The young man laid still upon the matted floor, his only sources of warmth being the thin blanket covering his body and the pillow supporting his head. All color had left his lips, and as Kumiko knelt by his side, the sight almost broke her heart.

"Ichiro, are you alright? Say something, please..."

He opened his eyes and gave her a weak smile.

"I...I'm fine. It's just that I'm so tired..."

"I can see that. But you'll get better. I'll make sure of it..."

He sighed and gazed up at the ceiling as if he was afraid to look at her. Silence fell, and she didn't know how much time had passed when he spoke again.

"Kumiko..."

"Yes?"

"I don't want to die. There's so much we haven't done. So much I haven't seen..."

******

Those words refused to leave Kumiko's mind even as she tried to distract herself by cleaning the bathroom floor. She knew full well that her careless actions had sealed Ichiro's fate and that of a handful of other people, but for what? So that she could satisfy her sexual hunger?

During that period, her behavior had always been a source of shame. Despite her powers, emotions had still held much sway over her actions. She'd been most taken by the handsome young man traveling alone in the forest, and, out of a desire to have him, she'd been more than ready to destroy anything or anyone that stood in her way.

And destroy she did. The gang of bandits that had targeted Ichiro quickly earned her animosity, so she'd wasted no time in subjecting them to horrific and painful deaths. Afterward, she'd located his unconscious body and carried him off to tend to his wounds.

They had then journeyed back to his hometown, where she learned from his merchant parents that nobody had yet been willing to offer their daughters to him. The knowledge gave her relief, but at the same time, she felt confused as to why he was being passed over in favor of plainer men.

It turned out that despite being reasonably well-off, they were considered new to the area, and as a result, the other merchant families in the area still regarded them with a level of distrust.

As she had no family of her own, the so-called wedding banquet amounted to a dinner with only Ichiro and his parents, during which they made it no secret that they were to produce children as soon as possible.

She eventually fell pregnant, and although the pain had sometimes been intense, the future seemed bright overall. She'd thrown herself into being a dutiful wife and daughter-in-law while hardly dwelling on what would happen when she outlived her new family.

I'll think about it tomorrow. There's plenty of work to do today, she had told herself each time the dilemma arose, until the day when both of Ichiro's parents fell deathly ill in quick succession.

Ichiro himself followed suit shortly afterward, and when the local physician couldn't find any cure, she realized that the problem was a supernatural one. So the physician recommended that she seek a priest or priestess who could cleanse the house of evil spirits.

However, she feared that such a person would also discover her secret and subject her to a torturous end like what had befallen the famed Tamamo-no-Mae, who had been cruelly hunted down and spent her final years trapped within a stone.

Feeling torn between preserving her own well-being and saving her family's lives, she searched desperately for a remedy as their conditions rapidly worsened.

Ichiro's parents both passed away within a matter of days, and she was only barely able to carry out the funerary rituals alongside taking care of him.

Only when his health had deteriorated to the point that he could no longer eat or drink did she find the courage to act selflessly. She went out to seek the help of a priest, but by then, it was too late. Ichiro must have sensed his imminent death because rather than continue holding on, he'd used his last strength to call for her and ask that she stay close.

He'd stared at her feverishly, terrified of his impending death, and she had tried her all to offer him comfort. Finally, after several agonizing moments, his breath faltered, and he passed away right in front of her eyes. The suddenness of it all left her paralyzed, and she'd simply stared at his lifeless face until a mysterious entity revealed itself.

It had taken her a long while to recognize that face as belonging to one of the bandits who she'd slain two years earlier without remorse. He'd regarded her with a cruel sneer, then said the words that had finally made her scream in anguish.

"You brought this upon yourself, whore. Feels bad, doesn't it?"

******

Kumiko sought to distract herself from the unwelcome recollections by turning on the radio and listening to music while she continued her chore. However, she first had to endure a long commercial break during which various speakers cheerfully reminded her to buy Valentine's gifts for the special someone in her life.

It felt unnerving to hear one sentimental love song being played after another until the next interval. They seemed to be taking a heavy-handed approach this year, and it was almost as if they were mocking her perpetual singlehood.

A radio presenter couldn't possibly know about her nonexistent love life, so she concluded that they were trying to set a more zealously romantic mood than usual.

Still, she didn't like to be reminded of her own loneliness. She placed her spray bottle and cloth by the sink, then opted to change the station to one that was less entertaining and more informative.

The minutes slipped by, and she became so focused on making everything spotless that she stopped paying attention to the man reporting current events. She figured that nothing he said would be noteworthy, but she was proven wrong when she eventually finished and caught wind of the news that a thirty-eight-year-old salaryman had gone missing, leaving behind only his abandoned Toyota Camry.

She listened intently because disappearances were rare, even in a vast city such as Tokyo. The newscaster summarized the man's appearance and background before urging witnesses to come forward with information soon.

With what little Kumiko knew about him, she guessed that the missing man must have gone somewhere secluded to take his own life. The facts seemed to support such an explanation, and she was well aware of how hopeless someone could feel after losing both their spouse and child.

It was enough to make one believe that life was meaningless and want nothing more than to be alone in their misery, which was consistent with Mr. Higuchi becoming increasingly distant with his colleagues in the days leading up to his disappearance.

She didn't really know him as a person, but she could relate to what he had gone through. As a result, she sincerely hoped that they would find him soon, and if circumstances were fortunate, he'd be alive and well.

She turned off the radio, deciding that she'd heard enough for the time being. Then, after putting away her cleaning equipment, she thought about the next thing that needed doing. She had a fortnight's worth of clothes to wash, and since there wasn't a laundry machine in her apartment, she would have to make the trip to the laundromat one block away.

Ten minutes later, she carried a basket down the stairs toward the first floor. The absence of Mr. Kimura brought her much relief, and she soon walked out onto the street in higher spirits than before.

Traffic was much quieter than usual on Sunday afternoons, and everyone she encountered on the way appeared to be moving along at a leisurely pace. Of course, she couldn't blame anyone for wanting to take things easy at the end of a busy week, so she also slowed her pace to avoid bumping into those around her.

Not another person was in sight when she passed through the automatic door and entered the laundromat to do her business. A line of machines was by each wall, and she picked the one on her left.

She placed her basket on the floor before loading her clothes into the machine and calculating how much detergent would be necessary to ensure they smelled fresh.

She had a medium load, which meant that half a cup would probably suffice. After acquiring the proper amount, she shut the door, adjusted the machine's settings, and let it roar into life.

It was oddly satisfying to watch her clothes spin around while the machine produced an inaudible hum. A smile formed on Kumiko's face, and she indulged herself until a loud and unexpected banging disrupted her peace of mind. She turned to face the sound's direction, and a gasp escaped her lips.

The man throwing himself against the window looked somewhat disheveled, yet his black suit and tie showed that he had to be a white-collar worker. Whatever event had contributed to his messy appearance and inability to use a door, Kumiko could see from the terror in his eyes that he was in a lot of distress and needed help fast.

She rushed outside and shouted to get his attention.

"Mister, are you okay?!"

He stiffened while pressing his hands against the glass, then turned his head slowly to face her with bloodshot eyes and ragged breath.

"Help...help me please..." he rasped, separating himself from the window and taking a single step toward her.

Kumiko could only stare at him in pity and confusion before she responded. "Mister, you know that the door is over here, right?"

He lunged straight forward without warning and grabbed the sleeve of her sweater, much to her alarm.

"What are you doing?! Let me go!"

"Akane. Her name's Akane..."

"Huh?"

He opened his mouth as if he intended to say more, but no words came out. Blood trickled from his lips as his eyes glazed over. His grip on her loosened, and he crumpled in a heap on the sidewalk. She gazed warily down at his body, half expecting the entire thing to be some morbid prank. "Mister, can you hear me? Should I get help?"

Seconds went by without him displaying any noticeable movement, so she kneeled down to check if he was alright. The blood seemed to have stopped flowing almost as soon as it had started, and when she waved her hand over his eyes, there were no changes in their position that indicated he could see her.

Realizing that he could be dead, she looked at both sides of the street for people who might assist her. Unfortunately, nobody else was around, which meant that all responsibility lay on her. She squatted by his side and, with hesitation, took his wrist into her hand to feel for a pulse.

She detected one that was slow and faint, signifying that he was alive but unwell. If she called emergency services soon, chances were that paramedics would take him swiftly to hospital, and he'd recover from what had befallen him.

The problem was that going off to find a telephone booth would mean leaving him alone. Somebody had to watch over him, so the best course of action would be to stay put until help arrived.

She noticed the way his chest rose and fell ever so slightly. He was evidently still breathing, albeit with difficulty. Perhaps there was something she could do to relieve his pain.

She had a rudimentary knowledge of pressure points from when she'd trained under the watch of her former mentor and senior kitsune Akiko. As a result, she could confidently say that she had been an attentive student, but the downside was that she'd often used her newfound ability to fight rather than heal.

Still, it was better to try than to do nothing at all. She applied a slight amount of force to the center of his chest as per her memory, only for his right leg to jerk upward. That can't be right...

Apparently, her memory wasn't as reliable as she thought, which meant that waiting was now her only option. She withdrew her hands, and only then did she see the sticky white thread attached to her palm. Ugh, spiders...

She frowned in disgust and picked it off her hand with some difficulty before tossing it to the wind and focusing again on the man lying at her feet.

His driver's license must have fallen out when she'd accidentally caused his leg to jerk because it hadn't been on the pavement earlier. She picked the card up and was about to slip it back into his pocket when the printed name caught her attention. Tsutomu Higuchi?