I have an unlimited number of shikigami

With nothing to do, Fujiwara Izaya strolled over to the kitchen door to watch her cook.

Under the soft orange light, her silhouette appeared before my eyes like a hazy phantom. I could hear the gentle, crisp sound of utensils being picked up and the bubbling of water in the pot, and suddenly I felt sleepy.

"Ah~"

Fujiwara Izaya yawned.

"Would you like some soup first?" Yukino Riho asked, turning around at the sound of movement, her posture exceptionally beautiful.

Fujiwara Izaya looked at the steaming pot lid: "Is it cooked?"

"It should be ready soon, just wait a moment..." Yukino Riho lifted the pot lid, scooped out a little with a spoon to taste it, and a relieved smile bloomed on her face.

It seems she wasn't very confident she could cook this soup well to begin with.

Fujiwara Izaya walked into the kitchen, took the bowl she handed him, and saw dark green seaweed, resembling wakame, floating in the translucent broth. He resolutely took a small sip; the soft, thick seaweed clung to his tongue, and surprisingly, it tasted alright.

"It tastes great, doesn't it!"

Yukino Riho boasted that she would also pick up her bowl.

She took a small sip, put down her bowl, and continued cooking, making omelet rice. She used chicken fried rice as a base, and found a jar of pickled olives in the seasonings, sliced ​​them, and mixed them into the lettuce to make a side salad. The small kitchen was filled with the aroma of cooking.

Fujiwara Izaya watched calmly, feeling a long-lost sense of home.

Dinner was ready, and the two sat around a small table on the tatami mat, enjoying two steaming hot omelet rice dishes and a bottle of juice.

"Please try my cooking," said Yukino Riho and Shintaka Ayaretsu.

Fujiwara Izaya clasped his hands together in thanks and said, "I'll begin."

Scoop up a spoonful of the fragrant omelet rice and put it in your mouth.

"Cut!"

The sound of an eggshell breaking.

"..." The smile on Yukino Riho's face vanished instantly, like water seeping into sand.

"It's alright," Fujiwara Izaya said while chewing, "At least the taste is fairly accurate, and nothing weird was added."

"Woo~"

Yukino Riho let out a kitten-like groan, her slender hands covering her face, her shoulders trembling slightly.

"Shouldn't you ask me to pour you a drink?" Fujiwara Ryaya said, trying to ease her embarrassment.

"Um……"

Yukino Riho let go of his hand and leaned her head against him as she poured him juice.

The dim light couldn't illuminate her downcast face, but Fujiwara Izaya thought that her pretty face must be charmingly red at that moment.

"Do you have ketchup?" he asked.

"Yes, I'll go get it for you right away." Yukino Riho stood up with her head down and ran towards the kitchen, only to bump her head into the door.

"Ouch~"

"Ha ha……"

Fujiwara Izaya laughed happily.

Infected by her, Yukino Riho couldn't help but smile, and the awkwardness in her heart dissipated.

After bringing the ketchup over, the two sat down again across a small table made of wooden planks. Fujiwara Rin thoughtfully reminded her, "Be careful when you eat it; there might be a lot of eggshells mixed in."

"Ugh," Yukino Riho glared at him, "Don't make fun of me like that!"

“The taste is still quite good,” Fujiwara Izaya replied with a smile. “Aside from being a little hard to swallow, there are no other drawbacks.”

"It doesn't matter, my main strength isn't cooking anyway," Yukino Riho retorted nonchalantly, taking a bite of her omelet rice. A little sauce accidentally got on her lips, which she promptly licked off with her pink tongue.

A damp breeze blew in through the window, warmer than a May breeze.

The air in the room was as sticky as soup, clinging to the two of them, and smelled sweet.

"Where is Ms. Yukino from?"

"Hokkaido, and you?"

"I'm from Nagano Prefecture." Fujiwara Izaya asked her, sipping his juice, "Do you grow potatoes at home?"

"Why do people in Hokkaido grow potatoes in their homes?" Yukino Riho asked, puzzled.

“It’s a preconceived notion,” Fujiwara Izaya said with a laugh. “Like when people mention going to Siberia, their first reaction is to dig potatoes or plant corn.”

"?"

Yukino Riho blinked, her face full of confusion.

"It's too much to ask you to understand this."

"Ha! You're indirectly calling me stupid again."

Fujiwara Izaya said arrogantly, "That's right!"

"You're so mean!" Yukino Riho's fair, oval face gradually flushed red, even her slender neck turning crimson. She clenched her left fist and pounded it on the table. "Fujiwara-kun is awful! Your attitude is completely inappropriate! I'm not stupid, I just didn't know!!!"

Her genuine protest was so adorable, it made Fujiwara Izaya burst into laughter.

After dinner, and after cleaning up the dishes, Yukino Riho boiled a kettle of water and gently poured the hot water onto the coffee powder. The powder slowly expanded and released its aroma.

Fujiwara Izaya sat on the floor in front of the balcony, looking outside.

The rain was still heavy, as if the moisture that had been accumulating for half a year was being released. The outside was shrouded in mist and rain, and nothing could be seen except for the flashing red warning lights.

Looking back, I saw Yukino Riho carrying two cups of coffee, a smile on her face. The soft, muffled sound of her bare feet gliding across the ground sounded like the sound of water.

Yukino Riho handed him the coffee, biting her lip slightly, and asked, "Fujiwara-kun, could you stay here?"

"Why?" Fujiwara Izaya looked into her eyes. "Don't you know there's a difference between men and women?"

"I don't know." Yukino Riho lowered her head, her eyes looking at the coffee cup. "I'm not a stupid woman, how could I possibly answer such a question?"

"Can I give you a piece of advice?"

"please."

"You'll suffer if you don't change!"

"Perhaps." Yukino Riho smiled.

She knew that this relationship would end soon, but she was happier than ever before. Even her originally cold fingers and toes were warm, and her lips were always smiling because of joy and happiness.

"This is difficult," Fujiwara Izaya said, scratching his head.

“It’s not difficult.” Yukino Riho chuckled, gazing out the window as if deep in thought. “I often think, how wonderful it would be if I could live without causing trouble for anyone. Do you think that’s possible?”

"Well..."

"Oh, am I causing you trouble?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It doesn't matter now?"

"Of course it doesn't matter." Fujiwara Izaya finished his coffee in one gulp, thinking to himself, "Fine, I'll stay. At worst, I'll call Dark Crow back tomorrow and have him guard this place 24/7 to protect the stupid woman's safety."

"Thank you!"

Yukino Riho smiled happily, her lips gently closing.

Her self-trimmed bangs seemed to tremble slightly unintentionally, appearing somewhat constrained, yet beautiful—the kind of beauty that could directly touch the most sensitive part of the other person's heart.

From that day on, Fujiwara Izaya temporarily stayed at the [Lemon] bakery.

After putting away his two suitcases and taking a shower, he stared at the unfamiliar ceiling in the unfamiliar room and thought about his childhood. He was less than a year old then, full of energy, and always had trouble sleeping at night, refusing to sleep with his parents. His parents, worried about him sleeping alone, asked his aunt, who was still in elementary school at the time, to come and stay with him until she reached high school age and returned to Tokyo to attend high school.

Lying in his aunt's arms, Fujiwara Izaya stared blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling like this.

Later, after he became close to his aunt, he was able to comfortably fall asleep in that little girl's arms, and he slept there for almost eight years... I wonder what it would feel like to be held by his aunt to sleep now. It must be nice, after all, the little girl from back then has grown into a beautiful 25-year-old woman.

Stop!

Why think about that?

Fujiwara Izaya lay on the magazine bed, continuing to read "The Spanish Civil War".

Reading books you love when you feel like it is an incredibly pleasant experience. How long this time will last is unknown, but it will likely end soon. Before it ends, enjoy it to the fullest.

As the night deepened, the lights gradually thinned out, until only streetlights and neon lights remained. In his dream, he became a huge crow, severely wounded, with a patch of blood that was turning black on his feathers, and a faint smell of blood lingered around him.

※※※※※

On the first day after the holiday, Kitahara Takaki brought over the construction blueprints for the shrine.

The project was sent to the Bureau of Onmyōryō for approval. With the order from Chairman Kasahara, the approval process went smoothly and was completed in less than three days. Despite the light rain that had been falling all week, the reconstruction of the shrine proceeded in full swing on May 10th.

Fujiwara Izaya goes to school during the day, goes to the construction site for a stroll in the evening, and goes back to the shop to sleep at night.

For reasons unknown, Yukino Riho suddenly decided to take care of him. Unfortunately, her cooking was rather unpalatable, so Fujiwara Izaya had to secretly eat out before going home. However, it was nice to have a woman help with the laundry. There was no washing machine in the house, and sometimes when he lay on the sofa reading, he would glance up at the balcony and see her squatting there washing clothes. These were the happiest moments of his day.

As for how long they planned to stay, neither of them mentioned it.

But to be fair, she's still quite stupid.

When they watched the news together on the sofa, Fujiwara Rinya would spend a lot of time explaining to him where Myanmar was, where Australia was, why there were so many Southeast Asians illegally staying in Japan, and why talking about Russia inevitably involved mentioning brown bears...

After living there for half a month, Fujiwara Izaya had become familiar with the small building and no longer suffered from insomnia at night.

Every small piece of furniture began to smell of him: the alarm clock by the pillow, the curtains hanging in the window, the black telephone on the coffee table, the photographs on the calendar, the stockings she had taken off on the floor, and the glass she used to drink water.

Life went on peacefully, and the new worship hall of the shrine was slowly rising from the ground, with no one coming to cause any damage.

Fujiwara Rinya found it strange.

Kawashima Miki, that woman, suddenly seemed to have forgotten about him, and there had been no contact with him for half a month. She didn't reply to any of his calls or messages, and even when he went to the Empress Bathhouse, he was stopped by security guards and not allowed to enter.

Did she give up?

Fujiwara Izaya believes that it is not impossible.

But can you just give up on something like this? I still need to awaken the little spider!

August 22th, Saturday.

It was a drizzly morning.