Location: Shiraishi Animal Wellness Clinic – Morning
The clinic hummed with its usual calm energy as Akira moved through the familiar motions—pouring food into bowls, refilling water dishes, and gently stroking the thick fur of the older cats nestled in their pens. The Shiba Inu with the graying muzzle sat patiently beside him, eyes soft but watchful as Akira flexed its stiff joints with careful hands.
The steady rhythm of care grounded him; these creatures didn't ask questions or demand more than the kindness they received. Yet, even amid the steady cadence of work, his thoughts drifted inevitably—to Tsukiko, to the new presence that now filled his residence with quiet warmth.
During a brief pause, Akira leaned against the storeroom doorframe, pulling out the SigilBound with his thoughts, the interface blooming in a gentle golden light. He flicked through the [Mission Log]:
Daily Mission: Domestic Sharing
[Bond Status: +0.1%]
[EXP Gained: Passive]
[Crysts +4] [Micro-Mission: "Prepare Breakfast for a Bonded Astralkin"]
[Bond Status: +0.1%]
[EXP Gained: Passive]
[Micro-Mission: "Shared Meal"]
[Bond Status: +0.1%]
[EXP Gained: Passive]
A faint, amused smile curved his lips.
"So there really are daily missions… even micro-missions for me? Seriously?" he murmured, half in wonder.
The interface shifted with a soft shimmer, displaying passive bond progress, daily synchronization stats, and condition trackers that marked Tsukiko's gradual recovery. Akira's eyes lingered on the glowing details, a quiet sense of awe settling over him. The system wasn't just measuring victories or struggles—it was acknowledging the small things. The moments of care, of presence. The gentle, ordinary threads that made their bond real.
Akira's gaze lifted to the pale blue sky beyond the clinic's window. A lone cloud drifted slowly, casting soft shadows on the ground. For the first time in days, a fragile hope stirred quietly in his chest — like a small flame, steady and alive.
His thoughts circled back again: What was Tsukiko doing now? Still watching the videos on the laptop? Meditating? Reading those books that I prepared? Did she miss him?
The soft creak of the back door startled him—his senior assistant calling for help with a panicked terrier—and he tucked the interface away, focusing once more on the work before him. Still, a part of his heart lingered far away, in the sunlit quiet of his home where a dragon girl waited.
Location: Tatsumori Shopping District – Late Afternoon
With his shift done, Akira's steps drifted away from the usual path. A small boutique nestled between a sunlit flower stall bursting with bright sunflowers and a creaky old record shop caught his eye. The tinkling bell above the door sang a clear, bright note as he entered, the delicate chime sparking a faint warmth in the sleepy afternoon.
Inside, soft pastel fabrics draped the racks, mingling with the comforting scent of cedarwood and faint floral hints that wrapped the room in gentle warmth. Akira suddenly felt oddly self-conscious, aware of the soft squeak his shoes made against the polished wooden floor as he stepped further in.
Rows of dresses surrounded him—flowing tunics, loose loungewear, and soft cottons that whispered promises of comfort and ease. Each piece seemed to beckon with its gentle texture; some light and airy like a breeze, others cozy enough to curl up in on a rainy day.
His cheeks tingled with a subtle flush as his thoughts wandered beyond the fabric.
What would Tsukiko like? he wondered. Something easy, soft… free-moving.
He imagined her slender frame in a loose tunic, sleeves slipping just so as she stretched in the morning light. The thought made his chest tighten slightly. For a fleeting moment, his mind drifted to something more intimate.
Maybe a soft bra? Comfortable underwear? The question pressed gently, stirring a flush that spread warm and fast. But uncertainty pulled him back. What size would she even wear?
He blinked once. ...She's definitely bigger than a C, especially for someone so slender, he admitted inwardly, and instantly regretted letting his thoughts wander that far.
He shook his head, blinking to clear the sudden heat rising in his face. Not yet. When she's ready to try them herself.
"Need help, sweetheart?" a playful voice cut through his thoughts.
Akira blinked, turning to see the shopkeeper—a lively woman in her fifties, adorned with bold makeup and bangles that jingled softly with each movement. Her sharp eyes sparkled with teasing warmth, as if she could see right through his flustered silence.
Clearing his throat, his voice came out rougher than usual. "Uh, yes. I'm looking for something comfortable. For someone else."
The woman's grin widened knowingly. "Shopping for your girlfriend, are we?"
His ears flushed deeper, heat rushing up his neck. "It's… complicated."
"Complicated is code for yes," she winked with amused certainty.
Akira scanned the rack carefully, pulling out a cream-colored tunic embroidered delicately along the sleeves. Loose, breathable, and soft—perfect for lounging or casual outings.
Next came a plum-colored dress, its fabric smooth and gentle to the touch. Soft enough for comfort but elegant enough that Tsukiko could wear it outside without feeling out of place. He pictured her slipping it on—the fabric flowing lightly around her legs, the modest neckline tracing the graceful curve of her collarbone.
On impulse, he grabbed a sky-petal blue loungewear set—a loose top and drawstring pants—already imagining Tsukiko waking sleepy-eyed and barefoot, tugging gently at the sleeves as she shuffled toward the kitchen.
His mind flickered again, unhelpfully, to things far too intimate for him to be buying right now. His heart thumped, embarrassment mixing with a kind of quiet affection.
But what if it's too forward? he wondered.
He forced his gaze away from the underwear section, steering himself toward the bathroom aisle instead.
From the small accessories shelf, he picked up a bottle of floral-scented shampoo, the cap clicking softly as he tested the fragrance. Gentle, sweet, light—like a breeze carrying the scent of blooming sakura. He could already imagine Tsukiko closing her eyes, letting the scent wash over her.
Here, he picked up a bottle of floral-scented shampoo, the cap clicking softly as he tested the fragrance. Gentle, sweet, light—like a breeze carrying the scent of blooming sakura. He could already imagine Tsukiko closing her eyes, letting the scent wash over her.
Next came a detangling brush, smooth and ergonomic—perfect for her long, aqua-blue hair that must tangle easily.
Finally, he selected a lightly scented lotion, subtle and comforting—soft enough for sensitive skin, whispering care and tenderness.
The shopkeeper rang up the purchases, eyes twinkling with amused curiosity. "You've got good taste. She's going to feel very loved."
Akira smiled softly, warmth blooming in his chest. "I hope so."
Stepping back into the golden afternoon light, the shopping bags swinging lightly at his side, he pictured Tsukiko's reaction: a faint blink, a cautious tilt of her head, then a soft smile as she ran her hands over the fabrics—surprised by the textures but quietly pleased.
For a moment, he imagined her in the soft blue loungewear, hair loose and eyes half-closed—a serene figure wrapped in comfort and trust.
His brain helpfully supplied an HD image of her tugging the hem down, cheeks pink.
Abort, abort! He slapped his own forehead with the shopping bag.
That thought made his heart beat a little faster.
Location: Akira's Residence
The soft light of the sun spilled through the half-drawn curtains, painting the living room in hues of amber and rose. Tsukiko sat curled on the sofa, a borrowed blanket draped lightly across her lap. The laptop rested before her, its glow reflecting in her aqua-blue eyes. On the screen, a silly comedy played—human actors overreacting in slapstick clumsiness.
At first, her lips pressed into their usual reserved line, but then—unexpectedly—a bright laugh escaped her. A sound soft and crystalline, almost startled, as though she wasn't used to hearing it herself. She covered her mouth with slender fingers, eyes crinkling as the laughter returned, spilling freer this time.
"…Humans are so strange," she whispered, though her voice held no edge of judgment—only warmth.
After a moment, her stomach gave the faintest murmur. Tsukiko blinked, hand resting lightly against her midsection as Akira's words surfaced in her mind: "If you ever get hungry, you're free to grab something from the kitchen. There should be fruits and snacks."
She hesitated only briefly before rising, the blanket slipping from her lap. Barefoot, she padded softly across the tatami and into the kitchen, the gentle clink of dishes and the faint rustle of packaging breaking the stillness. Her slender fingers selected a glossy red apple from the fruit bowl, and she poured herself a glass of water, watching the liquid catch the golden light as it filled.
Returning carefully to the sofa, she eased herself down, mindful of her still-tender knee and foot. Once settled, she tucked herself beneath the blanket again, nibbling at the apple with quiet curiosity before setting it aside for the comedy once more. A sip of water, a small crunch, then her eyes were back on the glowing screen.
In the slanting light, the air near the shelves seemed to shimmer for the briefest instant—like dust motes caught in a golden current, though they glowed a touch too brightly before vanishing. The faintest trace of something unseen lingered in the corners, delicate as breath, too subtle to notice unless one were searching for it.
Tsukiko, oblivious to the quiet change, laughed again at the screen—shoulders relaxing, the blanket cocooning her in a pocket of comfort. For the first time since she had arrived, her posture no longer carried the tension of someone bracing to flee.
Location: Ryūjin Shrine Path – Early Evening
The late afternoon sun dipped low, casting long shadows through the winding trail that led from Tatsumori's shopping district toward Akira's neighborhood. The air was cool and fragrant with the scent of moss and fallen leaves, the gentle rustle of wind threading softly through the towering cedar trees lining the Ryūjin Shrine Path.
Akira paused a dozen paces in, where the cedars parted just enough for the old wayside shrine to peek through the green. The same crooked ginkgo leaned over it like a tired guardian; the shimenawa had frayed a little more since spring, but the altar still waited, patient as stone. He slipped his hand into the side pocket of his bag and drew out a small paper bundle—five plum buns, still faintly warm from the bakery's oven.
"Sorry I'm late," he said under his breath, bowing once before setting the buns on the offering tray. Two for the land, two for the memory, one for whatever lingered between. The steam curled up through the gohei strips like incense that had forgotten its smoke. He didn't linger long—just long enough for the scent of sweet red-bean paste to mingle with cedar and earth—then straightened, brushed crumbs from his fingers, and continued down the path.
Akira's footsteps fell softly on the gravel path, steady and unhurried. In his bag, nestled beneath his careful grip, were small packets of dried fish and warm milk cups he had brought along—little offerings for the stray cats that had grown accustomed to his routine.
As he walked, the familiar chorus of meows and soft pawsteps greeted him from the shaded alcoves and mossy stone lanterns. One by one, cats appeared—some shy and tentative, others bold enough to approach without hesitation.
Akira crouched down, setting a small dish of fish before a scruffy tabby whose cautious green eyes softened at the sight of him. "Here you go, little one," he murmured with a gentle smile.
Nearby, a cluster of sleek black cats gathered quietly, their tails flicking in anticipation as Akira placed bowls of milk and fish along the path.
Yet as he moved forward, a flicker of unease settled in his chest. One familiar presence was missing.
He paused beside a weathered stone basin where Kukoshi—the slender, enigmatic cat with violet tips on her tail and delicate markings framing her face—would usually be waiting.
But today, there was only silence.
Akira scanned the shadows beneath the ancient trees, eyes narrowing with a quiet concern. "Kukoshi?" he called softly, his voice almost swallowed by the rustling leaves.
No sign of the violet-tailed cat emerged from the underbrush.
His fingers lightly traced the smooth stone edge of the basin, the coolness grounding him as he whispered, "Where have you gone, little one?"
Though the path stretched peacefully before him, the absence of Kukoshi left a hollow space—a small, unanswered question hanging in the twilight air.
With a soft sigh, Akira stood and resumed his walk, the echo of his footsteps mingling with the distant call of a night bird.
Behind him, the bowl he had left near the basin shimmered faintly. For a heartbeat, the surface of the milk glowed like a pale moon, a thin mist of stardust drifting upward before scattering into the breeze. Even the gravel where his feet had pressed seemed to glimmer dimly—fading, glowing again—before dissolving into nothing, as if the path itself carried an echo of his presence.
=============== End of Chapter 11 ===============