With the amanojaku having been subdued yet again, Kumiko had entrusted custody of it to Futoshi so that she and Ichiro could return to the safety of their apartment in peace. Yukari had trailed behind before parting ways with them at the foot of the stairs, muttering something about a hotel as she walked out through the main door and into the night.

After the customary preparations for bed, Ichiro found that he still couldn't calm his restless mind. Because of the amanojaku, he had tapped twice into the darkest aspects of his nature and learned that he had an incomplete understanding of even his own era, which prompted him to remain sitting at the edge of the futon, legs outstretched as he stared at his bare feet.

"What are you doing? We need to get some sleep," Kumiko said with a trace of impatience in her voice.

"I can't stop thinking about everything today," Ichiro replied, looking away from his feet and craning his neck to observe her heavy-lidded eyes and disheveled black hair. He wondered how much was genuine and how much was an illusion.

Kumiko formed a weary smile and drew her knees close. "You can tell me about it."

Ichiro didn't want to alarm her too much, so he began with what was least concerning. "Who was Goemon really? That television play about him was so vivid."

"It's called a television show," Kumiko corrected with a suppressed chuckle, her energy apparently renewed. "But I can enlighten you. He was an outlaw who tried to assassinate Hideyoshi and was executed by being boiled alive."

Ichiro crossed his arms in disappointment. "That's the same thing Yukari told me. Surely, you would know more?"

Kumiko shrugged. "I may be immortal, but I'm not omniscient. I was nowhere near Kyoto when he was executed, so you could say I missed it."

"And when would that have been?"

"The year 1594. I was out roaming the countryside, and you must have been just a teenager then."

Ichiro grew tense upon hearing another unfamiliar word. "What's a teenager?"

"Someone between the ages of thirteen and nineteen. It's a fairly recent distinction."

"I see." Ichiro recalled his own upbringing and the expectations that had been placed on him from a young age. "My father was already educating me about adult matters when I was seven or eight. Is this teenager stage intended as a bridge between childhood and adulthood?"

"In simple terms, yes."

Ichiro applied his own limited understanding to Kumiko's explanation. "So, this must mean I became a teenager early. When do you think I reached adulthood?"

Kumiko blinked. "I don't know. When you were old enough to go traveling on your own?"

Ichiro shifted until he was sitting beside Kumiko. "So, from seven to twenty years of age? That is a long time..."

"As I said, it's a recent distinction. You can't apply it to your experiences."

"But you-"

"I was just speaking in simple terms. You were never a teenager in the modern sense."

"Oh." It occurred once more to Ichiro that Kumiko had experienced over three hundred years of change in his absence, and she had a unique perspective to offer. "Tell me more of what you know about Goemon. Did he really fight off countless assassins and ally himself with a princess?"

"Well..." Kumiko tilted her head. "No. I think what you're describing was made up just for the show."

"Huh?"

"People change and embellish stories all the time. It's how legends are formed."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Chances are that the real Goemon was just a thief and nothing more. It would explain why I didn't hear about him until after his death."

Ichiro leaned his back against the wall and sighed. "That is disheartening. But I suppose it makes sense. The world wouldn't be so unjust if such heroes were real."

Kumiko glared at him abruptly. "Am I not a hero to you?"

"No, you're my wife..."

"Why, of course..." Her expression relaxed and she leaned her head upon his shoulder. "It's so nice to snuggle against you after so many years. I could fall asleep like this..." Kumiko closed her eyes, and the dainty murmur she gave a moment later led Ichiro to realize she really had chosen him as an appropriate support for her resting body.

"How about that," Ichiro whispered before cradling Kumiko in his arms and setting her down on the futon as gently as possible. "Some things haven't changed after all."

He had no choice but to lie next to her and await sleep as well, which was difficult when his mind drifted to how it had felt being manipulated by the amanojaku. There was something addictive about surrendering to his anger and destroying that which he hated the most, but today he had learned that even a device like the television wasn't all bad. Without it, he would never have found out about the legendary Goemon and become more enlightened as a result, so perhaps the key was to focus on the positive aspects of life whenever he was faced by darkness.

He glanced at Kumiko's peaceful and unbothered face. It had taken her intervention to bring him out of his rage, which was no surprise, since he cherished her more than anybody else. He was lucky to still hold her interest, so he took advantage of her oblivious state by saying the words that normally brought him embarrassment.

"I love you. You're everything to me..."

******

I take that back. You're less than everything, Ichiro thought the next morning as he was dragged along for another outing, this time to the purported city center to find clothes suitable for a host.

They walked a different route than usual, though Ichiro soon recognized the street as being the same one he'd drifted down as a ghost. He spotted a red traffic light ahead and felt proud that the sight didn't puzzle him anymore.

He heeded the signal and stopped near the crosswalk, which surprised Kumiko.

"Has something gotten into you? You're acting so natural all of a sudden."

"I'm just growing accustomed to my surroundings. Is that strange?"

Kumiko blinked, then turned away. "I suppose not. It's just that you're usually so stubborn."

"Well..." Ichiro sighed and willed himself to smile. "I'm trying to see the good in things now, so that the amanojaku won't target me again."

The traffic signal changed to that of a walking green man, and Kumiko took his hand before they crossed the road together. "That's great, but you shouldn't suppress the bad feelings either. If you do, they'll build up and attract more evil."

"What do you suggest I do then?"

"Talk to me when you're finding it hard to cope. I'll listen without judgement."

Ichiro took her up on the offer and revealed his worries. "What sort of clothes are we going to buy? And what'll be expected of me as a host?"

"We'll get a nice suit and tie. Preferably black. As for what's expected of you, do what I said a minute ago. Listen to your clients and ease them into revealing more about themselves. Then, use that information to make them fall for you."

"That sounds immoral."

"No more immoral than when your parents made you serve lady visitors. Nothing like a handsome man who knows his way around tea."

Ichiro began to understand what Kumiko was trying to impart. "So, you're saying that I should use my old tricks?"

"Exactly. Just replace tea with alcohol, and you have a comparable situation."

"Thanks. I feel a little better about this now."

Kumiko flashed a smile at him as they passed a street sign and approached a flight of stairs flanked on both sides by tiled barriers. "Glad to hear it. But, under no circumstances should you return any of their affections. I'll raise hell if you do."

Ichiro swallowed, then let out an anxious laugh at the idea of himself loving someone else more than he loved his own wife. "Don't be silly. Why would I ever cheat on you?"

"You'd be surprised what can happen when people are drunk, but I'll take your word for it. You have more self-control than most, after all."

"Believe me, I already know," Ichiro could only say as he remembered how Kumiko herself behaved when intoxicated. "I've seen it before."

"That's good to know." Kumiko gave his hand a tug while leading him down the stairs. "We'll be taking the train today, so I hope you're ready."

"Train?"

They arrived at the underground platform and Kumiko bought a pair of so-called tickets before giving one to him. "You need these to travel nowadays. Hold on to yours, or you'll get in trouble with the inspector."

Ichiro took her advice to heart and clutched his ticket tightly as the longest vehicle he had ever seen snaked its way into the station. Fellow commuters started moving forward, prompting him and Kumiko to do the same. Two metal doors slid open with chilling efficiency, and Ichiro swallowed while focusing on how warm Kumiko's palm felt.

"Have no fear. I've brought a bag in case you need to throw up."

******

Contrary to Ichiro's expectations, it was the crowding and not the motion of the train that made him queasy. He felt like a fish stuck in a barrel, having to see the flaws of other people up close while a myriad of scents blended together, and a dispassionate voice announced the name of each stop on the journey.

He was short of breath by the time he and Kumiko disembarked. She guided him to a metal bench nearby so he could sit and recover for a few minutes before they departed the station to return to the outside world.

He resorted to leaning on her again for support when he saw people in their hundreds, enough to populate a small town, all hurrying across a road wider than any courtyard. He recoiled in the face of such intense bustle, but Kumiko pulled him straight into the crowd.

"I don't understand. Does the whole of Japan live in this city?"

"Not at all. There's still Kyoto, Osaka, Yokohoma-"

"What about Sakai?" Ichiro asked, bringing up his hometown in excitement. "Does it still exist?"

"Yes. It's famous for its cutlery nowadays."

"Cutlery?"

"Western eating utensils like knives and forks. Which reminds me, you'll have to learn how to use them if you want to seem refined. It won't be necessary for your new job, but it'll give you an advantage over the rest."

It was unwise to add to his list of burdens, but Ichiro knew that Yukari looked down on him for being lower class, and he wanted to prove his new rival wrong. So, he humored Kumiko's suggestion. "Will you be able to teach me, then?"

"I believe I can," Kumiko replied as they finally reached the other side of the road and the people around them dispersed. "I was once a waitress at a fancy restaurant. I watched them eat every day and I've committed their techniques to memory. I'll show you when we get home."

Ichiro was aware from experience that remembering the method in which a task was performed wasn't the same as putting it into practice, but he chose to believe Kumiko for the sake of his worried mind. "Of course. I can hardly wait."

They walked a little while longer along the busy streets, and Ichiro kept his gaze level to avoid being unnerved by just how tall the buildings were. Humanity had clearly advanced too much if this was the new standard in cities around the world.

He caught himself being negative again and made an effort to think about Kumiko's strengths and how much she meant to him, until she stopped outside a large shop window. Headless mannequins stood on display behind the glass, each of them dressed in a differently colored outfit.

"We're here," Kumiko said while glancing at him in defeat. "May the gods have mercy on my wallet..."

******

After having a formal ensemble picked out for him by the distinguished old shopkeeper with spectacles and neatly combed white hair, Ichiro parted ways with Kumiko to enter one of the many changerooms available.

With his memory to aid him, he put on the white shirt and buttoned it up to the best of his ability, then donned the matching black jacket and trousers with ease. However, there was one item which confounded him, and that was the thick and velvety strip of cloth meant to go around his neck. He fumbled with it several times before giving up and storming out of the change room in a huff.

Kumiko stood waiting beside the shopkeeper, and her eyes dilated when she saw him. "My goodness, Ichiro. You look..."

"How am I supposed to put this thing on?" he cried out, holding the necktie up for emphasis. "It doesn't make any sense!"