At the end of the Gion district located in Kyoto, a ryokan called Setsubai (雪梅) had lured people into a state of pleasing acquiescence. 

 

European oak planks glossed the terrace where people would hang their feet to admire the warmth of the hot springs; many would fall asleep on their futon beds after washing up as if in a trance. In a society where those who work hard were finally able to take their rest in the inn that was established so suddenly, there would be no one who would have not heard of its existence. Maple trees that complement the blooming plum blossoms in the early winter invited wives, young lords, and its service had been accessible to even some servants that were treated well by their masters. 

 

The owner of this inn, according to the workers, was named Cassia.

 

'According', meaning that no customer had ever seen the boss' face nor her figure. Those who wanted to send their offerings of sakura mochi and dango to her were left having to hand them over to the employees first; they would apologise with their heads hanging low before saying, "I am sorry for the inconvenience, but our boss is too busy to meet you right now. She will be pleased to receive such gifts of delicacies and we will make sure to see to that."

 

However, there was one person who had seen her before ­–– and that was from more than a decade ago.

 

He was a young boy and was the first son of a nearby high school's principal. Dark indigo hair combed to one side that was decorated with maple leaves and a delicate expression on his facial features unworthy of leadership, he found himself standing outside of a confectionery store with his single-handed leather suitcase. After a few rounds of walking from one end to the other, he decided to fiddle with the twigs and dirt that latched onto his thin haori. 

 

"Had a rough day, boy?"

 

Turning towards the origin of the deep yet soothing voice, almond eyes met with a pair of seafoam green ones. With platinum blonde hair cascading in soft waves below her shoulders, a woman stood in front of a confectionery store clad in a beige apron tilted her head and smirked at him. He glanced at her silently, as if his mouth that only trembled in nervousness could only do so much in front of an adult. She then removed her round eyes from him and rummaged her apron's pocket, taking out what seemed to be a small object wrapped in butcher paper and tied with a messily tied twine ribbon.

 

With no warning, an underarm throw towards the child's direction caused him to yelp, the object juggling within his palms before it came to a stop. Studying the packaging, he puckered his lips and pulled the ribbon. "...Powdered red bean jelly?"

 

"Quite unique, isn't it?" She proceeded to speak. Stuffing her hands back into the single pocket of the apron, she glimpsed at the setting sky coalescing with reds and oranges along with the stretched-out clouds that seemed so much like cotton. The woman then placed her hands on her hips and exhaled proudly in triumph. "While I do understand that flashy and colourful packaging allows for more consumer attraction, isn't the real thrill of receiving candy not knowing what flavour and type it is before twisting it open?"

 

Teal eyes observed the butcher paper once again and plopped the powdered red bean jelly piece into his mouth. After a second of chewing, he noticed the burst of flavour once the powder left his taste buds –– what lingered was slightly sweeter than what regular red bean paste would leave. In fact, if it were not for the lousy-looking packaging, he was sure that the jelly would sell quite well.

 

Is this perhaps what she means by the ‘real thrill of knowing what it is once you twist it open’..?

"Good. Now that you’ve cheered up, I’m going to have you help out with my confectionery store for a quick moment!” The owner clapped her hand together with a smile curling up on her lips, causing him to raise an eyebrow in confusion. “What are you standing there for? I was in the middle of bringing all the samples back into the store to close up, but your saddening presence interrupted me from doing so. Come on, you have two arms and two legs for a reason –– right?”

 

I’m pretty sure my two arms and legs aren’t specifically to help you out though…

 

Despite his negative thoughts and scrunched up facial features, he began to walk closer towards the store and picked up a wooden broom the woman had placed in front of the store. He began swiping all the maple leaves away, realising that the maple trees were still thriving despite it being early winter. “The first snow will arrive soon, so it should be better to place the samples indoors where its warmer. Not many will be walking around the district when it snows, Ma’am.”

 

“Of course, I know that much. Heck, I think everyone who comes across me would think I am some adult with a brain comparable to a child’s. Well, it is my first time opening a store during autumn –– and so I did not quite think this through,” she chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. “Ah, when I said you had to help out, I didn’t mean sweeping. That’s my job. Now this is yours.”

 

The young boy looked up from the wooden floors, his eyes tracing up to see a child much younger than he was sitting inside the store on a stool. Clad in a baby blue kimono and wrapped in a brown, oversized coat. Albeit the sudden presence of a small female child who’s clothing made anyone suffering from the early winter to warm up once again, he was sure his eyes were playing a trick on him once he noticed that the woman was not the only one in the store.

 

“This is my very, very cute eight-year-old daughter, ‘Shii-chan’,” the lady introduced by poking her daughter’s plump cheeks. Her petit body seemed to be signifying the age of five at most –– yet her presence was much bigger than anyone else’s. “Come on, say hello. I want you to keep her company for a moment while I take something to the antique shop from across the district. It will not take long.”

 

The child stayed silent, her sharp eyes staring at him like daggers.

 

While her facial features looked very similar to her mother, the boy noticed that her eyes were more on the bluer side of the spectrum and that rather than having her mother’s pure platinum blonde locks, hers were slightly ashy. He then assumed the brown, oversized coat had belonged to her father due to its more Western design. Kneeling in front of the girl who sat on the stool, he introduced himself with a hand to his chest.

 

“Good evening, ‘Shii-chan’. I’m just someone who walked by, but my name is Akizuki. Amamiya Akizuki,” he smiled, wondering why he suddenly buttered up to a child seemingly five years his junior. “Now that reminds me, I have a brother around your age. May I ask for your full name?”

 

“…”

 

“..?”

 

Is she the shy type? I swear she was glaring at me a few seconds ago…

 

“Akizuki,” she repeated his name without answering his own question, a soft yet monotone voice releasing from her lips. “Aki for ‘Autumn’, and Zuki for ‘moon’.”

 

“Oh? That’s amazing, you know the meaning of my first name,” he complimented, patting his hands together in a subtle clap. “I don’t know where my name came from, though –– Hm? Where are you going?”

 

Akizuki merely followed the girl’s footsteps once she hopped off the tall stool, a strip of butcher paper within her tiny hands as she pulled out a fountain pen from a can on the register. Her small stride took her a few seconds to make it back to where he was and her manner of speech was broken up into portions. “Your name…came from…”

 

Her cerulean eyes glanced up as if there was something mid-air behind him. Akizuki turned around, seeing nothing but the ticking clock embedded to the wall.

 

“A mistaken meeting, on Taoyuan road,” the female child recited as if from memory. Akizuki shuttered, a shiver running down his spine the moment her words made its way into her ears. “A hazy sunset covered thousands of miles…”

 

“T-That foreign poem…” He stuttered, his two hands immediately grasping onto the child’s thin shoulders. “Where did you­­ hear…that from?”

 

“Under the autumn moon, a spring breeze blows and the peach blossom petals scatter like red rain,” she continued, an unwavering expression of indifference plastered on her youthful face. She then paused, glanced up at the boy who had a horrified look, and curled her lips upwards despite the death in her eyes.

 

“Apparently the ‘autumn moon’ in the poem is what your name came from. Hey, Onii-san,” she called, causing him to slowly meet her eyes.

 

“Do you believe in youkai?”