I was up first the next day and I busied myself in the kitchen, scouring it for whatever edible things I could find. Much to my delight, one of the first things I found, behind several packs of loose tea, was instant coffee. It wasn’t exactly the nice roasted beans I usually bought, but hey—it was coffee!

Though food supplies were ready to burst, there was nothing ready-made that I could just pop into the microwave, oven, or toaster. I couldn’t even find something simple like cereal or bread as I rummaged through the cupboards and shelves of the kitchen like a hungry mouse. I did find plenty of raw ingredients, but I wasn’t exactly keen on cooking.

With a wistful sigh, I settled for making scrambled egg—one of the few dishes I knew how to make half decently without setting the kitchen on fire. It wouldn’t be anything like Kaoru’s pancakes, but it would be enough to satisfy my hunger.

Brewing my coffee at the same time, I got to work, and before long, I was critically inspecting an enormous plate of scrambled eggs sitting on the table in front of me. I had been a little too enthusiastic when cracking eggs, and perhaps not enthusiastic enough when it came to scrambling and moving the egg around the pan, judging by the dark bits suspiciously reminiscent of charcoal.

I had just taken my first under-salted bite, when Natsu entered the room.

“I thought I could smell food!” She glanced to the sink where my dirty dishes were waiting to be dealt with. “Tell you what—you make me one of those, and I’ll clean up for you.”

I raised an eyebrow and looked down at my food. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking for,” I said. “I guarantee you that you can do better.”

“I guarantee you that she can’t.” Kaoru was now peeking in from behind Natsu, ruffling his short hair as he yawned. “Can I get in on that deal?”

“Wait a minute, what are you gonna do for your food?” Natsu turned to him in protest, her hands stemmed on her hips.

“I bought the ingredients,” he grumbled in response, but Natsu didn’t ease up on her glare. He raised his hands in defense as he made his second attempt. “I’ll take both of you to a party in a few days?”

 “A party?” I asked, looking around the pristine room. “Here?”

Questions once again flooded my mind, leaving me unable to coherently voice my thoughts. Was it safe for me? Was it a party in the human world or here? What did people wear to yokai parties?

Kaoru nodded, smirking. “It’s in the realm, if that’s what you mean. A friend of mine is celebrating his birthday, and he invited me, saying I should bring some people.” He leaned over to Natsu. “He actually explicitly mentioned I should ask you to come.”

Natsu’s smile faded into a frown. “This friend,” she growled. “Would that happen to be Satoru?”

“The one and only.”

“Yeah, I’m not going.”

While they had their discussion, I worked on cooking both their dishes. I continued to listen to them closely however, if only because I was intrigued by learning more about other yokai. And, to be honest, more than a little concerned. After all, Kaoru was suggesting putting me in closed quarters with a lot of yokai. Yokai that might potentially be affected by my curse. It wasn’t exactly an appealing idea to be seen as the entrée, especially since the wounds from my last encounter with a hungry yokai hadn’t exactly gone well.

Then again, with Kaoru and Natsu there, it might be okay. They had both promised to keep me safe, after all.

“Why not? He’s a nice guy!” Kaoru exclaimed.

“I hope that by ‘nice’ you actually mean creepy.”

“What do you mean? He’s really generous. Like for example, whenever we go out to eat and drink, he pays for everything.”

Natsu glanced back at him, eyeing him up and down with narrowed eyes. “And per chance, does he usually ask you to change into your female form? Maybe even suggest an outfit ahead of time?”

“I—” Kaoru stopped himself, seemingly reflecting on that point. “I guess so.”

“Creep.” Natsu settled.

Kaoru sighed and finally pushed past her into the room.

“Fine,” he sighed theatrically and took a seat at the table. “I guess I’ll just be taking Misaki then.”

Natsu whirled around to him, the room suddenly growing colder. “You are going to do what?”

Kaoru only briefly glanced back at her, annunciating his words very clearly. “I will introduce her to yokai at the party. She needs to get to know someone in order to break her curse. If you don’t want that yokai to be Satoru, I guess you’re going to have to come and make sure that doesn’t happen.”

He turned to me, and winked, smirking. Natsu was fuming behind him, struggling to get her emotions under control, her hands clenched into trembling fists. Concerned, I eyed the patches of ice growing underneath her feet.

“I look forward to it,” I said, before turning to Natsu with a little smile, hoping to pacify her. “I hope you’ll join us.”

“I guess I have no choice.” She growled and plumped down at the table next to Kaoru. “I can’t let you go by yourself.”

“Um… I’ll be there too, y’know,” Kaoru noted, one eyebrow raised.

“Good, then you’ll be able to keep the creep busy and away from us.”

Worried where things might go if I didn’t interrupt, I hurried to put the pan with the scrambled eggs between them. It was slightly burned, though less than my own had been earlier, and I had salted it better than the last batch, so it shouldn’t be as bland.

I sat down to eat my own portion as well, watching their faces as they ate my food. I was under no delusions—I was not a star cook. But I still hoped that they liked it at least well enough not to regret trusting me with eggs and a pan.

“Delicious,” Natsu immediately exclaimed, beaming at me. I knew she was just being nice, but my chest still unclenched a little.

Kaoru shrugged and smiled. “It’s pretty decent.”

This earned him another speech from Natsu, who insisted that he apologize and correct his assessment to nothing less than magnificent.

I didn’t mind—decent was good enough for me. Instead of getting involved, I sipped my coffee. Finally, closing my eyes, I indulged in the bitterness of the taste.

Oh, brew of the heavens, how I have missed you.

Finally, the silent twitching in my head subsided. It had been a while since I’d had a caffeine headache like that. It certainly was nice to be rid of it.

“I didn’t realize you’re a coffee drinker,” Kaoru interrupted my silent monologue. He peered at me from across the table, a small smile playing around his lips.

I nodded and put the cup down. “In Brazil, people are more likely to drink coffee than tea. It’s… normal, I suppose.”

“Brazil?” Kaoru exchanged a glance with Natsu.

“Yeah, it’s where I’m from. I’ve spent most my life there,” I said, looking down into the coffee as though I could see my home in the reflection—the hills, the trees, the animals… I loved it there, but I couldn’t stay. Not after losing my dad.

Kaoru watched me contemplatively for a few moments. “I see.”

 “Kao, isn’t it time?” Natsu interrupted, glancing at the clock. He looked up as well.

“Damn, you’re right. Okay, gotta go. Have a good day and make sure to stay within the grounds.”

I saluted playfully. “You got it, boss.”

Then he dashed out, barely taking the time to put on shoes before heading out into the garden.

“Where is he going?” I asked Natsu who was picking up all the dishes.

“To his job. He told me last night that he’s helping with the catering of some event in the human realm today.”

“Is he working as a waiter?”

“No, a cook. You’ve had some of his food, haven’t you? So you should know how good it is. He works part-time with a catering business, and part time with a small restaurant. Sometimes he’s also hired by other yokai.”

I watched her wash the dishes. She was meticulous about it, certainly more so than what I’d seen Kaoru do.

“What about you?” I asked. “Do you have a job?”

She looked back over her shoulder. “I do. But not in the human world.”

“What do you do?”

Instead of responding, she put a finger to her smiling lips and shook her head.

I got the message. No asking about her job. I wondered if they had something like a secret service here, though I’d find it difficult to imagine Natsu of all people in a spy’s position. She seemed too emotional, too rash, too conspicuous. All of that might just be my own assumptions though.

Leaving Natsu to the dishes, I took my coffee and sat down at the entrance to the garden, letting my feet dangle from the wooden hallway. The breeze blowing around my nose was refreshing, and I couldn’t imagine a more peaceful place than this right now. Having spent too much time in my life in busy places, getting to experience moments like this was rare. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds coming from the forest. There was the rustling of the leaves, the chirping of birds, and the chattering of a squirrel. Then I also heard Luan’s meow.

I opened my eyes. I’d been wondering where he’d gone off to when I’d woken up that morning without him beside me. I now watched him bounce around, his tail wagging almost like a dog’s, eyes on something in the air that seemed invisible at first glance. But as I kept watching him, the thing he was chasing, no, playing with, became clearer. It was engulfed in a gentle green light, but the shape of the tiny creature was like a doll made from pebbles, assembled to resemble a person.

I’d never seen one before, but looking at it, it could only be one thing in my mind—a kodama.

Soon, Luan and his new friend were joined by two more kodama, both aglow in green like the first. They bounced around the trees, and I watched them, mesmerized by the sight of their playful bounces.

Eventually, Luan seemed to have enough, and he came trotting over to me.

He sat down calmly beside me, tail curled around his base, and looked out into the garden with me.

If it wasn’t for the catch about the dying part, I thought I would really enjoy spending my time here like this. If I had a choice in the matter. Being as it were, there was always that sliver of sourness remaining that took away from the beauty, from the comfort.

But enough thinking for the moment. I wandered back into the living room, where Natsu was lounging on the floor, watching a DVD of a popular anime.

She looked up briefly when I entered and patted the tatami mat beside her. “Join me.”

I didn’t move, feeling a little lost. I knew exactly what it was I was missing, but I wasn’t sure how to go about to procure it. After a moment’s hesitation, I pulled myself together. Usually, the direct approach was the best. “Say, Natsu, do you happen to know if Kaoru has any pencil and paper around here? Or a brush and ink? Paint? Anything of that sort?”

“I think there are some office supplies in that drawer there.” She pointed at a drawer to the other side of the TV.

I opened it and she was right. There was paper, lined and blank, and plenty of pens, brushes, and pencils. I even found a clipboard. Jackpot. I took a few blank pages, along with the clipboard, an eraser and two pencils.

“Enjoy your show!” I almost ran out, excitement now rushing through me.

I found a comfortable spot in the garden beside the koi pond and began sketching. When I finished the first drawing of the pond, I moved to a different location almost instinctively and sketched a new subject.

I had missed this. Graphic design was fine and all but drawing digitally just wasn’t the same as feeling the scratching of the paper, whether you used a tablet or not. Being able to smudge the shading with my thumb to soften or blur it, being able to rub something out by licking my thumb and then going over it… they were small things, possibly things that might annoy other artists, but to me, it was part of the essence of drawing. If I made a large mistake, there was no way to erase it completely, without damaging the paper, which meant that every mistake was now a part of the finished drawing, a part of the true image. Every stroke mattered.

And the imperfection made it perfect.

I sighed in delight after finishing a sketch of one of Luan’s new kodama friends and realized that I actually had to strain my eyes to see properly.

Was it just me or was the light fading?

I looked up at the discolored sky. Baffled, I realized I’d been so engrossed in my sketching that I had completely lost track of time. That hadn’t happened to me in a long time. Lately, I’d found it more difficult to concentrate for a long time, getting distracted by every little sound, but here, just now, I’d been completely absorbed by my work.

A little breeze blew my hair into my face, and when I’d managed to get it under control and away from my eyes, I saw that the wind had picked up some of my drawings, carrying them away.

Hurriedly, admittedly almost panicked, I collected the ones still left at my feet, and ran after the sheets of paper dancing in the wind.

But someone else was faster.

Kaoru, still dressed for her job in white chef’s attire, appeared out of nowhere and snatched the papers out of the air.

I reached her as she was looking through them, scrutinizing them a lot more closely than I was strictly comfortable with. She handed them back to me with a smile.

“Thanks,” I said.

“They’re amazing,” she said. “You must have put a lot of work into getting this good.” She ruffled my hair and walked past me toward the house. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to put up some of them in the house,” she called back over her shoulder.

I was left behind, stunned. What had probably been nothing more than a throwaway remark for her, had struck me to the core.

It was rare for someone to acknowledge the work that went into learning a craft. Usually, people just put it down to “talent,” almost like using their lack of it as an excuse for not being a good artist. “I wish I could draw like that. You’re so talented!” was one of the most common phrases.

But being called talented wasn’t a compliment. It was like saying that it was simply a trait I was born with, like my hair color, or the pitch of my voice. It was diminishing any effort that I had put into it.

Knowing that Kaoru appreciated the work behind my art and liked the outcome enough to put it up in her house somehow created a warm, fuzzy feeling in my stomach.