“GOT a little something special for ya,” Ayako said, presenting a box of mooncakes. “And a Chinese pastry, of course, deserves Chinese tea to go along with it,” she remarked as she deposited the kettle on the stove.
By the time she returned to the living room, bearing our matching mugs full of steaming hot jasmine tea, Towada had rejoined us.
“I have nothing against teacups; I just think mugs are easier to work with,” Ayako explained.
“My mooncake has pine nuts in it,” I said.
“Mine’s black sesame paste,” Towada chimed in.
The delectable mooncakes were a treat from our city’s Chinatown. Curious, I asked Ayako if she could make them herself, and she smiled, replying that although she could, they wouldn’t come out nearly as pretty without the proper molds. Wow, still, that’s already pretty amazing.
“If pastry-making is something you’re interested in pursuing, I could help you get started on the right track,” Ayako said.
“I am, but…” What do I want to do? What can I do? I had mulled over both questions long and hard, and I voiced my tentative conclusion: “I haven’t decided yet. I do enjoy ballet and baking, but I think I kind of owe it to myself to explore more—actively figure out my future instead of just being passive and anxious about it. I feel like I’ve been too disengaged until now.”
“Is that so?”
“My friends deserve better from me. I deserve better, to be more confident in myself and everything.”
“So what’s next?” she prodded, her tone gentle. Towada also waited patiently for me to speak.
“I’d like to work on myself,” I said, trying to impart an air of determination. “And just try everything—no more excuses. Who am I to say if I’ll be good or not at anything; it’s not like I know myself all that well anyway.”
“Well, sounds like you have it all figured out,” Ayako said warmly.
“And then maybe I’ll discover my true passion, like Towada.” I aimed a sidelong glance at the boy in question, and he recoiled slightly.
“Like me? Um, sure, why not,” he replied hesitantly.
“I think you’d make a great vet,” I added. “The way Koro took to you is proof of that.”
“Takumi has always been an animal lover. Do you remember in elementary school when you went to the zoo, and the goat in the petting area—”
“She doesn’t want to hear about that, Ayako.”
“Wait, I do.”
“Nope.”
Ayako flashed me a look, mouthing, “Later.” I had something to look forward to, it seemed.
My oatie returned inside at some point and settled into my lap as we chatted about my new ballet class and Takanori’s latest recipe book. And suddenly, it was time to leave.
Although the days were growing noticeably longer, evening retained its familiar chill. After Ayako bid me goodbye, Towada, the oatie, Koro, and I began our usual walk home. Bikeless for once, Towada still held Koro’s leash.
Just as I zipped up my jacket in the face of a particularly harsh gale, we reached a parking lot—the same lot where we’d once talked about four-leaf clovers. That night, yet at the start of the growing season, the clovers stood small, hardly the height of my thumb.
“They’re tiny,” Towada abruptly murmured as we waited for the stoplight to change.
“I was thinking the same thing,” I said, taken aback. Taken aback—but also happy, oddly enough. “Being both in the shade and exposed to the wind probably doesn’t help.”
He nodded.
“I’m sure the clovers in places with a little more sun are faring better.” I was picturing that patch of green bordered on all sides by sterile, white walls.
“Like that courtyard?” he asked.
My lips curled into a smile. “Yep, the one at the hospital.”
The light turned green, and instead of alerting me, Towada stretched out a hand. I reciprocated and let him pull me into the intersection. Together, we crossed the street, hand in hand.
Thank goodness it was dusk; the dim light concealed my beet-red blush.
Towada pointed at the oatie around my neck and said, “That one’s going to stay with you.”
“It’s going to stay with me?” I repeated, incredulous.
Towada’s face was resolute as if he were saying, “It’s a done deal.” The oatie seemed to be positively bursting with excitement. “It’s not just Ayako and I that’ve been worried about you. These guys have been inconsolable all spring break.”
“About what? Me?”
“They sneaked over to visit you multiple times.”
“I had no idea! I could’ve given them treats!”
“No, apparently you weren’t around. We were actually discussing an oatie staying with you permanently earlier.”
So that’s what they were talking about when Ayako and I went inside…
“I think it’s a good idea,” he said. “They can protect you from other ayakashi.”
“They can?”
“I recently learned that the absence of other ayakashi at Ayako’s house is because the oaties drive them away.”
“Really?”
“They’re actually quite belligerent.”
“These little cuties? Really?” Surprised, I looked at the oatie, and it puffed out its chest in pride. Yep, you’re adorable. At last I knew the truth about the lack of ayakashi around Ayako’s house. The oaties weren’t nonconfrontational; they were actively territorial.
“They’re protective of their home and not fond of intruders. I’m sure they can protect you from any unwanted encounters.”
Uncertain, I wondered aloud if separating the oatie from its kin was right.
“Oh, it volunteered. It even thought to obtain my approval instead of running off by itself—it couldn’t be more excited. But if you ask me, I think easy access to your snacks is what it’s really after.”
“Then I won’t disappoint!” There were so many desserts that I couldn’t bring to Ayako’s because they didn’t travel well, such as warm and fluffy steamed bread. Or ice cream! And I was sure Mom would enjoy another pair of hands—or paws rather—mysteriously helping out around the house. I patted the oatie, and it nuzzled into me with affection.
“You sure?” Towada asked, perplexed.
“Yes? Why not!” I crowed. “We’re happy to have you, oatie! Oh my god, now we don’t have to say goodbye to each other every time.”
A cascade of luminous sparkles flew from its mouth, echoing the melody of a song—or so my hopeful heart imagined. Those gleaming shards evaporated into the cold like wisps of water vapor. If only I could catch them in a jar and capture that glow forever, I thought.
“Wait.” A pang of realization gripped me. “Is it coming to school with me too?”
“Of course.”
The creatures were invisible to others, so that wasn’t my concern. My heart sank as the real issue dawned on me: “We’ll be going home separately come April then…”
He walked me home because I couldn’t be left alone. With the oatie as my escort, that would change. Waiting for Towada in the library was embarrassing, but beneath my chagrin, a quiet yet undeniable anticipation for our time together had wormed its way into my heart. Between cram school, ballet classes, and all of Towada’s commitments, moments in his company seemed numbered moving forward. We’d soon encounter our independence, and although that freedom was supposedly for the best, the thought ached nonetheless.
“I’ll stop by the library after school,” he said.
“What?” I could hardly believe what I was hearing.
His hand tightened around mine. “And if I find you there, let’s walk home together.”
I required a few seconds to process what he’d just said. And though he was slightly ahead of me, his face hidden from view, I couldn’t help but notice that the tips of his ears were tinged the faintest shade of red—as was my face.
“Sure,” I finally managed to mumble. My gaze dropped to the roots of a tree shading the sidewalk. There, a lone clover emerged from the blanket of its shorter peers. Silently, I vowed: I would give the next four-leaf clover I found to Towada—again. I’d infuse it with my every ounce of aspiration, my every whispered wish for a brighter tomorrow, because wasn’t that the heart of fairy tales? That elusive promise of a “happily ever after”? And just like the heroines of those stories, I was determined to make that ending come true.
I lifted my face to meet an errant gust of wind. Twilight painted the sky a deep, passionate shade of red. From the oatie’s mouth, radiant flecks of glitter ascended, each a tiny beacon of hope, vanishing gracefully into the embrace of the night sky.