“My boss said he would discuss the future with me next week,” I continued, “of our private lives, I mean. Not work. He promised to tell me about his past and what’s been on his mind. So I’m going to tell him how I feel. I just want us to get everything out in the open, regardless of whether he wants to be in a relationship or not.”
“Hm.” Tsukushi turned to look at the pond. A flock of waterfowl beat their wings, fleeing in unison as though her attention had frightened them. “If he gives the okay, will you become his mate?”
I’d never heard anyone but Yoru use that expression. “H-His mate?”
I was growing increasingly flustered. Tsukushi pinned me with her solemn gaze once more, and I could see myself flinching in the reflection of her pitch-black eyes.
“Ah…” I choked out as an inexplicable chill raced down my spine.
What’s going on? For a moment, her face reminded me of Shinozaki’s when he’s being serious.
“Do you want to be in a romantic relationship with your boss?” she pressed. “Or marry him, perhaps? How far ahead are you thinking?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what I want from him.” I shook my head. “All I know for certain is that I have feelings for my boss and I enjoy my work. That’s all. If possible, I don’t want to lose him or my job. Still, I won’t know until next week. After all, my boss promised to tell me everything as well.”
“Kaede. You might not be able to return to a normal life, you know? That man is hiding something about his past, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.” I turned to the pond, pondering Tsukushi’s warning. At the same time, I recalled our night out with our friends. I also remembered Xu Fu’s suggestion to renounce my humanity.
When all’s said and done, what do I want to do?
I knew my answer already, didn’t I?
“I want to stay by his side,” I said. “I want to learn so much more about him. I’ve never lied to myself about what I feel. Because…that’s what being normal means to me.”
After a lengthy silence, Tsukushi heaved a deep sigh. “You, Kaede, are an incorrigible fool.”
“Huh?” Wincing, I looked up at my beautiful best friend, meeting her golden eyes.
Her…golden eyes?
Their brilliant color reminded me of gold leaf sparkling under light. Her expression, in contrast, remained as cold as ice. I recognized her arresting features from elsewhere: Tsukushi looked very similar to Shinozaki. The dazzling hue of her eyes only intensified the resemblance.
“Kaede,” she said. “When Shino looks at you, he sees Sakura, not you.”
“Huh? Did you just say Shino? And…who’s Sakura?”
“You still haven’t realized his feelings, have you?”
“Wait. By Shino, do you mean—”
“Rai Shinozaki,” interrupted Tsukushi. “That’s what he calls himself now, yes? While he plays at being human.”
I had no recollection of telling her his name. I’d always called him “my boss” or something of the sort.
“What on earth is going on?” I asked.
“It’s high time I dropped this act,” she replied.
With an audible crack, the scenery shattered like glass, replaced by a monochrome version of our surrounds.
“A magical barrier?!”
I had experienced something similar when Yoru attacked me in Ōhori Park. We wouldn’t be visible to ordinary humans while trapped in that space.
Tsukushi stood, her long, black hair billowing behind her. The ends of the strands began to sparkle like gold leaf as well, and within moments, her hair bleached to a golden brown and lengthened to her ankles. Large fox ears sprouted from her head. The bottom of her white dress started to bulge, then enormous tails erupted from its skirt one after another, exposing her thighs.
“You’ve been a kitsune this whole time…?”
“My former master gave me the name Tsukushi,” she said. “Have you ever seen how it’s written? It references an ancient pair of foxes that once raced through the fields of Chikushino.”
The first two kanji in Chikushino, chiku and shi, could also be read as Tsukushi. At some point, the former province of Chikushino was split into Chikuzen and Chikugo, into front (zen) and back (go)—which, I supposed, represented one kitsune and the other. Presumably, Shinozaki’s name had been derived from Chikushino as well.
“Don’t tell me…” I murmured. “You and Shinozaki are related somehow?!”
“Correct. We were the guardian foxes of Chikushino. The courageous general Dōsetsu Bekki sought a contract with us while defending Chikuzen’s Tachibanayama Castle.”
“W-Wait. Bekki and…Tachibanayama Castle? What are you talking about?”
“I know. Hearing this all at once must be confusing. I’m sorry.” Tsukushi sighed, running a hand through her hair. Its color, and that of her eyes, made her identical to Shinozaki.
“I’m Shino’s older sister. His one and only sibling,” she added. “A powerful man wanted a master-servant relationship with us, and we accepted.”
“Thanks for, uh, breaking that down.”
“The powerful man had a daughter. However, a miko in his daughter’s service is who bound us directly.”
“So… A subsidiary company formed a contract with two siblings after receiving approval from the president of the parent company? Something like that?” I ventured.
“The details aren’t important,” said Tsukushi. “Besides, that’s not the main issue.”
“The main issue?”
All emotion vanished from her expression as she cupped my face in her icy hands. More tails had burst from her lower back during our conversation. A total of nine swayed to and fro, lifting her dress.
A nine-tailed fox. I’ve heard about them in stories, but they actually exist.
“The miko who formed the contract with us was named Sakura,” Tsukushi said. “She was your past self.”
“My past self…?”
“Indeed. After discovering her spiritual prowess, the Tachibana clan hired Sakura as a servant. She was the miko who commanded Shino and me as familiars on the battlefield.”
My mind was short-circuiting from information overload. Tsukushi and Shinozaki were siblings. Their former master had been a miko named Sakura. Shinozaki had loved her, had pined for her for four hundred years, the symbol of their bond engraved on his chest.
And she was my past self.
“Sakura was a foolish woman,” Tsukushi said. “Even though Shinozaki had promised to marry her, she sacrificed herself to an ayakashi’s curse and died.”
Tsukushi furrowed her brow, her beautiful face a mirror of Shinozaki’s. Her smile demanded attention to her red lips. “Listen closely,” she purred. “My younger brother sees you as a substitute for Sakura. He’s mistaken you for a long-dead woman because you share her soul. What good will come of professing your feelings to such a man?”
Tsukushi exuded a scent very similar to Shinozaki’s as she caressed my face. The intoxicating aroma, which I sensed rather than smelled, reminded me of sweet perfume. I glanced down to find her décolletage glowing. A sigil shone on her chest, visible above the collar of her dress. It was identical to Shinozaki’s.
As I gaped at it, words poured from Tsukushi’s mouth like water escaping a broken dam. “I knew that you and Shino had met. I also knew that he was safeguarding you under the pretense of hiring you. I’ve been watching from the shadows to see what would happen. I know it to be pointless now: you can’t save my little brother, Kaede.”
I tried to respond, but my mouth wouldn’t open. Nor could I move a single finger. I could do nothing as Tsukushi stroked my face, her fingers brushing against my stray locks of hair.
“Do you understand?” she asked. “In the end, you’re nothing but a replacement for Sakura.” Her nine tails writhed in different directions, each seeming to possess a will of its own. “This path won’t make you happy either. After all, Shino has merely mistaken you for her.”
My best friend was a shapeshifting fox. What’s more, Shinozaki’s former master—the source of my distress for the past few days—was my past self.
My past self? Seriously? This is way too much all at once. How am I even supposed to feel?
“Kaede,” Tsukushi said. “I want you to live a normal life. I don’t want tragedy to befall you, as it did in your past life.”
Her words snapped me back to my senses. On numerous occasions throughout my own life, I’d desperately thought, “I have to be normal.” Occasions when I’d stood out in school. When I became painfully aware of my own peculiarities. Recently, I’d witnessed what truly normal life looked like while drinking with my friends.
Could it be…?
Had Tsukushi, wearing the mask of my best friend, always encouraged me to be normal? Had—
“Tsukushi,” a familiar voice said. “That’s enough.”
With a gust of wind, I regained my bodily autonomy. I spun around to find Shinozaki in a suit, his shoulders heaving with each breath. His golden-brown hair clung to his pale cheeks, sweat-soaked, and his hands trembled in fists.