Sendai, noon.
The June sun was bright enough to sting. Kenjaku and Kashimo walked side by side, a study in contrasts. One was perfectly composed, while the other scanned his surroundings like a country relative visiting the city for the first ti.
The night before had ended in Kenjaku's total surrender. She'd rented an apartnt for Kashimo, paying the deposit and the first month's rent without blinking. Of course, she'd spent the entire ti complaining about having to clean up after him for four centuries, but the money had been spent nonetheless. Now, she was taking him out for clothes. The sorcerer Kashimo had inhabited was dressed in rags that looked like they belonged in the Showa era.
"So," Kenjaku said, her hands in her jacket pockets. She scanned the storefronts with a lazy gaze. "How did you know I'd still be around in this era?"
She asked it casually. Kashimo was busy staring at a television in a shop window, watching a program he didn't quite understand. He pulled his gaze away and gave a small shrug.
"I guessed."
He sounded entirely too proud of himself. Kenjaku paused, looking at him with an expression that clearly said she wasn't amused. Kashimo ignored her and added another thought.
"And why aren't you using honorifics with ?"
He looked down at her with his blue eyes, his tone carrying a hint of genuine offense. He seed to have completely forgotten that he'd just asked her for rent money the previous night.
Kenjaku stopped walking. She looked up at him with Kaori's face, her lips curling into a smile that wasn't a smile. It was a warning.
"Excuse ?" she asked, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "You're a freeloader, and you're demanding respect?" She took a step toward him. "Keep it up and I'll cancel your lease."
Kashimo opened his mouth, then thought better of it. He stared at her for two seconds before deciding to shut up. He turned his head away, suddenly finding a takoyaki stand across the street very interesting.
Kenjaku let out a small, satisfied huff and resud walking. Kashimo followed behind her, his tall fra looking uncharacteristically sheepish.
"The Six Eyes is active in this era," Kenjaku said, her voice carrying a weight of hidden aning. "He might be even stronger than the one you killed."
Kashimo was busy watching a crepe stand and didn't even look at her. "I know. Tengen, the Star Plasma Vessel, and the Six Eyes. They're a set, aren't they?"
Kenjaku slowed down, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized him. "How do you know that?"
Kashimo finally looked away from the crepes and t her gaze. He gave her a smug, annoying grin. "I guessed."
Kenjaku's expression froze. Her face went through a series of shifts. From calm, to elegant, to profoundly irritated. Kashimo was already walking ahead of her, his teal hair bright in the sunlight.
"Hey," Kenjaku called out, catching up to him. "Did you really just guess?"
"Yep."
"You're lying."
"Believe what you want."
"What did you even do in that spirit realm for four hundred years? Did you just practice how to annoy people?"
Kashimo didn't answer, but his grin widened. The violet marks at the corners of his eyes shimred in the light, making his blue eyes look even more brilliant. Kenjaku watched him for a mont before letting out a weary sigh and following him into the mall.
***
The air conditioning inside the mall was a blessing, washing away the June heat with a cool, scented breeze. Kashimo let out a long breath, finally feeling so relief. His stolen body's clothes were thick and stifling, and he'd been on the verge of losing his temper with the heat.
His relief was short-lived as Kenjaku dragged him toward the n's section.
"Pick sothing," she said, releasing his arm. She scanned the racks with an impatient eye. "I have things to do."
Kashimo scratched his head. He stood in the middle of the aisle, looking at rows of shirts, T-shirts, and jackets. He had no idea what he was looking at.
The truth was, he didn't have a clue about fashion. In his previous life, his wardrobe had consisted of a few plain shirts and two pairs of pants. He wore them until they fell apart and then bought the sa thing again. When you have terminal cancer, what you wear to the hospital doesn't really matter.
Kenjaku watched him for a few seconds. When she saw him staring blankly at a rack of sweaters, she realized the situation. She let out a heavy, defeated sigh.
"Forget it. I'll do it."
She moved toward the racks with clinical precision. She checked colors, fabrics, and cuts. Occasionally she would pull an item and hold it up to Kashimo, only to shake her head and put it back.
Kashimo just stood there with his hands in his pockets, yawning.
Eventually, a dozen items were piled on the counter. The sales clerk smiled politely at Kenjaku, her hand hovering over the register.
"Will this be all, ma'am?"
Kenjaku looked at the pile, then at the rest of the store. "No." She paused. "I don't want those. I'll take everything else on that rack."
The clerk's smile faltered. "I... I'll go get the manager."
Kenjaku clicked her tongue. "So much trouble."
A few minutes later, a portly manager arrived, looking between the pile of rejected clothes and Kenjaku's bored expression. His professional smile was perfectly in place.
"How will you be paying today, ma'am?"
Kenjaku pulled a card from her pocket, holding it between two fingers. She snapped it onto the counter.
"Charge it to the card."
The manager took the card with a bow and began the transaction. Kashimo stood to the side, his blue eyes squinting at her back. He wondered where she got the money. He decided it was probably better not to ask. He didn't want to be called a freeloader again.
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A/n: 200 power stones = 1 bonus chapter. Thanks in advance to everyone for the support.
For early access to 15 chapters ahead: p@tre~~/Demonic_Fiction (Link is in the synopsis and my profile).
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