The ramen shop Sato had in mind was a twenty-minute walk from the bar, tucked away in a side street that smelled perpetually of pork broth and garlic. It was the kind of place that didn't need a sign because everyone who mattered already knew where it was. Sato had been talking about it for the last ten minutes-the richness of the tonkotsu, the way the egg was always cooked exactly right, the chashu that melted on your tongue like butter. He'd been building it up since they left the bar, describing every component with the devotion of a man who'd spent years perfecting his ramen order and wanted the world to know it.

Ezume was only half-listening. His brain was still stuck on the closed bar, the dead neon, the hours of waiting ahead. He'd spent the entire morning constructing a mental framework for what had happened to him-the pointed teeth, the glowing eyes, the window jump, the fear of loud noises but not sacred objects-and now that framework was sitting in his head like a half-finished puzzle, waiting for the next piece. The bar was supposed to be that piece. The bar was supposed to give him answers. And instead, it was closed, and he was walking to a ramen shop with Sato, and he had no idea what to do next.

"-and the noodles," Sato was saying, "the noodles are the perfect thickness. The chef makes them fresh every morning. You can taste how-"

He stopped mid-sentence.

Ezume looked up.

Sato wasn't looking at him anymore. He was staring at something over Ezume's shoulder, his eyes slightly wide, his mouth still open from the interrupted sentence.

"Wait," he said.

Ezume turned.

She was standing about thirty meters away, staring at her phone with the blank, slightly irritated expression of someone who'd just received a text they didn't know how to answer. A street vendor was setting up a takoyaki stall nearby, the smell of batter and octopus drifting through the air. An old man on a bicycle weaved past her. She didn't look up. She just kept frowning at her screen.

But it wasn't the phone that mattered. It was everything else.

She'd swapped the pink croptop from the bar and the black trench coat from last night for something completely different. An oversized green sweater hung off one shoulder, the fabric soft and loose, leaving her left shoulder bare except for the thin red strap of a bra that peeked out beneath the collar—a tiny flash of color against the pale skin and the green wool. A white skirt fell just above her knees, simple and clean, the kind of skirt that belonged in a magazine spread about effortless summer fashion. Her feet were tucked into a pair of white Converse that had seen enough wear to look comfortable rather than new, the laces slightly frayed, the rubber soles scuffed at the edges. A dark gray choker circled her neck, snug and understated, the kind of accessory that said I thought about this outfit without screaming it. Her blonde hair was down, spilling over her shoulders in messy waves that caught the noon sunlight, except for a rough, half-hearted bun pinned clumsily to the left side of her head like an afterthought-a few strands already escaping, framing her face in a way that looked accidental but probably wasn't.

She looked like she'd gotten dressed in the dark and somehow still made it work. She looked like a girl who belonged in a coffee shop, or a library, or anywhere that wasn't his bedroom at midnight with her mouth open and her teeth glinting.

She looked, impossibly, like a normal girl.

Ezume's feet stopped working. His brain, which had spent the last twelve hours cataloguing evidence and cross-referencing forum posts about dream-eating yokai and territorial hunting patterns, ground to a halt with an almost audible screech. Because the girl standing thirty meters away, frowning at her phone in an oversized sweater and white sneakers, was the same girl who'd climbed through his window with predator teeth and glowing eyes. The same girl who'd called herself a girl looking for a good time and then backflipped into the night when he screamed. The same girl he'd been preparing to hunt down and prove was a mythical creature.

And yet she was also-he couldn't deny it-just a girl. A girl in worn sneakers, having a normal Saturday afternoon, looking slightly annoyed at whoever was texting her.

The cognitive dissonance was so violent it nearly gave him vertigo.

Kama looked up from her phone. Her eyes met Ezume's.

For a fraction of a second, her expression flickered. Something sharp. Something annoyed. She sucked air through her teeth-a tiny, irritated hiss that he couldn't hear from this distance but could see in the way her jaw tightened and her shoulders stiffened.

Shit, she thought. Not now. I'm not ready. I haven't figured out my approach yet.

She could turn around. She could pretend she hadn't seen them. She could duck into the takoyaki stall, or the convenience store behind her, or just turn on her heel and walk away. She'd done it a hundred times before. A hundred and seventy-five years of practice. She was very good at disappearing.

But that wasn't the mission.

The mission-Iroha's mission, Tamonten's mission, the mission that had cost her her entire territory—wasn't just about observing the boy from a distance. It was about getting close to him. Understanding his dreams. Refining his energy. And that meant interacting with him. In public. During the day. Like a normal person. Like a girl who'd just transferred from Kyoto and was looking for friends.

She'd been doing this for decades. She could handle a conversation with two teenage boys.

Her face rearranged itself. The sharpness vanished, replaced by something bright, open, almost aggressively friendly. Her eyes widened with theatrical recognition. She raised one arm and waved, the sleeve of her sweater sliding down her wrist.

"Hey ! No way ! You're the guys from the bar last night !"

Sato blinked. "Wait. Is that-"

"It's her," Ezume whispered. His voice came out hoarse.

Kama was already walking toward them, her stride confident and easy, her skirt swishing around her knees, her Converse slapping lightly against the pavement. She stopped in front of them with her hands clasped behind her back, rocking slightly on her heels like a girl who'd run into old friends at the mall and was genuinely delighted about it.

Her voice was warm, animated, nothing like the flat, disappointed tone she'd used in his bedroom. "What are the odds, right ? I mean, this city's not that big, but still. Serendipity."

Sato, who had never met a social situation he couldn't navigate, recovered first. He'd been thrown for approximately three seconds, and now he was back in his element, falling into the rhythm of conversation like a fish returning to water. "What are the odds is right. We were just talking about you, actually."

"Were you now." Her grin sharpened, just slightly-a flicker of the smirk from the bar, quickly smoothed over. "Good things, I hope."

"Ezume here was telling me all about your visit last night."

Ezume made a strangled noise that was supposed to be words but didn't quite get there. It came out as something between a cough and a whimper.

Kama's expression flickered again-a flash of something unreadable, there and gone-and then she laughed. It was a light, easy laugh, the laugh of someone who found the whole situation genuinely amusing. She pressed one hand to her chest in a gesture of theatrical remorse.

"Oh, that. Yeah, I should probably apologize for that, huh ?"

"You think ?" Sato said, grinning.

Kama turned to Ezume, and her voice softened into something almost sheepish. She tilted her head slightly, letting a few strands of hair fall across her face, and looked up at him through her lashes. "I'm really sorry. Seriously. I was completely wasted last night. Like, way more than I should've been. I don't even remember half of what happened." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture so natural it had to be practiced. "I do remember that I thought you were cute, though."

Ezume's face went through several distinct stages of red. "You-what?"

"Yeah! I mean-" She waved her hands in front of her, suddenly flustered, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushing. "Not like that. Well, not not like that. I mean- ugh." She pressed her palm to her forehead, letting out a groan that sounded genuinely embarrassed. "I'm not attracted to you. Wait. That came out wrong. I'm not saying you're ugly. You're not ugly. You're perfectly- I mean you're fine. You're-" She groaned again, louder this time. "I'm making this worse, aren't I."

"Much worse," Sato said cheerfully. "Please, keep going. This is the best thing I've ever witnessed."

"I'm not usually like this. I swear." Kama shook her head, her messy bun wobbling dangerously. "I was just really, really drunk, and I do stupid things when I'm drunk. Like climbing through windows." She laughed again, a self-deprecating little sound that seemed to bubble up from somewhere genuine. "Which is insane, obviously. I'm lucky you didn't call the cops."

"I thought about it," Ezume managed. His voice was still hoarse, but at least it was producing words now.

"Honestly? I wouldn't have blamed you. I'd have called the cops on me." She shook her head, still smiling, and then straightened up, squaring her shoulders as if she was about to deliver a prepared statement. "Can we just pretend that never happened ? Start over ? I'm Satsu Kama. I just transferred here from Kyoto. I don't know anyone in Toyama. And I would really, really like to make some actual friends instead of climbing through their windows."

Sato burst out laughing. It was a real laugh, not the theatrical one he used for Ezume's conspiracy theories. "I'm Sato and this is Ezume. And honestly, after that introduction, I think we have to be friends now. It's legally required. I'm pretty sure there's a law."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say." Kama beamed at him, then turned to Ezume. "What about you ? Can we be friends ? I promise I'll use the door next time."

Ezume opened his mouth. He had questions. A lot of questions. The pointed teeth. The glowing eyes. The window jump. None of that fit with the girl standing in front of him now, in her oversized sweater and messy bun, apologizing for being drunk and asking if they could be friends.

But she was so... normal. So effortlessly, convincingly normal. She laughed at Sato's jokes at exactly the right moments. She made self-deprecating comments about her own behavior. She blushed and stammered when she got flustered. She was everything a transfer student from Kyoto should be : friendly, a little awkward, eager to meet people, slightly embarrassed about a drunken mistake.

Sato caught his eye. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The look was enough. It said, See ? Normal girl. Weird, but normal. You made the whole thing up, didn't you ? You've been obsessing over nothing. Again.

Ezume felt the certainty he'd built up over the last twelve hours begin to crack at the edges. The framework he'd constructed-the boogeywoman theory, the evidence-suddenly felt flimsy. Embarrassing. The kind of thing a paranoid conspiracy theorist would come up with.

Which, he reminded himself, he was.

"Sure," he said, and the word came out softer than he'd intended. "Friends."

"Great !" Kama clapped her hands together, her eyes bright. "So, since we're friends now, and since I know literally nothing about this city-" She gestured at the street around them, at the closed boutiques and the shuttered restaurants and the old woman with the tiny dog who was passing them for the third time. "-would you guys maybe want to show me around ? Like, this afternoon ? And maybe tomorrow too, since it's Sunday ? I haven't seen anything except the bar and the konbini down the street."

Sato nodded. "Yeah, sure. We've got time. Ezume was just about to buy me lunch, but showing a new girl around is way more interesting."

"I was not about to buy you lunch."

"You forgot the bet ?"

"The bet isn't settled !"

Kama laughed-that same light, easy laugh-and fell into step beside Sato. They started walking, the two of them, their conversation already flowing like they'd known each other for years. Sato was telling her about the best places to eat in Toyama, the hidden spots that tourists never found, the takoyaki stand near the station that was run by a guy who'd studied in Osaka. Kama was nodding, asking questions, laughing at his jokes at exactly the right moments, adding little comments that kept the conversation moving. She was effortlessly good at this. 

Ezume trailed a few steps behind them, his hands in his pockets, his brow furrowed. He watched Kama laugh. He watched her push her hair out of her face with a casual flick of her wrist. He watched her adjust the sleeve of her sweater when it slipped off her shoulder, tugging it back up with a small, absent frown.

She looked like a normal girl. She acted like a normal girl. She talked like a normal girl. She stammered and blushed and made self-deprecating jokes. She laughed at Sato's terrible puns and rolled her eyes at his exaggerations.

And yet.

Predator's stare, he'd told Sato last night. She's got a predator's stare.

But right now, walking down a sunlit street in an oversized sweater and white sneakers, laughing at Sato's terrible jokes, she didn't look like a predator. She looked like a girl who'd transferred from Kyoto and was trying to make friends. She looked like a girl who'd gotten too drunk and done something embarrassing and was now trying to make up for it. She looked, in every measurable way, normal.

Sato glanced back at him, one eyebrow raised. The look said everything. See ? Normal. Stop obsessing. You're doing that thing again, the thing where you turn everything into a conspiracy. She's just a weird girl with no boundaries. She's not a monster.

Ezume didn't answer. He just kept walking, watching, waiting. Because he'd seen her teeth. He'd seen her eyes glow in the dark. He'd felt her breath on his cheek and heard her swear when he screamed. He knew what he'd seen.

Didn't he ?

Up ahead, Kama laughed at something Sato said, and the sound was so light, so genuine, so perfectly ordinary, that Ezume felt the last pieces of his certainty begin to crumble.

Maybe Sato was right. Maybe he'd imagined the whole thing. Maybe the pointed teeth were just a trick of the light, and the glowing eyes were his own fear reflected back at him, and the window jump was-

No. The window jump was real. He'd seen it with his own eyes. A girl didn't backflip out a first-story window and land on her feet without supernatural abilities. A normal girl wouldn't do that.

"Ezume !" Sato called back to him. "You coming, or are you gonna stand there contemplating the universe all day ?"

Ezume shook himself and quickened his pace.

"Coming," he said. And then, under his breath, so quietly that neither Sato nor Kama could hear : "And I'm going to figure you out. One way or another."

SEE YOU FOR CHAPTER 10...