Chapter Two: Kotogatari: Mayoiga
“UP… Please…”
Akari awoke to the sound of someone’s voice. Through her eyelids, she could sense the room was dark.
But it was strange that anyone’s voice should wake her, let alone a man’s. There was a man renting the room next to hers, but he didn’t sound like that. She could often hear him talking, because the lodging walls were thin. And also, today was supposed to be Saturday, and her neighbor usually slept in late on weekends.
“Please wake up. It’s morning. Oh, but you DO look very lovely asleep. Perhaps I could be permitted to gaze upon you a little longer…”
As the voice giggled a little, Akari suddenly remembered the events of the prior night and her eyelids flew open.
The room was dim. There were only a few small skylights in the ceiling for letting in light.
The wide room was crammed floor to ceiling with bookshelves, each shelf segment displaying a single book volume, cover facing outward, like a shrine display.
No, they weren’t like shrines. They were shrines.
All these books were clearly Kotogatari, with Kotogami enshrined within their pages.
This room was a special one for storing Kotogatari. It was built for temperature control and had been kept clean. Akari recalled Tomohito telling her this last night.
Akari was sure she’d never sleep well in a room full of the story spirits she abhorred, but there was nowhere else suitable for passing the night. Still, the bedding that was provided was surprisingly useable, and she’d eventually turned in. And now here she was, being awoken by a beautiful young man who was beaming with joy…at her.
He was neatly dressed in the same suit as yesterday.
“Good morning, Mistress Akari.”
“Thanks for waking me up, I guess, but next time you can just call out from the hall.”
She was annoyed, not only because he’d caught her sleeping, but because it was way too early for his characteristic chirpiness.
Tomohito tipped his head to one side and observed her for a moment.
“What’s wrong with coming in to wake you?”
“It’s highly inappropriate for you to be delighting over seeing a lady sleep—a lady you’ve only just met.”
“It’s inappropriate?”
“Also, a man should never enter a lady’s room without permission.”
“He shouldn’t?!”
Tomohito’s eyes were wide and bewildered. Akari felt exhausted, even though she’d only just woken up.
Strictly speaking, this was not a man but a Kotogami. Still, she phrased it that way just because it made things easier to explain. If she’d been a younger woman, she’d probably have started screaming after waking up to find a man in her room. But it was obvious Tomohito had no intentions of laying hands on her.
Even so, thought Akari, but Tomohito had recovered from his surprise and now cleared his throat, his expression meek.
“That may be, but I am your servant. I ask for permission to come into your room and see you sleeping.”
“Fine. But I’m calling you Mr. Yagyou in that case.”
“…I won’t do it again.”
Akari had remembered that last night, he’d been delighted when she’d addressed him by his first name. Her threat was effective—he completely backed down. Did he hate being addressed by his last name so much? Or was being called by his first name such an honorable thing for him?
“A Kotogami is like a witch’s familiar. While we may be hallowed, sacred spirits, we’re also servants to our Narrator masters at the same time. There is no need for you to call me Mister.”
“What’s a witch’s familiar? Never mind, I think I get it.”
Akari started to get out of her futon, shrugging over his explanation. As Tomohito unfolded a kimono and held it open for her, she looked at him blankly.
“A change of clothing, Mistress. Let’s get you dressed.”
“Put the kimono down and leave this room now, or I’m warning you it’s going to be Mister, Mister, Mister from here on out.”
“What?”
“I can get dressed myself! Get out!”
“Oh, but it was my first chance to do something servant-like!” Still clutching her kimono, Tomohito howled like his world had just come crashing down.
He’d called it a change of clothes, but it was just her old silk kimono, the one she’d been wearing yesterday. She’d lost everything in the fire and had nothing else to wear, not even another pair of underwear. Sighing, Akari pulled on her boots as well, although she still hated to wear shoes indoors.
At the very least, she wished she could whack the dust out of her kimono, but she refrained.
She already felt odd enough about sleeping in what was basically a big shrine to countless spirits. If she started throwing dust about the place, she was half-afraid she’d anger them.
After dressing, Akari opened the door to find Tomohito kneeling outside, waiting for her. Face lighting up, he sprang to his feet. He really was just like an obedient puppy.
“Good morning again, Mistress! Breakfast is ready.”
“Breakfast…”
Akari’s mouth filled with saliva. An involuntary reaction, she told herself.
Looking around the old Bookhouse in the morning light, Akari noticed again how much of a hopeless disaster it was.
Cracks on almost every wall. The floor peeling. And that was only the surface of it. The corridors were windy and confusing—the only way through in most cases was to cut through rooms. And there seemed to be several stairways and doorways that didn’t lead anywhere. Getting out of the house without Tomohito’s assistance would be almost impossible. It was as if the entire place had been designed by a child playing with building blocks.
If this was the standard for a Narrator’s office, then the whole bunch of them had to be crazy.
Akari had a more pressing concern, however. What kind of breakfast was she to be served in a madhouse like this (did it even have a working kitchen?) by a Kotogami who didn’t seem to know even the basics about humans?
Akari trailed behind Tomohito, who strode along, clearly familiar with the house’s odd layout. Was he going to serve her uncooked rice or something? But when they reached the dining room, she came to a surprised halt.
“Is something amiss, Mistress?”
“It’s so clean.”
It was true. The dining room was sparkling—as if it belonged to a completely different world than the rest of the house.
The ceilings were cobweb-free, the floors showed not one speck of dust, and the air smelled fresh as if the room had been aired out. The drab dining table and chairs had been polished to a fine shine, and a fresh tablecloth had been laid out. A beam of light slanted through the window, illuminating the pristine room.
“Please have a seat.”
Akari was still stunned by the drastic change of scenery, but she sat in the chair Tomohito indicated. That was when she noticed the dishes arrayed on the table. It was a picture-perfect Western-style breakfast.
The tableware was clean and free of smudges. The nearest plate held what looked like what they called a “salad,” with Japanese komatsuna and mizuna leaves. Another plate held golden-brown toast with a little dish of butter and a pot of jam beside it. There was also a bowl of hard-boiled eggs, if she wasn’t mistaken.
It looked exactly like photographs of Western breakfasts you might see in a woman’s magazine.
“I’ll just go and fetch the tea.”
“Hold on, Tomohito. Did you cook all this? And why is this room the only one that’s clean?”
Akari had come out of her haze by now. Tomohito blushed coyly.