Ezume stood in the doorway of his own apartment and watched Kama skip down his hallway.

She'd already kicked off her sneakers and was now bouncing on the balls of her feet in the middle of the living room, her head swiveling from side to side like a tourist in a museum. Her pink sweater had slipped off one shoulder again. Her ponytail was coming undone. She looked, for all the world, like a child who had just been handed the keys to a candy store.

"This is incredible," she said, her voice bright with genuine, unfiltered enthusiasm. "This is amazing. This is- is that a potted plant ? I love potted plants. What kind ?"

"It's a geranium," Ezume said, still standing in the doorway. "My mom waters it."

"I'm going to water it. Every day. We're going to be best friends, me and this plant."

"Do you even know how to water a plant ?"

"How hard can it be ? It's a plant. You give it water. It's in the name."

Ezume opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, his mother emerged from the hallway, still in her robe, her hair slightly mussed from sleep. She'd been on the night shift and had only woken up an hour ago. She blinked at the scene in front of her : her son frozen in the doorway, a blonde girl bouncing on the living room carpet, a suitcase lying on its side near the shoe rack. She smiled.

"Oh ! You must be Kama. I'm Satsuki."

Kama stopped bouncing. Her face shifted into something sweeter, more demure. "Mrs. Iekami ! Thank you so much for having me. I promise I'll be the best guest you've ever had. I'll water the plants. I'll take out the trash. I'll- is that miso soup ?"

"It's leftovers from last night. Are you hungry ? I can heat some up."

"I'm always hungry."

Satsuki laughed, a warm, genuine sound, and disappeared into the kitchen. The moment she was gone, Kama dropped the demure expression like a mask and shot Ezume a grin that was entirely too satisfied. "Your mom's nice."

"She's too nice," Ezume muttered. "That's the problem."

He followed his mother into the kitchen, Kama trailing behind him. "Mom. Can I talk to you for a second ? Privately ?"

Satsuki was already ladling soup into a bowl. "Of course, sweetheart. What's on your mind ?"

"Privately. As in, without-" He gestured at Kama, who had already opened the refrigerator and was examining its contents. "-her."

"Ezume, don't be rude. Our guest just arrived."

"Our guest ? Mom, you invited a complete stranger to live in our apartment. Without telling me."

"The regional education board contacted me directly. They're offering a very generous stipend for hosting her until she finds permanent accommodation."

"A stipend ?"

"A huge one. It'll cover groceries for the next six months."

Ezume stared at her. "You rented out our spare room for grocery money ?"

"I rented out our spare room to help a young woman in need," Satsuki corrected, her voice still warm but with a faint edge of steel underneath. "The stipend is a bonus. Do you have any idea how much vegetables cost these days ?"

Satsuki placed the bowl of miso soup on the table and pulled out a chair. "Kama, dear, come sit. You must be exhausted after your first day in this school."

Kama slid into the chair with the liquid ease of someone who had been doing this for decades. "Exhausted doesn't even begin to cover it. But it's the good kind of exhausted, you know ?" She took a spoonful of soup. "Oh, wow. This is really good. Mrs. Iekami, you're an incredible cook."

"Please, call me Satsuki."

"Satsuki. Got it." Another spoonful. "I'm so lucky to have found you two. This is going to be great."

Ezume, who had not moved from the kitchen doorway, watched this exchange with the hollow, thousand-yard stare of a soldier who had just realized the war was already lost. He sat down.

Dinner was a strange, almost surreal affair. Kama ate three bowls of soup, two servings of rice, and a piece of grilled fish that Satsuki had been saving for tomorrow's breakfast. She talked with her mouth full, asked questions about the apartment, complimented the décor, and laughed at Satsuki's jokes with an ease that felt genuinely unforced. Satsuki, for her part, seemed utterly delighted.

But there was something underneath Kama's performance - a restless, almost manic energy that she couldn't quite hide. Her leg bounced under the table. Her eyes flickered around the room, lingering on the walls, the furniture, the curtains. She kept touching things - the edge of the table, the handle of her spoon, the rim of her water glass. As if she were trying to absorb the apartment through her fingertips.

"You're very energetic," Satsuki observed, not unkindly. "Is it always like this ?"

"Only when I'm excited," Kama said. "New places. New people. It's a lot to take in."

After dinner, Kama asked to see her room. Satsuki led her down the hallway to the spare bedroom. Kama stood in the doorway for a moment, her suitcase clutched in one hand, her eyes sweeping across the bare walls and the empty closet.

"Perfect," she said. Then she hurled her suitcase onto the bed, spun on her heel, and bolted down the hallway.

Ezume barely had time to jump out of the way. "What are you- where are you going ?"

Kama didn't answer. She had already ducked into his room and was standing in the center of it, her head swiveling from side to side with the same intense, cataloguing focus.

"Kama !"

"This is your room, I remember !"

"Yes ! Get out !"

"It's so you." She walked over to his desk, picked up the framed photo of his father, studied it for a moment, and set it back down with surprising gentleness. Then, before he could stop her, she threw herself onto his futon. Full body. Arms spread. Legs kicked out. Her ponytail fanned across his pillow.

"Comfortable," she announced. "Five stars."

"Get OFF my bed !"

She rolled onto her side and propped her head up on one hand, grinning at him. "Make me."

He couldn't make her. She was at least an athlete, after all. And she was staring up at him from his own futon with that sharp, knowing smile, her blonde hair spread across his pillow. He felt his face heat and turned away quickly.

"Fine. Five seconds. Then you leave."

"Generous."

She stretched out, her arms reaching toward the headboard, her spine arching like a cat's. Every movement was slow and deliberate. And he was watching. He couldn't help it.

She's doing this on purpose. She's absolutely doing this on purpose. Sato was right. She's into me. She's been into me from the start.

"Time's up," he said, his voice tighter than he'd intended. "Get out."

Kama sighed, long and theatrical. "Fine, fine." She rolled off the futon and paused in the doorway, inches from him, close enough that he could smell her perfume. 

She brushed past him and skipped back toward the living room. Ezume stood in the doorway, his heart hammering.

She's obsessed with me. That's what this is. She broke into my apartment, she enrolled in my school, she moved into my spare room, and now she's lying on my bed. This is proof.

Satsuki found them in the living room a few minutes later. Kama was examining the bookshelf with intense focus. Ezume was standing nearby, his arms crossed, his expression wary.

"You're certainly full of energy," Satsuki said, smiling at Kama. "It's lovely to see."

"She's always like this," Ezume muttered. "It's exhausting."

"It's endearing," Satsuki corrected. "You could learn a thing or two from her."

"I could learn how to be annoying ?"

"You could learn how to be enthusiastic."

"I'm enthusiastic about plenty of things.Like a dinner, or the statistical probability of extraterrestrial life."

Satsuki patted his cheek. "That's nice, sweetheart."

Kama turned away from the bookshelf, her expression shifting into something mischievous. She stepped closer to Ezume, her head tilted, her eyes sparkling. "You know, your mom's right. You should be more enthusiastic. About me."

"I'm enthusiastically counting the days until you leave."

"That's not enthusiasm. That's just mean."

Satsuki laughed. "You two are already bickering like an old married couple. It's adorable."

Ezume went rigid. "We are not- we are nothing like-"

And then Kama moved. She stepped around him, positioned herself directly in front of Satsuki, and assumed an expression of theatrical innocence. "Oh, did he not tell you ?"

"Tell me what ?"

"About us." She gestured vaguely between herself and Ezume, her smile turning shy. "Our relationship."

Ezume's brain stopped. "What."

Satsuki's eyes widened. "Relationship ? What relationship ?"

Kama turned to Ezume, her eyes wide and pleading, her lips trembling with suppressed laughter. "Ezume," she said, her voice dripping with mock hurt. "You didn't tell your own mother ? After everything we talked about ?" She put a hand over her heart. "I'm wounded. Genuinely wounded."

"There were no talks ! There was one night !"

Kama ignored him completely. She turned back to Satsuki, her expression shifting into something that looked disturbingly like genuine affection. "We've been seeing each other for a little while now. It's still new. We weren't sure how to tell you." She reached out and took Ezume's hand - his actual hand, her fingers interlacing with his - and squeezed.

Satsuki looked from Kama to Ezume, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face. "Ezume. Is this true ?"

"No!"

"Yes," Kama said, at exactly the same moment. She squeezed his hand again, harder this time, and leaned into his shoulder. "He's just shy. You know how he is. Doesn't like to talk about his feelings."

"I am not shy."

"He calls me his little cryptid."

"I have NEVER called you that !"

Satsuki clapped her hands together. "This is wonderful ! Such a lovely, energetic girl !"

"Mom-"

And then Kama turned to face him. Her expression shifted - still playful, but with something sharper underneath, something almost challenging. She looked him directly in the eyes, and her smile widened, slow and deliberate.

"Ezume," she said, her voice dropping to something intimate and teasing. "Don't you think it's time ?"

He stared at her. "What are you-"

She leaned in. Her free hand came up to touch his cheek, her fingers cool against his burning skin. "Just go with it," she murmured, too low for Satsuki to hear.

And then she kissed him.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't shy. It was a performance - deliberate, theatrical, aimed squarely at Satsuki's watching eyes. Her lips pressed against his, warm and soft and entirely unexpected. Ezume's brain, which had been struggling to keep up all evening, finally shut down completely. His arms hung at his sides. His eyes stayed open. His heart slammed against his ribs like a trapped animal.

Kama pulled back, her lips still curved in that sharp, knowing smile. "There," she murmured. "Now she sees it."

Satsuki made a sound that was somewhere between a squeal and a gasp. "Oh, that was so cute ! You two are beautiful together !"

Ezume, who had not moved or spoken or breathed since the kiss began, opened his mouth and produced a single, strangled syllable: "What."

Kama patted his cheek. "You're adorable when you're flustered."

She turned away from him, already moving on, already laughing at something Satsuki was saying. Ezume stood frozen in the middle of the living room, one hand raised to his lips, his brain struggling to reboot.

She kissed me. In front of my mother. She held my hand and she called me a sweetheart and she kissed me.

He remembered Sato's words from the first night. Has it occurred to you that this girl might just be really, really into you ?

And then, today at lunch: You've got a crush on a weird girl and your brain is doing backflips.

Sato had it wrong. He didn't have a crush on her. But she- she was clearly, obviously, inescapably into him. That was why she'd followed him home. That was why she'd broken into his apartment. That was why she'd enrolled in his school and sat next to him in class and moved into his spare room. That was why she'd held his hand and called him sweetheart in front of his mother.

She was obsessed with him.

And he had no idea what to do about it.

The evening wound down. Satsuki, still beaming, left for her night shift. Kama retreated to her room. Ezume retreated to his.

He sat on his futon, staring at the wall. She'd kissed him. The girl who might or might not be a monster had kissed him in front of his mother. And the worst part - the most confusing, maddening, impossible part - was that he could still feel it. The warmth of her lips. The softness of her hand in his. The way her eyes had sparkled when she leaned into his shoulder.

She's into me. She's completely into me. This is confirmation. This is evidence.

His phone buzzed. A text from Sato: Kama just posted she's your roomie now ?

Ezume stared at the screen. Then he typed: You were right.

About ?

About her. She's definitely into me.

The reply came almost instantly: I KNOW RIGHT ??? Told you. She broke into your apartment. She followed you to school. She moved into your spare room. Girls don't do that unless they're OBSESSED. You're being hunted, bro.

Hunted. That was one word for it. He set his phone aside and lay back on his futon.

Kama waited until the apartment was silent. Then she waited another hour.

She crept down the hallway, bare feet silent on the floorboards. She'd failed twice already. The first time, he'd still been awake, muttering to himself. The second time, he'd nearly caught her in the hallway. But this time - this time he was sleeping. Deeply. Soundly.

She knelt beside his futon. The mask materialized on the left side of her face - bone-white, cracked, the red ember in its socket flaring to life. Her claws extended. Her teeth sharpened. The energy radiating from his sleeping body was incredible - bright and clean and impossibly pure. It was everywhere in this apartment. But here, close to him, it was concentrated. Potent. Almost overwhelming.

She leaned in. Her mouth opened. And she took a bite.

Not of flesh. Of dreams. A long, deep, hungry bite of the energy that swirled around him like an aura, invisible to human eyes but blazing to hers. It flooded her senses - warm and sweet and impossibly rich, the taste of sunlight and open skies and something deeper, something she couldn't name.

She straightened up, her body trembling. The pleasure was so intense she had to press both hands over her mouth to keep from screaming. Her eyes rolled back. Her claws dug into her palms. The red ember in her mask's socket blazed white-hot for a single, shuddering moment, and then slowly, gradually, dimmed back to its usual smolder.

She stayed there, kneeling beside his futon, for a long, breathless moment. Then, on unsteady legs, she rose and crept back to her room. She collapsed onto her own futon, her mask retracting, her claws receding, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of the feeding.

That was... that was incredible. That was the best thing I've ever tasted.

She didn't finish the thought. Sleep took her, sudden and deep.

SEE YOU FOR CHAPTER 21...