Why is that? I wondered. Wait, Towada wasn’t making fun of me, was he? A surge of embarrassment washed over me, and I buried my face into the plush fur of my stoat companion. There’s just no way this little guy could be a goblin. Not when its fur is so irresistibly soft and fluffy. As I burrowed deeper into its fur, the creature snuggled back into me. Gosh, it was so precious that I wanted to squeeze it in sheer delight. In its dense, chocolate coat where I sought refuge, I felt my cheeks heating as the nagging idea of Towada amused at my expense refused to go away. I couldn’t show my face just yet, not when it was the hue of a tomato.
Once my composure returned, I said, “I’ve been shy and nervous around strangers since I was a kid. Still haven’t really managed to get over it.”
Towada hummed. “Why do you need to get over it?”
“B-Because it’s…bad?”
“I don’t think being cautious around people you’ve just met is necessarily a bad thing.”
That’s certainly a novel take. “But doesn’t it suck to be around someone who’s acting all cold and unfriendly?” I countered.
“Better than being around somebody you barely know who’s acting like you’re best friends.” His gaze wandered as he responded, as though it wasn’t me he was trying to convince. His expression was raw, childlike, almost, as if he were struggling to hold back tears—which wasn’t the most flattering analogy, yet I didn’t know quite how else to describe it.
“Thanks,” I murmured. “I never thought about it that way. That makes me feel a little better.” My voice was so faint that I wasn’t sure whether my gratitude even reached his ears.
Before my mother could escape the clutches of my aunt, Towada rose to leave, no doubt about to take my new furry friend with him. But then, unexpectedly, he asked, “Would you like to come meet the rest of them?”
“The rest of them? There’s more? Yes—of course! Wait, right now?” I said, almost tripping in excitement.
“They usually keep to themselves, but I think they’ll make an exception for you.”
That was all the confirmation I needed. I dashed upstairs to swap my uniform for more casual clothes, returned downstairs, and—since the outing was a perfect opportunity for a walk—scooped up Koro and his leash before reconvening with Towada at the front door.
Side by side, we set off into the rising autumn chill. My new friend, a living fur scarf of the finest quality, nuzzled against my neck, snug as a bug, while Towada, not quite as cozy but seemingly just as content, led Koro, who trotted along happily. Koro really is comfortable around Towada.
And he wasn’t the only one. Given the number of commutes we’d shared by then, any residual awkwardness between Towada and me had all but evaporated. We humans really can get used to anything. Crazy. And I felt a certain kinship to him as though we were partners in crime, sharing a secret exclusive to us. We could stroll in complete silence or deep conversation, and it’d be all the same to me.
“It’s not a problem, is it?” I asked. “Me just showing up like this.”
“I texted Ayako just now. She says she’s excited to see you.”
Efficient. In the maybe five minutes I’d spent changing out of my uniform, he’d sorted out all the details.
As we walked, Towada told me why he’d suspected that an ayakashi had invaded my house. “I’ve been finding a few of them trying to leave,” he explained. “When I caught one and questioned it, it complained that it wasn’t fair that only it got to go. That made me think that something was up.”
Did that mean all the ayakashi were craving my snacks? I really wished I’d baked some brownies for them.
“Right! Almost forgot to ask,” I said. “What do you call these little guys?”
“They don’t have names.”
“They don’t?” I repeated, perplexed. “How many are there in total?”
“I dunno.” He shrugged. He clarified that although the ayakashi called his house home, they came and went as they pleased, so the population was constantly fluctuating. “They mostly look alike. I’m sure if you lined them up you could make out a few differences, but they’re similar enough that I never bothered to identify them individually.”
“What about their personalities?” I asked.
“Never bothered to find out.”
“Really?” Somewhat surprised, I mentioned that it seemed a pity, given his ability to communicate with them. Evidently, he didn’t appreciate the comment, because his expression soured, his gaze riveted on Koro’s back.
Speaking of Koro, he seemed to be able to see the stoat as well. When I clipped the leash on him, he’d moved closer, sniffing curiously. Neither creature appeared startled by the other, so perhaps they’d been aware of each other all along?
“You wanna go play with Koro?” I asked my scarf. It tilted its head in thought for a moment before wrapping itself tighter around my neck. Aw, it likes me!
“Yeah, that still looks weird to me,” Towada remarked. “Creepy little goblin.”
“No, it’s a stoat!” I retorted.
“To me, it just looks like it’s hanging onto you for dear life.”
“It’s not gonna fall, don’t worry,” I reassured him. I was supporting it with a hand as well. But still, a hairy goblin clinging to me in desperation? A smile crept onto my face. I glanced at Towada, and he looked at me—and we both burst into laughter.
Our most nonchalant jaunt to date was temporarily halted by a red light, and my eyes drifted toward a cluster of clover flourishing in a nearby parking lot. “Nope, no four-leaf clovers here…” I mumbled, more to myself than anything.
“Four-leaf clovers?” he echoed.
“Just something I always look for when I see a patch. I’m not too bad at finding them either,” I said. “You’ve never done that?”
“Can’t say I have.”
I hoped I didn’t sound too childish. But I couldn’t help myself. Finding a four-leaf clover was like finding hidden treasure. “They’re special, right? I’m kinda just drawn to them.”
“I heard that four-leaf clovers are just regular clovers but deformed. They sprout the extra leaf when the plant is stressed, like when they get trampled on a lot.”
“I’ve heard that, too,” I said, though I was tempted to pronounce science a buzzkill.
Wait, who did I hear that from? The memory was so distant. I hadn’t been at my usual park but somewhere else. I’d discovered a four-leaf clover and given it to another kid, and then—
“Let’s go. Light’s green.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry.”
I couldn’t remember. I felt as though I were chasing shadows in my mind, recollection darting just beyond reach.