Ichiro eventually regained a semblance of energy and sat up to meet eyes with a bored looking Kumiko. "Can I stand now? I'm feeling better."

Vitality returned to Kumiko's face at the sound of his voice. She glanced at the immobile amanojaku splayed beneath him. "I suppose it's safe. Just take it easy."

"Of course." Ichiro forced himself up with a groan and staggered for a second before finding his balance. He turned around as Kumiko began inspecting the creature they had unwittingly defeated together. "What should we do with that thing?"

"It's still alive, but unconscious," Kumiko replied upon withdrawing her hand from the amanojaku's crooked neck. "We should probably restrain and blind it until we figure out a more permanent solution."

"And how shall we do that?"

Kumiko sighed and tossed the amanojaku's limp body over her shoulder. "Let's check if Izumi is all right. If so, we'll apologize for the broken TV and negotiate as best as we can. Hopefully, she'll understand and give us what we need."

Ichiro observed the mess in the living room with guilt. "I see. Let me do the atoning if necessary. The damage is my fault, after all."

"Are you sure? I can come up with an alibi."

"No, I insist. It's time I stood on my own."

Kumiko appeared doubtful, but she drew in a breath and nodded. "Good luck with that. We'll search upstairs, since that's where the amanojaku came from."

"Right." Ichiro waited for Kumiko to proceed and followed closely behind. He found the manner in which the amanojaku's bulging head bobbed up and down somewhat amusing, though that feeling faded when Kumiko called the name of their client.

"Mrs. Fukuzawa, are you there? You can come out. We've defeated the evil spirit!"

Kumiko fell silent and waited. A door at the end of the hallway creaked before a disoriented Izumi shuffled out to meet them. The woman's previously coiffed hair was now a wild mess, like it had been pulled at in a frenzy. Nevertheless, Ichiro couldn't help but be relieved that their client was alive and well.

"Pardon?" Izumi tried to tame her messy hair by pressing it down with one hand. "Am I hearing you right?"

"Yes," Kumiko said while glancing over her shoulder. "We also have reason to believe that you were possessed for at least a few hours. Is that true?"

Izumi briefly averted her eyes and dragged her socked feet. "That sounds absurd, but I suppose it's the only explanation for what has happened. I woke up yesterday feeling like a prisoner in my own body." She raised her hands with difficulty. "A strange voice was whispering in my mind, telling me to cut costs and fire any employee who fell short of my expectations."

"But you run a cosmetics shop, not an office."

"I know." Izumi brought her hands up to her scalp in shame. "The thing is I stopped fighting. Not because I was weak, but because a part of me really believed that it was necessary."

"To increase efficiency through any means possible," Kumiko affirmed. "That's the secret desire of any businessperson, so it's no surprise the spirit chose to bring out this side of you."

"Good grief. How do I come back from that?"

"It's up to you. We aren't here to give personal advice."

Izumi composed herself and straightened her back. "I suppose it can't be helped. Let us head downstairs and discuss payment then." 

Dread welled up in Ichiro's stomach when he accompanied the two women towards the location of his destructive outburst. He kept his eyes on Izumi to observe her reaction and just as he feared, her expression became one of deep shock and disappointment when they reached the living room. 

"Explain this, please," Izumi demanded while turning to face them with crossed arms. "Do you have any idea how much that television cost?"

Ichiro's guilt got the better of him, and he went down on his hands and knees to bow his head against the floor, taking care to avoid any shards of glass. "I'm sorry! The fault is mine!" 

He raised his head a little and saw Izumi tap her foot. "Is that so?" she asked. 

"Yes, ma'am. Tell me what I can do to compensate."

"Hm." Izumi cocked her head in thought. "I shouldn't be charged for this appointment, but that won't be nearly enough."

"I beg your pardon?" Ichiro lifted his hands off the floor and assumed the posture he normally used while performing a tea ceremony. 

"That television cost forty-six thousand yen. I expect you to pay back that value by the end of this month."

Ichiro didn't know if he could earn that much, so he looked towards Kumiko and motioned with his head to signal that he needed her intervention. She gave him a nod of understanding, then approached Izumi. 

"That won't be a problem. I earn twice that amount in a week."

Izumi didn't look any less disappointed by such news. "I can tell that you're the breadwinner, which is why I'll only accept payment from your boyfriend. Think of it as an important lesson for him."

"I guess you're right." Kumiko stepped back, much to Ichiro's shock. "It's about time I stopped taking responsibility for his blunders."

Ichiro's gaze wandered from his wife's face to the amanojaku slumped over her right shoulder. The creature had failed to influence her earlier, but what if it had succeeded this time? That would explain why she was admitting to him being a burden in front of their client. 

But there was no time to question Kumiko's words now. He had to save face by accepting Izumi's conditions, so he pulled himself up to stand head and shoulders over her. 

"So, how much do you value your dignity?" Izumi questioned, unafraid of his height.

Ichiro wasn't sure because he had already received his fair share of humbling experiences. Izumi took his silence as a welcome invitation to resume speaking.

"As you've already met my friend Mrs. Konno, this job prospect should come as no surprise. A vacancy just opened up at Eros Host Club, and I have reason to believe you'll be a good fit."

"I suppose so." Ichiro drew on the confidence gained from once hosting visitors of his parents' tea shop. "I shall make my customers feel most welcome and at ease."

Kumiko gave a snort which convinced Ichiro that his abilities were being called into question. He became more determined than ever to prove himself.

"Please, pay no heed to my girlfriend. I will become the best host around!" He grabbed Izumi's hand and shook it with vigor. "You can count on me!"

The blood drained from Izumi's face before she responded by ripping her hand from his grip and inching away without a care that she was stepping on broken glass.

"Your willingness is frightening, but I'll call Riho tonight. You can look forward to hearing from her soon..." She backed into her own sofa and collapsed upon it in defeat. "In the meantime, please get out of here. I don't want to see your faces again..."

******

Kumiko came to a stop and spun around to face Ichiro about a minute after they found themselves back on the street. She wore a strained smile that suggested she was fighting the amanojaku's influence, which was quite concerning when the demon was still unconscious.

"Ichiro," she announced with great gravity. "Do you know what you've just done?"

"What?" Ichiro asked. He began to fear that he might have said something wrong earlier.

"Being a host isn't what you think it is. You'll be expected to drink lots of alcohol and make conversation with women who secretly want to sleep with you."

A foul taste arose in Ichiro's mouth upon hearing the last part. "Wait, you mean that it's something immoral? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Kumiko sighed hard enough for her breath to come out as a puff of steam. "Because I didn't want to make things worse between us and Izumi. That's why I pretended to turn against you."

"So, it wasn't the amanojaku?"

Kumiko gave the demon on her shoulder a toss for emphasis. "No way. I'm too old to be affected by its power."

Ichiro felt relieved for a moment, but soon remembered that he was still vulnerable and in a less than ideal situation. He didn't want to become a drunkard or a tool for anyone's pleasure, so he turned to his only option when everything else failed.

"How do I get out of this situation?" he implored Kumiko. "I'll be ruined if I go to that host place..."

Kumiko held Ichiro's arm and tugged him forward so they wouldn't obstruct the path of an old woman carrying a shopping bag. She waited until the bystander had ambled off into the distance before making a suggestion. 

"I could impersonate you and take your place, but you'd have to be a complete recluse for the next month."

It was far from an ideal solution, but Ichiro was willing to make the sacrifice. "Let's do that. It's the best way."

"Are you sure? I think you underestimate how hard it will be."

"How so?"

"You can't see anyone, not even Futoshi, and you'll have to stay in the apartment all day and all night. You mustn't even open the front door or make yourself visible through a window."

Ichiro refused to relent. "That doesn't faze me. I can do it."

"Maybe for a day or two, but you'll lose your mind after a week. Mark my words."

It was beginning to frustrate Ichiro whenever his wife was right, even after considering all reasonable outcomes. He realized why the amanojaku's influence had made him resent her deeply, and he became afraid of losing control again. 

He tried to suppress his feelings by agreeing with Kumiko, difficult as it was. "Fine. I'll comply with Izumi's wishes and prostitute myself." 

Kumiko appeared slightly amused. "That's an extreme way to describe it, but I just thought of another way we could go about this."

Ichiro's sense of hope grew. "What is it?"

"You start work there, and I visit frequently to make sure you're doing okay and not getting in any trouble." 

"Oh." Ichiro sunk back into disappointment while envisioning the torture of having a cackling woman force bowl after bowl of sake down his throat until he died from alcohol poisoning. "Will that really be enough? My dignity is still at stake here..." 

Kumiko returned her gaze to the path ahead. "Dignity? You know that Izumi was just exaggerating, right? You don't have to drink that much, and as long as you avoid sleeping with anyone, things should be fine. Think about this as your debut to society, and nothing more."

Ichiro wanted to believe in Kumiko's attempt to reassure him, but he couldn't overcome the presentiment that her claims stemmed from a place of misunderstanding. If so, then there were limitations in knowledge even when it came to a centuries-old kitsune like her. Perhaps, he would do better to seek counsel from someone younger and more aware of the current times, such as Yukari or even the dreaded ghost of Tsutomu. 

He looked upon the slumped amanojaku once more and groaned in exasperation at the sheer trouble it had caused him.