Cow Thief: Chapter 12

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White Wisteria

On the train platform, a few early risers waited for the first train of the day. Despite it being May, the morning carried a lingering chill. The fresh spring breeze might have been pleasant if it weren’t so strong today. A gust blew a middle-aged man’s hat onto the tracks, leaving a station attendant struggling to retrieve it.

Nearby, about two ken away, the hem of a young lady’s kimono flapped noisily in the wind, almost like a flag. When she noticed Tokuma Tanaka’s gaze, her pale face flushed red, and she quickly averted her eyes. He felt slightly guilty, realizing he had been impolite to stare.

“It’s like a storm,” Ryoichiro Satake said, standing next to Tokuma, his long hair tousled by the wind as he held it down with one hand. The young lady from earlier stole a glance at him.

Ryoichiro’s outfit today was a white shirt paired with brown trousers, held up by suspenders. Western clothing was no longer unusual, but many men still wore it awkwardly. However, Ryoichiro, who had a penchant for Western styles, wore his shirt and trousers with natural ease and flair.

On his feet were well-worn dark brown lace-up boots, a favorite of his for mountain outings. Though still somewhat spoiled and willful due to his privileged upbringing, Ryoichiro was undeniably masculine and handsome. A man of deep emotions, he was the sort of person women would eagerly take care of if Tokuma weren’t around.

“Oh! The train’s coming!” said Hara, a student dressed in a hakama over his shirt, leaning to peer down the tracks.

“I don’t see hide nor hair of it yet,” Ryoichiro replied, seeking Tokuma’s agreement. Tokuma, thinking it was about time for the train, reached into his pocket for his pocket watch but accidentally dropped the field notebook tucked under his arm.

It landed squarely on Kuwaba—the oni currently disguised as a silver-striped cat—who was at his feet.

“Meow!” Kuwaba let out a muffled wail and darted up Hara’s side, clawing at him as if he were a tree.

“Ugh! Ahh!” Hara stomped his feet in a panic, looking like a kabuki performer as Kuwaba scrambled up to his shoulder. From there, Kuwaba turned toward Tokuma, baring his teeth and hissing with a menacing “Shaaaa!”

“I’m sorry! It wasn’t intentional,” Tokuma apologized, but Kuwaba simply flicked his small chin with a haughty “hmph.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Tokuma. It’s the yokai’s fault for skulking around as a cat at our feet,” Ryoichiro said, scolding Kuwaba. Kuwaba wrinkled his nose in irritation, and his expression began to shift to that of an oni.

Seeing this, Ryoichiro smirked triumphantly and wagged his index finger in front of Kuwaba. “Don’t you dare turn into an oni! Not here!”

“It’s fine at home, but don’t show your oni face in public. It’d be a pain to explain to everyone else,” he added. Kuwaba could only speak human language in his oni form, so he glared at Ryoichiro, hissing “Hsss, hsss” in frustration. Ryoichiro’s satisfaction at thwarting Kuwaba was evident in his narrowed eyes and smug expression.

“Ahh! Ow, ow, ow!” Hara suddenly yelped, jumping in place.

“Hey, Kuwaba! Don’t dig your claws into his shoulder!”

It seemed Kuwaba had decided to take out his frustration by tormenting Hara.

“Kuwaba, stop bothering Hara-san and come back to my hand,” Tokuma said, extending his right hand. But Kuwaba, still in cat form, shook his head vehemently. Tokuma considered forcing him back, but Kuwaba might resist and claw Hara again in retaliation. Reluctant to escalate the situation, Tokuma hesitated.

"Sensei, please stop teasing Kuwaba," Hara complained.

Ryoichiro, looking offended, pursed his lips and placed his hands on his hips.

"Honestly, Hara-kun, the problem is that you’re the one who brought Kuwaba along in the first place."

Kuwaba always accompanied their hikes and field outings, mainly to tease Ryoichiro. This morning, he had been peacefully snoring under the bed in his cat form, so Ryoichiro had hoped for a rare chance to enjoy a quiet outing. But when Hara showed up late for their meeting, he had Kuwaba on his back.

Apparently, Kuwaba had realized Ryoichiro and Tokuma had tried to slip away unnoticed and had been wandering around the town searching for them. Hara had run into Kuwaba on the street, where the mischievous cat jumped onto his back, clinging with claws. Unable to shake him off and pressed for time, Hara had no choice but to bring him to the station.

"It’s not a big deal if Kuwaba is here," Hara said. "He came along on the last outing too, didn’t he? Some of the students even think Sensei is fond of cats."

"This thing always tags along on its own! I’ve never once invited him!" Ryoichiro snapped.

As the two bickered, the sound of the train approaching—gatang, gatang—reverberated through the tracks. When the train pulled into the station and came to a stop, the doors opened, and passengers spilled out, eager to disembark. Since this station was a transfer point, there was a steady flow of people, including a man in Western clothing hiding a yawn behind his hat as he rushed toward the ticket gate.

The trio and their feline companion boarded the train and settled into a four-seat section. Across the aisle, a woman in a tsumugi kimono, cradling a furoshiki bundle on her lap, leaned against the glass window, her mouth slightly open as she dozed.

Their destination was the mountain village of Noromura, about two hours away by train, where they planned to see the famed white wisteria in bloom. A student from the botany class, who hailed from Noromura, had spoken of the large wisteria tree, which had piqued Ryoichiro’s curiosity.

Initially, the student was supposed to guide them but had fallen ill with measles. Waiting for the student to recover would mean missing the bloom, so they decided to go on their own. The path wasn’t particularly difficult to navigate, and Ryoichiro’s enthusiasm made the decision easy.

Ryoichiro sat by the window with Tokuma beside him, while Hara took the seat opposite them with Kuwaba curled up on his lap. Tokuma had tried suggesting to Kuwaba, "It would be better if you weren’t burdening Hara-san," but Kuwaba, still miffed at Ryoichiro’s earlier scolding, dug his claws into Hara’s lap whenever Tokuma attempted to move him. Eventually, Hara gave up with a resigned sigh. "It’s fine," he said.

As soon as the train began moving, Ryoichiro pulled out a book from his bag. It was a Russian text on plant taxonomy he had been reading the night before. Immersed in the book, he paid no attention to the others, so Tokuma lowered his voice and began chatting with Hara to avoid disturbing him.

"You’ve seen the Inari Shrine’s doll crafts, haven’t you, Tokuma-san?" Hara asked, patting the curled-up Kuwaba lightly on the back. The cat cracked one eye open in annoyance.

"Yes, I have. The chrysanthemum dolls were particularly impressive. The shrine grounds were packed with flower-viewing visitors when I went," Tokuma replied.

"When I visited, it was a drizzly day, so there weren’t as many people… Oh, by the way, have you ever tried ice cream, Tokuma-san?"

"No, I’ve only ever heard of it," Tokuma admitted.

A soft patan interrupted their conversation as Ryoichiro closed his book. Tokuma glanced sideways, wondering if their chatter had been too loud and disturbed him.

"It’s sweet, cold, and delicious," Hara continued. "Once, when some students gathered at the professor’s house to organize specimens…"

Without a word, Ryoichiro shifted, resting his head heavily on Tokuma’s shoulder, like a spoiled child claiming his spot.

"Tokuma, what's for lunch?" Ryoichiro cut into Tokuma’s conversation with Hara, his voice expectant.

"For lunch, we have rice balls, pickles, and small fish simmered in soy sauce."

"I'm hungry," Ryoichiro declared, grabbing Tokuma's arm like a petulant child.

"It's not been that long since breakfast. If you eat now, there won't be any lunch left," Tokuma replied calmly.

"There must be a food stall near the station selling mochi or tempura. We can buy something there," Ryoichiro suggested, undeterred.

Tokuma sighed softly and lightly tapped Ryoichiro’s fingers, which were gripping his arm.

"This is a rural station. There's likely not even a shop, let alone food stalls. Please hold out a bit longer."

"No, I’m starving. If I don’t eat something, I’ll die before we reach the next station," Ryoichiro whined, stamping his feet like a child throwing a tantrum. His antics were so exaggerated that Tokuma reluctantly gave in. He opened their lunch box and handed Ryoichiro one of the four rice balls after wiping his hands with a cloth. Ryoichiro wolfed it down in three large bites.

"Ryoichiro-san, you’ve got rice on your cheek," Tokuma said, plucking the grain off Ryoichiro’s right cheek when the man tilted his head curiously. Without thinking, Tokuma popped the grain into his mouth.

Satisfied after eating, Ryoichiro rested his head on Tokuma’s shoulder again and promptly dozed off. Tokuma thought, What a handful, but he couldn’t help indulging him.

When Tokuma glanced at Hara across the aisle, he noticed Hara’s face was bright red, and he was looking down in embarrassment. Kuwaba, curled up on Hara’s lap, yawned repeatedly, clearly bored.

"Hara-san?" Tokuma prompted.

"Oh, no… it’s nothing," Hara stammered, awkwardly stroking Kuwaba’s striped fur. Kuwaba responded by scratching his hand with an irritated swipe.

"Well… you two really do get along well," Hara finally managed to say, still flustered.

Tokuma felt his own face heat up. Without realizing it, he had behaved as casually as he would at home, eating the grain of rice from Ryoichiro’s cheek. It must have looked ridiculous—two grown men acting like that.

"My apologies for such an unseemly display," Tokuma said, bowing slightly.

"No, no," Hara replied quickly, shaking his head, his face still red. "Please, don’t worry about it. They say there’s beauty in companionship, after all."

After that, Tokuma and Hara spoke very little for the remainder of the train ride. The train rattled along monotonously, gatang, gatang, as Ryoichiro leaned comfortably against Tokuma’s shoulder, sleeping soundly.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The station at Noromura stood solitary in the middle of vibrant green rice fields. The village visible in the distance was sparse, with only a few scattered houses, giving the landscape a desolate and faintly lonely feel. Unsurprisingly, there were no stalls or shops of any kind in front of the tiny station.

Though the wind had been rough in Tokyo, it was equally strong here. Walking into the headwind, the three men hunched forward, using a map drawn by the student to guide them along the narrow path.

Kuwaba, apparently finding walking tiresome, clung to Hara’s back to hitch a ride. When Tokuma scolded him, Kuwaba reluctantly returned to Tokuma’s hand, his expression one of utter displeasure.

At first, the path was a single road, but it eventually split into two. They followed the path leading toward the mountains as indicated on the map. The road quickly became narrower and more uneven, with steep inclines and declines. Though the path was challenging, all three were accustomed to mountain hiking, so walking for half a day was no trouble for them.

As they reached a ridge along the river, the high-pitched chi-chi call of a wren echoed from somewhere nearby. Hara pointed toward the opposite riverbank.

“Sensei, look over there.”

Twisting branches of a tree extending far out over the river’s surface were entwined with wisteria vines, their pale purple flowers blooming in abundance.

“What a splendid sight,” Ryoichiro remarked, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief, his eyes narrowing with delight. The soil in this area must have been naturally conducive to wisteria growth.

Even as they moved toward the wisteria, Ryoichiro kept stopping to exclaim, “What’s this?” or “I’ve never seen this before!” as he collected small plants along the way. The detours made their progress slow, but both Tokuma and Hara, used to his habits, patiently followed while keeping an eye on him.

After walking along the ridge for some time, they re-entered the forest. The dense foliage on either side of the path cast the trail in shadow, making it feel dim despite the midday hour.

“If a boar jumped out right now, I wouldn’t even be surprised,” Hara joked with a laugh.

Ahead, the path grew brighter, signaling they were approaching an open area. Along with the light came a faint, sweet fragrance. It was the scent of wisteria. The path gently sloped downward, and soon a river came into view.

“Ah, there it is,” Ryoichiro said, stopping in his tracks and pointing ahead.

Tokuma looked where Ryoichiro was pointing and gasped in surprise. By the river stood a massive oak tree, at least seven ken wide, appearing as if it were covered in snow.

“Amazing…” The word escaped his lips.

What looked like snow was, in fact, a white wisteria in full bloom. The wisteria vines coiled around the massive oak like snakes, their abundant flowers cascading down in clusters. As the wind blew, the blossoms swayed gently, filling the air with an intoxicatingly sweet fragrance.

“This is incredible. I’ve never seen a white wisteria as magnificent as this,” Ryoichiro murmured in awe, his gaze transfixed on the flowers.

Hara, who had fallen slightly behind, caught up and clapped his hands in admiration. “This is incredible!”

Descending the path, the three approached the wisteria. The fragrance was so thick it felt almost overwhelming, making the air itself seem intoxicating. The white wisteria tree grew next to the oak, entwined so seamlessly that the two appeared to be a single tree. Tokuma had never seen a wisteria tree this large before and wondered how old it might be.

Ryoichiro and Hara began discussing the plant’s classification within the legume family, diving into a detailed, academic conversation. Tokuma, meanwhile, wandered a little back up the path, letting the two of them talk as he gazed quietly at the white wisteria in full bloom, its beauty filling the air with an almost dreamlike serenity.

"Ah!"

Startled, Tokuma let out an involuntary gasp. At the very top of the intertwined wisteria tree, a figure stood. But he quickly realized it wasn’t a "person."

Flowing robes and a high tate-eboshi hat—it was a shirabyōshi. The shirabyōshi stared down at Tokuma intently. The wisteria tree was old, and old things often became yokai. However, Tokuma felt no malice from the shirabyōshi, so he guessed it might be the spirit of the tree.

Ryoichiro and Hara seemed unaware of its presence; they couldn’t see it. There was no need to confuse them by pointing it out. Tokuma simply inclined his head in greeting to the shirabyōshi.

"Tokuma, it’s time for lunch!"

Hearing his master’s voice, Tokuma hurried back to the riverbank.

They ate lunch in the pleasant setting by the gently flowing river. Since Ryoichiro had already eaten one rice ball on the train, he only had one left. Thinking it wouldn’t be enough, Tokuma offered him one of his own, but Ryoichiro refused, saying, "You’re hungry too." Instead, he began sketching the wisteria tree on his own.

Though it was Tokuma’s portion, the thought that Ryoichiro might be going without made him lose his appetite, so he quietly put the rice ball back into the bento box.

Hara busied himself cutting off small branches and flower clusters, arranging them neatly on the pages of Tokuma’s field notebook. Once he’d finished, he excused himself, saying, "I’ll be back in a bit," and headed downstream toward the wisteria tree.

Closing the field notebook, Tokuma noticed Ryoichiro beckoning him over. The sketchbook had been left on a nearby rock.

"What is it?" he asked.

Ryoichiro didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed Tokuma’s arm and pulled him into the natural canopy formed by the wisteria’s sprawling branches. Holding a drooping cluster of wisteria flowers, Ryoichiro brought it close to Tokuma’s face.

"White flowers suit you well," he said with a serious expression.

The comment made Tokuma’s neck burn with heat.

"Please don’t tease me…"

"I’m not teasing. I say it because it’s true. Hara-kun could never compare to this," Ryoichiro said.

Amid the sweet fragrance of the flowers, Ryoichiro kissed him. Though only the scent was sweet, it felt as though something sugary had been placed in his mouth, making everything taste cloyingly sweet. Overcome by the kiss, Ryoichiro slipped a hand inside Tokuma’s kimono, his touch carrying a seriousness that made Tokuma murmur a faint protest.

"Not here… please stop."

"Sensei! Satake-sensei! Tokuma-san!"

Hara’s voice suddenly called out, sounding worried. He was likely concerned about their sudden disappearance.

Ryoichiro clicked his tongue in irritation, muttering, "How tactless," before giving Tokuma one last kiss and calling back, "We’re here!" He then returned to the riverbank.

Left alone, Tokuma crouched down and buried his head in his hands. He stayed like that, waiting for the heat simmering within his body to subside.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The massive wisteria tree was stunning, and Tokuma felt he could stare at it forever without growing bored. However, considering the long journey back to the station, they decided to wrap up early.

A strong wind swept through with a whoosh, causing the white wisteria clusters to sway. A soft chirin—the sound of a bell—came from above, prompting Tokuma to look up. At the very top of the wisteria tree stood the shirabyōshi he had seen earlier, holding a fan and dancing.

The shirabyōshi swayed in time with the flower clusters that were buffeted by the wind. After a while, as if vanishing into thin air, the figure disappeared.

“Let’s head back,” Ryoichiro’s voice called out, bringing Tokuma back to reality. He hurried to follow, but after only a few steps, Ryoichiro abruptly stopped.

To Tokuma’s surprise, the shirabyōshi who had been dancing atop the tree now stood in the middle of the path. What was more, it seemed Ryoichiro could see her too.

The shirabyōshi, her black hair tied in a single bundle down her back, had a slender face with almond-shaped eyes, a vision of beauty.

“Traveler,” she said, her voice sweet and melodious like a skylark’s.

“Would you take me to the capital?”

“The capital?” Ryoichiro repeated, tilting his head in confusion.

“To the capital of Kyoto,” the shirabyōshi replied calmly.

“Even by train, Kyoto is at least a day’s journey from here,” Ryoichiro said. “I have work to attend to, so I can’t possibly accompany you. I could guide you to the station and help you buy a ticket, but…”

Unaware that she was the spirit of the wisteria tree, Ryoichiro gave a sincere answer.

“If Kyoto is too far, anywhere lively would suffice,” the shirabyōshi said.

Ryoichiro looked puzzled, clearly uncertain how to respond. Noticing his hesitation, Tokuma stepped forward.

“Ryoichiro-san, that shirabyōshi is not human,” Tokuma said quietly.

“She’s human. She’s standing there and speaking, isn’t she?” Ryoichiro replied.

It seemed he had forgotten about the camellia yokai that had possessed Hara a year ago, which had also taken human form.

“As the gentleman behind you says, I am not human,” the shirabyōshi admitted without hesitation. “I am the spirit of the white wisteria.”

At this revelation, Hara, who had been standing behind Tokuma, let out a pathetic “Hiiiii!” and stumbled backward.

“This land is peaceful and lovely, but after living here for hundreds of years, I’ve grown a bit restless. I’ve longed to see a lively city, just once. Would you take me there?”

Tokuma and Ryoichiro exchanged glances.

“I cannot leave the wisteria tree,” the shirabyōshi continued. “So, I was hoping to borrow someone’s body to visit the city. Just for two or three days to see the sights…”

Borrowing a body presumably meant possession. Though Tokuma sensed no malice from the wisteria spirit, the thought of lending his body made him hesitate.

“Seeing the capital sounds nice, but I can’t spare two or three days with my workload,” Ryoichiro said matter-of-factly, treating her no differently than he would a human.

“Tokuma is busy looking after me, and Hara-kun has lectures and other duties.”

At this, the shirabyōshi’s almond-shaped eyes filled with tears, which began to stream down her face. Covering her eyes with her hands, she started sobbing loudly.

“You’ve taken so many flowers and branches from my tree, yet you won’t grant me this small favor?”

As if mirroring her sorrow, the white wisteria blossoms began to fall in a gentle cascade.

“Well, I mean…” Ryoichiro scratched his head, clearly flustered.

“If you won’t take me, then please return the flowers and branches you’ve taken from me,” the shirabyōshi demanded.

“No, well, these are important research materials,” Ryoichiro replied hesitantly. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble…”

After hours on a train and a long hike to reach the wisteria tree, it was understandable that Ryoichiro wanted to bring the samples back. Tokuma could deeply empathize with his dilemma.

"Should I be the one to host you?"

When Tokuma pointed to himself, the shirabyōshi turned her tearful gaze toward him.

"I wouldn’t mind. I have the time, and I can guide you around the capital."

"Absolutely not, Tokuma," Ryoichiro said, grabbing Tokuma’s arm. "If you let a spirit possess you and something happens, what then?"

"That wisteria spirit seems harmless. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about," Tokuma replied calmly.

The shirabyōshi, however, shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, but I cannot borrow this gentleman’s body."

She fixed her gaze on Tokuma. "That gentleman already houses an oni. I cannot enter a vessel that hosts another spirit."

Ryoichiro folded his arms and furrowed his brow. "Mmm… that’s troubling," he muttered.

"I can’t just leave the wisteria flowers we collected behind… Fine. I’ll let her possess me," he declared.

Startled, Tokuma grabbed Ryoichiro’s shirt. "Are you sure about this?"

"I don’t have much choice. This is for science," Ryoichiro said.

"I understand, but don’t you have a lecture for the students at the university tomorrow?"

Ryoichiro blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Ah, right."

"If you let her possess you, you won’t be able to teach," Tokuma reminded him.

"Still… still," Ryoichiro faltered, clearly unable to let go of the wisteria samples they had worked so hard to collect.

"A student would be one thing, but…" Tokuma began, then turned to glance behind him. Ryoichiro, seemingly thinking the same thing, followed his gaze to where Hara stood trembling in the shade, watching them with wide eyes.

"I-I-I beg you to spare me!" Hara stammered.

Tokuma sighed softly. "Hara-san wouldn’t be able to handle it. Especially after the camellia yokai incident."

"But this time it’s a harmless yokai," Ryoichiro said, casually dismissive.

As they debated, Tokuma felt a faint tapping from within his right hand. When he opened his palm, Kuwaba, the small oni, leaped out and transformed into his silver-striped cat form as he landed on the ground.

"Oh my, how adorable," the shirabyōshi said, crouching down and extending her hand. Kuwaba purred loudly, rubbing against her hand. It seemed that as long as it was a woman—even a spirit—Kuwaba had no objections.

With his silver-striped tail curling and flicking, Kuwaba strolled over to Hara and scratched at his ankle.

"Ow! That hurts, Kuwaba!" Hara yelped, pouting. Kuwaba’s face twisted, melting into the fearsome visage of an oni.

"That’s a good yokai. You’ll be fine if she possesses you," Kuwaba growled. "Your boss is in a bind, so how can you, his subordinate, not step up and help?"

Hara looked as though he might burst into tears. "T-that’s…!"

"Don’t push Hara-san too far," Tokuma interjected.

"Keep quiet!" Kuwaba barked, his face a bizarre mix of cat and oni features. "I’ll keep watch over you, so let her possess you and take her to the capital. It’s only two or three days. Buck up and show some courage!"

"That’s unreasonable!" Hara wailed, collapsing onto the ground.

Kuwaba, unimpressed by Hara’s display, swatted his cheeks with his silver-striped tail. "Pull yourself together!" he barked, smacking Hara repeatedly as if to knock some sense into him.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

At the entrance, Tokuma adjusted Ryoichiro’s collar.

"That should do," he said, giving Ryoichiro’s chest a light pat. Ryoichiro donned his hat and said, "Let’s go," as he opened the door. Outside, the weather was beautiful. The strong winds from the previous day seemed to have blown away the clouds, leaving a clear blue sky.

Tokuma followed behind, carrying a wrapped bundle as Ryoichiro strode briskly ahead. Ryoichiro had a lecture for his students that morning, during which Tokuma would help organize specimens.

Since their colleague Fukushima had been dismissed the previous year, Ryoichiro’s teaching responsibilities had increased, leaving him less time to sort through the specimens. As a result, he often asked Tokuma for assistance.

A rickshaw rushed past on the walkway beside them. The longhouse Ryoichiro and Tokuma rented was located in the middle of town, surrounded by numerous shops and the bustle of daily life. The entire area felt cramped, like a tightly packed bento box. Yet, even amidst the chaos, many houses boasted gardens, with flowers planted in neat arrangements.

The purple blooms of wisteria peeked over hedges, filling the air with a sweet fragrance.

"The wisteria’s in full bloom," Ryoichiro murmured. After a pause, he added, "I wonder how Hara-kun is doing."

In the end, the wisteria spirit had used Hara as her vessel to come to Tokyo. While the spirit’s possession didn’t completely suppress Hara’s consciousness, it seemed to push him into the background. On the return journey, using Hara’s face and voice, the shirabyōshi had asked about everything she saw with childlike wonder. She pointed to the train, saying, "What is this large, boar-like contraption?" and tapped on the windowpane, asking, "Why is this water so hard?" Every little thing fascinated her.

"Kuwaba is with them, and I’ve instructed him to inform us if anything happens. I think it’ll be fine," Tokuma said. Still, when they parted ways at the station, Tokuma couldn’t help but feel uneasy watching Hara, dressed in a hakama, walk away with a peculiar grace more befitting a lady.

"The wisteria spirit did promise to visit the university," Tokuma continued. "There’ll still be plenty of time for sightseeing in Tokyo after your lecture."

Ryoichiro let out a small sigh.

"That yokai doesn’t seem harmful, and… well, perhaps it’s not a bad thing for someone studying botany to experience the spirit of plants firsthand," he mused, as if trying to convince himself.

With that, he quickened his pace.

When they arrived at the university, the two were walking down the hallway toward the assistant’s office when the sound of hurried footsteps echoed ahead. Expecting it to be an overly energetic student, they were surprised to see Associate Professor Kamikawa. Normally a composed man whose Western attire suited him well, Kamikawa was now rushing toward them, his face pale.

"Sa-Satake-kun! This is urgent!" he stammered, his usually calm demeanor completely shattered.

Sensing the gravity of the situation, Ryoichiro stiffened. "Professor Kamikawa, what’s happened?"

"It’s… it’s about Hara-kun, the student who’s been with you," Kamikawa said, struggling for breath after his dash.

"What about Hara-kun?" Ryoichiro demanded.

Finally catching his breath, Kamikawa’s expression turned utterly dismayed as he muttered:

"It seems… he’s lost his mind."

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Tokuma peeked into the lecture hall, eyes widening in disbelief. He blinked several times, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. A glance at Ryoichiro beside him revealed that his master was similarly dumbfounded, mouth agape.

The shirabyōshi had kept her promise, and Hara had indeed come to the university, seated in the very front row—a testament to his dedication to listening closely to his professor’s words. Admirable as this was, the issue lay in his appearance.

Hara was wearing a lavender furisode. Worse still, the way it was worn was utterly haphazard: the chest was wide open, exposing the inner lining, the folds were uneven, and the hem drooped mismatched on either side. The obi was tied high under the chest, resembling a flower seller’s garish style, with the obijime carelessly looped over it in a sloppy knot.

Even more striking was his face. He had painted his face with thick white powder, drawn bold, bean-shaped black eyebrows, and dabbed bright red lipstick into a tiny shape on his lips—like something out of a traveling chindon’ya troupe. His short hair was tied with a red ribbon, and an awkwardly placed flower hairpin made the ridiculous outfit even more conspicuous.

It was no wonder Associate Professor Kamikawa had described him as having “lost his mind.” Other students whispered and cast furtive glances at Hara from a safe distance.

Matsumura, a bespectacled student close to Hara, called out to him. “Hara-kun! Hey, Hara-kun!”

Hara—or rather, the chindon’ya version of Hara—slowly turned around.

“What on earth are you wearing?” Matsumura asked.

“Good morning,” Hara replied politely in his usual voice, which only deepened Matsumura’s furrowed brow.

“The lavender hue is so very beautiful, so I decided to wear this today,” Hara explained.

“Beautiful? Hara-kun, you’re a man! And that ribbon…” Matsumura trailed off, looking as though he couldn’t bear to continue.

Ryoichiro, watching the scene unfold, covered his forehead with his palm in exasperation. “We can’t leave Hara-kun like this,” he muttered. Clearing his throat loudly, he stepped into the lecture hall.

“Hara-kun,” he called out, “could I have a word with you in the hallway?”

Hara, seated primly, rose gracefully and walked toward the hallway, dragging the uneven hem of his kimono behind him. Once outside, he turned to Ryoichiro with a wide smile—a kind but unsettling expression given the clownish makeup.

“What is the meaning of this outfit?” Ryoichiro demanded in a low voice.

Hara tilted his head, powdered face creasing in thought. “Modern kimono are quite challenging to wear, so I struggled a bit,” he replied in the shirabyōshi’s distinct tone.

“Hara-kun is a man! What are you doing putting him in a furisode?”

The shirabyōshi clasped her hands together with a pout. “I wished to try wearing a colorful kimono. The Hara household has such lovely garments, I was overwhelmed with choice but settled on this one…”

“Lovely or not, you look like some sort of monster!” Ryoichiro exclaimed, stepping back in frustration.

“Monster? That’s… that’s so cruel…” Large tears welled up in the shirabyōshi’s almond-shaped eyes. As they fell, streaks appeared in the thick white powder on her face. She covered her face with her hands and dropped to her knees, sobbing loudly without regard for the growing audience of students peeking through the doorway.

Ryoichiro groaned and ran a hand through his hair in irritation. “Tokuma, take Hara-kun home. If he stays for the lecture like this, rumors will start flying about him being some kind of… man-woman!”

Tokuma discreetly led the weeping shirabyōshi to the assistant’s room. He fetched a change of clothes from home and pleaded for her to switch to men’s attire—a kimono and hakama. However, the shirabyōshi stubbornly refused to remove her feminine kimono or wipe off her makeup. With no other choice, Tokuma had to escort her back to their longhouse in her chindon’ya attire.

Given Hara’s tall stature, it was obvious he was a man despite the outfit. Along the way, passersby openly giggled as they walked by, prompting Tokuma to silently pray, “Please don’t let us run into anyone Hara knows.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The shirabyōshi, still inhabiting Hara’s body, lay sprawled across the sofa in the sitting room, sobbing uncontrollably. At her feet, Kuwaba, in his cat form, lounged lazily, letting out a wide yawn.

Ryoichiro returned unusually early, just after 4 p.m., likely heading home straight from his afternoon lecture. The sight that greeted him—Hara in a woman’s kimono, with half-washed-away makeup from excessive crying—made him clutch his head in despair.

"What is this? Still dressed as a chindon’ya?"

Tokuma glanced at the weeping Hara and offered an explanation. "I tried repeatedly to persuade her to wear men’s clothing—my own kimono—but…"

"But?" Ryoichiro pressed.

"She insisted on wearing women’s kimono," Tokuma admitted helplessly.

"Kuwaba!" Ryoichiro barked, turning to the cat. "What were you doing while all this happened? Why didn’t you stop it?"

Kuwaba sluggishly sat up, scratched behind his ear with a hind leg, and remained silent.

"Don’t just stay in your cat form to avoid taking responsibility! Explain!" Ryoichiro grabbed Kuwaba’s tail, making him leap sideways in panic. Memories of being spun around by his tail in the past seemed to haunt Kuwaba as his face transformed into his oni form.

"There’s nothing to explain!" Kuwaba huffed. "The wisteria spirit wanted to wear a kimono, so I said, ‘Do as you like.’ It’s not as if anyone’s been harmed."

"But Hara-kun is the one wearing the women’s kimono! It may not harm others, but it certainly affects his reputation!"

Kuwaba stood on his hind legs, spreading his front paws wide in a shrug. "I told her it wouldn’t suit him. But she insisted, so I let her do as she pleased. While I wasn’t paying attention, she wandered off."

Hara—no, the wisteria spirit—began crying even harder.

"I just wanted to wear a beautiful kimono. I wanted to enjoy the capital as a charming young lady. After hundreds of years blooming by the riverside, I finally made it here, only to be confined indoors. It’s the same as before!"

"I’ve already told you," Tokuma said gently, "you can go outside if you wear men’s clothes. Just compromise on that point, please."

Though Tokuma felt sympathy for the lamenting spirit, it was only natural that Hara’s male body would be ill-suited for women’s clothing.

"Indeed," Ryoichiro added, trying to reason with her. "If you parade around in that outfit, people will think that diligent, studious Hara-kun has lost his mind."

Kuwaba, seemingly bored, yawned and muttered, "So what if Hara dresses as a woman for two or three days? People’s gossip fades in seventy-five days—they’ll forget soon enough."

"Still…" Ryoichiro sighed, clearly at his wit’s end.

Just then, Kuwaba’s ears twitched sharply. His face reverted to his cat form as he sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling.

"Kuwaba, what is it?" Tokuma asked, but before he could finish, a knock came at the door.

"Tokusan, are you there?"

It was Chie’s voice.

"Oh no," Ryoichiro groaned, clutching his head. "This is bad. Chie-san must not see Hara-kun like this. It would be too cruel."

Hara had a known infatuation with Chie, who lived next door. Although he had confessed once and been rejected, he still often glanced toward her house whenever he visited. Even Ryoichiro avoided mentioning Chie around Hara to spare his feelings.

"I understand," Tokuma replied, nodding firmly. "I’ll handle this at the door."

Straightening himself, he stepped out to meet Chie at the entrance.

“Oh, good, you’re home. It’s still early, but were you up to something romantic with your husband?”

“Ah, no…,” Tokuma stammered, flustered, prompting Chie to laugh heartily.

“I’m just teasing. Here, I’ve got something to share with you. It’s not much, but enjoy it with your husband,” she said, holding out a small basket containing about five glistening sardines.

“These are beautiful sardines. Thank you so much,” Tokuma said, gratefully accepting the gift.

“Don’t be shy about taking them. They won’t keep long, and I’ve got plenty.”

Tokuma took the basket to the kitchen. He transferred the sardines into one of the house’s baskets, rinsed Chie’s basket lightly, wiped it dry, and headed back toward the hallway—only to find Chie already inside the house.

“Chie-san!” Tokuma exclaimed, his voice cracking in surprise.

“Kuwaba pulled me in,” Chie said, frowning. She looked down at her feet, where Kuwaba was tugging on the hem of her kimono, trying to drag her into the sitting room.

“Hey, Kuwaba! Don’t pull so hard! You’ll rip my kimono—it’s one of my favorites!” Chie protested.

“Chie-san, the sitting room is… not a good idea right now,” Tokuma said hurriedly, but it was too late.

Before he could stop her, Chie stepped into the sitting room.

“Wha—Chie-san! Wh-why… Tokuma! Tokuma!” Ryoichiro’s panicked voice came from within.

Tokuma cautiously peered into the sitting room. Chie stood frozen, staring in shock, her kimono hem still in Kuwaba’s mouth.

Her gaze was fixed on Hara, who was sitting in a garishly thrown-on lavender kimono, adorned with a ribbon and floral hairpin, tears streaming down his heavily painted face. Chie’s jaw dropped, and she instinctively raised her sleeve to cover her mouth.

“…Hara-san, when did you start… going that way?”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Chie sat next to Hara on the couch, sipping lukewarm bancha tea as she listened to Tokuma’s explanation. When he finished, she took a moment before responding.

“Well, I’m not surprised. That room of yours has always had its fair share of spooky stories attached to it. But still, don’t you think this is a bit too cruel to poor Hara-san?”

She had a point. Neither Tokuma nor Ryoichiro could come up with a response.

“If this keeps up, people will start questioning what kind of person Hara-san is,” Chie added.

Meanwhile, Kuwaba, the instigator who had led Chie inside, lay curled up on her lap, purring contentedly as she stroked his back.

Chie reached over and patted Hara’s shoulder. “So, Shirabyōshi, what exactly do you want to do?”

Using Hara’s body, the shirabyōshi replied, her face still streaked with leftover white makeup.

“I wanted to wear something beautiful and wander the bustling streets of the capital.”

“I see,” Chie murmured, pressing a slender finger to her cheek.

“If it’s beauty you’re after, I could borrow a fine men’s montsuki from someone I know. Would that do?”

The shirabyōshi shook her head.

“I don’t want men’s clothing. I want to wear a beautiful, colorful women’s kimono.”

It was a seemingly endless loop. The shirabyōshi wanted to wear women’s clothing, but her vessel, Hara, was a man. Tokuma found himself at a loss for how to break the impasse.

“Well,” Ryoichiro said suddenly, “what if you possessed me? I’m thinner than Hara-kun, so perhaps I could still pull off wearing women’s kimono.”

Ryoichiro’s suggestion was earnest, but Chie waved him off dismissively. “Even if you wore it, you’d look like a mountain wrapped in fabric. It wouldn’t work.”

Chie then turned to the shirabyōshi. “What if you possessed me instead?”

Hara—still under the shirabyōshi’s control—lifted his tear-streaked face, clutching a handkerchief.

“I may be older,” Chie continued, “but at least I’m a woman. And if I wear a flashy kimono, I won’t be laughed at nearly as much as a man would.”

“Are you serious?” the shirabyōshi asked, her voice filled with hope as she clasped her hands together in front of her face. It seemed like an ideal solution for the shirabyōshi, but Tokuma hesitated. Involving Chie, who had no direct stake in the matter, felt wrong.

“But Chie-san, while the shirabyōshi is possessing you, you won’t be able to move your body as you like or do anything you want,” Tokuma said.

“I don’t mind,” Chie replied with a shrug. “I’ve got plenty of free time anyway. Besides, she said it’ll only be two or three days before she returns to the mountains. I can’t blame her for wanting a change after sitting in one place for centuries.”

“Chie-san, I’m so sorry!” Ryoichiro exclaimed, bowing deeply. “This only happened because I insisted on bringing the wisteria flowers back…”

“Oh, raise your head,” Chie said with a laugh. “It’s not a big deal.”

With Chie’s permission, the shirabyōshi left Hara’s body. As she did, Hara’s body went limp, slumping back against the couch. A misty, ethereal form drifted from Hara and smoothly entered Chie’s body. Tokuma could see the transfer clearly, but Ryoichiro, unable to perceive spirits, asked twice, “Has she moved yet?”

Chie, who had been sitting with her legs casually folded, straightened her posture. Her facial expression softened, her demeanor changing entirely.

“This vessel is exceedingly comfortable,” the shirabyōshi said, her tone transformed from Chie’s usual brisk and no-nonsense manner to a gentle, delicate cadence.

“Mm… mmm…”

Next to Chie, who was now possessed by the shirabyōshi, Hara let out a short groan and slowly opened his eyes.

“Huh…?”

Though groggy, the moment Hara noticed Chie sitting beside him, he sprang up from the couch like a coiled spring. His face turned pale, and he bolted upstairs.

Even though he had been possessed by the shirabyōshi, Hara must have retained some awareness of what had happened: going to the university in a woman’s kimono, wearing garish makeup. The memory must have been unbearable. While the shirabyōshi was dressed in her chosen attire, Hara likely suffered in silence, crying inwardly at the humiliation.

Chie, now the shirabyōshi’s vessel, returned home next door. Despite the shirabyōshi’s assurances that she would return Chie’s body in two or three days, Tokuma sent Kuwaba with her, just in case.

Hara, meanwhile, stayed holed up in Ryoichiro and Tokuma’s bedroom for hours, too ashamed to show himself. Finally, after 9 p.m., he emerged, looking grim and wearing only a fundoshi. Tokuma lent him some of his own clothing, instructed him to wash his face, and made sure he ate dinner.

Hara’s despondent expression made Tokuma worry that he might act on his despair if sent home in this state—perhaps even throw himself into the river. However, by the time Hara left, he seemed slightly more composed, and his complexion had improved.

Late that night, Tokuma awoke suddenly. Ryoichiro was sound asleep beside him. Careful not to make any noise, Tokuma moved to the window and looked toward the house next door. A faint flickering light from a lamp could be seen through the second-floor window.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The next morning, as Ryoichiro and Tokuma were eating breakfast, a knock came at the door. Expecting Chie, they were surprised to find Hara standing there instead.

“Sorry to bother you so early. I brought this back,” Hara said, holding out the kimono Tokuma had lent him the day before.

“There was no rush, but thank you for returning it,” Tokuma replied.

“No, I… it’s fine,” Hara muttered, scratching the back of his head awkwardly before glancing toward the neighboring house.

“Is Chie-san… um, is she alright?” he asked hesitantly.

“I haven’t seen her yet this morning,” Tokuma admitted. “I did ask her to let me know before heading out, but she stayed up quite late last night, so she might still be asleep.”

“I see…” Hara’s shoulders slumped, and he nervously clasped his hands together.

“I feel awful for pushing the wisteria shirabyōshi onto Chie-san like that. It was entirely my fault…”

“Well, if that’s the case, we’re equally at fault,” Tokuma reassured him. “Ryoichiro and I didn’t know how to handle the situation either.”

They both fell into a solemn silence for a moment.

“I want to apologize to Chie-san,” Hara said eventually. “But… after the way I looked yesterday, I’m too embarrassed to face her.”

Tokuma could easily sympathize with his feelings.

“If you’d like, we can check in on her together later,” he offered.

As though he had been waiting for this suggestion, Hara immediately bowed his head. “Yes, please. I’d appreciate that very much.”

“Good morning, everyone,” came a voice from behind Hara.

Startled, Tokuma widened his eyes as Chie appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Hara turned around in a panic. “Wha—?”

Standing there was Chie—or rather, her body possessed by the shirabyōshi—dressed in a stunning outfit. Her hair was styled youthfully, adorned with large jingling hairpins, and she wore a vivid red furisode decorated with bold peony patterns. The half-collar of her kimono was pure white, while her obi was black with embroidered golden mallets. The ensemble was striking, though flashy to the point of evoking the atmosphere of a courtesan’s world.

With a parasol slung over her shoulder, twirling it as she smiled brightly, the shirabyōshi said, “I was told Tokuma-sama would accompany me for sightseeing today, so I’ve come to call on you.”

Tokuma instinctively pulled out his pocket watch. Ryoichiro hadn’t even left for the university yet—it was far too early.

“We’re not ready yet,” Tokuma said, flustered. “Could you wait a little while?”

“Of course. I’ll be in the garden,” the shirabyōshi replied, gracefully retreating to the shade of a tree. She closed her parasol, retrieved a fan from her chest, and began to dance. Her movements were smooth and fluid, like water flowing, her body bending with the grace of a willow. The sensuality of Chie’s figure only heightened the allure, making it impossible to look away.

“Well, now… this is something,” Ryoichiro said, appearing in the doorway without Tokuma noticing.

“You took so long to come back, so I came to check on you. That’s quite a performance,” he remarked, his eyes fixed on Chie’s mesmerizing dance.

Hara, who had also been entranced, suddenly turned to Tokuma with urgency. “Tokuma-san, since you’ll be accompanying Chie-san today, would it be alright if I came along too?”

“I don’t mind,” Tokuma replied. “But what about your classes, Hara-san?”

He glanced at Ryoichiro, who dismissed the concern with a wave. “Missing one day won’t be an issue. Go with them, Hara-kun. Stay with the wisteria shirabyōshi until she’s satisfied.”

With Ryoichiro’s approval, Hara’s face lit up. “Yes! Thank you!” he said enthusiastically.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

At first, Chie and Tokuma walked side by side, but naturally, Chie and Hara ended up walking together instead. Tokuma and Kuwaba, in his cat form, gave them some distance, following from behind.

On a deserted street, Kuwaba suddenly leapt onto Tokuma’s chest, pressing his face into Tokuma’s kimono collar to hide his oni face before speaking. “Last night was quite the ordeal, you know.”

“What happened?” Tokuma asked.

Kuwaba yawned widely. “That shirabyōshi tried on every single kimono in the house. She wanted to find the one that suited her best. Kept asking for my opinion, so I couldn’t sleep at all.”

The late-burning lamp from the previous night now made sense. “You’ve worked hard,” Tokuma said, gently stroking Kuwaba’s head.

At the shirabyōshi’s request to “see the capital from a high place,” the group made their way to Asakusa, where a newly built tower was rumored to offer a spectacular view. Tokuma had heard of the tower but had never climbed it before. The lower half was made of brick, while the upper portion was wooden. From the top, the view was breathtaking. The rows of houses below looked like tiny toy blocks, and in the distance, Mount Fuji’s gentle, beautiful silhouette came into view.

“Are all those small rooftops human homes?” Chie, with the shirabyōshi’s voice and wonder, asked curiously.

“Yes, they are,” Hara replied gently. Chie stared at the sprawling city below, her gaze filled with fascination.

“So many people live here in the capital. From the treetops in my home village, you’d rarely see another person—just hares and boars at most…”

Considering how remote her mountain home must be, it was no surprise.

After descending from the tower, they visited a bonsai garden at a nearby flower park. Tokuma thought the shirabyōshi might enjoy seeing her “kin,” but Chie seemed rather bored. Noticing this, Hara quickly led her to the Asakusa amusement park to see the attractions there.

They wandered among flag-filled stalls showcasing street performers: acrobatics, sword dances, and monkey shows. Chie delighted in the monkey performance, clapping her hands and laughing at the clever animal mimicking human gestures.

By the time they ate soba at a nearby shop, it was well into the afternoon. Tokuma had wondered if the wisteria spirit would eat lunch, but Chie, being her vessel, seemed hungry and finished her meal daintily yet completely.

Afterward, Tokuma left Chie in Hara’s care and stationed Kuwaba with them before heading to the university. During a break in lectures, Ryoichiro, seated in the assistant’s room, immediately asked Tokuma, “Where are the two of them?”

“They seemed fine without me, so I left them,” Tokuma replied.

“Still… Hara-kun on his own seems a bit unreliable,” Ryoichiro said, frowning.

“I left Kuwaba with them.”

“That rascal is useless when it matters most,” Ryoichiro scoffed. Tokuma chuckled softly.

The other assistants were either attending lectures or working in their labs, leaving Ryoichiro and Tokuma alone in the room.

“Chie-san looked so youthful that, standing next to Hara, they didn’t seem far apart in age,” Tokuma remarked.

“Is that so,” Ryoichiro muttered.

Their backs had looked remarkably well-suited to each other, but Tokuma didn’t dare voice such thoughts aloud. He knew why Chie had refused Hara’s feelings, yet a contradictory part of him wished to leave the two alone together, even if only as a temporary vessel and companion.

“Tokuma, come here,” Ryoichiro commanded.

Obeying, Tokuma stepped closer to where his master sat. Ryoichiro grasped his hand tightly.

“Don’t let it weigh on you,” Ryoichiro said.

“No matter how much I ponder it, I doubt I could ever comprehend the depth of their troubles,” Tokuma replied with a faint smile.

Ryoichiro pulled Tokuma closer, causing his knees to bend. Tokuma found himself perched on his master’s lap, receiving a rough, insistent kiss. Closing his eyes, Tokuma became aware of the faint sound of rain approaching, carried on the wind outside the window.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

It had been a passing shower, and by evening, the clouds had cleared, and the rain had stopped. Tokuma left the university a little earlier than Ryoichiro, stopping by a shop to pick up some vegetables before heading back to the longhouse. With Kuwaba absent, it seemed Chie and Hara had not returned yet.

After preparing dinner, as dusk fell and the surroundings grew dim, a gentle knock sounded at the door. Tokuma hurried to answer it, knowing that Ryoichiro’s knocks were typically more impatient.

Standing at the entrance was Chie, possessed by the shirabyōshi.

“Tokuma-sama, may I have a word with you?” she asked.

Tokuma welcomed her inside and offered her the couch. He also invited her to stay for dinner, but she politely declined, saying, “I’ve had plenty of sweet red bean soup and dried confections.”

“I greatly enjoyed seeing the capital,” the shirabyōshi said, bowing deeply while in Chie’s form.

“I have no regrets. Tomorrow, I plan to return to my mountain village.”

Though she had originally said two or three days, it seemed she had been satisfied with just one day. Despite her smile, there was a hint of sadness in her expression.

“This vessel… Chie-san… is fond of Hara-sama,” she confessed. “While I toured the city, her heart quietly rejoiced, delighted as she spent time with him. But as the day grew darker, she became downcast, and now she is weeping.”

The shirabyōshi pressed a kimono sleeve to her mouth, as if suppressing her own sorrow.

“I don’t fully understand human emotions, but it is deeply melancholic. The capital is lively and enjoyable, but it stirs the heart in troubling ways. I will return to my mountain home and live peacefully once more.”

She exhaled softly.

“Hara-sama offered to guide me again tomorrow, but I am already satisfied. It would be better not to go out again.”

After the shirabyōshi left, Kuwaba returned in his cat form, flopping onto the couch. With his face briefly taking on its oni form, he muttered, “Today was exhausting.”

“How were the two of them?” Tokuma asked.

Stretching his limbs, Kuwaba replied, “They played like a pair of lovebirds. Both the wisteria spirit and Hara walked quite a bit, so I’m a little worn out myself,” before leaning his head back against the couch.

“When it started raining, they darted into a trinket shop. Hara even bought something for the wisteria spirit. They both seemed to be having a good time.”

“I see,” Tokuma murmured, gently stroking Kuwaba’s slightly damp, silver-striped fur.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Early the next morning, Tokuma and Ryoichiro boarded the first train to return to the mountain village. Since Tokuma could not act as a vessel for the shirabyōshi, Ryoichiro carried her instead.

Chie, now freed from possession, had offered, “You could’ve left her in me and brought me back to the mountain,” but Tokuma declined. It would have been too cruel to make Chie traverse the long mountain path on foot, and he couldn’t bring himself to impose on her so much.

Perhaps because her desire to see the capital had been fulfilled, the shirabyōshi remained quiet and subdued while residing within Ryoichiro, rarely speaking a word. After three hours of walking the mountain trails, they finally returned to the base of the great white wisteria tree. As they arrived, a thin white mist rose silently from Ryoichiro’s forehead. The mist ascended to the top of the wisteria tree, taking on the form of the shirabyōshi, who began to dance gracefully, her movements swaying like the branches in the wind.

Immediately after the shirabyōshi left him, Ryoichiro slumped to the ground, his eyes closed and mouth slightly agape. Within a few minutes, however, he regained full consciousness.

“Are you alright?” Tokuma asked.

Ryoichiro gave a short “Mm,” in response and furrowed his brows slightly. Opening his right hand, he revealed a wisteria-colored obi clasp resting in his palm.

“What’s this, Tokuma?”

“I’m not sure…” Tokuma replied, tilting his head in confusion.

As they pondered, the shirabyōshi, still dancing atop the wisteria tree, floated down like a feather to land softly before them.

“That is the obi clasp Hara-sama gave to me,” she explained. “I brought it back here, but I cannot use it. Please give it to my former vessel.”

The shirabyōshi twirled lightly with her fan in hand.

“Hara-sama selected it specifically for that vessel.”

As soon as she finished speaking, a sudden gust of wind rustled the hanging clusters of wisteria blossoms, causing them to sway. When the wind subsided, the shirabyōshi had vanished, leaving behind only silence and the dense, sweet fragrance of wisteria.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

On their way back after escorting the wisteria spirit shirabyōshi to her mountain, Tokuma and Ryoichiro were caught in a heavy downpour. They took shelter under the trees for a while, but the rain showed no signs of stopping. Since the weather had been clear when they set out, they hadn’t brought any rain gear.

“We can’t just sit here doing nothing. If we miss the return train, it’ll be a disaster. Let’s go,” Ryoichiro declared, stepping out into the rain. Tokuma followed closely behind.

As they made their way back, they came across a section of the trail that had been buried under a landslide. The exposed slope of the mountain was stripped bare, with trees clinging precariously to the soil. It looked as if it could collapse further at any moment.

Forced to take a detour, they avoided the damaged trail and headed toward the village. The rain continued to fall relentlessly, and with the thick rain clouds and tall trees blocking what little light there was, the surroundings felt as dark as evening. They relied on Kuwaba to guide them, but the beast trail they followed was uneven and difficult to navigate. As the light faded further, it became nearly impossible to see their footing.

“Are you sure you’re actually leading us to the village?” Ryoichiro finally snapped at Kuwaba, frustrated by how long it was taking. Offended, Kuwaba retreated into Tokuma’s hand, leaving them without a guide. The situation became even more precarious.

Just as Tokuma braced himself for the possibility of spending the night in the wilderness, a distant light appeared to guide them. By the time they reached the village, it was nearly 7 PM.

At the station, they caught the last train just before it departed. Although the train wasn’t headed all the way to Tokyo and stopped at an intermediate station, it at least got them closer to home.

Soaked to the bone, even their undergarments drenched, neither of them wanted to sit on the seats. Instead, they stood in the aisle, swaying with the motion of the train. Tokuma wrung out the hand towel he had tied to his waist and used it to wipe the rain from Ryoichiro’s face and hair. The young master stood still, allowing Tokuma to tend to him.

“Who would have thought we’d end up trekking through the mountains at night in the rain,” Ryoichiro remarked, leaning against the train’s wall with his arms crossed.

“Indeed. Without that landslide, we would have returned much sooner. Still, I’m relieved we made it back to the village. I had prepared myself for the worst,” Tokuma replied.

“I never doubted we’d find a way out. We’re resilient in situations like these. Remember how we managed to evade those policemen back in the countryside?” Ryoichiro said, puffing out his chest.

“For someone who never doubted, you were quick to blame Kuwaba,” Tokuma teased.

“That’s a separate matter!” Ryoichiro replied, a touch sheepishly. His embarrassed expression was endearing, and Tokuma couldn’t help but smile.

“Hand me the towel,” Ryoichiro said, holding out his hand.

“Would you like to dry yourself off?” Tokuma asked, handing him the towel. But instead of using it on himself, Ryoichiro began vigorously drying Tokuma’s hair.

“It bothers me to see you so wet,” Ryoichiro muttered.

As his hair was roughly tousled, Tokuma couldn’t help but feel his affection for the willful young master deepen, even as he squirmed with a mix of embarrassment and fondness.

After about an hour, the train arrived at its final stop. The station was well-lit and livelier than the remote village of Noromura. Upon asking for directions, they found a nearby inn with a vacancy and were able to secure a room without trouble.

When they mentioned getting caught in the rain while returning from the wisteria tree in Noromura, the elderly proprietress of the inn, who happened to hail from that area, exclaimed in astonishment, “Oh my, all the way out there in those mountains?”

The two changed out of their wet clothes and into yukata before having a simple dinner of rice balls and miso soup. They hurried to the bathhouse afterward, as the staff planned to extinguish the bath’s light once they were done.

The bathhouse was about six tatami mats in size, with a large sunken tub in the right corner. Dimly lit by a single lamp, the room was hazy with steam, making it difficult to see their surroundings clearly. Even Ryoichiro’s face appeared as little more than a shadow when viewed from a slight distance.

Sitting side by side, Tokuma and Ryoichiro scrubbed themselves clean with rice bran.

"Hey, Tokuma. Scrub my back," Ryoichiro commanded.

Tokuma moved behind the young master and began scrubbing his back with rice bran. Their previous rented house had a bath, but their current longhouse did not. Though they went to the public bathhouse almost daily, this might have been the first time they bathed together in such privacy.

"Can you wash the front too?" Ryoichiro asked.

Tokuma moved to the front and scrubbed Ryoichiro's chest, thighs, and legs, paying extra attention to his legs, which had been strained from hours of walking. He massaged as he scrubbed.

"Hey, you missed a spot," Ryoichiro said, pointing between his legs.

Even in the dim light, the unmistakable sight of his masculine form was clear. Tokuma had been carefully averting his gaze but now found himself face to face with it. Embarrassed, he lowered his eyes.

"That area is... um..." Tokuma hesitated.

"Before the light goes out, wash it," Ryoichiro urged.

With trembling hands, Tokuma touched him. Using a towel instead of the rice bran to avoid causing any irritation, he cleaned the area gently. As he worked, Ryoichiro's arousal began to rise, unmistakable in its reaction.

"Tokuma, I asked you to wash it, not to stroke it," Ryoichiro said, his tone tinged with amusement.

Tokuma's face burned with embarrassment. Though his actions hadn't been driven by improper intent, he worried his movements might have inadvertently been too suggestive.

"I’m sorry," he murmured.

Ryoichiro stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"This is troublesome. At this rate, I can’t step out like this," he said, gesturing to his obvious state of arousal.

"If you don't mind... I could help with my hand," Tokuma offered hesitantly.

"Your hand? That’s far too crude," Ryoichiro replied dismissively, leaving Tokuma taken aback. He had helped this way many times before, but this was the first time he’d been told it lacked refinement.

"Then... with my mouth..." Tokuma suggested timidly.

"Have you washed yourself yet?"

"Me? Ah... yes," Tokuma stammered.

"Then let’s get in the bath first," Ryoichiro said, grabbing Tokuma’s hand and pulling him into the tub.

The water overflowed, spilling onto the wooden floor. The tub, smaller than a public bath but larger than a household one, was just the right size for two people.

Still holding hands, Ryoichiro pulled Tokuma closer. The steam was so thick that their faces were hidden from each other, for which Tokuma was secretly grateful. He knew his face must be as red as a tomato.

"I want to suck on your chest," Ryoichiro said, his voice echoing sweetly in the humid bath.

Shivering, Tokuma shook his head.

"Please... wait until we’re out of the bath," he pleaded.

"If I could wait, I wouldn’t have said anything," Ryoichiro replied, pulling Tokuma into a tight embrace and latching onto his chest. His lips teased the small buds before gently nipping at them, sending a tremor through Tokuma’s body.

As if playing, Ryoichiro’s hands moved downward, his fingers finding Tokuma’s arousal and toying with it.

"Please, stop," Tokuma begged.

But Ryoichiro’s hands didn’t stop. Soon, Tokuma was just as aroused as his master.

"Now we’re the same. Neither of us can leave the bath like this," Ryoichiro said smugly, narrowing his eyes in satisfaction.

Though he was both endeared and exasperated by Ryoichiro’s self-satisfied smirk, Tokuma’s frustration peaked. Unable to release in the water, he decided to get out. As he began to lift himself, Ryoichiro grabbed his waist and pulled him back down.

"Let me touch you a little more," Ryoichiro coaxed.

"Not here... Please, no more..." Tokuma whispered, his voice trembling.

"No more what?" Ryoichiro prompted, though he already knew the answer.

Tokuma hesitated, finding it too embarrassing to say aloud. Besides, when it came to such things, Tokuma knew he had even less self-control than Ryoichiro.

Afraid his voice would carry in the echoing bath, Tokuma finally confessed in a whisper.

"I’m afraid I’ll make a mess..."

"Then do it here," Ryoichiro said.

"No, absolutely not!" Tokuma shook his head vehemently.

With a sigh, Ryoichiro turned Tokuma over, lifting his upper body onto the edge of the tub’s wooden floor. Tokuma felt a hand wrap around him, and as he protested, "Please stop that," Ryoichiro’s hand slipped away—only to be replaced by something warmer and more intrusive.

Before Tokuma could fully register what was happening, Ryoichiro pressed against him, slowly making his way inside.

“Ah… no… stop…”

Heat was slowly pushed into his body. At first, there was a hint of discomfort, but his body, already accustomed to such intimacy, responded instinctively, curling slightly as if seeking pleasure. The heat pressed deep inside, remaining still for a moment before beginning to move in a slow, rhythmic motion.

“Ah… ah… no… nooo…”

His fragmented voice echoed through the bathroom, betraying his earlier protests. Even though he uttered words of refusal, his body clung to the comfort it was given, unable to let go. As Ryoichiro lightly nibbled on Tokuma’s ear, he whispered, “You’re even hotter inside than the water.”

“Ryoichiro-san, please… enough… spare me…”

“You can hold out a little longer. I’ve taught you patience, haven’t I?”

“I can’t… I can’t… My voice…”

The shameful sounds he made could no longer be suppressed. Sensing this, Ryoichiro brought his right hand in front of Tokuma’s face.

“You can bite down on this.”

Tokuma’s lips closed around the offered hand, but he couldn’t bring himself to bite hard enough to hurt. Instead, he simply held it in his mouth, letting soft, kitten-like whimpers escape through his nose.

Still held tightly, Tokuma felt Ryoichiro release deep inside him. Only after enduring so much was Tokuma finally allowed to let go as well, spilling himself onto the wooden floor. Though he had protested and claimed to hate it, being pleasured in the bath—especially in the water—felt even more intense than usual. The realization of how much he had enjoyed it made Tokuma feel a mix of embarrassment and self-loathing, and he began to cry softly.

Ryoichiro, alarmed, kissed away his tears. “Did I hurt you somewhere?”

“It’s… it’s just how shamelessly lewd I am. I’m disgusted with myself,” Tokuma admitted, his voice trembling with emotion.

Ryoichiro held him even closer. “I’ve never once thought your sensuality was a bad thing,” he said earnestly.

“In fact, I welcome it.”

As he comforted Tokuma, murmuring that he was beautiful and lovable, Tokuma wrapped his arms around Ryoichiro’s neck and stayed close, thinking for no particular reason that there could be no greater happiness than this.

While still entwined, they continued to exchange gentle kisses until there was a sudden knock on the sliding wooden door.

“Excuse me, guests, we need to extinguish the lights soon,” the inn’s proprietress called out, her timing clearly deliberate.

Caught off guard, Ryoichiro quickly called back, “We’ll be out in a moment!” while Tokuma let out a soft chuckle at his flustered tone.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The room at the inn was a ten-mat traditional Japanese room, and Tokuma felt a sense of calm as he enjoyed the texture of the tatami underfoot. While he had grown accustomed to sleeping on a bed, the scent of rush grass still brought him comfort. Ryoichiro sat on the futon with one knee propped up, frowning slightly.

"It’s bothersome how drafty it feels around here," he grumbled.

Accustomed to wearing Western-style undergarments and pajamas to bed, Ryoichiro now found himself in only a yukata, with no underwear. It was no surprise he felt out of sorts.

"Yukata always comes loose so easily," he muttered, slipping a hand under the overlapping front to scratch at his side. Even before lying down, his yukata was already starting to fall into disarray.

"You look wonderful in a yukata, Ryoichiro-san," Tokuma said without thinking, voicing his honest feelings.

Ryoichiro turned his face away, clearly flustered. Even in the dim light of the paper lantern, Tokuma could tell his cheeks had turned red. It was endearing to see this side of him—so easily embarrassed by a simple compliment, despite having been so bold in the bath earlier.

"Hey, come here," Ryoichiro said, beckoning him closer.

Tokuma crawled across his futon to sit beside him. Without warning, he was pulled into an embrace and pushed down onto the futon. Ryoichiro leaned over him, claiming a kiss with an urgency Tokuma responded to in kind. His long hair, still damp from the bath, trailed against Tokuma’s skin as they held each other.

Yet, even as their lips moved together, the intensity stopped there. Eventually, Ryoichiro rested his face against Tokuma’s chest, seemingly content.

"Say, don’t you think that wisteria spirit had taken a liking to Hara-kun?"

The hand Tokuma had been running through Ryoichiro’s hair paused. He answered vaguely, "I’m not sure."

"If so, that means Hara-kun has been quite popular with spirits—first that camellia spirit, and now this one. What a troublesome fellow," Ryoichiro said with a hint of amusement.

Tokuma chuckled softly. "But Chie-san isn’t a spirit or a yokai."

"True," Ryoichiro murmured against Tokuma’s chest.

Exhausted from the day’s hike and their playful activities in the bath, Ryoichiro began to drift off to sleep. Tokuma gently pulled the futon over Ryoichiro’s shoulders, ensuring he was snug. For a moment, he nuzzled his own cheek against Ryoichiro’s childlike, peaceful expression before rising to extinguish the lantern’s light.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Thanks to the landlady's thoughtful gesture of leaving their clothes by the fire, the damp garments had dried completely by the next morning. The sky was a clear, brilliant blue, as if the previous day's rain had been nothing but a lie. Taking the first train back to Tokyo, Ryoichiro went straight to the university from the station, while Tokuma returned to the longhouse. Before even entering his own home, however, he knocked on Chie’s door.

“...Who is it?” 

Chie’s voice came from inside.

“It’s Tokuma,” he replied.

The door creaked open outward, revealing Chie cradling a white cat in her arms. When they had first moved in, it had been just a kitten, but in the year since, it had grown considerably.

“So, you weren’t home last night, huh?” Chie remarked.

“No. We took the wisteria spirit back to the mountain, but on the way back, we got caught in the rain and missed the last train,” Tokuma explained.

“I see,” Chie murmured, gently stroking the cat’s head. “Yesterday morning, Hara-san came by pretty early. I told him the wisteria spirit had gone back, and it seemed like he headed off to the university.”

Tokuma reached into the sleeve of his kimono and pulled out a purple obi clip. 

“This is for you, Chie-san.”

Chie squinted slightly, exhaling softly. 

“That’s not mine. It’s something Hara-san bought for the wisteria spirit.”

Tokuma hesitated, ready to explain that the wisteria spirit had said it was purchased for Chie, but stopped himself at the last moment. 

“The wisteria spirit won’t be wearing kimono anymore. She said that, as thanks for lending her your body, you should have it instead, rather than leaving it unused.”

Bending the truth just slightly, Tokuma offered the clip to her. Chie hesitated but finally accepted it. 

“Well, if that’s the case, I suppose I have no choice,” she said, taking it from his hand.

“That clip would go wonderfully with the kimono you usually wear, Chie-san,” Tokuma remarked.

“Think so?” Chie murmured, her gaze softening as she quietly clasped the purple obi clip in her hand.

THE END

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