Please to Kitsune-sama!

Chapter 106 : Kitsune-sama Heads to Atami (2)

Akai Rina. She was the head of the awakening company Fox Phone, and the clan master of the clan “Fox Phone.” In short, she ought to have been on fairly good terms with Kogami Inari, the company’s mascot. However… when she heard from the Awakener Association that Inari had resolved the Fuchu incident alongside the awakener mascot of Lion Communication, she could not help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

To begin with, Inari had never relied much on her. Fox Phone, both as a clan and as a corporation, held a fairly high standing. If Inari were to depend on her, Akai was more than ready to put all that influence to use. Yet, in reality, not once had such a thing ever happened. Why was that?

Akai formed a hypothesis: perhaps Inari simply did not know how much she could truly rely on her?

In truth, Akai could not recall ever showing Inari much of a dependable side. This would not do. What Akai felt was urgency. She strongly thought she must not become just “someone she works with.”

From Inari’s perspective, of course, there already existed a unique category labeled “Akai,” but Akai herself remained blissfully unaware. Not that this altered Inari’s treatment of her in any way.

“If I do not show her here and now that I can be someone she can depend upon…!”

In short, Akai wished to refresh her image. She wanted to create the impression of someone more reliable. Even with the inn Inari would be staying at, Akai had carefully chosen it. When she told Inari, the response had only been a plain “Ho.” That left Akai wondering “Eh?”—but that was simply because Inari’s head held no updated information about present-day Atami. Putting that aside—

Led by Akai, who wished to be seen as “dependable,” Inari walked the streets of Atami.

The spot where Atami Station once stood had now become a bus facility, but the area once known as Heiwa-dori Shopping Street remained alive and well.

“Ho, so ‘tis built upon a slope.”

“Yes, Atami is a city of many slopes. Going down is enjoyable like this, though of course, the return trip means climbing back up.”

The large arcade—rebuilt after the monster disasters—was lined with souvenir shops, sweet shops, and cafés. Among them were stores selling hot spring buns, some of which even offered them freshly steamed.

“Ho,” Inari voiced aloud.

“Ah, hot spring buns,” Akai said.

“Indeed. I have heard tell of these.”

“Wait here just a moment.”

Leaving Inari standing there, Akai walked into one of the shops and soon returned with two freshly steamed buns. Without hesitation, she offered one to Inari.

“Here, please. They’re delicious.”

“My, my. I fear I have made thee trouble thyself. My thanks.”

“Not at all. For me, too, this feels like the very essence of a hot spring town.”

They smiled at one another as they each took a bite. A rich, carefully prepared red bean paste spread warmly across the tongue.

“Mmm, delicious. I do prefer coarse bean paste myself, yet this is simply good.”

“Both kinds have their charm, do they not? But aye, this one is indeed tasty.”

It was nothing extraordinary, but a manju born of tradition, particular to hot spring towns, left Inari thoroughly satisfied. Yet there was one thing both she and even Akai—who had been thoughtful enough to purchase them herself—overlooked: when someone as striking as Inari ate something happily in a crowded place like Heiwa-dori, it naturally drew attention.

“That looks good…”

“From that shop, perhaps?”

Inevitably, people’s gazes turned to the bun shop nearby. Soon, a line began to form. As a food to enjoy while walking, hot spring buns were ideal: small enough not to fill one’s stomach, but satisfying enough to serve as a perfect “light bite.” With their natural appeal, the shop soon had a proper queue.

“Well then, shall we go?” Akai asked.

“Aye. If I recall aright, the inn was called Shinkai Inn, was it not?”

“Yes. A fine place with a view of the sea.”

In Atami, inns typically fell into two categories: mountain side or sea side. There was no true hierarchy between them, yet out of fear of aquatic monsters, mountain-side inns and hotels tended to command higher prices. After all, the mountain side required climbing slopes, but the scenery was beautiful. On the other hand, the sea side drew more ordinary visitors. It was for this reason Akai had chosen a seaside inn.

“Ah, I can see it now. There it is,” Akai pointed.

“Ohh, what fine atmosphere it hath.”

Though built after the monster disasters and lacking old history, Shinkai Inn had been designed with the concept of capturing “the spirit of Atami’s good old days.” A three-story Japanese-style inn, it welcomed them inside with lavish décor and smiling staff. For the inn, receiving famous awakeners added prestige, so those smiles truly came from the heart.

Thus, Kogami Inari and Akai Rina would be staying here tonight—two people, two rooms, one night.