Kimonos

Another day passed - the routine now dull but reliable. Jere estimated he could perform the entire job with his eyes closed; he’d mapped almost the whole hunting ground by now: every tree, every trail, every watering hole. Each day, the time it took him to finish shortened as he grew more confident, pushing himself faster and faster. The pig population was dense enough that precision hardly mattered.

His kills piled up, and soon he found himself without purpose. So he headed home, alighting in the attic through the hatch in the roof. His landing was soft and silent, and his sensors instantly caught the whisper of telepathic communication. Eny was better - completely fine when she’d woken.

As he made his way down to the living room, he picked up scattered fragments of conversation: something about outside, something about him, something about playing. He stepped into the room, and both Ylfa and Eny looked up immediately, smiles warming their faces.

Eny’s high voice reached him next, whatever she’d been discussing already shared telepathically with Ylfa.
“Papa! There’s going to be a festival!”

He frowned.
“A festival?”

She nodded happily.
“Yeah! They’re celebrating the founding of the village! You’re going too, right?”

Her eyes pleaded with him. He glanced at Ylfa, who smiled, bright and encouraging. He shrugged.
“Alright.”

Ylfa’s smile widened further, catching his words from his lips, and Eny squealed with delight.
“Hooray!”

Jere tilted his head.
“When is it?”

Eny froze for a moment, clearly remembering that he knew none of the details.
“Oh! It’s tonight. You don’t need to bring anything, but I heard the villagers like to dress up! Can I dress up too, Papa?”

He smiled, crouched down, and ruffled her hair.
“Of course. Shall we go and get something?”

She nodded immediately, excitement bursting from her in a way only a child could manage.
“Yes!”

Then she turned to Ylfa, sending the telepathic message across. Ylfa’s eyes lit up and she clapped her hands before signing:

There’s a place that opens every year to sell clothes for the festival. Let’s go there!

Jere nodded as he rose, signing back:

I’ll follow you.

She grinned, starting toward the door while signing again:

I’ll wear something cute for you.

He shrugged.
Anything would look cute on you.

A quiet laugh trembled in her chest, but she held it back, knowing it wouldn’t sound right if she let it out. Instead she signed with a smile:

You’re much better than you were when we first met.

He smiled, remembering her patience when he’d first helped her choose clothes. She was wearing one of the outfits she’d picked that day - a light pink top paired with a high-waisted pleated skirt that bared a sliver of midriff, and a black lace choker. The choker remained a questionable choice in his mind; a demonic black collar had once sat in that same place until he’d helped remove it. But she seemed to like it, so he said nothing.

He signed back as Eny darted forward to take Ylfa’s hand at the door:
I’m glad.

Something rose in his chest as he followed the girls outside - a tightness, an unfamiliar flutter. His processors quickly identified it: anticipation.

But he liked the feeling, despite the trivial rise in stress. He savoured it, analysed it, taking everything in as he always did.

The walk down into the village was a peaceful one, the narrow path following the slope of the valley. Eny soon released Ylfa’s hand and darted ahead, laughing and weaving across the road, her energy bubbling over. Jere moved up beside Ylfa, and for a brief moment they walked shoulder to shoulder before her hand slipped into his, fingers intertwining.

He loved the feeling of her hand in his. It felt sacred - something he was never meant to experience, and yet here he was. Her tail swayed softly behind her, her arm brushing his with every step, both of them walking far closer than necessary given the width of the path.

Eny spread her arms wide as she zig-zagged ahead, her laughter carrying on the gentle breeze. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, a handful of drifting clouds marking what would’ve been perfect flying weather.

As they neared the village, preparations were already underway. Banners were being strung between posts, streamers stretched from roof to roof, and wooden stalls sprang up along the main road. Jere’s processors immediately started deducing the likely purpose of each based on observable details - an involuntary subroutine he had almost no influence over. If his processors prioritised something, it happened, regardless of his organic mind’s protests.

They walked through the village without drawing the lingering stares they once had; the residents had grown accustomed to seeing an otherworldly superweapon holding hands with one of the most feared demon species on the continent. To be fair, there were a handful of even stranger pairings between races, combinations that only a powerful romantic bond could make workable.

Not that Jere cared. He catalogued the observations, then moved on, following Ylfa as she led him to a small building decorated with colourful bunting. She didn’t bother knocking - she pushed the door open and ushered Eny inside before Jere stepped through and closed it behind him.

The shop was tiny, consisting of a front desk and a few wooden mannequins displaying festival outfits. A cat-eared woman behind the counter looked up as they entered, surprise flickering across her face before shifting into a polished, businesslike smile.

“Hello! Are you here to buy clothes for the festival?”

Ylfa nodded, and Eny translated the words directly into her mind. The woman continued briskly, clearly well-practiced.

“Great! So you’ll need three then, two adult, one male and one female, and one female child. Correct?”

Jere shook his head.
“Just the female ones. I won’t be getting one.”

Eny looked betrayed, her little lips pulling into a pout. Ylfa turned to him with a raised eyebrow as Eny relayed what he’d said. He shrugged, thinking deliberately so Eny could pass the message along:

I can’t fight if I’m not wearing something made specifically for me.

Ylfa frowned. Eny’s young voice echoed in his mind:

Why does it matter? We won’t be fighting anything.

His expression remained steady.
I don’t like to take risks.

Ylfa sighed and shrugged - she’d learned there was no moving him when he settled into that tone of thinking.

The cat-woman behind the counter blinked at the silent exchange taking place right in front of her but decided to continue without comment.
“Alright then. If you two ladies will follow me, I’ll show you what I have.”

Eny took Ylfa’s hand again, and together they disappeared into the back room. Jere was left alone in the quiet entrance area, so he waited, letting his attention drift. By the time the door opened again, his processors were locked in a detailed debate about optimal moments to initiate a kiss, while his organic mind buzzed and flinched at the imagined scenarios.

He immediately snapped back to reality when the back door creaked open and a small figure sprinted toward him, blonde hair bouncing.

“Papa! Am I beautiful?”

Eny spun in front of him - her kimono patterned in bold kikko hexagons and slightly too big for her small frame. She twirled with an eager flourish, wide green eyes shimmering with hope.

He smiled and ruffled her hair.
“Of course you are.”

She let out a triumphant cheer.

Then another figure stepped through the doorway, and Jere froze.

Later, he would describe it - at least internally - as a treat for the eyes.

Ylfa emerged, her tail swaying gently through the folds of her nadeshiko-patterned kimono. She glanced down in a moment of self-consciousness. The outfit hugged her form closely, her generous chest balanced the soft curve of her hips - a figure normally hidden beneath her skirts.

The cat-woman followed behind her, carrying their original clothes with an unmistakably sly grin.
“Well? Is it to your tastes?”

Jere managed a nod as his organic mind blanked entirely. His processors were no help; they were already recording measurements, constructing a 3D model, and analysing patterns he had not asked for.

Ylfa felt her cheeks warm under his gaze. She couldn’t hear him, but she could certainly tell she was being admired. She smiled nervously and signed, her hands drawn close, almost resting on her chest:

Do you like it, darling?

That snapped him back. He signed in return - a little sloppier than usual:

Very much.

Her smile brightened, nerves dissolving.

The cat-woman’s tail flicked once.
“Well, you certainly seem satisfied. Thank you for coming.”

Jere blinked.
“What about payment?”

She grinned and shook her head.
“Nah, I don’t charge for festival outfits.”

A mischievous tilt crept into her smile.
“I do take tips though.”

Ylfa, following through Eny’s translation, reached into a hidden pocket within the kimono - her thigh briefly exposed through the slit - and produced a small gemstone. She tossed it to the woman, then took both girls’ clothes from her arms.

The shopkeeper stared for a moment, stunned, then grinned broadly as she tucked the gem away.
“Well. You won’t need to worry about payment ever again. Come by whenever, I’ll always be open to the three of you.”

Jere nodded - then smiled.

Another door had opened to them.