Sparked by Sakiko’s story, something Kaoru once told me flashed across my mind. While the oaties in my house were harmless, there were ayakashi that bred malice simply by existing. There were also people who, although blind to ayakashi, felt their presence and could be influenced by them.
“The ability to perceive ayakashi,” Kaoru had remarked with a wistful smile, “whether by sight or presence, is something of an inherent trait, a mark etched onto our souls that compels us, and not the other way around.” He’d claimed that most with the ability were unaware of it. I had no reason to doubt him; after all, I’d been none the wiser until I married him.
The affection the oaties harbored for Haruka was, in a word, abnormal. It implied a unique quality in her, something that spirits—both good and bad—found attractive. Had the assailant played host to an entity he’d unknowingly nurtured? An entity that was drawn to that special something in Haruka, an entity that possessed him to carry out that heinous act? Such a theory might explain the lack of motive, though admittedly, it seemed a little far-fetched. While Kaoru had taught me much about ayakashi, to see real-world confirmation of that knowledge was a different matter.
I yearned for his counsel. If only he were here now, I wished impossibly.
“We’ve done everything we can to maintain a semblance of normalcy for Haruka,” Sakiko concluded. “Being overprotective about something she doesn’t even remember would only distress her. But I’m still worried. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t even let her go to school by herself. They say lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, but that’s cold comfort to an anxious heart.”
Naturally, I thought. But to shelter Haruka would only help so much. The decision had to have been torturous. Haruka’s solo walks with Koro, she revealed with a hint of sorrow, were like therapy for her, a way to ease herself into letting her daughter regain some independence.
Sakiko had come that day because she wanted me to understand her daughter’s reality. After expressing her gratitude for my attentive ear, and with somewhat lighter steps, she’d ventured out into the tea olive–scented day.
The sensation of something brushing my lap roused me from my reminiscence. Looking down, I found one of the ayakashi settled there.
“Well, this is unexpected. Missing Haruka, are we?”
To Kaoru, they appeared as bisque dolls; to Haruka, stoats; to Takumi, goblins; and to me, they resembled small children clad in kimonos. I’d heard that their forms mirrored the conceptions of the beholder, yet a bisque doll and goblin were so comically unalike.
That my nephew regarded them as grotesque and charmless wasn’t exactly without reason—he had his fair share of struggles, the curse of being such a discerning child.
“Still. Hate alone won’t get us to where we need to be. Isn’t that right, Kaoru?”
Those rare individuals gifted with the sight to perceive otherworldly beings performed a vital role in maintaining harmony between our realm and the one beyond. And among the “Regulators,” as they were known, Kaoru had been particularly notable for his prowess and influence.
Upon his passing, Takumi seemed the logical successor. But until he accepted the mantle willingly, his potential would remain latent. “It cannot be thrust upon him,” Kaoru had pleaded at the end.
A Regulator’s psyche was intimately tied to their sight. While Takumi had not chosen to bear those faculties, I hoped he would at least come to terms with their reality.
As I stroked the dark, raven-black hair of the ayakashi seated on my lap, it gazed up at me, its head angled inquisitively. Such gentle behavior was new, and likely due to Haruka’s—no, Takumi’s—influence, his heart slowly changing in tandem with his growing connection to Haruka.
I glanced absentmindedly at the clock on the wall. He’s usually home by now. But if his tardiness meant the aloof boy was actually taking the time to talk to someone, then that was all right with me. Though I did worry he might catch a cold; he’d dressed awfully lightly.
The gloves he’d forgotten in the entranceway were a gift from his parents abroad. They’d been tucked away by them as if in afterthought, carelessly nestled among other packages, with no card or special wrapping. It was an oddly heartwarming sight, one that signaled that the two mismatched buttons on the Towada family jacket might, at last, be ready to reunite.
“Takumi is so much like you, Kaoru. Stubborn, reserved—yet will undoubtedly protect us all.” Yes, my endearingly awkward nephew—he of the tired gaze, weary beyond his years—certainly would.
I was sure he felt a strong sense of responsibility for dragging Haruka into the world of ayakashi, and I knew that should the need ever arise, he would safeguard her from its perils, with which he was all too familiar. After all, when I first proposed that he accompany Haruka to and from our house, he simply nodded in agreement.
I exhaled a long sigh, my contemplation trailing off just as the scuff of the front door signaled his return. When he entered the room, he was gingerly unfurling a scarf I’d never seen him wear. He treated the garment with such delicacy that I couldn’t help but suppress a smile.
“I’m back.”
“Welcome back. You can hop in the bath.”
Perhaps surprised by my nonchalant response to his lateness, he shot me a puzzled look before leaving the room once more.
“She won’t be back until after New Year’s,” I murmured to the ayakashi on my lap. “Until then, you’ll have to wait patiently for her to come back from her grandmother’s.” It replied with a gentle headbutt before hopping down and scampering away.
The enigmatic beings, those remnants of my connection to Kaoru, straddled the boundary between worlds and time itself. I wondered how we might appear in their eyes. Such thoughts lingered as I cleared away my cup, the distant sound of running water echoing in my ears.