KAEDE, Shizuku, and I—Rai Shinozaki—returned to the third-floor reception room of my office. My iso-onna client, Shizuku, sat on the sofa across from me. With concern in her eyes, she watched Kaede, who lay on the couch at the back of the room.
I had resumed interviewing Shizuku. I proceeded down the checklist, my laptop open in front of her.
“Will she be okay?” asked Shizuku. The iso-onna was clutching a glass of iced coffee. A house roast from the first-floor café.
I shrugged. “It shouldn’t be a problem,” I answered with a smile. “Kaede has a high resistance to spiritual energy. So much so that hers was leaking before you met. She’ll wake up in a little while.”
“If you say so…”
The sound of my typing filled the office as dying sunlight streamed through the windows.
Shizuku stared at my hands for a time, then asked, “So, um, did Kikui—Kaede— mention my reason for wanting a job?”
Glancing up, I found the young iso-onna fidgeting restlessly, her face a bright red.
“I couldn’t tell anyone in my community about it,” she said. “It’s embarrassing, right? An iso-onna, especially one my age, obsessed with a human man.”
I flashed my best customer-service smile. “Iso-onna are sea-dwelling ayakashi with an ear for music, no? If the performance of a human—and a young one at that—genuinely moved you, isn’t that a good thing?”
“You think so?”
“Seventy-year-old women in the human realm often regain vitality by watching young men perform. It can be music, sports, anything.”
“It’s that common?”
“Indeed. It’s quite normal.”
“Normal, huh…?” Shizuku repeated the word as if savoring it. She quietly drained the rest of her coffee before admitting, “I’ve always been afraid of change. Keya Beach was always so serene. Once it became known as Itoshima in the human realm, all kinds of new things started happening. The flow of people changed, the music festival started, and so on. It’s so lively now. Even my fellow iso-onna have begun holding events with humans. Yet until recently…we only ever ate them.”
I pretended not to hear that last part, maintaining my smile.
“Even though I’m still young, I couldn’t keep up with so much change,” she complained. “But ever since I found Jellysh…” Her eyes lit up the moment she uttered the name.
“The world is changing, and I found the courage to change as well and support him,” Shizuku said. “I’ve become a lot more optimistic. So I decided to leave the sea for now. If I work in Fukuoka, visiting Itoshima from Hakata Bay won’t be difficult. Plus, I can always go back to my community if I ever get lonely.”
“I think that’s wonderful.”
Her eyes sparkled. Her enthusiasm for her new life, and passion for her idol, dazzled me.
Over four hundred years had passed since I came into existence on the Near Shore as a kitsune. Fifty years later, I began to help other ayakashi. To see an ayakashi so full of hope for life on the Near Shore was deeply fulfilling, even after decades, centuries. Some ayakashi still found meaning there, no matter how inhospitable the modern age had become.
So long as I could be of service to other ayakashi, I felt I was permitted to stay as well.
“By the way,” said Shizuku. Her expression was serious, and her irises red, betraying a hint of her true nature.
I raised one eyebrow and feigned composure. “Yes?”
“Who is Kaede really?”
“She’s an employee of my company.”
“No,” Shizuku said, “I’m talking about her soul.”
I didn’t answer. Shizuku studied me, her eyes gleaming scarlet, her gaze that of an iso-onna, not a timid young lady.
“She’s strange, isn’t she?” pressed Shizuku. “She attempted to absorb my spiritual energy with no actual plan and somehow succeeded. Then just passes out? Not to mention those lips…”
Shizuku leaned over the table, at last dropping her human guise. Her slender legs flickered in and out of existence, and her elongated hair started to writhe like black octopus tentacles. Such was the real form of an iso-onna: an ayakashi that ensnared men and dragged them into the sea.
“She tasted like fox,” she said, licking her red lips as she recalled Kaede’s flavor. “Like you.”
“Kikui is my employee. Nothing more.”
“Is that so?”
“It is,” I said, brushing off her comment with a smile. “We haven’t formed a master-servant contract or anything of the sort.”
“I see…” murmured Shizuku, relaxing into the sofa once more. “Well, if you say so, I’ll take your word for it.” Her legs and hair regained their human shape. Her eyes recovered their blackish, melancholy color as well.
A tinge of embarrassment clouded her countenance. “I heard a rumor a long time ago,” she mumbled, twisting a strand of hair around a finger. “The Lost Fox of Tenjin, Shinozaki, possessed enough spiritual energy to become a divine messenger of Inari Ōkami. Yet he never left Tenjin because—”
“Oh no, oh no, oh no! I fell asleep!”
An exclamation dimwitted enough to drain the tension from my body echoed from the sofa behind us. Swiveling, I found Kaede looking around the office in panic. Her face was pale, and sweat dappled her forehead.
“Oh no,” she repeated. “I tried to take Shizuku’s spiritual energy in Tenjin, and then… Wait, it’s evening? Huh? Where am I?”
“Calm down,” I said. I unscrewed the cap of a water bottle I’d prepared in advance and handed it to her. I gestured with my chin for her to drink. “You’re back at the office. I took over the job and finished it.”
Gasping, Kaede wiped her mouth, shot to her feet, and bowed deeply to Shizuku. “Oh, m-my apologies,” she bleated. “I’m sorry for causing so much trouble.”
Shizuku stood, then bowed just as low. “No, I’m the one who should apologize,” she said. “I’m sorry for getting overexcited and making such a careless mistake. I’m only here because you absorbed my spiritual energy and Shinozaki dealt with the aftermath.”
I responded with my usual smile. “Our previous conversation is over,” it warned.
Shizuku seemed to understand. Turning back to Kaede, she dabbed the human woman’s forehead with a handkerchief. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Good!” said Kaede. “Actually, I feel pretty refreshed!”
“Well, yeah, a three-hour nap will do that,” I interjected.
“A nap? Ack, you’re right! Look at the time!”
Shizuku turned to me. “She seems quite well, doesn’t she?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, that’s Kaede for you.”
“Excuse me, Kikui, but I need to head home soon,” Shizuku said.
“Oh!” cried Kaede. “At least let me see you off!”
“Wait,” I said, “wipe the drool off your face first.”
“Gah!”
Shizuku watched Kaede fondly as the latter pulled out a hand mirror and patted her mouth.
“Please excuse my overenergetic employee,” I intoned.
“It’s perfectly fine,” replied Shizuku. “I’ve had so much fun with Kikui. If she continues to oversee my case, that will give me some peace of mind.” Her expression shifted, and she whispered, so softly that only I could hear her, “A reborn soul becomes a different person. Unlike ayakashi, humans can’t inherit the memories of their former selves. Their souls are too frail.”
The light of the setting sun through the window illuminated the iso-onna.
“You probably knew that,” she said, “but please don’t torment yourself.”
I responded with another smile. “Thank you for your concern.”
After all, I’ve been telling myself that for four hundred years.
🍁🍁🍁