The café was called Kurotane, and it was the kind of place Sato had been trying to describe for the last fifteen minutes without quite getting there. Tucked between a used bookstore and a flower shop that had closed down years ago, it occupied a narrow, two-story building that looked like it had been there since before Toyama had electricity. The interior was all dark wood and mismatched furniture—squashy armchairs with faded upholstery, low tables scarred with decades of coffee rings, shelves crammed with paperback novels whose spines had been cracked so many times they no longer remembered their original shape. A calico cat slept on the windowsill, utterly indifferent to the customers. The air smelled of fresh espresso, cinnamon, and old paper.

Sato had already finished two cups of the house blend and was working on a third. He was sprawled in his chair like a man who'd given up on posture, one leg hooked over the armrest, his ponytail coming undone, gesturing with his mug in wide, sweeping arcs. He'd been talking about his insomnia for the last ten minutes, which was longer than he usually allowed himself to talk about anything personal, and the coffee was loosening his tongue in ways that Ezume rarely saw.

"-and it's not like I'm tired all the time," Sato was saying, staring into his mug as if the coffee might offer him an explanation. "I mean, I am tired. Obviously. But it's not the kind of tired that sleep fixes. It's like my brain doesn't know how to shut up. I lie down, close my eyes, and suddenly I'm thinking about everything. Did I lock the door ? Did Hana finish her homework ? What's the point of algebra ? You know ?"

Kama nodded. She was sitting across from him, her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her interlaced fingers. Her expression was one of deep, almost theatrical sympathy-furrowed brow, slightly pursed lips, eyes soft with concern. "That sounds awful," she said.

It wasn't awful. Well, it was, but not for the reasons she was pretending. Sato Makoko was an insomniac. He barely slept. He barely dreamed. And a human who didn't dream was, from a purely practical standpoint, a complete waste of perfectly good oniric energy. Kama had been sitting here for ten minutes, watching this boy talk about his sleep disorder, and every word he said made her want to shake him. Just close your eyes and dream, you idiot. Do you have any idea what you're wasting ?

But she didn't say that. Instead, she furrowed her brow a little deeper and made a soft, sympathetic sound. "I can't imagine what that must be like."

Sato shrugged, a tired half-smile tugging at his mouth. "You get used to it. Sort of. I've been like this since middle school."

"Middle school," Kama repeated. "That's a long time."

"Yeah, well." He took a long sip of his coffee. "Some people are just wired wrong, I guess."

Ezume sat slightly apart from the conversation, nursing a single glass of cola that he'd barely touched. He'd been quiet since they'd sat down, watching Kama across the table with the kind of careful, analytical attention he usually reserved for forum posts and YouTube videos about government cover-ups. She was sitting in a pool of afternoon light, the sun catching the edges of her blonde hair and turning them almost white, and she was eating.

That was the thing. She was eating.

In the forty minutes since they'd arrived at Kurotane, Kama had ordered a bagel with cream cheese, a cinnamon roll the size of her face, a chocolate chip cookie, a black coffee, and a mint granita that was currently sweating condensation onto the table. She'd eaten the bagel in approximately four bites. The cinnamon roll had disappeared so fast Ezume wasn't entirely sure he'd witnessed it. The cookie was currently in her hand, half-finished, and she was alternating between taking bites of it and sipping her granita through a straw.

And yet. And yet. She was thin. Not unhealthily thin-just... thin. No visible body fat. Her arms were lean, her collarbone sharp beneath the edge of her sweater. She ate like someone who hadn't seen food in a week, and she looked like someone who'd never eaten a carbohydrate in her life.

Ezume filed this information away in the mental cabinet he'd labeled Evidence-Maybe-Boogeywoman. It was getting crowded in there.

"So," Kama said, swallowing a bite of cookie and turning her attention to Ezume with a sudden, laser-like focus. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

Ezume tensed. "What ?"

"Last night. When I was... you know." She waved her hand vaguely, the gesture somehow encompassing breaking into your apartment and trying to bite you and being completely wasted all at once. "You asked me if I was a yokai."

Sato snorted into his coffee.

"Why ?" Kama leaned forward, her blue eyes bright with genuine curiosity. "Like, what made you jump to that ? Of all the things you could've asked a drunk girl in your bedroom, you went straight for yokai."

Ezume felt his face heat. "I... it's..."

"He's been researching boogeymen for years," Sato said helpfully. "He has files. Apparently 100% trustworthy files. With subheadings."

"Sato."

"What ? You do, don't you ? You won't stop telling me about it."

Kama's eyebrows shot up. "Files ?"

"It's not- they're not-" Ezume took a breath, forcing himself to calm down. "I've been interested in the supernatural since I was a kid. It's a hobby. And last night, you had... you had pointed teeth. And your eyes were glowing. And you jumped out a window and landed on your feet. What was I supposed to think?"

Kama stared at him for a long moment. Then she laughed—that same light, easy laugh she'd used in the street. "Oh ! The teeth !" She reached into her bag-a small canvas thing covered in pins-and pulled out a flat plastic case. She popped it open and held it out to him.

Inside, nestled in foam, were a pair of prosthetic fangs. Small. Sharp. Very realistic.

"I do cosplay," she said, as if that explained everything. "I was at a convention yesterday and I forgot to take them out. I didn't even realize I still had them in until you screamed at me."

Sato leaned over to look at the fangs, then turned to Ezume with an expression of profound, theatrical vindication. "I called it. I literally called it. Did I not call it?"

"What did you call?"

"He said you might be into cosplay. When I told him about the teeth."

"See?" Kama pointed at Sato with her cookie. "This one. This one has common sense."

"And the eyes ?" Ezume pressed. "Your eyes were glowing in the dark."

Kama rolled her eyes-which were, currently, a perfectly normal shade of blue-and reached into her bag again. This time she produced a small contact lens case. She flipped it open to reveal a pair of lenses, pale blue, almost luminous. "Special effects lenses. They glow under certain light. I was probably still wearing them when I-" She grimaced. "-you know. Broke into your apartment. Again. Really sorry about that."

Ezume stared at the lenses. He stared at the fangs. He stared at Kama, who was now licking cookie crumbs off her fingers with the air of someone who'd just solved a very simple puzzle and was waiting for the rest of the class to catch up.

"The window jump," he said. "You backflipped out a first-story window and landed on your feet."

Kama's face lit up. "Oh ! That ! Yeah, I used to do competitive acrobatics in Kyoto. I was the vice-champion in the junior league two years running. A first-story window is basically a dismount. I've done way sketchier landings than that." She shrugged, the oversized sleeve of her sweater slipping off her shoulder again. "It's honestly not that impressive."

Sato set his mug down with a decisive clink. "So let me get this straight. The teeth were prosthetics. The eyes were contacts. The window jump was gymnastics. And the breaking into his apartment was you-"

"Being really, really drunk," Kama finished. "Which I have apologized for. Multiple times."

"You have," Sato agreed. "Very thoroughly."

"Thank you."

Sato turned to Ezume with the triumphant expression of a prosecutor who'd just won a landmark case. "So your terrifying boogeywoman is actually just a cosplaying gymnast with a drinking problem."

"I don't have a drinking problem," Kama said. "I have a decision-making problem. Very different."

"Noted."

Sato leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. "You know what, Ezume ? I've been thinking about this all morning, and I've reached a conclusion. You're paranoid. Like, genuinely, clinically paranoid. You see monsters everywhere. You think the government is hiding aliens. You wrap your soda in aluminum foil."

"That's for the electromagnet-"

"But," Sato said, raising a finger, "it's also what makes you kind of cool. You're not boring. You're the least boring person I know. Every day with you is an adventure in what the hell is going to happen next. And honestly ? I wouldn't trade it."

Ezume blinked. "That's... surprisingly nice of you."

"Don't get used to it, bro !"

Kama, who had been watching this exchange with a small, unreadable smile, turned to Sato with a frown. "Why do you call him paranoid ? That's mean..."

"Because he is. He's been like this since middle school. After his dad-" Sato stopped, glanced at Ezume. "Sorry. Not my story to tell."

"It's fine," Ezume said quietly.

"Anyway," Sato continued, "he's been obsessed with the supernatural ever since. Ghosts, aliens, yokai. If it can't be explained, he's probably got a file on it."

Kama was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "I think it's good to believe in things."

"Even aliens ?" Sato asked.

"I mean, aliens are stupid," Kama said, waving her hand dismissively. "No offense, Ezume. But yokai ? Some yokai definitely exist. Not the Yuki-onna or, like, Nessie or whatever. But the sandmen ? The bakus ? Dream-eaters ?" She met Ezume's eyes, and for just a moment, something flickered in her expression-something sharp, knowing, almost amused. "Those are real, I'm sure !"

Sato snorted. "Sure they are."

"I'm serious!" Kama turned to him, her face bright with enthusiasm. "There's all kinds of stuff in old folklore that modern science can't explain. You can't just dismiss it because it hasn't been peer-reviewed."

"That's literally exactly why you dismiss it."

"That's so boring !"

"That's science."

"Science is soooo boring !"

Sato opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. "Okay, fair point. Science is sometimes boring."

Kama nodded, satisfied, and turned back to Ezume. "But aliens, though." She shook her head slowly, her expression one of genuine, almost pitying sympathy. "Aliens, my poor dude. You've really gone off the deep end there."

Ezume opened his mouth to defend himself-he had a whole speech prepared about the Fermi paradox and the Drake equation and the statistical impossibility of humanity being alone in the universe-but before he could say a word, Kama reached for her granita and her hand slipped. The cup wobbled. A few drops of melted mint ice spilled over the edge, splashing onto the front of her green sweater.

"Ah, crap," she muttered, looking down at the spreading stain.

And then, in one fluid motion, she reached down, grabbed the hem of her sweater, and pulled it over her head.

Ezume's brain stopped working, and he made a noise that wasn't quite a word and slapped both hands over his eyes.

"What ?" Kama said, her voice muffled slightly by the sweater she was still holding. "What's wrong ?"

"Nothing ! I just- I didn't- you-"

"I what ?"

"You- you took off your-"

"Hum, yeah ? What's the big deal ?"

Underneath the sweater, she was wearing a tube top. Rose pearl, shimmering faintly in the café light, with two thin red bra straps. Her shoulders were bare. Her arms were bare. Her collarbone was very, very visible.

Ezume didn't move his hands. "I thought you were going to be- I didn't want to-"

Kama was quiet for a moment. Then she burst out laughing. It wasn't the light, social laugh she'd been using all afternoon. This one was louder, more genuine, a laugh of genuine, incredulous amusement. "Oh my god. You thought I was going to be naked or in underwear don't you ? You covered your eyes because you thought I was going to be naked."

"I didn't know what if were going to be dressed !"

"It's a café ! Why would I be naked in a café ?"

"I don't know ! You broke into my apartment last night! I don't know what you're capable of!"

Kama laughed even harder. She dropped the stained sweater onto the back of her chair and leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her hands. "Ezume. Look at me."

Slowly, hesitantly, he lowered his hands. She was sitting there in her tube top, completely unbothered, a grin spreading across her face. "See ? Fully dressed. No nudity. You can relax."

"I wasn't- I didn't-"

"You absolutely did. Your face is the color of Sato's hair."

Sato, who had been watching this entire exchange with the expression of a man witnessing a rare and precious natural phenomenon, raised his coffee mug in a silent toast. "He hates embarrassing people. It's one of his defining traits. Makes him a genuinely good guy."

"I can see that," Kama said, still grinning. "I didn't realize you were so shy."

"I'm not shy !"

"You're literally blushing right now."

"That's- ignore that !"

Kama shook her head, still smiling, and picked up her cookie. "You're weird, Ezume. I like you."

Ezume had no response to that. None. His brain had officially clocked out for the afternoon. He sat there, his cola untouched, his face still burning, watching a girl who might or might not be a mythical creature eat a chocolate chip cookie in a shimmering pink tube top, and he had absolutely no idea what to do next.

Sato caught his eye across the table. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. The look was enough. It said, See ? Normal. You're the weird one here, buddy.

Ezume wasn't so sure anymore.

SEE YOU FOR CHAPTER 11...