We rode Komachi Onozuka’s skiff across the Sanzu River, a strip of ash threading a barren world.

Drivers are born chatty; ferrymen too, tongues skimming the water like oars.

Komachi pointed at Ling, still asleep in Alicia’s arms, thumb near her lips like a baby chasing the moon.

“Hey, I swear I’ve seen that little girl before,” Komachi said, her voice skipping like pebbles on water.

“Last time she came alone; you weren’t with her,” she added, the words beading like cold dew.

Guilt rose first, heavy as silt. So the little one had braved the Underworld alone for me.

Honestly… I owe you too much; you’re a tide no one can walk away from.

Even so, I wanted to stay by Ling, a quiet vow like a lantern in fog. I’m a Yokai now, with years like pine rings to spare.

Jingle-jingle—

While I drifted in thought, the skiff kissed the bank, and the bell reeled me back like a tug on a line.

“We’re here, miss,” Komachi said, words easy as a lazy current. “If you want back, go through that door, the one for lost souls.”

“It was set by the Yama King three reigns ago,” she went on, a tour guide patter like braided rope. “It’ll return you to where you came in.”

“It hasn’t been used in a while though,” she added, scratching her head like a sparrow. “It should still work, right?”

“Stuff from the Yama Hall doesn’t rust after a few centuries,” she laughed, the sound thin as paper. “Even worst case, you won’t get hung in a spatial tear… probably…”

Really? That’s the kind of safety briefing that deserves a black flag; my patience fluttered like a torn banner. Tourists dying would thin your crowd like winter reeds.

I shelved that route, my annoyance curling like smoke. I lifted my head to ask for another way.

Komachi yawned, a cat stretching in sun, and shuffled back onto the boat.

“Don’t bother me for a bit,” she mumbled, light as dandelion fluff. “I need a nap to get my strength back. Totally not slacking, so don’t tell Eiki…”

She flopped down, and in a blink the boat breathed with even sleep, a tide of soft sound.

I gave the unreliable reaper a silent one-star review, then faced the door, violet light pulsing like a heartbeat.

Obsidian ringed the glow like a moon gate, dark and smooth as deep water.

Unused for centuries, yet the frame looked new, like skin without scars.

Probably fine, I told myself, the thought fragile as thin ice.

I picked up a stone, gray as a low cloud, and pushed it into the purple swirl.

I pulled it back; no mark, no scorch, like nothing had happened.

Safety confirmed, I let out a long breath like mist. I hugged Ling tight and stepped through without hesitation, as if diving into dusk.

—The Living World—

Perched atop Aer’s head, Lian sprawled like a bored cat and watched the empty air like blank paper.

“Hey, Aer, how long do we have to wait?” Lian asked, tugging like a child at a sleeve. “Ling’s been gone a day already…”

Aer closed a book from nowhere and patted Lian’s head, smoothing ruffled feathers. “No rush,” she said, steady as stone. “They’re back.”

At that, Lian lit up, eyes scattering like sparks, and scanned the surroundings. “Where? Where?”

Aer pointed ahead; violet motes gathered like fireflies in a jar. “Here,” she said, her fingertip drawing a line in air.

A door ringed in obsidian rose like a standing tide, and Alicia stepped out from its heart.

Seeing Aer waiting, Alicia blinked, surprise rippling like fish in a pond. “Uh… why are you two here?”

Aer ignored the question and stepped close, her gaze fixing to Alicia’s like a needle to a compass. She stared until Alicia squirmed, then let her eyes drift like a falling leaf.

“Looks like you turned Yokai,” she said, simple as rain.

Alicia edged back half a step, shock pricking like cold pins at how easily Aer saw it.

Aer didn’t mind the retreat; she leaned in, bold as a hawk. Good thing Alicia held Ling, or that closeness would spark rumors like dry straw.

“I didn’t mean to spook you,” Aer said, breath calm as dusk. “I know a Yokai’s scent like I know storm air.”

“I don’t hate Yokai; frankly, we’re both Yokai, so it’s familiar,” she added, her words settling like dust.

She pulled a strange white thing from her breast, pale as bone, and pressed it to Alicia’s chest without asking.

Before Alicia could react, it slipped under the skin like snow into water and vanished.

Alicia stared at her chest, nerves tight as harp strings, unsure if that was a gift or a knife.

“Relax,” Aer said, cool as spring shade. “It won’t harm you. You’ll know what it’s for when the moment needs it, like a key to a lock.”

Alicia puffed her cheeks, anger steaming like a kettle at Aer’s lack of guilt. She pushed her face within a handspan, trying to interrogate with silence like a lantern’s glare.

Yet another detail picked her pocket of attention. Her old top-down gaze had leveled.

She’d shrunk a hand’s breadth, now eye to eye with Aer, matched like twin reeds.

The sudden change thumped her pride, a dull stone dropped in the chest.

Aer had no time to watch a redhead stage gloom; she turned the talk like a blade. “Since you accepted my thing, give me Ling in your arms as equal exchange.”