Shinrabansho: Myriad Souls

The apartment building was quiet. It wasn’t old, just well maintained, with narrow balconies and potted plants that had survived more than one season. Near the entrance, that vending machine hummed faintly, its lights flickering as usual.

I blushed as we stopped at the base of the stairs and locked up my bike.

Aoi-chan took my hand without hesitation. Her fingers were warm and certain as she guided me upward, up one flight and then another. Her pace never rushed and never slowed.

We reached the third floor and stopped at the fourth door.

304.

She unlocked it, stepped aside, and gestured me in with a small bow that felt half playful and half sincere.

“Welcome home,” she said.

My heart jumped at her words.

I’m home! It really does feel like that.

DOKI-DOKI

“I’ll make us some tea,” Aoi-chan said. “How do you feel about some tea and cuddling while we watch some TV tonight?”

I nodded quickly, my face warming. “Sure, sign me up for that.”

“I might add a cuddling schedule to the fridge,” she added lightly. “You can just sign your name whenever you want some.”

I giggled. “In that case, it’d be better to glue a tablet to your refrigerator and keep it plugged in at all times, or even better get one of those Sumsing refrigerators with built-in touch-screen computers,” I said, completely serious. “We’d be out of paper in just a few days and honestly, I’d probably fill the disk space almost as quickly.”

Aoi laughed. “Then we’ll need plenty of cloud storage too.”

“Yes. Lots of it.” I slipped my arms around her waist, rubbing my cheek against her shoulder. “It’s my turn to be a kitchen menace too!”

She chuckled. “It’s just boiling water, baka. I think I can handle that… nowhere near as complicated as what you did… so I win this challenge automatically.”

“Since I managed to make a delicious pot of stew despite your best efforts to destroy my focus,” I protested, “I definitely won.”

My hands drifted higher to her chest, placing one palm on one of her breasts as I held her closer with the other, grabbing her bottom under her skirt and squeezing her against me.

“Mmm,” she sighed contentedly. “You’re right, my wife. You win.”

I leaned forward and kissed her so passionately that even boiling water might be too difficult.

With great effort, she managed to break the kiss when the teapot started whistling. She pulled out a couple of teacups and set them on the counter. I clung to her like a soft, cuddly barnacle, doing my very best to distract her any way I could. I kept rubbing her backside and snuggling against her back, even going so far as to rub my chest against it.

She hesitated, taking a deep breath as she grabbed the teapot, dropped two tea bags inside, and carefully poured in the hot water.

Impishly, I stroked my hand gently between her thighs, and she shivered.

“Susu!” she giggled. “Careful… things might get hotter than I planned if you keep that up.”

I giggled with her. “Like I’d mind that.”

She snorted. “Horny. Would you mind making yourself useful and carrying the cups in?” Aoi asked, playfully swatting at my hand as she turned.

I pouted, then put my hands directly on her chest and gave both of her breasts a firm squeeze.

“I’m already holding a couple of C-cups. My hands are completely full!” I announced gleefully.

“I noticed,” Aoi giggled, blushing.

I snuggled my face between them and rubbed my hands against her back instead, planting a series of soft kisses there.

“Just don’t let the tea get cold, princess,” Aoi said, stroking my back. “But get it out of your system if you want.”

“Mmmm… good point…” I mumbled between her boobs, gazing up at her face from there with slightly pink cheeks. “I guess I’ll be good long enough for us to sit down and watch whatever you want.” My heart was racing as I gave her a last couple of kisses, then straightened and happily took the teacups for her.

We drifted into her living space and settled by the table. She picked up the remote, and a news show flickered onto the screen before being skipped almost immediately. She flipped through channels as she sat, and on impulse, I lowered myself straight into her lap and poured the tea for us.

She turned the volume up. Outside, the city softened into evening. Somewhere, a train rumbled along its tracks. The sound of laughter echoed outside briefly.

“To surviving another day,” she said lightly, lifting her cup and nuzzling and kissing at my neck.

I nodded, resting against her and soaking in her body warmth as I sipped carefully. The tea was still too hot to drink.

“Yes. And to many more days,” I added to her toast.

We clinked cups over my shoulder.

A samurai drama started up, grainy and old-fashioned, with heavy pauses and measured dialogue. It was the kind of show where violence felt inevitable long before it ever happened.

I yawned and curled up against her, settling in. Her free arm stayed wrapped around me, resting easily in my lap. She watched the screen, her breath brushing my neck now and then, tea-scented kisses trailing there leisurely. I paid more attention to her than the show, letting the moment sink in.

Her breathing changed at certain points while we watched the movie. The way she exhaled when a scene resolved itself just right was unbelievably cute. I enjoyed watching her more than the show itself. I caught her hand where it rested in my lap and laced my fingers through hers.

She really was the best pillow ever, the one I’d dreamt of ever since our first kisses on the rooftop.

My eyes grew heavy, the world narrowing to warmth and quiet. I set my half-finished tea on the table, closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep in her arms.

When I woke up, I realized she was carrying me. My eyes focused on her face, still and intent, and I leaned into her upper arm instinctively.

“Mmm… I like being carried…”

“Of course, my princess,” she said softly. “Princesses are meant to be pampered creatures.”

I giggled, my voice still thick with sleep. “And princes.”

“Yes,” Aoi replied easily. “Adorable princes too.”

I nodded, content. “If it were still Tanabata, I’d wish that you get to live a long time with me… and that our play goes well.”

She slowed, then gently lowered me onto her bed, careful and unhurried. “True,” she said. “I think we somehow missed celebrating that this year.”

I nodded, pushing myself upright, rubbing my eyes. “We’ll make up for it at the festival. And we still need to rent yukata.”

Her bedroom was dimmer than the living space, the light softer, gentler. Her bed was neatly made, the air calm and quiet.

“Let’s get undressed for sleep and hang our uniforms up for tomorrow,” Aoi said. “I’ll iron out any wrinkles in the morning.”

“Isn’t that my job?” I leaned up, yawning.

“I’m your wife too,” she said, winking.

I blushed and nodded, unbuttoning my blazer, wiggling out of my skirt, then undoing my blouse. The cool air of her room brushed over my skin, the moment feeling intimate.

She took my clothes and carefully hung both hers and mine side by side.

I watched her, feeling a gentle fluttering in my stomach.

“We should probably bathe too,” Aoi said. “It’s not too late, but we’re getting close to midnight.”

I nodded, rubbing my eyes and yawning. “Yes, my wife,” I replied, smiling.

We bathed and freshened up, shaking off the last of our sleepiness. We scrubbed our bodies and each other’s sometimes quickly outside the bathtub. We didn’t soak for long after we were clean. We sat there just enough to feel clean and refreshed before the night fully claimed us.

We lay down together. She wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close until my back fit perfectly against her chest. Her breath warmed the back of my neck. I could feel the steady rhythm of her heart, her nipples pressing lightly into my back.

I loved how she felt there against me. It made me feel complete and content in a way that I didn’t think I ever could.

“Sumire,” she murmured.

“Yes?”

“…Thank you for trusting me so much.”

I turned slightly, just enough to meet her gaze. “I do. Completely. I love you.”

She kissed my neck, slow and deliberate, then tucked her chin back against my shoulder, against my slightly damp hair. We stayed like that, listening to each other breathe, the world narrowing until it was just warmth and quiet and the shared certainty that neither of us was alone anymore.

“I love you too, my sweet wife.”

Sleep came gently for us.

Time blurred a little.

Thursday didn’t arrive so much as sliding into place, time moving quicker than it should have. Morning came sharp and pale, the air cool enough to bite at my cheeks as we rode to school together.

Festival scaffolding had multiplied overnight, metal and wooden frames rising along the walkways like exposed bones, ropes strung loosely where lanterns would eventually hang. The school grounds still looked unfinished, caught mid-transformation, as though something vast was assembling itself piece by piece.

Rehearsals stacked on top of one another, beginning with blocking again and again, our feet tracing the same paths until the floor seemed to know them by heart. Our voices warmed, cracked, and steadied. Someone missed a cue and swore under their breath. Someone else laughed too loudly, the sound brittle, almost sharp enough to shatter glass.

Costumes came out and went back in, half-dressed scenes rehearsed with skirts pinned, blazers draped, and sleeves rolled up because there wasn’t time to fully change. The fabric smelled faintly of starch. Makeup wipes littered the tables like fallen petals.

I lost track of how many times I opened my script, closed it, and opened it again, even when I already knew the lines.

Our meals on those two days occurred on schedule. We ate Mom’s bento boxes together, our rice balls eaten standing, our tamagoyaki shared as usual. Everyone moved with bent backs and aching legs that no one bothered to comment on. Water bottles were passed around now and again by Yuna, our fingers brushing around plastic rims, murmured thanks swallowed by the surrounding noise.

Aoi stayed close, there near me most of the time. Her hand found the small of my back when my focus slipped, a gentle, loving touch amid all our hard work transforming the gymnasium. When her shoulders sagged, I leaned in so she could feel me at her back. When I wavered, she held me, steadying and recharging me without a word.

Between scenes and between tasks, our hands met, sometimes accidentally and sometimes intentionally. Our fingers laced more than once.

Thursday bled into Friday without ceremony.

By Friday afternoon, the school felt strange, too quiet in places that were usually loud, too loud in places that normally would have been calm. Conversations dropped off mid-sentence. Laughter came late, then faded quickly. Everyone moved with purpose, but no one rushed, as if hurrying might break something delicate and invisible.

Everything was ready. Props were stacked neatly, our costumes hung in order, and scripts finally closed for good.

And still, it felt unfinished, like the moment before a storm when the air holds itself unnaturally still.

That night, we made love passionately, our hands exploring each other’s bodies, each touch loving and reverent. Once we’d gotten it out of our systems, we lay pressed together the same way as the previous night, my back to her chest and her breath slow and even against my neck. We couldn’t resist messing around even though we both knew that Saturday would be extremely busy. We enjoyed the rest of the time before sleeping quietly together, soaking in each other’s body warmth, kissing our sweat away.

Eventually as we cuddled lightly, sleep came quietly for me.

Friday night settled around the apartment building. Outside, the city had quieted to distant traffic and the low hum of power lines. Moonlight slipped through the curtains in pale bands, tracing the forms of her furniture and the slow rise and fall of two bodies pressed together.

Sumire slept deeply in Aoi’s arms, her breathing even and warm against Aoi’s chest. One arm was draped across Aoi’s waist, her fingers curled loosely at her hip, holding on even in sleep.

Aoi wasn’t asleep.

She lay still, her eyes half-lidded, aware of something that didn’t belong in her bedroom. It wasn’t a sound or the suggestion of movement, but instead a pressure, subtle and feeling off.

The wall beside the bed rippled. That ripple wasn’t violent. It made her feel like this dream world had seams that showed themselves sometimes at certain times when no one should be paying attention.

Baku stepped through that ripple, his form resolving quietly as his feet touched the floor. He glanced at Sumire in her arms, then at Aoi.

Aoi didn’t move. She shifted only her gaze.

“…Are you stalking us or something?” she whispered, pulling their blankets tightly around them.

“Something like that, but not out of ill intent,” Baku said. “I’m maintaining the integrity of this dream.” His eyes flicked briefly to Sumire. “Irregularities tend to gather where you two are and some have been showing up near you tonight. I’ve been keeping careful watch of you. You and Pon-chan back at your homeroom.”

Aoi suppressed a yawn, keeping her voice low. “You’re tracking that thing that you mentioned. It showed up here?”

“Yes.” His tone was light, but his eyes weren’t. “I’ve seen it more than once tonight. It avoids me whenever it senses me. It’s attracted to you two.”

He folded his arms. “If keeping it wary is all I can manage, it will have to be enough.”

“You’re protecting us from it?” Aoi murmured. “Have you had to fight it?”

“No. It hasn’t acted overtly yet. It always retreats when cornered.” His expression tightened. “But I don’t know what it will do when it decides to stop running.”

“That’s comforting…” Aoi muttered.

“It shouldn’t be.” Baku met her eyes. “This thing is not bound to my authority. It’s as unaffected by me as you.”

“So it isn’t one of yours.”

“Unlikely. It probably came with you two.”

Silence followed. Sumire shifted, pressing closer against her in her sleep. Aoi adjusted her hold without thinking, her thumb brushing softly along Sumire’s cheek.

Baku noticed her gesture.

“You still haven’t answered what I asked you before,” he said.

Aoi’s jaw tightened. “Which part?”

“Have you made your choice?”

She shook her head once. “No. I want what’s best for Sumire.”

“Even if it costs you your life?”

“Yes.” The answer was immediate. “Even if it costs me my life again.”

“And if your death breaks her?” Baku asked. “If it scars her?”

Aoi’s hand stilled against Sumire’s face. “Then I’ll accept that as part of the cost.” She exhaled slowly. “I chose to love her knowing the risk after being so foolish for those three weeks.”

Baku regarded her for a moment, then nodded. “That choice matters. It’s why Sumire is changing so rapidly, both emotionally and mentally, in ways that Natalia-sama intended.”

Aoi glanced at him. “Did you shape her to be my ideal wife on purpose?”

“I wouldn’t claim to know Natalia-sama’s full intent,” Baku said. “But this training was never only about combat. It’s about inhabiting oneself without any shame. I drew everything about her from what I found deep inside her. She has a curious affinity for femininity even if she supposedly once was a man.”

Aoi looked down at Sumire. “She was, but she never was manly. I was always more manly than her. Maybe she always was my ideal girl. I just couldn’t see past her face and body.”

“Likely,” Baku said.

He studied her. “Do you regret giving up everything that you were for her?”

Aoi didn’t answer right away. She brushed a strand of hair from Sumire’s forehead.

“No,” she said quietly. “I don’t.”

After a pause, she added, “But part of me wishes this dream wouldn’t end.”

Baku closed his eyes briefly.

“That wish doesn’t weaken you,” he said. “It only proves that you care.”

He stepped back, his form blurring as he returned to the wall.

“Sleep,” he said.

The wall sealed itself up behind him without a sound.

Aoi lay awake a while longer, holding Sumire close to her, but eventually, she slept.

Saturday morning came quietly.

Sunlight slipped through Aoi’s curtains, thin and pale. I woke first with a strange weight in my chest that I was unable to explain. It wasn’t fear, just an unsettled feeling that made it hard to relax.

Aoi-chan stirred when I shifted. She opened her eyes and studied my face. I yawned and rubbed against her without thinking.

“Mnn… there’s a weird feeling in the air,” she said softly, glancing around the room before shrugging.

I nodded, noticing my heart was beating a little too fast. “Yeah… I hope the play goes well today.” I crossed my arms around my legs, drawing my knees in against my chest.

“We worked hard enough to make sure it does,” Aoi said as she got up and started ironing our uniforms while I watched. Steam hissed from it as she pressed out creases, working with quiet focus.

“I’d make us tamagoyaki if we had enough eggs,” I said wryly, “and if I wasn’t pretty sure Mom intends to feed us this morning.”

“I’d love that,” Aoi said, smiling. “We can’t keep relying on your parents to take care of us. Mine give me enough to support you if we’re careful.”

“That’s all the more reason to rely on them sometimes,” I replied, smiling back. “And if things get really tough, I’ll find a job.”

Aoi looked at me fondly and nodded. “I would too. The next month should be fun.”

“Yeah. When are we going to shop for that Gamestation 5?” I grinned. Thinking about our future together eased some of the pressure in my chest.

“Mm… good question,” Aoi murmured as she finished ironing. “We could do it tomorrow. Though I’ll probably want to see my parents too.”

“Did you ask them to come watch our performance?” I asked, stretching.

“Nah… I didn’t have the courage to be honest,” she admitted. “I’ve been an ungrateful daughter, and they keep helping me anyway.”

“It’s because they love you.”

“Yeah…” Aoi said quietly. “I’ll make it up to them tomorrow. Just… don’t mention the cultural festival or the play. I’m not in it, so it doesn’t really matter if they see it.”

“You worked the hardest of anyone on the sets, Aoi-chan. And you’ll be part of the crew that moves them on and offstage. You could still call or text them,” I suggested gently.

“It’s fine. I’m not ready to face them properly yet,” she said, then looked at me almost pleadingly. “But I’ll try to treat them better starting tomorrow.”

“Fine.” I crinkled my nose and smiled. “But make sure you do. Family is very important.” I wagged a finger at her.

“Alright, wife. I get it,” Aoi said, giggling.

We dressed quickly after that, our buttons fastened, our skirts straightened, our blazers tugged into place. There was no further teasing between us, just a shared momentum as we readied ourselves.

Once we were outside, the air felt a little strange.

The day wasn’t cold. There wasn’t a heavy sensation, everything just made me feel extra alert, in a way that set my nerves humming. The ambient sounds of cars passing us and people walking together in both directions felt louder than usual. There was the sound of footsteps, feeling too distinct, engines rumbling in the distance, although that was probably just my impression. Even the morning sunlight felt strangely intrusive. I glanced at Aoi and knew she felt something that made her feel uneasy too.

Neither of us said anything about it.

We locked up and headed out, our pace quickening without discussion. The sensation followed us down the steps and into the street, like something unseen was keeping pace with us. We didn’t run, but we didn’t linger either. When we finally put distance between ourselves and the building, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

We rode my bike as always, though Aoi insisted on pedaling. I stood upright on the rear bolts this time, scanning the street the way she used to. The road hummed beneath us.

It felt like being watched.

The sensation didn’t come from any specific direction I could point right to. It was just constant pressure, like standing on a stage before the lights came up. I wondered if I was getting stage fright ahead of time. My grip on Aoi’s shoulders tightened. They stiffened almost imperceptibly.

When we reached my house, the sensation vanished all at once like a burst bubble.

Where did it go?

Distracting me from the sensation of the eyes being gone, Riko and Yuna were waiting for us at the gate. Riko leaned against the fence with her arms crossed. Yuna stood beside her, her hands folded, her gaze calm.

“There you are,” Riko said. “We were wondering when you’d show up.”

I exhaled as the tension drained from me. “I’m surprised you took the time to come to my house this morning. Why not go straight to school? Wouldn’t that have been easier?”

“It’s Saturday,” Yuna said gently. “Today’s special as you know. It made sense to go together, even if it’s a little out of the way.”

“I felt the same,” Riko said with a grin. “Today’s the cultural festival.” She fixed my eyes with hers and stepped close, her lips quirking up. “I’ll steal your lips today, my prince.”

I blushed and backpedaled, taking a fighting stance.

“Wow… you hate the idea of kissing me that much?” Riko asked, pouting.

Strangely, Aoi didn’t react. She sounded preoccupied, “Oi, did either of you two feel like someone was watching you today?”

Riko blinked. “Watching me? No.”

Yuna tilted her head. “I felt something odd as you rode this way, but it disappeared.”

Before I could respond, a familiar unease brushed the edge of my thoughts.

Above us, unseen and unfelt, something still watched.

High above the street, Baku hovered unseen, figment and dreamer both. His form shimmered faintly, a phantom teacup suspended beside him, mirroring the one that rested near him in his study.

He hadn’t seen anything unusual. He hadn’t felt anything either.

There were no distortions. No intrusions. No fractures in the dream’s fabric.

And yet—

He frowned.

Something was clearly amiss.

Aoi and Sumire had been on edge the moment they left their apartment. They were far too alert. On any normal morning, Sumire would have pressed close to Aoi, relaxed and unguarded. Instead, she stood tall, scanning their surroundings the entire way. That alone was enough to tell him they had sensed something.

They moved like prey aware of a predator.

Their posture was sharp, their attention disciplined. Yuna’s focus had tightened as well, though not as intensely.

Riko, however, behaved as she always did.

If she possessed spiritual senses, even muted by the dream, she would have reacted. Baku had felt no spiritual pressure from her the moment she appeared, and that absence now mattered. Which meant whatever Aoi and Sumire had perceived either lacked conventional spiritual presence—or carried one subtle enough to evade him as well.

Or worse.

As he had theorized, it most likely had entered the dream with them.

Baku lifted his teacup and took a slow sip, his eyes narrowing.

“I should observe more closely today,” he decided.

After a brief pause, his expression softened just a fraction.

“…But I did want to see their play.”

This one turned out so well! It’s not easy to generate pictures of people

in bed together for obvious reasons! It spared me today!