“Toichiro, do you have to make it sound so dramatic?” Koga seemed amused, but June was most assuredly not.

“I don’t share your relaxed attitude about allowing some mundane stray into such a sensitive situation.” Toichiro dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand, leaning back in his chair and leveling a stare at June. She ignored him until she was more assured of Yura’s wellbeing, and only bothered to look back at him when she’d found a place at the end of the table.

“I’m sorry that all I was able to do was stitch one of your comrades back together,” she said sweetly. Koga choked on a laugh.

“Toichiro, your usual tactics aren’t going to work on her,” Gaku said, crossing his arms. June was pretty sure that she saw a bit of approval in his usually sharp expression.

“We’re not here for tactics,” Futaba interjected firmly, steering the conversation back on course. “June, I gathered everyone here so that you could officially be introduced; we’re all here except for Ginnojo, who had to work.”

“Ginnojo, too? You’re all…” She wracked her brain, trying to remember the word Nachi had told her. “Ayakashi?” There was a series of nods around the table. Though Yura and Gaku didn’t look any different, they included themselves in the group.

Oji, too. She felt lost, but tried to keep her face neutral knowing that not everyone there was her friend. She took a steadying breath.

“It’s hard to get your head around at first.” Futaba looked sympathetic. “I found out very suddenly myself when we started to have problems last year. I’m not an ayakashi, but I’m an Onmiyoji diviner – I can use the divine arts with this.” She put something on the table that June leaned in to get a better look at.

It was a little shorter than her forearm with tiers of bells tapering up to a point. On it’s handle, there were two ribbons – one with a lotus blossom and the other with three twined moonflowers.

“It’s a kagura bell wand,” Futaba explained.

“I see.” She did not see.

“We have been fighting against other Onmiyoji and Ayakashi that are trying to harm the capital. We made some progress last year, but…” Futaba sighed, looking quiet frustrated with herself. “The Ayakashi, at least, have come back in full force.”

“Why are they attacking the capital?” June asked, since it seemed like the next logical question. To her surprise, it was Shizuki who spoke up to clarify.

“The Ayakashi that we are fighting against are loosely affiliated in a group called the Seknkitai,” he told her blandly. “The Senkitai view the current government as weak and ineffective, and seek to topple it.”

That was big. Really big. Bigger than the ten or so people scattered around the room, in June’s opinion. She drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair, trying to keep herself in the moment. The wood underneath her fingertips was familiar and real, which she needed.

“So, how does that work? You seek them out and…what, do battle?”

“There is more cat and mouse than that,” Koga said with a frown. “They’re a bit scattered; so, we don’t know all of their members. Only the topmost ayakashi within the organization.”

“Sounds problematic.”

“That’s why we wanted to talk to you about it.” Aoi appeared at her elbow with a cup of coffee with some biscuits, piping hot from the oven with a side of jam from her mother’s recipes. The juxtaposition between her nice, southern breakfast and a Japanese fairy tale was pretty jarring.

“Thank you, Aoi.” Even so, the smell of coffee fortified her, and June took a deep breath to take it all in. “I might just make it.”

“It’s just breakfast,” he huffed, but the bright blush on his cheeks showed that he was pleased she approved. It looked like everyone else had already eaten, but June didn’t let that deter her from opening one of the biscuits and adding some butter while it was still hot.

“To make sure I understand, you’re all ayakashi except for Futaba, who is a diviner, and you’re struggling against another team of ayakashi that wants to overthrow the government. Am I following so far?”

“It sounds pretty simple when you put it like that,” Oji said with a grin. The young man with the bird wings yawned again.

“She’s got it. I don’t know why I had to come here for this.” Aoi glared daggers at him, but he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

“We wanted to talk to you about it because you can choose to be involved or not,” Futaba told her. “It’s unfortunate, but it’s clear now that we’ve been relying very heavily on Yura. Not only do we not have a plan in the event that something happens to him or if he’s not available, but there are a good many more of us than there are of him.”

“‘Tis the truth, even ayakashi have but two hands,” Yura said with a nod. “And, shoulds’t thou be at all interested in aiding us, many hands make light work.”

“And if I’m not?” June took a sip of coffee, and she saw Futaba glance at Toichiro.

“I erase all of your memories of last night’s events and you go back to the way things were before,” he said smoothly. His tail swished behind him.

“Hmm.” With everything that had happened over the past 12 hours or so, June didn’t doubt that he could actually erase her memories. That said, there was not a chance in hell that she was willingly going to let that smarmy bastard do anything to her head. She was glad that Futaba and the others trusted him, but she most certainly did not.

“It’s quite safe, of course.” Toichiro’s tone was casual, but she could tell that he was watching her closely, likely picking up on the fact that she had her own concerns. “Being a human without any magical powers to speak of, there wouldn’t be anything to interfere. You just wake up in time for dinner, and everything is the same as it was yesterday evening.”

“Yesterday evening, I knew that you all were doing something.” She took her time adding jam to her biscuit, taking a bite as just about everyone looked surprised. Oji and Nachi did not, as they had both suspected as much. “Hushed meetings and late night outings. Mysterious comings and goings. Men in military uniforms. I saw all of those things before I realized what was happening.”

“Thou art quite perceptive, Lady June,” Yura said, giving her an encouraging nod. Unlike some others June could name, he didn’t seem concerned. “I was unaware that thou had seen so much and spoken of so little.”

“She was waiting for us,” Nachi muttered, running his fingers in circles over the tablecloth and then smoothing out the wrinkles. “Waiting for us to say something.” Of course, she had told ‘Tama’ her concerns directly, but it was nice that Nachi also recognized it. He had gone out on a limb for both herself and Yura the night before; perhaps his consistent companionship in any guise was why the change in his appearance wasn’t as unsettling as it could have otherwise been.

“Is this true?” Toichiro looked at Aoi for some reason, but the younger man only looked away, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes.” Oji was the one who ended up answering, instead. He gave June a long, considering look before glancing down, pulling a box of cigarettes out of his pocket. He pulled one out, turning it between his

fingers thoughtfully. June wondered if he was thinking back to all the times that his coat just happened to be by the door when he needed it, or perhaps the time she’d told him she’d forgotten to set it out. She would just have to wonder, as he gave no further explanation.

“How long have you known?” Toichiro asked her. June declined to answer, taking another sip of coffee.

“If I tell you, won’t you just offer to erase my memory that far back, instead?” she asked. Toichiro didn’t answer her question, either; apparently two could play that game. But in his case, it meant June knew she was right. “As I figured out that something was amiss once, that’s a temporary fix unless you plan on not reintroducing yourselves and possibly banning me from Raccord.”

“Of course not!” That outburst came from Aoi. When the attention shifted to him, he coughed uncomfortably into his hand. “I mean. It would be inconvenient without having learned the rest of the recipes she brought with her, don’t you think?”

“What do you want?” Oji asked simply.

June took a deep breath. She’d known what she’d wanted for weeks. Perhaps since the very first day, though it would’ve been impossible to know the depth and breadth of what needed to be done.

“I want to help.” Straightforward question, straightforward answer. The reactions were varied, which she expected. Annoyed, bored, unsurprised. Koga generally always looked vaguely amused, and that hadn’t changed.

“Mrs. Southerland,” Shizuki said, expression bland. “You understand that there is risk involved.”

“After last night, that’s abundantly clear.” She picked up her meal again, even though it wasn’t as delicious as Aoi’s cooking otherwise should’ve been. There were no questions about how dangerous it would be even if she wasn’t likely to be on the front lines.

“I don’t think you’re going to scare her off.” Koga’s jovial tone was a bit out of place in the heavy atmosphere, but June had always known him to be like that.

“I would’ve been more surprised if we had.” Oji tapped his cigarette on the table and gave her a smile. For Toichiro, his handsome face was wasted with the cross look that he wore, and June was certain that he was going to argue further; however, he only puffed out a breath in frustration.

“Fine then,” he finally said. “Now what?”

“There is a need for a second healer, and ne’er are herbs prepared for emergencies,” Yura pointed out.

“My knowledge of herbs and remedies is limited,” June admitted. “But you could teach me.”

“And then what? She waits at Matotaka’s with a pile of medicine?” Sarcasm dripped from Toichiro’s words. “Perhaps she could use the corner table at Raccord.”

“I have an idea.” Kuro piped up for the first time. “Akinari has been doing those exercises you gave him and the other performers have been really curious. What if you had a little office? Then you could make medicine all day and people could come in and nothing looks out of place.”

“What a good idea!” Futaba perked right up at the suggestion, slapping her hands down on the table and startling the winged young man awake – briefly.

“And you may be onto something, Toichiro,” Oji said, glancing over at him. He did not look terribly pleased to have contributed to the idea, which warmed June’s heart. “Theres an extra room that I’ve been using like a mudroom – the one off the kitchen. It’s not much, but it’s got it’s own entrance, and it’s just big enough for a little office.”

“It’s still close enough that she can take you shopping,” Aoi said with a dismissive sniff.

“It sounds a little expensive just to start an office,” June said hesitantly, but Koga just shrugged.

“I’ll consider it an investment. Besides, what all would you need, really? Some shelves, a desk, some chairs?”

“Um.” June wasn’t entirely sure how to tell Koga precisely how much he was leaving out. Jars for lotions and salves, bottles for tinctures, bandages, splints, and a variety of other materials that she would need if she was going to actually try to practice medicine, even in a limited capacity. “A bit more than that.”

“But what do you think?” Kuro asked her. Truth be told, the idea scared June almost as much as tending to Yura had the night before. She was telling people that she could help them without the assurance that it was true. She’d be leaning on all of them quite heavily – Kuro for patrons, Yura for medicine, and Koga for the shop itself. She pursed her lips.

“It’s a good idea, as long as I’m clear with all of you and any patrons what it is that I know and can do. I’m not a doctor, an apothecary, or a miracle worker.”

“I think you’ve worked at least one miracle,” Gaku muttered, averting his eyes.

“That shaved at least ten years off my life and I’d prefer not to do it again if at all possible, please and thank you.” Toichiro snorted and Yura laughed quietly.

“We acknowledge thy skills, Lady June,” Yura said with a smile. “What thou knowest and what thou does not, and we can proceed thusly.”

“Isn’t this exciting?” Whatever it was that had been weighing Kuro down seemed to have lifted off his shoulders, allowing him to pop up out of his chair and run around to give June a big hug. “You’ll be here all the time, right next door!”

“This isn’t for fun, Kuro,” Gaku warned.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t also have fun.” He gave her a squeeze, and June felt a bit of the weight come off of her shoulders, as well. Kuro had that effect on people. “We can see each other every day, and have meals at Raccord, and you can take Oji shopping. Oh! And we can teach you how to play Go if you’re ever slow, and—“

Intermission – Koga/Kuya “Are you sure this isn’t too much?” June anxiously fidgeted with the pen that she’d been using to make

notes with, looking over the numbers that she and Koga had discussed. Once she’d talked about the nuances of what occurred in a medical practice, he’d been quite thorough in breaking down how much it would cost for a visit, medicine, and a variety of other supplies. June’s only experience with local currency was shopping for food and her meager paycheck from Raccord; so, it seemed to her that everything added up quickly.

“Remember that formula we used based on the price of sourcing the materials?” He patiently leaned over the desk and went through the math again. “Everything is sound, and it’s still less expensive than other specialists in your area of medicine. I double checked with a friend over lunch yesterday.”

“Yes, but I’m not actually a specialist in the area of medicine.” June put down the pen and rubbed her face, trying to come to terms that she was actually trying to open a practice like some sort of doctor. She felt much more like a snake oil salesman, sitting in Koga’s office and wasting his time.

The two of them had been cooped up in the room for most of the day and, though it was spacious and sunny, the walls were closing in a bit.

“I think you’re selling yourself short.” She could hear Koga pick up the pen and make a few more notes, finishing up the list they had been working on. “Holistic treatments are still medicine as long as they work. Yura has been making medicine for me for years, and I wouldn’t talk down his skill.”

“Years?” June put her hands down and looked at Koga, who smiled back. “I didn’t realize you had been dealing with this Senkitai issue for that long.”

“Oh, it’s not for that. It’s for—“ The ever-present grin faltered a bit, but was soon firmly back in place, “—something else.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” Predictably, he waved away June’s concerns, trying to put her at ease.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just something that Oni ayakashi need.” A thought occurred to him, and it was also a convenient way to change the subject. “I’m surprised that you haven’t asked what type of Ayakashi we all are.”

“Honestly,” June said with a wry grin of her own, “I don’t know what any of this means. You could say that you’re a deer ayakashi and those were actually very short antlers, and I’d never know the difference.” He laughed, and the sound filled the room to the brim, brightening it a bit.

“That’s fair.” It took a moment for him to refocus. “For a bit of background, Oni are a bit like…hmm, ogres, I think. We’re known for our strength, among other things.” Leaning back, he looked out the window to see if Kuya – the young man with the bird wings – was still sleeping in the yard. He was.

“Kuya is a tengu. It’s sort of like a wind spirit.” June peeked out the window at Kuya, who looked like a bird that had overeaten at the feeder and was a nap in the sunshine. His glossy black wings no doubt soaked in all of the light, keeping him warm even in the cool afternoon. They ruffled briefly as he

adjusted them. Kuya was probably the least imposing of any of the ayakashi she had met, Kuro included, though she wouldn’t tell him that to his face.

“Humans have associated them with a variety of mischief, but they generally live in the mountains and keep to themselves.”

“Does Kuya…work? Or is he ornamental?” Koga laughed again, this time loud enough that the tengu ruffled his wings in annoyance at the interruption. June hoped that he hadn’t heard her comment.

“Ornamental mostly, if you want to put it that way. He and I go way back, though; so, I don’t mind. And Futaba seems to like a full house.” Since they were distracted anyway, they took a moment to stretch – Koga stretched his legs, and June reached over her head, trying to work out the stiffness in her shoulders. It had been a long time since she’d been hunched over her books all day, though she should probably reacquaint herself with the practice.

“If you two are planning on having children, I’m sure the house will be full to bursting with their energy.”

“That’s the plan.” Koga looked soft, thinking about Futaba and children they would have in the future, and June was happy for him. For both of them, really. Futaba would no doubt be well cared for during her pregnancy, and their children would be spoiled rotten with so many honorary uncles about.

“June.” His tone turned serious as he settled back down into the chair beside her. “You don’t talk about yourself very much. Do you mind if I ask about your husband? Did you have any children?”

June picked up the pen again, looking back down at the paperwork in front of her. However, her mind wandered thousands of miles away, back to her manor in the States and her husband, William.

He’d been so dashing when they’d gotten married. Black hair, dazzling smile, bright eyes, and tales of adventure from the west; he’d swept her off her feet. They’d been so in love and had so many plans for their life together.

“No,” she told Koga, pushing thoughts of the past aside. “I don’t mind, and I don’t have children.”

“I hope I haven’t stepped into a sensitive subject,” he said apologetically, but she shook her head.

“Perhaps some years ago it was, but I’ve long since come to realize that we must not have loved each other very much; it wasn’t a situation to bring a child into.” She was rustling through the papers, trying to find what they had been working on before their short break when Koga put a large hand over hers. Surprised, she looked up, finding him very close and an uncharacteristically somber expression on his face.

“I’m sorry that your arrival was on such bad terms,” he told her seriously, “but every time you talk about your past, I am glad that you’re here. I can’t say if it was for some greater purpose or not, but you have people that care about you here, and that has to be better than whatever was waiting for you back in America.” June looked down at his hand, then up at him.

“Thank you, Koga,” she said quietly. The warmth of his hand spread throughout her, shaking off the last of the cobwebs that she’d brought with her. Whatever that manor was, it wasn’t home. The capital was home. Matotaka’s house was home. These people were her home. “I think you’re right.”

Intermission – Yura/Gaku The books thumped loudly as Gaku unceremoniously put them down on the table next to June. She startled once because of the sound, and then again because of the vast amount of material that he’d brought. There were at least ten books there, and it was the third of such piles that he’d brought over the course of the pats few days. They were beginning to take up a lot of space in the sunroom. “You’ll need…what,” he said, scratching the back of

his head, “a week to get through this?”

“Gaku, I didn’t take you for a kidder.” And it seemed like she was correct, because his youthful face was stone-cold serious. “I can’t even recognize all of the kanji yet.”

“Obviously that’s what we do first then, isn’t it?” June did what she could not to droop, but Yura laughed as her shoulders still dropped by a fraction.

“Shall I fetch thee some tea, Lady June?” he asked her. “It seems as though thou hast a trial ahead of thee.”

“Please,” she muttered, wondering what the strongest type of tea was, or if she could steep tea in coffee to somehow enhance the effects of both. Gaku was ridiculously intelligent and quick to learn, making him something of a grueling task master, up with her at all hours of the night and day as she struggled through the complicated writing system. Even so, he was also a dedicated and thorough teacher; June doubted she could’ve asked for anyone better.

She tried to match his dedication, staying up even after they had finished for the day to go over the notes once again. She was having some tea on the veranda doing just that when she saw a familiar shadow fall over the wooden floors.

“Gaku.” She turned up to see him in the doorway, a package tucked under his arm. It seemed a bit late for him to be running one of his machines out to a client, but she had long since stopped answering questions. “This symbol is giving me some trouble. Can you take a look and tell me the root words and meaning again?”

“In a minute.” June expected him to go off to whatever task that he was working on after the curt statement, but instead, he sat down next to her, setting the package between them. “I wanted to talk to you about something else first.”

“Of course.” She didn’t bother to offer him any of the cookies that she’d brought out with her; Gaku staunchly disliked anything sweet, which amused her. “What is it?”

“Yura and I have been together for a very long time,” he said, looking out over the yard. “Over a thousand years now.” June gaped. How could she not? A thousand years?

“We are tsukumo-gami, instruments that have lived long enough to have a soul. His flute and my drum were carved from the same tree, making us brothers. Twins.

“We were there with Futaba in her past life, together when she forged contracts with each of the others. We were the ones that helped her regain those memories so that she could become a powerful diviner again.” He went silent for a time, violet eyes so much older than the rest of his face. They had seen so much, evidenced by the way he spoke, and the confidence he wore as readily as a cloak.

“Everyone else has changed so much since then, but Yura hasn’t. He’s happy to stay in his shrine in the mountains, cut off from everything so that he can tend to his herbs and the animals that follow him around. It’s frustrating sometimes, but it also makes him…dependable in a way. No matter what happens, I can count on Yura to be Yura.” Gaku looked briefly at June, and she wondered if anyone had ever fallen into those eyes. They were so deep, the knowledge so vast.

“Can you imagine it, the way the world looks to us?” He drummed his fingers rhythmically, thoughtfully on the wooden beams beneath him. “Nothing else stays the same for very long. Days, weeks, months, years – they’re precious because they go by so fast. Lives beginning and ending in a moment.” The drumming stopped and his hands balled into fists.

“His life almost ended in a moment.” Gaku’s voice was tight as he looked away again. “And you saved him.”

“Gaku…” He had just told her that he was a thousand year old ayakashi, and she believed him. But in that moment, he looked like a teenager that had almost lost his brother, his only family and most enduring friend. June could guess at how terrifying it must’ve been to not know if the only constant of a thousand years was about to be taken away.

She didn’t know if it was the right thing to do, but it was the only thing she could think of: she leaned over and wrapped her arms around Gaku. He was surprised at first, but it was fleeting; soon enough, she felt him return her embrace, tucking his face into her shoulder. In the still of the cold evening, with only the quiet rustling of the trees in the background, she thought she heard him take a few ragged breaths as she rubbed his back in soothing circles.

“That kind of time is…” She took a steadying breath of her own, breathing out and in slowly, “incomprehensible to me, really, but it’s my hope that you’re together for many more years. If I got to help with that, even in a small way, then I’m glad.” June stayed like that for a moment more, arms around his then frame, before he pulled back. She could see him rub at the corners of his eyes, still shaken by what had almost happened, but slowly recovering.

“Anyway,” he said gruffly, “I made you something. To say thank you.”

The package that had been sitting between them was scooted in her direction, and June gingerly put the box in her lap so that she could take a look at it. What she’d thought was a package was actually the gift

itself – a painstakingly carved wooden box decorated with a flute and drum on the top and a brass key sticking out of the back.

Curious, she turned the key and watched with delight as the box opened of it’s own accord, quiet music filling the night. There were no dancers; the gears inside were shiny and new, glinting in the overhead light but they were there to do a job, not to be beautiful. Even so, June thought they had their own charm, reminding her a bit of Gaku himself.

“Gaku, this is…” She took a deep breath. “This is beautiful.”

“I’ve been wanting to make a music box for a while,” he said, likewise looking down at the clever device. June idly wondered how long ‘a while’ was to him. “I thought the occasion was right for it.”

They watched the gears turn and the findings pluck away at the wheel with it’s upright notes until the song came to an end, when June closed the lid carefully.

“I helped Yura because I wanted to,” she told him. “But I know what it meant to you. So, thank you.”

Having said his piece, Gaku only nodded.

“It’s getting late,” he said after a moment. “I’ll go over your questions in the morning and start on a few new symbols; so, you should get some rest.” June looked back at the scattered papers and sighed quietly.

“I’ll be in shortly. Goodnight, Gaku.”

“Goodnight, June.”

As it turned out, June got a bit of a reprieve, instead; Gaku needed to spend the next few days working on repairs in the city, and June found herself studying with Yura in his place. As expected, he’d recovered splendidly, and no one would be able to guess that he had been so close to death not long ago.

He was also a much more relaxed teacher than Gaku, if only because he called breaks several times during the day for sweets and tea in quantities that still surprised her.

“Ah, these modern days are a marvel,” he mused, eating the sweet steamed rolls that Gaku had brought in. “In ages past, all I had to sate my desire for sweets was fruit and tea.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure how you made it.” June watched a sizable pile of rolls disappear as she organized her notes. Even between Yura and the books that Gaku had brought, she was sure that there was no way she would be able to share a thousand years of information, but she would get

what she could. The pages were scattered on the table in the sunroom as she went through them again.

While Yura snacked, she’d added her old notes to the pile, as well – the collection of letters that she’d carefully curated over the years of her disability with instructions on how to diagnose and treat more subtle issues. Occasionally, she would flip through the pages and not down an additional note regarding what combination of herbs might also help. Yura watched curiously.

“Did thou bringest this tome with thee, Lady June?” he asked, munching on a roll and leaning forward a little to take a look.

“Yes. After I lost much of my mobility, this is how I spent my time – writing letters, gathering information from people across the country. I’ve even got some from Canada, though my French isn’t very good.” He seemed curious; so, June turned the book and scooted it across the table so that he could get a better look.

“Many thanks, lady. Alak, I cannot read the English, but thy diagrams art detailed enough for some understanding.” As he flipped through the pages, June knew that he would see a variety of devices, splints, stretches, and North American herbs that she had used in the past.

“Art thou sure that thou aren’t a doctor, Lady June?” he asked, amused. “I knewest thou was quite knowledgable, but this is a breadth of information that is greater than was my expectation.”

“There’s a lot of information out there for treatment and management once you accept that cure is not possible.”

“It’s interesting, is it not,” he said, chewing thoughtfully. “There is some peace in accepting thy fate, though thou must knowest when to stop trying.” June gave him a look over the edge of her papers and found him looking over her shoulder, off into the distance.

“Gaku did tell thee that we art tsukugo-gami, yes?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Though I am the dragon flute, until very recently, I was cursed so that I could only play a tune that caused the death of all those who heard it.” June’s eyebrows shot up, and she thought about what a difficult curse that would be for such a soft-hearted person as Yura.

“T’was the efforts of the Lady Futaba – in this life and the last one – that lifted the curse. Ne’er would I have thought I would be free of it, and ne’er would I have thought that it was offering a form of protection.” At that comment, he frowned, looking down into the depths of his tea. “Had I still been able to play that accursed tune, perhaps Zantetsu would not have been able to overtake me.”

“Yura.” June waited until he was looking up again to give him a soft smile. “I didn’t know you when you carried that curse, but I’m sure it was a heavy burden to bear. You made it through your fight with Zantetsu and you’ll have the rest of your life to play beautiful music for whomever you’d like. All of the work, all the risk – that will seem like nothing in another hundred years or so.”

“I concur, Lady,” he said with a nod, helping himself to the last of the sweets. “I had given up while there was still hope.”

“Hope, to me, is best paired with a plan and the steps to achieve it.” June returned to her papers, comparing the herbs that Yura had listed for her with the ones that she had in her notes already. “Otherwise, it’s just a fantasy. It sounds like Gaku and Futaba both worked long and hard to make it real.”

“But thou hast come to know that many a fantastical thing is real, yes? Canst thou not believe in a fantasy with that in mind?” The scribbling of her pen stopped momentarily, but it picked back up again soon enough.

“If it’s not fantasy, then it’s real,” she said simply. “It’s measurable and it has limits just like everything else. It’s important to keep that in mind, don’t you think?”

“Thou art quite jaded for one so young,” he mused, having only the tea to content himself with. June opened her mouth to debate whether or not she should be considered young, but closed it again; no doubt Yura and Gaku considered all of them impossibly young. “But thou hast experienced much in thine years, and I canst argue your logic.”

Brushing the last of the crumbs off his hand, Yura returned his focus to the book that he’d been looking at.

“At the very least, your reasoning and sharp mind will prove beneficial when mixing herbs. This stretch hither, it is for pain in the back, is it not? I came across a flower once with a peculiar effect on the muscles that—“

And so their conversation returned to practical matters, which June appreciated. It was true that just about everything she’d experienced since coming to the capital seemed like some sort of magic – from finding people so kind and giving as Matotaka and Futaba to ayakashi and all that entailed. But, while she was finding her feet, she still needed to keep them firmly on the ground if she intended on keeping her bearings in this wild new world.