Shinrabansho: Myriad Souls

Cups of tea steamed gently between them.

Natalia-sama held her cup with both hands, the heated porcelain resting against her palms. The liquid inside shimmered faintly, reflecting light that didn’t come from any single source. The yōkai world never bothered pretending its light obeyed normal rules.

Baku sat opposite her, his posture immaculate, his eyes lowered in deference but not submission. He sipped once before speaking, careful, as though each word he spoke carried its own weight, “Over the last three weeks in the dream world,” he began, “despite her abject despair, Sumire has demonstrated measurable growth. Her strength grows rapidly.”

Natalia-sama’s gaze lifted over the rim of her cup, sharp despite her relaxed posture.

“Tell me more. We haven’t spoken much about what has been happening in the dream for the last three quarters of a day,” she said. “The dream-time should be approaching two months at this point, correct?”

“Yes,” Baku replied smoothly. “Her instincts continue to sharpen. Her body responds with increasing consistency. It knows what to do in combat now. She narrows the gap almost daily.”

He paused, just long enough to suggest thought rather than omission.

“But she has not yet surpassed the skill ceiling imposed by her latent fighting memories.”

Natalia-sama set her cup down with a soft click.

“Then she’s on schedule,” she said. “She may even be ahead. That threshold was never expected to be crossed so quickly.” She tapped the crook of her elbow thoughtfully. “Any time her latent knowledge activates, she turns from a clumsy cub into a lioness.”

“I can see that. She fights with a certain ferocity now on her own,” Baku said, nodding.

Natalia-sama traced the rim of her cup absently. “Have there been any other developments?”

Baku hesitated.

Only for a breath.

“There has been some… potential emotional turbulence,” he said carefully. “Sumire acknowledged—openly—that her sexual preference is directed toward women.”

The corners of Natalia-sama’s lips quirked upward. “I expected no less from her. It would have been curious if she had discovered a taste for men in your dream world.”

Baku laughed lightly, politely. “I see that was not outside your expectations. I keep forgetting your assurances that she was once a man… but I simply cannot see it.”

“Has Sumire been involved with many girls?” Natalia-sama tilted her head.

“Yes. Riko has made some bold overtures. Yuna appears content to restrain herself despite her clear feelings for Sumire. It’s remarkable that the two held back while she was isolated. However despite that,” Baku added, “Sumire’s affections are firmly focused on her teacher, Aoi.”

That did it.

Natalia-sama’s eyebrow rose a fraction, not in surprise per se, but in interest.

“I see,” she said. “And?”

Baku chose his words with surgical precision. “The confession to her parents, and to the whole school, has greatly stabilized them both. It has reduced internal friction and they are far happier for it. Her sense of self-coherence improved afterward.”

Natalia-sama leaned back slightly, amused.

“Have you discovered a taste for drama and romantic developments watching them?” she asked lightly. “Or are you cultivating one?”

Baku inclined his head, a polite deflection.

“My concern is not emotional fulfillment,” he said. “It is causality.”

Natalia-sama smiled into her tea.

“Everything is about causality, Baku.”

She took a sip, then glanced at him over the rim.

“You sound troubled, my friend.”

For the first time, Baku did not immediately respond.

“…Aoi was never designed to develop her own agency as she has,” he said at last. “She was meant to merely be her instructor… a stabilizing construct for that single purpose.”

Natalia-sama’s smile thinned, just slightly.

“And now that has changed?”

“Yes,” Baku said quietly, “she behaves as if she knows things she should not. As if she has her own will.”

The tea between them steamed on.

Natalia-sama studied him for a long moment.

“Dreams are made of memories,” she said finally. “And memories are sometimes stubborn things. Sometimes they resist being told they aren’t real.”

Her eyes softened, not kindly, but knowingly.

“Be careful, Baku. The line between figment and person is thinner than you would like to admit.”

Baku lowered his gaze.

“Yes, Natalia-sama.”

But the unease did not leave him.

Not even when the tea grew cold.

The door to my bedroom closed softly behind us.

CLICK

Late afternoon light slanted in through my window, turning my pink curtains warm and translucent as they drifted lazily in the breeze. A few motes of dust floated through the air, unhurried. The room smelled faintly of freshly washed clothes and something floral, the lingering scent of my rose-scented bodywash, probably.

Aoi-chan paused just inside the doorway.

She didn’t step in right away.

Considering how much time we had already spent here, her sudden shyness surprised me.

Her gaze moved slowly and deliberately, taking in the walls first, the posters layered there like a collage of girlish infatuation and enthusiasm. Idol smiles frozen mid-pose. A magical girl caught forever in a burst of sparkling power. A K-pop group leaping through the air as though gravity could be ignored at will. An aggressively girly room with a large amount of plushies neatly lined up on a shelf.

“…Wow,” she said.

My ears warmed instantly. “What? Is something wrong?”

She hummed, amused, and finally stepped farther in. Her fingers brushed close to one of the posters, not touching it fully, just enough to make the paper crinkle lightly.

“I saw these before, and even slept in this room with you, but honestly, looking around wasn’t on my mind at the time,” she said. Then she smiled and shrugged, clearly holding something back. “But then again…”

“What do you mean?” I muttered.

She laughed quietly. “This room really suits you. The present Sumire-chan, I mean.” Her eyes lingered on the K-pop posters. “Especially this one here.”

Her gaze drifted to my shelf next, the rows of plushies lined up with surprising care. Some were worn from being hugged too much over time. Some were pristine and barely touched. A few leaned against one another.

“Do you sleep with these?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Years ago, I did,” I admitted. “Lately, I just wrap myself around my spare pillow.”

She picked up one of the plushies. It was a small, round one with floppy ears. She squeezed it experimentally.

“Very cute,” she observed, hugging it once before setting it back into its place. She gestured around the room. “So… Do you genuinely like all of this?”

“…Do you think this room reflects who you really are?” she added.

I blinked, confused.

“I don’t really understand what you mean by that. I remember asking Mom to buy some of these plushies. The rest were given by Mom or Dad,” I said slowly. “I’ve collected them ever since I was little like my ribbons. I never got rid of any. Are they annoying to look at?” My eyes drifted back to the posters as I gestured. “This group here… the way Han Seoryeon dances, she really entranced me when I first saw her perform in a video a few years ago.”

Aoi smiled at me, her eyes warm, her lips curving slightly at the corners with a touch of amusement.

“You’re the perfect picture of an adorable schoolgirl, Susu. I don’t find any of that annoying. It just makes me love you a little more.”

I blushed. “…Thanks. I…” I gasped, flustered. “So you like feminine girls most?”

“Not necessarily. I don’t hate them. If you were boyish and loved sentai and dirty mags, I wouldn’t mind that either,” Aoi said, smiling.

“I see…” I giggled. “Then I guess I can just be who I am with you without worrying.”

“Exactly. I love you regardless of what you look like, act like, or seem like, Susu.” Aoi winked as she moved to the desk, scanning the bottles and clips scattered there. Her fingers hovered over a star-shaped hairpin before she picked it up, turning it slowly in her hands. “You clearly take good care of yourself and your room,” she said. “I’ve never seen you wear these before.”

“Do you want to see how they look in my hair or try some on?” I asked softly.

“Someday, maybe.” Aoi opened the drawer, discovering my collection of ribbons, the small amount of makeup I owned, brushes, and assorted accessories. “Adorable.”

I shrugged, suddenly shy. “I guess that’s just… me.”

“Is all this really you?” she asked again gently, smiling. “Or is it just what the world told you that you should be?”

I frowned. “The way you say that makes me think you really don’t like this side of me… like there’s something wrong with me.” I chewed my lip, my eyes misting.

Aoi set the hairpin back exactly where it had been, as though my room were something sacred. Then her attention drifted to the bed.

“No,” she said softly. “As I said, I do like who you are. I just didn’t expect you to embrace all this so fully.” She crossed the room toward it. “It’s strange… you’re exactly what I wished for.”

My sheets and blankets were neatly pulled up, pale and soft, the pillow slightly indented from the last time we’d used it. Sunlight caught in the folds of the blanket, making it look especially inviting after a long day of school, training, volleyball, rehearsals, and pedaling my bike.

I watched her slow there.

“…What do you mean by what you wished for?”

She stopped beside the bed, her hands resting behind her skirt, her expression thoughtful. Then she leaned down just slightly to press her face briefly into the pillow and inhaled.

She was quick and casual about sniffing my bed.

“Your bed still smells like you, even though we both slept here together the other night,” she said softly. After a moment, she added,

“The bodywash we both love… our scents mix like our hearts and souls. When it comes to your scent, it’s special. Rose… and something much sweeter underneath.”

My brain short-circuited.

DOKI—DOKI

“A-Aoi-chan!” I squeaked, my face blazing. “H-how can you pick out my scent like that?!”

She straightened, utterly unapologetic, her eyes dancing.

“You sniffed my bed too, remember? That was a little embarrassing for me too.”

I nodded, mortified. “I just couldn’t help myself… I just didn’t think you would want to do it too… It was just a perverted thought…”

“I love you that much too, Sumire-chan.”

She crossed back to me, getting close enough that I could feel her warmth. Her fingers slid gently around my wrists, raising them above my head as she pushed me against the door, gazing right into my face.

“I wonder if…” she murmured, trailing off.

“I wonder if kami made you just for me. My lovely Sumire… my wife.”

DOKI—DOKI

I swallowed hard. “…Yes.”

She pressed me slowly against the bedroom door and leaned forward, brushing her lips against mine. “My wife…” She breathed.

We listened for movement on the other side of the door, but the house stayed quiet.

“Mmm… I wish this could go on forever, Susu,” Aoi said softly.

“Me too. I love being your wife…” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes. “I want to be with you forever like this.”

Later on after we tidied up, Mom saw us to the front door, not looking any different from usual.

She gently pressed two fingers against Aoi-chan’s arm, her smile warm and earnest. “Make sure you two show up every morning,” she said. “I’ll make sure you’re fed properly until you can fully support yourselves. You’re always free to join us for dinner. Any time.”

Aoi straightened a little, clearly touched. “Thank you. I will.”

A little flutter stirred in my chest. Mom was helping us however she could, even if she’d implied she believed this might just be a passing phase… our love.

Outside, the air had cooled. The sky was slipping toward evening, the light softer now, the streets quieter than they’d been earlier.

Aoi took control of my bike this time.

I climbed onto the rear bolts, my legs a little weak as I wrapped my arms around her waist, resting my cheek lightly against hers and my chin against her shoulder. She pushed off smoothly, pedaling with the same easy, steady rhythm.

Streetlights passed us in a gentle blur. Lit homes, dim familiar sights in the twilight, little landmarks that felt like I’d known them forever.

It wasn’t our kissing in my bedroom that occupied my thoughts.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said.

Do you think this room reflects who you really are?

I wonder if kami made you just for me.

My lovely Sumire… my wife.

My face warmed again, remembering everything. My heart fluttered, but beneath it, something else stirred. Something that wasn’t as simple.

Aoi loved everything about me… and yet she questioned it all at the same time.

Her acceptance should have felt perfect.

Instead, it made me feel off.

It was like she saw all of me, every bit of softness, every contradiction, and loved me so completely that I didn’t know where I ended and her vision of me began.

How was that even possible?

My arms tightened around her just a little.

“Aoi-chan,” I said quietly.

She hummed, the vibration carrying through her back. “Mm?”

“…Do you think I’m fake?”

She slowed just a fraction of her pedalling, not enough to stop, just enough to listen to me.

“No,” she said immediately, calm and certain. “You’re the most genuine person I’ve ever known.”

I swallowed.

“I don’t think you’d love the things you do if you weren’t honestly interested in them,” she continued. “You don’t do things just to impress people. You don’t compensate for how people treat you or think about you. You don’t pretend enthusiasm for what you love.”

Then she added lightly, “You wear your heart completely on your sleeve. Sometimes to your own detriment.”

She glanced back over her shoulder, smiling.

“Tell me something, Susu. How do you feel about sentai and Tekku? Have you thought about it?”

I thought about it as my bike rolled forward, the steady rhythm of her pedaling carrying us on.

“Sentai is cool,” I said slowly. “The fighting is fun to watch. Haru likes to watch it sometimes and I’ve ended up watching with him. The stories can be silly, but… I like how earnest they are.”

I paused. “And Tekku’s fun too. I don’t mind playing the game with Haru whenever he asks. I get why he loves it so much, especially these days.”

My grip loosened as the tension in my chest eased.

“Ever since you learned how to fight, you’ve started understanding how fun it is, right?” Aoi asked.

“Yes… Probably not as much as you.” I said with a little smile adorning my lips. “But I really like the idea of you buying a Gamestation 5,” I admitted, my voice softening. “I’d love to play with you.”

Aoi laughed quietly. “Is that because I like Tekku?”

I rested my forehead against her back. “No. It’s genuinely interesting.”

“And if I suddenly decided I liked collecting bugs,” she asked, “would you adopt that hobby too?”

“No,” I said immediately. “I don’t like bugs. They’re creepy. But… if you were interested, I’d put up with it.”

“That’s very girly of you,” Aoi giggled.

“I guess…” I pouted. “I’m not a boy, baka.”

“Then there’s your answer,” she said. “You’re not fake. You’re complex. You have things you’re passionate about… And like anyone, there are things you’d never do, no matter how much you were pressured.”

“I’m not sure I get it,” I admitted, blushing.

“Ne… if you dreamed you were that monster…” Aoi said, her tone lower and more careful. “The one from the story I told you last night… If there was so much blood on your hands that you couldn’t live with it… Would you accept that as who you are?”

“Absolutely not!” I said without hesitation. “If I went crazy like her and then came back to myself later, I’d be very sorry for what I did. I’d try to take responsibility somehow for everything that’d I’d done instead of running away—even though it wouldn’t really be me who had done those things.”

I thought harder.

“I’d never accept that as my true self. The current me wouldn’t do those things. Not ever. What about you?”

Aoi hummed softly.

“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “But how could you ever pay for something like that?”

I frowned. “I’d live as well as I could, be extra generous and extra careful from that point on. I’d know nothing, not even my own suffering, could make up for my actions. But I’d still have the chance to do good things for others.”

She was quiet for a moment.

“So you’d turn all that potential to hurt others into something loving instead,” she said. “That’s very you.”

Then, softer, “Your love for me is completely sincere. I wonder how sincere mine really is.”

My chest tightened.

“I know I love who you are on the inside,” she continued. “Not just what life made of you. That part’s true. But if I truly loved you… shouldn’t I have kissed you much sooner? Shouldn’t I have accepted your love without worrying so much?”

“You’ve always accepted my love,” I said gently. “I just… didn’t truly start loving you until you kissed me on the rooftop.”

Even as I said it, something inside me squirmed.

It felt true to me, but it was something that wasn’t complete.

I’m not a liar…

…but maybe there’s something I forgot?

I hugged her tighter as we rode on toward her apartment, the road humming beneath us, the night opening up ahead.

Please don’t mind that Aoi’s skirt strayed a bit. The rest is very good!

For the first time in a while we see something closer to Sumire’s

aggressively feminine bedroom, but the layout is not canon.