A blue sedan screeched against the curb. Its door whipped open. Never in my life had I been so glad to see a grown woman cosplaying as a maid.

  Vi stepped out and opened her umbrella to shield me against drizzling raindrops. Its sword-handle glinted in her hands. “Sorry I’m late. Are you okay?”

  My teeth chattered. I merely took her offered hand and she lifted me to my feet. I must have been a mess but she didn’t look surprised or fazed in the slightest. I wasn’t sure why she was apologizing since she’d arrived faster than I could’ve groped blindly to the nearest bus stop.

  Her eyes locked onto the cut on my neck. “Please take a seat and let me treat that.”

  Wonder how high my bill’s going to run for this. I sat numb as doors shut and she reached into a fold of her apron, producing a small black first aid kit with a little white cross. After applying pressure with a cloth, she dabbed on antibiotics, then a bandaid. The red stain on the cloth made me woozy.

  Luckily she put it away, passed a wet wipe for my hands, and clicked a seat belt over me. I mumbled out, “I can do that.”

  “Hold on.” She clutched the steering wheel and floored pedal to metal. My ride shot forwards like a cannon.

  “Whoa.” I closed my eyes and reeled against the cushion of my headrest. “I’m gonna hurl.” Apparently I had a shallow wound if she was willing to take off that fast. That was good, I guessed. Now that I thought about it, I had signed up for protection services asap, which implied danger, right?

  As if to confirm my train of thought, Vi eased the car to a smooth but accelerated drive, tearing asphalt and weaving past a lumbering white jeep. “Sorry. Other than the cat, is there anyone else after you?”

  Thinking was pain. As was attempting to move my head. “No.”

  “Okay. I’ll take you home, if you don’t mind.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I mentally cursed myself for selecting a clearly expensive service instead of a bus. Bodyguard duty was for rich and famous people. Like whoever this company’s usual clients were.

  My phone pinged. As if fate itself was mocking me, I was greeted with a string of job rejection emails. I scrolled the screen and opened up messages. My mood soured by the second. Unfortunately—swipe—we regret to inform you—swipe—our position has been filled, blah blah—my fingers tightened. If you’re going to smack me down don’t treat me like a faceless nobody.

  I sighed as I remembered Sven’s words. “Who am I kidding?” I was garbage. I couldn’t scrape minimum wage. I had Mom to think about. I had stolen and broken two museum treasures of Japan. This wasn’t the time for me to play samurai with him and the others.

  I studied the interior of Vi’s car to distract myself, and found it a tad too distracting. It was a compact four-seater, a sporty Honda from what little I could suss out. Though the driver’s side was plain, with a black-white card spelling “Kuro Cleaning Services” on the dash, no expense had been spared on the passenger spaces.

  The middle seat, faux leather, carried a basket containing wrapped pastries and candies, as well as bottles of tea in the holders. The seat I was facing had an honest-to-goodness entertainment panel hanging from the back, where I assumed spoiled kids could watch TV. The rack above my headrest was also occupied by cute animal plushies.

  I calculated the service cost based on those trappings. A couple hundred, bare minimum. Is this like flying business class?

  My chest was queasy. A sensation similar to if you crept in and squatted in someone’s home while they were away on vacation. I tried to shut out the inevitable look of horror Dad would have once he found out.

  I pawed my jacket sleeve, which now appeared very threadbare and super lame. I felt the star covered under it.

  Geez. Since I’m paying for this anyway, might as well.

  I reached up to my headrest and extracted one of the stuffed animals, the one I deemed the cutest. It was a white wolf pup with big blue eyes and a fluffy white tail. I hugged the plushie to my chest. It was softer and squishier than any I had at home. I feel kinda better from this. Is this why people have dogs come over on exam days?

  Well, I wasn’t going to pay full price if I could get away with it. Maybe the company has a discount for first-timers. They were pretty generous with their free trial, after all. “So. How many French maids are driving around town?”

  Vi flicked her turn signal and veered the car at a sharp angle. “I’m the only one here right now.”

  “Oh. Busy schedule? You guys have a lot of business?” I thought about how to steer the conversation to price and be tactful about it. Talk the company up. Make her proud of being in it. Suggest I’ll be a repeat customer or some shizz.

  Vi’s tone was steady. Comforting to listen to. “You could say that.”

  “Old company?”

  “Depends on your perspective. Relatively recent.”

  Talk, Vi, talk. Any other day, any other situation, I would’ve welcomed the silence. Especially since I had a sudden, irrational fear I would tear open my neck wound whenever I moved my mouth. However every mile she crossed meant she was coming closer to our destination and hence the service fare. Hundreds of bucks were on the line. “You been here long?”

  “It helps supplement my work at the cafe.”

  Vi passed straight through not one, not two, but five green lights, in the fashion of a cop cruiser on a chase. I was partly relieved when we hit a red light. It was uncanny. “What’s the name mean? Kuro Cleaning Services.”

  “Kuro means ‘black’. The maid is in black.”

  I squeezed the wolf cub plushie. “That kind of makes sense, but not really? Isn’t the color scheme white and black?” I looked pointedly at the card on her dash.

  “No. The maid is black.”

  I was too confused to respond.

  “In Hokkaido, there is an old legend about a black fox. A kuroko.”

  “A fox?”

  “Yes. At night the fox would assume a human likeness to live in village homes, causing havoc wherever it went. The lord of Hokkaido heard and hunted it in the mountains, sending men and dogs and shooting at it. When they returned, however, their misfortunes only worsened. The hunters fell sick or died. Disaster spread and multiplied. Japan grew to fear seeing any hint of the fox’s appearance.”

  Where she was going with this, I didn’t know.

  “Black represents evil. In the old days, those with such a color were scrutinized and outcast in Japan. It was the same with people having unusual features, such as bright-colored eyes. That judgement came from bad experiences. People don’t feel safe with those different from themselves. We hope the maid, by working, can reverse such an image.”

  “Uh. Okay.” I hadn’t asked for a history lecture. I debated on attacking this angle or retiring in silence. She had been more talkative, so I pressed on. “The company is named Kuro because their cleaners are in an evil color?”

  Should’ve figured dumb logic with the whole Feng Shui deal. I mentally smacked myself on the head.

  Vi’s cheeks pinked. She ducked away from her reflection in the rearview mirror. “I am not a very creative person, I’m afraid.”

  She named the company? I was caught off-guard by that nugget of revelation. I turned it over in my head while stroking the head of my white wolf plush. “You’ve been in this company a long time.”

  “Yes.” We hit a bump. Vi did not elaborate further.

  I peered out the window and slumped. Beaten. We had arrived at my driveway.

  Vi helped me out of the car. The rain was letting up but she pulled her umbrella out anyhow. Her grip was quite strong, at least as strong as my dad’s. Must be all the plates she carries. I hobbled out, a little disoriented to be back on my feet, rubbing my neck tentatively.

  I turned to the maid. “How much?”

  “Well,” Vi started, and then stopped. “I believe students don’t have a lot of money.”

  “If you’re asking, yeah, I’m still unemployed.”

  “Then pay me whenever you’re ready. I trust you. Let’s say, fifty-five dollars?”

  “Didn’t know that was negotiable.” I cracked a tired smile. How in the name of coffee are you still operating? That’s undercharging, you dummy. I fished in my wallet and pried out the bills Sven had given me. “Take this as a down payment.”

  “Oh.” Vi’s face reddened. “Thank you.” She tucked them into a pocket in her frock and bowed. I bowed back as a habit and stopped myself midway. Cringing, I picked at my sleeve which hid the mark by the woman in white.

  Vi’s eyes flickered to the sleeve. For a second it looked like she was seeing through the fabric. “I noticed during the drive you kept rubbing your arm. I wanted to ask. Is it hurt? May I see it?”

  “No, it’s not an injury,” I said quickly as Vi laid a hand. She pulled up the cloth before I could protest.

  “Ah.” Vi stared at my gold star sticker with a faraway look in her eyes. “Where did you get this?”

  “A random woman in a white fur gave it to me.”

  Vi took out a folded black fan from one of her side pockets. She tapped it gently on my arm. A pulse of warmth rippled from where she’d touched. “I see. There is something else happening, is that right?”

  “Yeah.” I peeled off the sticker to show her my dot-like black tattoo. Vi cocked her head and studied my mark without much change of expression. “I was told this was a good luck charm but I don’t know how it works. She was in the pool at school and had me repeat a bunch of phrases after I helped her open boxes. That was after she ate a frog, which wasn’t a frog but—”

  I broke off as I felt the bandage on my neck. If Alicia had bothered applying a little more pressure… My throat pounded at the memory of blood flowing out and trickling down. I remembered, too, the cold eyes of Frog-Eater and how unnaturally clean she’d been. “You know what? Forget it.” I put the sticker back on my arm.

  With slow steps I walked into my house.

  Vi followed me in. “Cecelia?”

  Vi knows about whatever’s going on. She has to. Partly, at least. She sent Sven that warning in the first place. I yearned to ask her questions but that desire was crushed under a raw helplessness. “I feel sick. I’m going to lie down.”

  I shuffled onto my bed and stared at the ceiling. White, blank, empty as my future. I waited for adrenaline in my veins to drop. Once it did, all the energy in my body drained out. I slumped against my mattress.

  Sven’s right. I shouldn’t get involved. I wouldn’t bring anything to the table anyways.

  All I’ve done is break stuff and load my family with a huge debt.

  I’m useless.

  A worthless good-for-nothing.

  In the amber glow of the house, everything was silent except the faint snores of my mom sleeping in her room, and the clacking of Vi’s heels in the hall to my door.

  I should check on Mom. Did she eat lunch? I couldn’t bring myself to get up. I wanted to sink here in the sheets and never get up again—

  My phone buzzed. I picked it up and squinted, slightly ticked off at its shrill ringing as it escaped my pocket. The display showed an unknown number.

  “Hello?” I was groggy and couldn’t quite hold the snap in my tone.

  A woman at the end of the line spoke brisk and business-like. “Hello, is this Cecelia? I’m from Kelly’s.”

  “Who? What?”

  An uncomfortable silence. “Kelly’s Shipping and Receiving. You applied for the position of warehouse stocker?”

  “Oh.” I racked my puny brain to a time when I’d spammed job applications. That was ages ago, before my last trip to Japantown. She expects me to remember that? “Right.”

  “Is this a good time for an interview?”

  “Uh. Yeah. Shoot.”

  “Great.” She wasn’t too pumped though based on her soulless monotone. “Let me pull up your resume. Can you tell me about yourself?”

  “Yeah—wait—Hang on.” I tumbled out of bed and fumbled on the floor scanning for the job posting and my resume. My mind blanked. I’d been lobbed a curveball and it was ready to smack me clean in the face. Where’s my papers? I know I wrote notes down somewhere! I hissed to Vi at the doorway, “This is your fault!”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Vi, in the true fashion of a maid, swept her arms and dipped her head to indicate my backpack by my desk. I unzipped the pack and fished out my papers. With clammy hands I flipped to a crumpled, scrawled sheet next to my resume. “I’m Cecelia, I’m a high schooler at SF International, and um, I like reading, pretty much everything like manga and web novels and history, and uh, I like arranging and stacking books on my shelf and I thought I’d like this job.”

  That was terrible. I internally winced as nothing came back but dead silence. The woman sniffed. My stomach dropped. I could imagine her typing notes on me.

  Strike one. Being unprepared.

  “Okay. Why do you want this job?”

  Because I need money. Because I won’t have to interact with people who are always looking at me funny. I stammered, “I want to gain new perspectives. I wanna study and maybe—maybe be a writer, someday, if I’m lucky.”

  “Uh-huh.” She said it like I was giving her a lecture on paint drying. “Do you have any experience with this job?”

  “Well—no—” I struggled to get words out. “I don’t but I’m organized and detail-oriented. I’ve done similar stuff with similar skills.”

  The irony of me claiming this while in a dwelling which, mere days ago, had been a post-apocalyptic wasteland through no one’s fault but my own, was not lost on me.

  “Can you tell me about what you’ve done?”

  Don’t you have my resume, lady? Can’t you just read what I put down?

  I couldn’t say that. I’d plummet further down this HR goon’s ratings. Yes it wasn’t nice of me to call her a goon, but if I was being treated as a disposable checklist, I didn’t feel like extending kindness back.

  “Cleaning. For a detective. I put boxes away. I think maybe I could’ve done better, but—”

  I tugged at my sleeve. I became painfully aware of the professional cleaner eavesdropping on our conversation. Vi’s hands were folded at her waist and she peered over politely, as if awaiting orders.

  My insides twinged. I stuttered. “—I, I didn’t do too bad. Probably. Okay, it wasn’t great, but the place was fine, I think. No OSHA violations. No one called pest control, or tripped over a pile and broke a leg. You know how thick those office papers get, right?”

  Crickets.

  Strike two. Lack of confidence.

  My gut sank lower.

  “Tell me about a time you exceeded expectations,” the lady said in a toneless voice that still had enough authority in it to inform me she was on a very tight schedule and I best not waste any of her time.

  “I, uh—” I floundered and hit on the first thing on my mind. “I go shopping for my mom’s medical condition. I have to fetch the right prescriptions and schedule checkups with her doctor and also the sleep technologist who gave her her latest MSLT results. I make sure she has her anigraph on ‘cuz they don’t know what it is though we did a PSG years ago—anyways, I have to be organized to stay on track with pharmacy pickups, and I lift boxes like deliveries a lot, and buy over-the-counter meds and accessories like an eye mask and pillows.”

  I stopped to catch my breath. Seconds later my face flushed hot.

  Strike three. Rambling.

  From my speaker came a noise that might have been the human resource member tapping a nail on a desk. “I see. We will contact you if we decide you are a good fit to move forward with our position. Do you have any questions for me?”

  Why’d she ask that? I knew why. She was rattling off her lines, and a good candidate was supposed to spout their own lines back, like a well-rehearsed script in a play.

  Desperation clawed in my chest. Every student in school knew how to jump these hoops to gain a pot of gold. Everyone except me.

  Somewhere, somehow, Sven and Chuji and my classmates like Emma had acted out an instruction manual I had never read. They got good grades or scholarships or entrance to prestigious programs. Or paying work.

  “No questions.” I tried to keep a timid mewing out of my voice.

  “That’s fine.” There was no warmth to her assurance, only mild dispassion. “Thank you for your time.”

  She hung up.

  I knew I’d failed.

  I hunched my back and put my head in my hands. “Dang it. Dang it!”

  Vi spoke, soft. “You did your best.”

  I tugged my hair. “You don’t understand. I need a job. I need it!” Two million dollars. Two. Million.

  I seethed. A black fire sprung up and writhed within. “This is your fault!” I hollered at Vi. “If it hadn’t been for your stupid cleaning—I could’ve gotten my junk together faster and—done something right!”

  I’m so freaking stupid. I’m so incompetent.

  Vi briefly resembled a dog being scolded by its owner as she glanced down at the floor.

  “I keep screwing up. I wish I could be cool like Sven. Or a tryhard like Chuji that actually gets results. Or, heck, someone bad who doesn’t give a fudge like Alicia. Ugh!” I swiped my papers off my desk and chucked a random drink can on the floor.

  Vi blinked, eyes a little startled, clasping her hands together at her waist and regarding me with concern.

  I marched to my closest pile of books and threw the top manga against a wall. The muffled thunk barely satisfied me. I smacked the pile down like a kaiju smashing a tower, then did the same with another two stacks. I seized more books and toys and hurled them against my closet, kicking down my laundry basket while I was at it and roaring. “Do you think I’m an idiot? I might be dumb but Alicia’s obviously got some super-special thing going on, and she’s good at it, and Sven too! And I’m a stinking—stinking useless cat in a gutter that can’t even make a good impression in an entry-level interview!”

  The maid bunched up the hem of her dress. “Sorry.”

  “F*ck!” Sorry grandpa, I amended to the skies. “Fudge! I wanna punch someone but I’d probably break my hand.” I fumed, fists clenched, red-hot loathing roiling and seizing me. “You know that mirror I broke that time you came here? Well, turns out it was a national treasure of another country and now I owe the government of Japan a boatload of money! I don’t even know how much! And apparently I’m not an ordinary person, but unlike every other unordinary person out there the only thing I could do is bend spoons!”

  “Cecelia—”

  I banged my fist against a wall and a wave of nausea swept through me. My head ached like a someone had decided to ring it as a giant temple bell. I stumbled backwards and groaned. “Should’ve seen that coming. It’s my room, isn’t it?”

  The maid picked up fallen books and knickknacks and arranged them quickly. I leaned against the wall, my temple pounding. It was a chaotic ringing mess, as if inside a bunch of hangry kids were swinging at a pi?ata full of Snickers bars.

  “Please sit down.”

  I plopped onto my bed and held my head. Gradually, the ache receded as Vi sorted everything back into an orderly layout.

  Beyond the doorway, my mom mumbled and turned in bed. My head whipped her way. “I should see Mom.”

  Oh yeah. I haven’t told Mom or Dad about my debt yet. The thought socked me hard in the stomach.

  I grit my teeth and approached one of my alphabetized stacks. I shook out a manga with a cover of a woman with the sun and a mirror. With a sigh, I muttered, “I guess I should return this.”

  Vi followed while I exited with Kojiki under an arm.

  I side-eyed her. “What’re you still doing here? You’ve done your job.”

  She paused, surveying me. “I want to ensure my customer is protected at her house first.”

  “Protected from myself, you mean.” The door creaked as we entered my mom’s room. A lamp was flicked on already, dim, casting orange silhouettes of the bed and table. “Hey, Mom! You eat lunch?” Mom was lying on her side, covered in a snowy down of blankets, and snoozing. Other people would’ve seen it as peaceful but I had a sense of foreboding. A discomfort I couldn’t place. Did she fall asleep with the lights on?

  I scoured her desk. My hand shot out and grabbed an empty capped bottle. “Dang it. Methylphenidate is out.” The other bottles were too. My heart thudded. I went over and shook Mom’s shoulder. Her breathing was heavy and uneven. Alarm bells rang in my mind. “Why didn’t you text me? I have to refill. What’d you eat?”

  “Hmuuuh.” Mom stirred but didn’t bother opening her eyes. “Whatever you bought me in the fridge, honey.”

  I twisted back to the desk. Beside her meds, were a paper plate and a cup but no utensils or napkin. Greasy with a spot of red sauce. “You mean last time I bought groceries?”

  “Muuuh.” That meant yes.

  “Aw, cod nuggets. Finger food? Don’t tell me—!” I marched out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, wrenching open the fridge door. Greeting me was nothing but a sorry pile of plastic boxes.

  Pizza boxes. Three days’ worth.

  I slammed the fridge door. Any calm I’d gained was wiped out by a fresh, raging maelstrom. I steamed. “Dummy. I’m such a dummy!” I dashed back to my mom’s bed.

  “Why didn’t you—I should’ve—” I sputtered, not even able to form a comprehensible sentence. “That was pizza! It’s all carbs and sugar! That’s why you’re knocked out more than usual—it’ll make you worse!”

  My mom flopped on her back. She yawned. “You’re doing what you can. It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay. It’s not.” I curled up on the bed. “It’s not just that. Mom, I messed up. Big time. I took a book from a bookstore.” I set down Kojiki, though of course Mom couldn’t see it. “I owe them a lot of money.”

  “Mm? How much?” Mom mumbled, still with her eyes closed.

  “Two—two m—” I stammered. “I don’t know exactly but I’ll find out. It’s a lot.”

  A well of shame rolled through me. My face and hands felt hot. I can’t even bring myself to tell her. How pathetic am I?

  I rocked back and forth. Renewing Mom’s prescription and shopping for more food already cut a hefty chunk of money and effort. Health insurance bills us in a week. Looming above those, was my self-created mountain of debt. A knot formed in my stomach. Dad was the breadwinner but he’d have to dig into savings, plus his retirement fund since we didn’t want to touch Mom’s account for health expenses. He wouldn’t be home for a while either. That missing persons case will take days.

  Softly, I mumbled, “I hope we don’t have to buy a CPAP machine.” That was a box to deliver air through a tube into a mask in your mouth. If Mom had to be on that she could spiral down further.

  Vi stood in silence, watching us both with her hands together at her apron. They fidgeted as I kept rocking back and forth.

  I curled tighter, head down, tucking my arms around my legs. I shook. A hot tear rolled down my cheek. “I hate myself. I hate myself!”

  Vi approached and put a hand on my shoulder. “Cecelia, don’t think of yourself that way. It’s okay to make mistakes. You matter—”

  I smacked her arm away. “You don’t get it! All my life, I’ve been running up stairs and trying to catch up to other people at their level. I don’t know how to talk to people. I don’t know how to relate to communities. I don’t have any talent. I’m always screwing everyone once I’m given anything to handle. I always end up ragged and falling behind.”

  Vi lowered her arm. Her gaze softened.

  I choked out, “It’s only gotten worse since Mom’s condition. We can’t go out to J-Town like we used to. And now, I learn there’s a whole other world in this town but I’m being shut out from it. I live here and I don’t belong. Not in the regular world, and not in whatever crazy world Sven is in. What am I supposed to do, rip out every part of me no one likes until there’s nothing left? Become a fudging poser? Hide myself and put on a mask since no one can stand the real me? The loser me?” I stared down at the bedsheets, sniffling.

  Vi bent down to meet my eyes and said, gently, “Everyone’s different. You’re enough as you are—”

  White-hot hatred flared inside. I smacked the cover of Kojiki. “I’m never enough for anyone! What do you know about being different?!”

  Vi fell silent. She handed me tissues. They must’ve been from her dress because they were a fancy patterned kind. I wiped my eyes and hiccuped, desperate to not get my mom’s sheets wet—I’d be the one who’d have to wash them at the end of the day.

  Then Vi spoke. “Cecelia. Look at me.”

  I lifted my head and my heart nearly stopped.

  Vi had vanished.

  Gone.

  In her place was a fox with many long, large tails. It was achingly beautiful, with a sleek figure and black fur like silk. The fox’s eyes were sky blue—the same shade as Vi’s.

  I opened and closed my mouth. No sound came out.

  My mind flashed back to the monsters I’d read about in Kojiki. Creatures mingling between gods and men. A cat tearing into villages, a white tiger wielding wind, a kappa, a black fox. “You’re a kitsune.”

  The fox jumped onto the bed in one smooth motion. Her eyes rested on mine. “I don’t like showing this part of me, but for you, I’ll make an exception.”

  I jerked. I’d heard Vi’s voice as clearly as if she had spoken. “I—since when—how?”

  The vixen’s tails wrapped around me. I clutched one in disbelief. It was soft and fluffy, like a cushy blanket. I counted nine of them. Vi had changed, but there was no doubt in my mind this was Vi.

  The kitsune patted a paw on my leg. “I know what it’s like to not be liked by others. I know the weight of making mistakes. You should learn to accept and forgive yourself. Please don’t cry.”

  Kuro. I let out a shaky breath, nodding, leaning my head against her fur. My tears spilled unbidden against it. I wiped my cheeks with haste, face reddening and burning with shame. Yeah, that’s just like me, being all gross ruining a mythical animal’s fur the first time I see her.

  Vi didn’t pull away. She just let me sob onto her. A tail settled near a pillow. Sheets rustled and my mom turned to us, opening bleary eyes and staring in mild confusion.

  I glanced over, startled. “Mom, do you see this?” My voice was hoarse.

  My mom blinked a couple times. She looked from me to the kitsune, then yawned. “Hey, Vi. It’s been a while.”

  Huh?

  Huh?!

  I gawked at Mom. “She’s a nine-tailed fox! You’ve seen her like this before?”

  My mom pulled up her blanket and closed her eyes again. “That’s what Dad and I were trying to tell you, sweetie. You’re a yokai.”

  Mom started snoring. That was, like, really anticlimactic, but I had pulled myself together enough to stop crying and figured I’d have to roll with what she said.

  Vi walked to my parent’s sleeping form and adjusted Mom’s head so she could breathe easier. The snoring tapered off to a long, slow snoozing. Vi murmured, “Hey, Yuki. Sleep well.”

  I cracked a smile. “What are you, my fairy godmother?”

  The fox gave me a long, steady look. She didn’t smile. “What makes you think I’m a good person?”

  “Huh? Are you kidding?” What a weird question to ask.

  “Fifty percent.”

  “What?”

  “Three days from now, you won’t want to talk to me. You might hate me. There’s a fifty percent chance.”

  I had no idea how to respond so I did my best puffer fish face with an open mouth.

  “I’ll take you to the bookstore.”

  I blinked once and the fox disappeared. I swung my head around the bed, now empty except for me and my mom lying there. “The heck?”

  A hand tapped me on the back and I jumped. I whirled around and there was Vi, a maid again, standing behind me. “Geez!”

  “Sorry. Bad habit. Please be careful.” She gave an apologetic smile.

  I didn’t know why, but that sounded like a warning.

  I grabbed Kojiki and walked quickly to the kitchen. “I had a government-owned spoon here. Hold up.”

  I banged open the dishwasher. With distaste I plucked out a crooked bronze spoon. I gripped the angled ends and yanked. “You think they’ll reduce my debt if I can fix this?” Come on, get back into shape. I struggled and the museum item wobbled. Bend!

  “Perhaps a little—”

  The spoon bent and somewhat righted itself. It was still a tad inclined, but I yelled, “Oh, thank the stars!”

  I sprinted to spread Kojiki onto a table and stuffed the spoon back into the box. “Did you see that? I probably shaved off a couple thousand already, huh?” A burst of excitement formed in me. “I thought my weird schtick stopped working today but it didn’t! Why’s that?”

  “I did notice one of my cafe spoons had bent.”

  “Uh—oh. Sorry,” I dropped my head to the floor.

  “Don’t worry about it. Perhaps you have a wrong theory about how your art works.” Vi’s tone was mild.

  “My what-now?”

  Vi was already walking and waved a hand to indicate I should follow.