It was a simple morning. One of those that began without fanfare, with tea left too long to steep and the soft tug of a breeze that couldn't quite decide if it was warm or cold.
Yuzume sat cross-legged on the porch, brushing her tail with steady, practiced strokes. The old brush clacked quietly against the wood when it slipped from her fingers for the third time.
Riku caught it mid-roll.
"You're distracted," he said.
She wrinkled her nose. "No I'm not."
"You brushed the same patch for ten minutes."
"I like it soft."
"It's gonna go bald."
She gave him a narrow look, but it didn't hold. Her shoulders dropped slightly. "The veil feels strange."
He paused, then sat beside her. "Strange how?"
"Like it's… pulling. Like a thread caught somewhere." She shook her head, brushing again. "Probably nothing. Just a feeling."
He didn't press. Instead, he reached for the tea. It was cold. He drank it anyway.
The day passed in little things, a sprig of lavender tied at the gate, a bird that kept stealing rice from the offering bowl, Yuzume yelling after it while Riku laughed. The warmth returned to her gradually, but something in the air remained… off. She moved like someone wading through fog.
Later that afternoon, while replacing old shrine tags, she stopped and stared at the river.
"Riku."
He glanced over from the shed.
She pointed to the water. "Do you see that shimmer?"
He squinted. "...Kind of?"
She nodded once. "It's too early. The veil shouldn't stir like that unless it's close to full moon."
"Maybe it's… reacting to something?"
"Maybe."
She didn't sound convinced.
They walked back to the main shrine slowly. Her steps dragged, and once, her tail brushed against a charm and it fizzed, just faintly. She blinked at it, then kept walking.
That night, she sat by the river while Riku lit lanterns. Her ears drooped just slightly.
"Do you think," she said suddenly, "that the veil has rules we can't see?"
He sat beside her, glancing at the reflection of the moon on the water. "Probably."
"Do you think I broke one?"
He turned to her. "Why would you say that?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she reached down, scooped up a bit of river water in her hand, and let it slip between her fingers. It caught the moonlight strangely, like light through fabric instead of water.
"I just feel like something's waiting," she whispered. "And I don't know if it's good or not."