turned to face Yukari. "At the very beginning, I thought you were merely biding your time. That perhaps you were intrigued by the novelty of a human seemingly unafraid of you and wished to wait a moment longer before eating me. But the more we talked, the more I could no longer bring myself to believe you were simply toying with me." Her fingers flexed as though she meant to make a fist but just barely desisted. "Now I see that was the beginning of another misunderstanding. I began to think that perhaps we were more alike than I had first thought. I could breathe so easily in your company and so enjoyed listening to your voice. It was as if a part of me had been missing until your arrival. And so I fooled myself into believing we were both human."
I see, Yukari thought, and she meant it both literally and figuratively. Yes, she saw what Yuyuko had chosen to see and why. But she could also see literally where the light bent between them, where the human ended and the youkai began.
"It's my fault," Yuyuko continued. "You didn't intend to deceive me. But I cannot..." She looked away again as the remaining tears broke free. "I'm sorry. Please leave."
At first, Yukari didn't move. She slowly placed her cup on the floor and continued sitting in place, contemplating Yuyuko.
I could make her see how thin the border is, a treacherous thought whispered in her ear. Yuyuko's nature was a hair's breadth away from being that of a youkai. It would take no more effort to push her over the edge than it did to boil a pot of water.
Yuyuko must have known it as well. At the very least, she knew she couldn't make Yukari leave if Yukari didn't wish to do so. Her expression reflected as much: her eyes were hooded with resignation as she blinked through her tears, waiting for Yukari's verdict.
It would be so simple. With time, she would come to thank me for it.
Perhaps it's even what she truly wishes for.
Finally, Yukari stood up and left the room.
The air tasted like iron. Yukari breathed it in regardless as she walked, listening to the chilled grass crinkling beneath her geta.
Why was she still walking? Youkai lurked. Youkai stalked. Youkai hopped and crawled and flew and stomped and while they did at times walk, she wondered how often the echoes of their footfalls sounded identical to those of humans.
Ahead, the flowers of the Saigyou Ayakashi rustled in the soft wind, their blood-dyed petals even brighter than usual against the pale sky. Yukari made her way towards the tree, halting a few feet from its shadow. It was the only fellow youkai present, wasn't it? It would be understandable to feel some kinship towards it.
"I should leave for my own sake," she told the tree, expecting no reply and receiving none. "The promise was never more than air."
It had been just that, yes. But it was time she admitted to herself that her decision to stay with Yuyuko for the remainder of winter had always been more than mere curiosity or even necessity. Yuyuko had fascinated her from the start, in more ways than one.
There was nothing shameful about it. It was a first for Yukari, perhaps, but it wasn't unheard of for a youkai to fall in love with a human.
Was it a first?
She looked at her hands. The lines in her flesh both coincided and contrasted with the borders of the universe, serving as starting points for endless constellations of distinction. They were also nothing more than meaningless creases in her skin. Were they the same as ever, or had they too changed when everything else about her had?
The Saigyou Ayakashi seemed to be laughing at her as she lowered her hands.
Was I ultimately here to mourn my lost humanity?
She felt a tug at the corner of her mind. It was gentle, almost caress-like, and so subtle she might not have noticed it at all if she hadn't already been lost in her thoughts. She dismissed it.
I should have no regrets. I gained far more than I lost.
She closed her eyes, shutting out the winter. It didn't matter what she had buried beneath the endless layers of obfuscation and forced forgetfulness. She was Yukari Yakumo, the great youkai, and the few fragments of her old self which remained on the periphery of her identity were simply the cast-offs all youkai who had once been human had to contend with.
There was another tug. She opened her eyes to discover silken strings in the air, almost invisible to the naked eye. They began from the branches of the Saigyou Ayakashi and had already wrapped around her wrists and ankles, making their way up her arms and around her calves like shyly sprouting shoots. They beckoned her closer to the tree, whispering promises of perfect respite.
She smiled. "You're mistaken. I'm not your prey."
If anything, the wordless crooning suggesting that she settle her back against the bole of the tree grew stronger at the words.
She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the strings were gone.
There was a momentary silence, and then the caressing sensation returned, tugging at the back of Yukari's neck.
How odd. She wasn't concerned: the tree's suggestion had no power over her. Still, the fact that she could feel it at all was—
"Yukari!"
A vision in lilac ran towards her. Yukari stepped away from the Saigyou Ayakashi to meet Yuyuko.
Yuyuko rushed into her arms. Her hands settled around Yukari's back, her grip tightening as though she was clinging to driftwood to avoid drowning.
"Thank the gods." There were no more tears in Yuyuko's eyes, but there were plenty in her voice. "I was certain you had already gone for good."
"So you'd rather I stay after all?"
"...It's selfish of me, I know." Yuyuko pulled away just far enough to look Yukari in the eye. "As soon as you left the room, I began to regret what I had said. I understand if you want to leave, but...."
Yukari ignored the Saigyou Ayakashi entirely and focused solely on Yuyuko. "I did say I'd stay until spring."
Yuyuko kissed her.
The kiss was initially mild, soft and pale like a cherry blossom. Yuyuko's mouth was shockingly warm in comparison to the crisp air around them. Yukari found herself drawn to the heat, reaching blindly for Yuyuko's upper arms to pull her closer, deepening the kiss as she did so.
An acute pain ripped through her back like a talon.
She opened her eyes. Yuyuko's eyes remained shut in quiet bliss. As Yukari waited, the pain melted into the warm pleasure of the embrace, but something had changed. There was now a metallic tang to the kiss, a sensation like licking the sharp edge of a blade.
When they pulled apart, slowly and reluctantly, Yukari brushed her fingers across her lips. There was no blood, but its taste lingered.
Yuyuko blinked at her as though slowly waking up. "...I should not have done that."
"No?" Yukari held her close, smiling until Yuyuko relaxed and then cupped her chin. "Because you should have done it much sooner?"
An ephemeral smile rose to Yuyuko's lips. "Exactly."
Yukari smiled back, then took her time returning the kiss.
There it was again, that blade-like tang. Yukari studied it more closely this time as she lost herself in the embrace.
DEATH, it said. As she had known it would.
At length, she remembered that humans needed to breathe and pulled back.
"Until spring," she whispered.
"Until spring," Yuyuko whispered back, breathless.
Yukari sensed something clinging to her hair and plucked out a butterfly. She cast it aside without another thought.
Come rest, whispered the voiceless voice of the Saigyou Ayakashi. Yukari ignored it in favour of taking Yuyuko's hand and walking back to the manor with her.