The tomboyish-looking girl cradled her cards. The little boy standing across from her had his face turned away, cheeks blazing red — the air practically radiating the faint warmth of a grade-school crush.
Unfortunately, this scene was witnessed by Origami upon returning home.
The result: she dragged the little girl — the one she was raising to study Spirit weaknesses — away, fixed the boy with her trademark expressionless dead-eyes until the pressure became too much for him and he bolted on his own, then led Yimi homeward without a word.
"Don't play with him anymore."
"Why?" The cat looked up.
"He has a familiar scent." The scent of a budding creep.
"?"
Origami brought her home and stood at the door, key in hand, thinking.
She should have an extra copy made. Under normal circumstances there'd be at least two keys, but she'd given one to Shiori.
There was also another problem she was only noticing now.
Just as she stepped inside and began removing her shoes, she saw the little cat barge in without a care in the world. She'd been walking on wet pavement — a row of small footprints was left clearly on the floor.
"..."
Origami said nothing. She held Yimi under the arms, lifted her, set her on a chair, and said: "No shoes inside."
She picked up the mop and patiently cleaned away the prints.
People have to be taught from scratch. You shouldn't get angry over a small mistake.
"Why?" Yimi jumped off the chair in confusion and promptly stepped right back across the floor Origami had just mopped.
Shoes on a slightly damp floor left small black prints — fascinating and fun.
"..." Origami looked at the floor. Then at the cat ignoring her lesson entirely.
The consequences were going to be less fun.
"Mrrow!"
Transformed back into a cat, Yimi used her excellent jumping ability to scale the wardrobe.
"Come down. I'm not going to hit you." Origami stood on tiptoe, ruler in hand, trying to reach her.
Yimi scooted further back.
Origami looked down at the row of tiny footprints on the floor and involuntarily closed her eyes.
She really was too naive. Spirits — things that were evil by nature — would be better off extinct.
The girl reached up on tiptoe, retrieved the cat, set her on the floor, pressed her down, and used Yimi as a mop to clean up the mess.
Yimi lay flat and let her do it without moving.
After mopping for a while, Origami's back started to ache — and she also realized this was completely pointless. Once she got Yimi dirty she'd have to wash this no-bathing-allowed creature herself.
She sat down on a chair to rest and used the ruler to poke at the furball. "Get up. Mop it yourself."
Yimi got to her feet, shook her head, and shifted to human form.
Cat ears drooping, she looked reluctant and a little aggrieved.
Under Origami's puzzled gaze, she pushed Origami off the chair with both hands, then knocked her over. Mimicking what Origami had just done, she grabbed onto Origami's clothes with her little hands and dragged her back and forth across the floor with great effort.
"..."
Smack! Smack! Smack...
The kitty had just discovered another weakness of human children: getting spanked hurt them a lot more than getting spanked as a cat. The cat, however, respectfully declined to tell you how she had arrived at this conclusion.
Adult cats were a neurotic species — sometimes even when you did exactly what they said, they still got angry. Yimi absolutely refused to grow up into that kind of adult cat.
Yimi glared at Origami with tears pooling in her eyes, one hand clamped over her backside. It had happened so suddenly, and she wasn't actually hurt — she hadn't even had time to redirect the misfortune.
But her Stand, now fully evolved to its third stage, was remarkably responsive — after a few solid smacks, Origami found her own backside burning just as hotly.
The girl was forced to stop, narrowing her eyes at Yimi.
Could this be... misfortune redirection?
She turned Yimi around and pulled her pants down to check — visible redness.
It looked less like redirecting misfortune and more like damage reflection. If that pure-white Spirit's power was limited to the same scope, then even in a mutually-assured-destruction scenario, she might still be able to kill the other party.
She'd been getting more neurotic lately. Even the First Spirit she'd encountered that day could only redirect misfortune to a random person somewhere in the world.
But both abilities shared a certain commonality. That perhaps meant the First Spirit actually possessed all other Spirits' powers combined.
She hadn't asked about this yet.
She patted Yimi on the head. "How were you born?"
"Hmph."
"Fish tonight."
"...Mom gave birth to me. Probably."
Origami's thoughts drifted. She recalled something Shiori had once said.
Spirits may once have been human — that nonsense. She'd dismissed it at the time because Shiori was always pulling her leg.
"Do you remember who granted you your powers?"
"Someone... I couldn't see."
Really?
"Where is she?"
"Don't know."
Of course.
The alarm clock marking the end of the lunch break rang. Origami lifted the little girl off her lap and gave her a pat on the head — simple comfort — then stood.
"Have the floor mopped before I get back. Use the mop."
"Ignoring you." Yimi turned her head away, facing the corner.
"I'll bring fish this afternoon."
"Listening to you again (^_^)."
Origami turned and headed out the door.
She — and most high schoolers — didn't have the habit of coming home for lunch. Unless you lived right next to the school, spending that time going home would just eat into your nap.
"Afternoon, Origami. No Rolly again today?" Shiori ran into her on the road and greeted her.
Slightly uneasy. Thinking back on that deeply unsettling exchange from this morning — had Origami actually found out something, and then while little Yimi was sleeping...
Gulp.
"She's home. She can take care of herself." Probably.
"By herself?" Shiori blinked.
She definitely found something out!
The first afternoon period was PE — during summer the school offered swim classes. Despite the usual assortment of body-image anxieties and other very real concerns, on a sweltering summer day the chance to get into the water kept this the most popular class on the schedule.
Of course, school-issued swimwear meant one thing: the regulation school swimsuit. One of the reasons Origami had come home at noon was that she'd forgotten her swimsuit.
After changing in the locker room, Shiori reflexively glanced over at Origami to see if she was watching — only to be greeted by an absolutely jaw-dropping sight.
"Origami... um... should I get you excused from PE?"
"Why?"
"Um..." Shiori awkwardly pointed at her backside and looked away.
Origami looked down at the spot indicated. Several clear handprints were plainly visible.
She looked up at Shiori, perfectly serious. "I hit myself."
"...Huh?"
"I hit myself." She said it again.
"Ha..."