Chapter 2: Succubus, Interrupted

The Tanaka household had developed a new, precarious rhythm, a symphony conducted in the key of barely-contained panic. Its maestro was a six-thousand-year-old succubus wearing Ayame’s favourite cashmere lounge socks.

Three days had passed since Liliana’s arrival. Three days of Kaito playing a relentless, high-stakes game of whack-a-mole with his wife’s emotions and a supernatural being’s instincts.

“Kaito, darling, this human contraption is fascinating,” Liliana purred from the kitchen, holding the electric kettle upside down and shaking it. “Where does the fire come from?”

“There is no fire! Put that down!” Kaito yelped, lunging to rescue the appliance. As he did, he caught a glimpse of Ayame, who was viciously scrubbing a spotless countertop, her shoulders so tense they were practically touching her earlobes. The talisman on her forehead seemed to pulse in time with her scrubbing motions.

“It’s just a question, my fierce little gatekeeper,” Liliana said to Ayame, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “No need to scour the pattern off the laminate.”

Ayame’s knuckles turned white around the sponge. “I like a clean house. Something you wouldn’t understand, since you seem to be composed entirely of glitter and bad intentions.”

“Glitter?” Liliana looked genuinely offended for the first time. “I am a creature of shadow and desire, not a child’s art project.”

“Could have fooled me,” Ayame muttered.

Kaito positioned himself between them, a living buffer zone. “Okay! How about we all just… breathe? Liliana, the kettle goes on the base. See? Magic. Ayame, the counter is clean. It’s probably the cleanest counter in the entire prefecture. You’re going to wear a hole through it.”

His wife shot him a look that clearly said, You’re next.

This was the new normal. Master Jin was sequestered in the spare room, now dubbed the “ritual chamber,” mumbling over ancient scrolls and simmering pots of herbs that made the whole house smell like a hippie’s funeral. The reinforcement ritual, he’d declared, required a specific planetary alignment that was still two days away. Which meant Kaito was on full-time Succubus Wrangling and Wife Calming duty.

His primary strategy was distraction.

“Right!” he clapped his hands together, a forced grin plastered on his face. “Who wants to help me with lunch?”

Ayame stared at him as if he’d suggested juggling live piranhas. “I am not cooking with her.”

“I don’t eat… food,” Liliana said, wrinkling her nose at a carrot Kaito had pulled from the fridge. “I sustain myself on more… ardent energies.” Her eyes traveled over Kaito with a predatory interest.

The portal on Ayame’s forehead gave a distinct, visible flicker, swelling from a five-yen coin size to a ten-yen coin size. A faint, melodic giggle seemed to echo from its crimson depths.

“Nope! Not on the menu!” Kaito said, his voice an octave too high. He frantically waved a head of lettuce at Liliana. “Today, we’re having salad! And… and vibes! Good, pure, vegetarian vibes!”

He shoved the lettuce into Liliana’s hands. She held it between her thumb and forefinger as if it were a dead rodent.

“Peel the leaves,” Kaito instructed, turning to Ayame and giving her a wide, desperate-eyed look that screamed PLAY ALONG.

Ayame, understanding the stakes, took a shuddering breath. “Fine. I’ll make the dressing.”

For a few, blessed minutes, a fragile peace descended upon the kitchen. The only sounds were the tap of water, the chop of a knife, and the faint, rustling sound of a succubus experimentally licking a lettuce leaf.

“It’s… crisp,” Liliana announced, sounding surprised.

“Told you,” Kaito said, feeling a glimmer of hope. Maybe he could civilize her. Maybe they could get through this.

The doorbell rang.

The hope curdled and died in his chest.

Ayame froze, knife hovering over a cucumber. “Who is that?”

“No one we know,” Kaito said, his mind racing. “We don’t know anyone. We’re hermits.”

The bell rang again, more insistent this time.

Liliana’s eyes lit up with malicious delight. “Company! How wonderful.” She began slinking towards the genkan.

“NO!” Kaito and Ayame shouted in unison.

Kaito grabbed Liliana’s arm, while Ayame bodily blocked the doorway to the living room. “You cannot answer the door,” Ayame hissed. “You look like you’re dressed for a very specific kind of cocktail party that doesn’t involve cocktails!”

Liliana looked down at her revealing velvet dress. “What’s wrong with my attire?”

“Everything!” both Kaitos and Ayame yelled.

The bell rang a third time, followed by a cheerful, familiar voice. “Hellooooo? Ayame? Kaito? Your car is blocking the driveway! I brought omiyage!”

It was Mrs. Yamaguchi, their sweet, elderly, and catastrophically nosy neighbour.

Ayame’s face paled. “The driveway… I forgot she was getting a delivery today.” She looked at Kaito, pure panic in her eyes. If Mrs. Yamaguchi saw Liliana, the gossip would spread through the neighbourhood faster than a grease fire. And the stress of it all…

Kaito’s eyes darted to the talisman. It was vibrating slightly. The portal was a steady, ominous red.

“Okay. New plan. Emergency Protocol: Normality,” Kaito barked, his improvisational skills kicking into overdrive. “Ayame, you get the door. Be normal. Liliana, with me. You are now my… eccentric cousin from Osaka. Visiting. Who is… a performance artist! And very shy!”

Liliana pouted. “I am not shy. I am a celebrated temptress.”

“You’re a shy performance artist from Osaka who specializes in interpretive mime!” Kaito insisted, manhandling her towards the hallway closet. “And you’ve lost your voice! A tragic miming accident!”

He shoved her into the closet among the winter coats and spare blankets. “Not a sound,” he whispered sternly, before shutting the door. He heard a muffled, indignant squawk.

He sprinted back to the kitchen just as Ayame, having forced a serene smile onto her face, slid open the front door.

“Mrs. Yamaguchi! So sorry about the car! Please, come in for a moment,” Ayame said, her voice sweet as honey.

Kaito leaned casually against the kitchen doorway, trying to look like a man who definitely did not have a succubus in his closet.

Mrs. Yamaguchi, a spry woman in her seventies with kind eyes and a mind like a steel trap, stepped inside, holding a box of famous local sweets. “Oh, it’s no trouble, dear. I just had my grandson move it for me. I thought I’d bring you these since I was in the neighbourhood.” Her eyes, however, were not on the sweets. They were scanning the entryway, the living room, missing nothing.

“You’re too kind,” Ayame said, her smile strained.

“So, how have you two been?” Mrs. Yamaguchi asked, her gaze finally landing on Kaito. “Things seem… lively over here. I thought I heard some raised voices earlier.”

“Just… marital bliss,” Kaito said with a winning smile. “You know how it is. Passionate.”

Ayame’s eye twitched. The talisman flickered.

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Yamaguchi said, though she didn’t look convinced. Her eyes drifted towards the hallway. “And I thought I saw a flash of red hair? You don’t have a visitor, do you?”

From the closet came a soft, distinct thump.

Kaito’s blood ran cold. Ayame’s serene smile became a rictus of terror.

“A visitor?” Kaito laughed, a loud, hollow sound. “No, no visitors! That was… the TV! We were watching a documentary. About… Ireland!”

“Ireland?” Mrs. Yamaguchi looked puzzled.

“Famous for its redheads!” Kaito confirmed, nodding vigorously.

Another, slightly louder thump came from the closet, followed by the faint sound of what seemed like a velvet dress getting caught on a coat hanger.

Mrs. Yamaguchi’s eyebrows crept towards her hairline. “Is there something in your closet, Kaito-kun?”

Ayame looked like she was about to spontaneously combust. The portal on her forehead was now the size of a small saucer. Kaito could have sworn he saw another shapely hand beginning to emerge from the crimson swirl before it snapped back in.

Think, Kaito, think!

“The CLOSET!” he boomed, making both women jump. “Yes! I was just about to explain! We have… a raccoon.”

The room went silent.

“A… raccoon?” Mrs. Yamaguchi repeated slowly.

“Yes! A tanuki! Very tricky spirit animal. Got in last night.” Kaito wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “We’ve become quite attached. We’re trying to rehabilitate it. Hence the… thumping. It’s very… spirited.”

He looked at Ayame, silently begging her to back him up.

“Spirited,” Ayame echoed in a dead tone. “Yes. My husband has a… a way with animals.” The look she gave him promised a slow and painful death later.

Mrs. Yamaguchi looked from Kaito’s desperate face to Ayame’s rigid posture, to the hallway closet. A long, awkward silence stretched out. Finally, she smiled, a slow, knowing smile.

“Well, I won’t keep you from your… spirited tanuki,” she said, placing the box of sweets on the genkan step. “You young people have such interesting hobbies. Do let me know if you need any help. My late husband was quite good with pests.”

She gave a final, lingering look towards the closet, then turned and left, her silence somehow more accusing than any direct question.

The moment the door slid shut, Ayame’s shoulders slumped. The forced smile vanished, replaced by utter exhaustion. The portal shrank back to its coin-sized state, the imminent crisis averted.

Kaito let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “We did it. We survived.”

Ayame didn’t answer. She just walked over to the closet and yanked the door open.

Liliana tumbled out in a heap of velvet, winter coats, and indignation. Her hair was mussed, and a woolly scarf was wrapped around one of her horns. “That was undignified,” she sniffed, untangling herself. “And you told her I was a rodent?”

“I said you were a spirit animal,” Kaito corrected, helping her up. “It was a compliment!”

“You are the most infuriating man I have ever met!” Ayame exploded, whirling on Kaito, all the pent-up fear and stress of the last ten minutes finally erupting. “A raccoon? A TANUKI? From IRELAND?”

“It was the first thing I thought of!” he defended, throwing his hands up. “It worked, didn’t it? She’s gone!”

“She knows something is up! She’s going to be watching us now! All because you can’t control your… your otherworldly groupie!” Ayame’s voice cracked on the last word. To everyone’s horror, including her own, her eyes welled with tears of sheer frustration.

The air shimmered. The portal on her forehead flared, burning a brighter, hotter red. This time, the pressure change was palpable. A book fell off a shelf in the living room.

“Ayame, no, I’m sorry—” Kaito started, his heart lurching at the sight of her tears.

But it was too late. From the swirling red vortex, another figure was ejected, landing gracefully on the tatami mat beside Liliana.

This succubus was different. Where Liliana was wine-dark and sultry, this one was all sunshine and cherry blossoms. Her hair was a cascade of honey-blonde, her eyes a warm, golden amber. She wore a fluttering, diaphanous pink dress, and her smile was wide and genuinely cheerful.

“Ooh, a new world!” she chirped, clapping her hands together. “And it’s so bright! Liliana, you didn’t tell me it was this bright!” She spotted Kaito and beamed. “Hello! I’m Sariel! Are you the source of all that delicious frustration? It tastes like lemonade!”

Liliana sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Sariel. Of course it’s you. The Annoyingly Cheerful One.”

Kaito stared, dumbfounded, as the blonde succubus began flitting around the room, poking the television screen and smelling a potted plant.

Ayame stood frozen, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. She looked from the new succubus to Kaito’s stunned face, to the still-pulsing portal on her own forehead. The weight of it all—the humiliation, the chaos, the failure—crashed down on her. Without a word, she turned and fled, disappearing into the bedroom and sliding the door shut with a definitive click.

The room was silent, save for Sariel’s happy humming as she discovered the wonders of a floor lamp.

Kaito’s shoulders slumped. He had failed. The buffer zone had collapsed. He looked at the two succubi—one a seductive schemer, the other a bubbly agent of chaos—and then at the closed bedroom door behind which his wife was falling apart.

Liliana sauntered over to him, a smirk playing on her lips. “Well, gatekeeper,” she purred, her voice low. “It seems your little world is getting a bit more crowded. And it appears I’m not the only one who finds you… stimulating.”

Sariel bounced over, linking her arm with Kaito’s. “So! What do we do for fun around here? Can we cause more delightful emotional turmoil? That was my favourite part!”

Kaito closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The talisman was still on. The portal was still, for now, small. But the dam was cracking. And as he stood there, trapped between a sultry shadow and a ray of sunshine, both designed to drive him mad, he knew one thing for certain: Master Jin’s ritual couldn’t come soon enough.

The game had not just continued; it had leveled up.