Wait, he always…what? Akari paused for a moment, struck by the first part of his sentence, which didn’t make any sense. But they were discussing Mayoi just then, and she wanted to hear the rest. She held her tongue and let Tomohito continue.
“Mayoi was enshrined as a Mayoiga variant of Kotogami, with the appropriate powers for that definition. She was assigned to perform basic household maintenance and upkeep for our Bookhouse. She was originally a house-dwelling spirit, and fostering a pleasant household environment was what made her happy. So she had no objections. But the Narrators who took up posts here didn’t treat her right.”
“…Were they violent toward her?”
Akari grimaced, picturing it, and Tomohito looked sad.
“No…but they ordered her around, without even deigning to read her Kotogatari. Telling her to improve the residence more, make it nicer, make it happier.”
Akari was becoming more and more puzzled. Sensing her confusion, Tomohito continued blandly:
“There are a lot of spirits whose purpose is to keep houses tidy and make them enjoyable to live in. For example, Zashikiwarashi—household deities in the form of red-faced child spirits with bobbed hair—and Mayoiga. Such spirits are easy to enshrine in Kotogatari. But while the category may be the same, the spirits enshrined within are all different, with their own unique personalities.”
“So ‘Mayoiga’ is more like a job description, and not a description of Mayoi herself?”
Akari thought she was starting to get it. Tomohito nodded.
“For a Kotogami to use their powers fully, their stories must be read with compassion. The Kotogatari is a guide for the narration, of course. But the Narrators who came here narrated without any compassion. They simply saw her as another interchangeable Mayoiga spirit.”
“So it’s kind of like trying to use one of the new modern appliances without bothering to read the instruction manual?”
Akari bit her tongue. How rude of her to compare a divine spirit to a household appliance. But Tomohito smiled, looking pleased.
“…Mistress Akari, you understand so well! But those other Narrators never bothered to even think about it. And when they realized she has greater power than most Mayoiga, they became so demanding. And yet, Mayoi never refused their orders, despite their careless treatment of her Kotogatari.”
So the spirit known as Mayoi was unable to defy orders, even when treated with disrespect. Akari wasn’t sure how to process that. But then Tomohito changed the subject.
“You thought the house badly designed, did you not?”
“I mean, yes…some of the construction work seemed…haphazard.”
“That was all Mayoi’s work. She was ordered to alter the layout of the rooms using her power. But construction work is usually beyond a normal Mayoiga’s power. It’s possible the Narrators were only messing with her, at first. But Mayoi did her best to fulfill their every command to the very limits of her ability. After seeing what she could do, they pushed too far, not even bothering to read her Kotogatari with respect. Then, when she could no longer meet their demands, they left the Bookhouse for good.”
Akari frowned, surprised by this tale. That was one explanation for the house’s bizarre structure that had never even crossed her mind.
If what Tomohito was saying was true, then the spirit Mayoi had been forced to work like a machine, without the user even bothering to read the accompanying specification document. That would be fine if she were an actual machine. But Kotogami had feelings.
“There was no need for her to go that far, though, surely. Wouldn’t it have been better to get far away from people who were pushing her, despite knowing what her limits were?”
“But it’s a terrible thing for a Kotogami, to be left unread. We tend to cling to humans…hoping to be known just a little, by someone. And Mayoi was desperate to be known.”
Tomohito’s tone was so solemn. Akari felt she could debate the issue no further.
“If you’d like to know more about those days, the previous Narrators left journals in the house. And if you want to know about Mayoi, you can learn all you need from reading her Kotogatari.”
“You want me to…read her Kotogatari?”
Akari’s tone was incredulous, even angry, but Tomohito seemed oblivious.
“Yes. You seem to have the wrong impression somewhat, Mistress Akari, but a Kotogatari is basically just a historical account in the form of a story. Some events are… embellished, but all are true.”
“So you’re saying it’s a dramatization of true events?”
“Yes. It’s like a personal history, written by a third party. And as such, the writer’s bias may color the text. That’s what the Narrator who enshrined me always said. It’s not quite the same as a story, but it does resemble one. So I won’t push you into reading it too firmly.”
That’s when Tomohito fell silent. But his beautiful eyes remained fixed on Akari.
“…There is no higher joy for a Kotogami than to have their Kotogatari read by a human.”
Akari thought she felt the slightest stirring sensation coming from the bag hanging by her hip.
Joy. The word tugged at her. Even though she’d planned to involve herself as little as possible…
Akari thought about the little doll face, the long black hair.
Tomohito had said the Narrators hadn’t bothered to properly read her Kotogatari. They’d probably barely skimmed it. And yet, Mayoi had followed their commands. What was behind her desperation to be read, to be known, even superficially?
Was her wish to remain watching over this house?
No, she couldn’t let herself be swayed by sob stories. This was Tomohito’s word against, well, nothing. Who knew if it was the truth? Blindly believing anything Tomohito said was no better than believing in one of the deceitful stories Akari so hated.
Akari made up her mind to wait until later to draw a conclusion, but there was one more thing she wanted to ask Tomohito.
“Incidentally…your story makes it sound like you were there, too, when the Narrators were interacting with Mayoi.”
“Yes, it was when she was entrusted with the house’s care, back when the first owner was around.”
“So what were you doing while all those horrible Narrators were using her?”
“I… Nothing… Mayoi wanted it to be the way it was. And I’m a Kotogami too. I understand wanting to be known by someone.”
“…I see.”
She could detect no hint of regret or shame in his beautiful smile, and Akari pressed no further. She had a feeling there was nothing to be gained by doing so, anyway.
“All right. Well, I suppose all that’s left is to buy something to eat for dinner and head back home.”
“Certainly, Mistress. What would you like for dinner?”
“The house has a stove, right? Then I’ll make it myself.”
“You’re going to cook, Mistress Akari?!”
Tomohito didn’t seem to mind that she’d changed the subject, but for some reason the thought of her cooking had made him yelp. He seemed aghast at the mere suggestion of her taking this job away from him.
“You said you had trouble with the stove. And I want to eat cooked white rice and miso soup. Oh yes, we’d better buy some rice, and miso, and soy sauce too.”
“Then I shall hold your belongings as you cook! Even though it pains me to lose this task…”
“Let’s put these things away first, before I start cooking.”
They weren’t all that heavy, but they were bound to get in the way. And Tomohito’s theatrics were starting to stretch Akari’s last nerve.
When Akari pushed open the front door of the Bookhouse, she could see Mayoi’s black hair fluttering at the far end of the entrance hall.
“I apologize. Mayoi and the house are kind of a package deal, so she tends to jump out of her book at will whenever it’s brought onto the premises.”
Half-listening to him, Akari set about making dinner.
The gas and water kept cutting out, probably thanks to Mayoi’s mischief. And Tomohito’s rapt fascination with everything she was doing was another annoyance. But the meal she prepared tasted as good as it always did. Akari liked Western fare just fine, but you couldn’t beat a bowl of steaming, fluffy white rice.