A product of our love

Sakuya spent the rest of the day helping Jumo unpack and arrange his things in the house. When it was finally time for her to leave, she didn’t want to.

She had just hopped on her scooter, ready to drive off into the night. Jumo stood beside her, seeing her off. She absolutely didn’t want to go.

They had spent the entire day basically bumping into each other at any chance they got. Her chest firmly pressing against his arm when she moved in for a closer look at whatever he was looking at. Their fingertips brushing whenever they handed each other anything. Sakuya accidentally falling flat on top of him when she tripped, with Jumo's hands somehow ending up cupping the tops of her cheeks.

No.

Not those cheeks.

Yes.

Those ones.

The point was, every moment with Jumo was electric—a certain kind of charge that slowed down time until every second became an eternity. Nothing made sense anymore, nothing was important. Just the two of them.

Sakuya wore her helmet, then turned the key in the ignition. Her scooter revved to life. Smiling, she turned and gave Jumo a thumbs-up. He was already waving, telling her to drive safe. Spirits above, she was already missing him. She didn't want to go, she didn't want to go, she didn't want to go.

She left.

***

As Sakuya drove back home to Mitsuzawa Temple, she appeared to be the only one on the quiet road. The hum of her scooter's engine was the only sound disturbing the silence, its headlight cutting through the darkness ahead. The tall, dark trees on either side made it difficult not to imagine the worst hiding in the shadows and staring back at her as she went by. Her leg wasn't fully healed, but whatever would try to take her on at that very moment would have a hard time keeping her down.

As she drove on, her mind drifted back to Jumo. She thought about how they met online, how they had slowly become something to each other even before they had ever seen each other in person. She wanted to talk to him all day and night. She wanted to spend every moment with him, whether it was walking, shopping, or simply doing nothing at all. She wanted to cook for him, to help him clean, to just… be with him. She wanted to be there.

She wanted to become something to him. Something more than what they were now. But for that to ever happen, she needed to come clean. Not just to Jumo. To everyone.

Aunt Kanna needed to know about her relationship with the boy from Africa. Her sisters needed to know too. And Jumo—he needed to know about her guardian duties, her connection to the spirits, her past, her present… and the fact that she wanted him to be a part of her future.

But would he still want her after that?

Her life was a constant dance with death. At any moment, she could go out to fight some rampaging spirit, only to never return. It was how her mother died. It was how her father died. And it might be the way she dies too.

That was the last thing she wanted for Jumo. A life filled with non-stop worrying, threats, and danger. But being a spirit guardian was part of her identity. It was who she was, and she couldn't just change that.

She was still lost in thought when something happened. In the distance, she could see something. A shadow, running towards her with impossible speed.

She couldn't get a good look at it.

The figure shot past her so fast that the sheer force nearly caused her to lose control of her scooter. She killed the engine, stopped, and turned around.

It was heading into town.

Jumo was there.

Eager to chase after the spirit, she reignited the engine of her motorcycle, but before she could follow it, she got a call on her phone.

It was Kanna.

It was absolutely the worst timing.

Reluctantly, she answered.

"Sakuya? Where have you been all day? We've been trying to reach you."

Sakuya tried keeping her eyes on the spirit, but she could no longer see it. It was already gone.

"Sakuya! Are you there?"

Holding the phone to her ear, she replied.

"Yes, Aunt Kanna, I'm here."

"Oh, child, where have you been? You know what? Just forget about it and come home now."

"But, Auntie, I think there is a—"

She was cut off before she could report the shadowy spirit.

"I said now, child! There is an emergency."

Sakuya took one more glance in the direction where the spirit had disappeared.

"Please be okay," she whispered to Jumo. Then she turned, and continued her journey back to the temple.

***

Five minutes after Sakuya left, and I was already thinking about her. Now, to be fair, I did try to focus on doing other things. I just couldn't find anything to do.

Despite her injured foot, Sakuya had practically cleaned and arranged everything herself. She had taken out the trash, dusted away cobwebs, and washed the dishes. Every time I had tried to help, she had simply waved me off. And then, there were those moments we shared.

Prolonged eye contact.

Our bodies pressing up against each other when we least—and yet, most—expected it.

The sound of our breathing in those precious seconds.

The rhythm of our hearts beating in sync.

The sight of her lips.

The softness of her.

I wanted Sakuya to be a permanent part of my life. And I wanted to be a permanent part of hers. Whether that became reality, it was up to her. I already wanted her.

...

I was heading upstairs to turn in for the night. Since there was nothing else to do, it was better to clock in so I could wake up bright and early the next day. However, I had barely made it halfway up the stairs when a large silhouette wooshed past my living room window, illuminated by the street lamp outside. It was so fast that I would have thought I imagined it, but the brief shadow it cast over the interior of the house—including me—was too noticeable to ignore.

Hesitating a little, I eventually decided to investigate. I walked over to the front door and placed my hand on the knob. Maybe it was just the shadow of an owl flying by. The large silhouette could just be a neat trick caused and amplified by the street lamps outside. There was nothing to worry about.

I opened the door.

Yep.

Absolutely nothing to worry about.

There was nothing there.

***

He stepped out of the house.

I could see him.

He could not see me.

I could touch him.

He could not touch me.

Would he even want to touch me?

Not after what I am.

Not after what I have become.

Not anymore.

...

He is not mine.

But he is still him.

I still want him.

So I will take him.

Like they took him from me.

Every time.

Every heart-wrenching time.

He went back into the house.

I reveal myself to have been standing directly in front of him.

I scratch the front door with my claws.

A mark.

For me to recognize.

Tomorrow.

...

Soon.

She will bring him to me.

She always does.

I always do.

But this time, we will be reunited.

Again.

For when we love.

We lose.

We lose.

We lose.

Every time.

But not this time.

...

Standing alone in the night, I smile.

Then I giggle.

Then I laugh.

I cry.

I hate.

I sniffle.

I wipe away my tears.

I stop.

My left eye twitches.

I listen.

I wait.

I wait again.

Then I take a step back.

And disappear.