Chapter 18: Clients Speak

The door came back at midnight, and the alley was already full.

Haruna had slept until sunset, curled against Kuzunoha, and she was still warm and slow when the lantern lit itself.

Kuzunoha stood at the little stove in her shirt and her indigo haori, with her hair in a loose braid, making rice balls.

"Good evening," Haruna said, from the doorway.

"I assembled these. Tsukumo is going to be furious."

Haruna wrapped her arms around her from behind and put her chin on Kuzunoha's shoulder.

For a moment she let herself simply feel it: no fever, no ledger, nothing waiting to go wrong.

Then the front door banged open, and Tsukumo came in.

She had not come alone.

She stood in the front room with her raincoat dripping and her face scarlet.

Behind her stood the snow woman, the nurikabe, the woman in the brown scarf, and a crowd of others pressed against the walls.

"Something happened," said Tsukumo, "and you're going to hate it."

The kappa stepped forward from the middle of the group.

His head dish was damp and gleaming, and he held it very carefully.

"I went to the clinic," he said.

Haruna felt the room go cold.

"Last night, when the shop was shut. I was sad, and the heron's door was open, and he gave me a tonic. It was the loveliest thing I ever drank."

"He told you what you wanted to hear," Haruna said.

"He told me my dish would be full by morning." The kappa's voice wobbled. "I woke up an hour ago, and it was dry as a bone. Worse than before."

He turned his head, and she saw the crack running through the top of the dish.

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