The sun cast its warm golden light over the clearing, illuminating every blade of grass and making the shrine’s worn wooden steps glow with a soft, nostalgic hue. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of fresh leaves and the distant murmur of a gentle breeze rustling through the trees.

  In the middle of it all, I watched as Yuzu, with a small flick of her hand, made the tent she had set up vanish seamlessly into her inventory. The process was almost instant. One moment, the fabric stood proudly against the landscape, and the next, it was gone as if it had never existed in the first place.

  Yuki, lounging comfortably under the shade of a large tree nearby, barely acknowledged the act. She sat with her legs stretched out lazily, one arm resting against the trunk while her other hand absentmindedly twirled a strand of her long white hair.

  Her snow-white eyes, half-lidded from either boredom or drowsiness, flickered toward us as she finally spoke. “Are you ready to leave, Mashiro, Yuzu?” she asked, her voice as lazy as ever, though there was a quiet sharpness hidden beneath her tone. Despite her outwardly indifferent demeanor, she was always paying attention, always observing.

  I adjusted the strap of my bag before glancing at her with mild curiosity. “Yeah,” I replied, brushing off the last specks of dust from my sleeves. Then, with a tilt of my head, I asked, “Do you have places to be, Yuki?” It was an innocent enough question, though part of me was genuinely wondering if she had any plans now that we were leaving.

  Yuki simply shrugged, letting out a drawn-out yawn before waving a dismissive hand. “Can’t be bothered,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleepy indifference. “I’ll just stay here.”

  It was such a Yuki-like answer that I didn’t even question it.

  Meanwhile, standing beside me, Ai puffed up her cheeks in an uncharacteristic pout. She crossed her arms, her usual calm and composed expression replaced by something more playful, though with Ai, it was always difficult to tell when she was joking. “Rent is not free, okay?” she stated firmly, her snow-white eyes narrowing slightly as if she were a stern landlord collecting payment.

  I blinked, taken aback for a moment before realizing what she meant. A laugh bubbled up from my throat as I looked at her incredulously. “You’re seriously charging Yuki rent?”

  Ai gave a firm nod, her expression unwavering. “The shrine isn’t a free lodging,” she stated, tilting her head slightly. “Even ghosts need to contribute.”

  Yuki let out another dramatic sigh, her lips curling into a teasing grin. “Fine, fine. I’ll pay my rent,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. Then, after a short pause, she added, “With my presence.”

  Ai let out a small sigh of her own, but the faintest hint of amusement flickered in her eyes. I shook my head, a smile tugging at my lips. Even with the looming journey ahead, moments like this made everything feel just a little bit lighter.

  I crossed my arms, giving Yuki a pointed look. “If you’re gonna be a NEET, what are you planning to do about food?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her. “You can’t just expect it to fall from the sky.”

  Yuki, still lounging lazily under the tree shade, barely lifted an eyelid to look at me. She stretched her arms over her head with a slow, exaggerated yawn before finally replying, “I don’t know what a NEET is, but I assume you’re insulting me, saying I’m lazy and don’t do anything.” Her tone was completely unbothered, as if she was almost proud of the accusation.

  I narrowed my eyes. “That’s because you are lazy and don’t do anything.”

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  Yuki clicked her tongue, tossing her hair over her shoulder with exaggerated flair. “Tch. You peasants just don’t understand the refined life of a high-class NEET.” She folded her arms smugly. “Food? It just magically appears for me.” She shot Ai a knowing look, a sly grin creeping onto her face. “Right, my dear, ever-so-generous landlord?”

  Ai gave her the most unimpressed look I had ever seen. With a heavy sigh, she massaged her temples as if nursing a headache. “I swear, you’re worse than a freeloading ghost,” she muttered under her breath, clearly questioning all her life choices that had led her to this moment.

  I placed my hands on my hips, raising an eyebrow before jabbing a finger toward her school uniform. “Also, wash your clothes, or you’ll be stinky!”

  Yuki gasped, clutching her chest like I had just insulted her very existence. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing? I’ll have you know, my beauty is self-sustaining. I radiate freshness!” She struck a dramatic pose, as if the very air around her was purified by her mere presence.

  Yuzu, who had been listening quietly, suddenly took a step forward. Her small nose twitched as she leaned in slightly, scrutinizing Yuki with a serious expression. Then, after a pause, she blinked up at her and whispered in a monotone voice, “Mashiro bery… might be right.”

  For a moment, silence.

  “Oi, you little gremlin, don’t just sniff me like that…” Yuki mumbled, barely lifting a hand in protest before letting it flop back down. She leaned further against the tree, not even bothering to sit up properly, as if the effort of reacting was already too much work.

  Yuzu took a step back, holding up her hands innocently. “Yuzu bery concern. Yuki bery suspicious.”

  Yuki let out a dramatic groan, flopping onto the grass with all the grace of someone who had completely given up on life. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, staring at the sky as if the heavens themselves had betrayed her. “I came here for peace, not for a hygiene intervention.”

  I crossed my arms and smirked down at her. “Well, maybe if you didn’t live like a cryptid, we wouldn’t have to stage one.”

  Yuki rolled onto her side, propping her head up with one hand. “Listen, Mashiro,” she said, her tone suddenly serious. “There are two types of people in this world. Those who wash their clothes regularly, and those who are blessed by the gods with a self-cleaning aura.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder with a smug grin. “Guess which one I am?”

  Ai, who had been listening quietly up until now, finally spoke, her tone flat and unimpressed. “Delusional?” she supplied, as if offering the most obvious conclusion.

  Yuzu, on the other hand, gasped dramatically, her eyes going wide with childlike wonder. Her fluffy tail bristled slightly as she turned to Yuki with newfound admiration. “Yuki bery god?” she asked, her voice filled with genuine curiosity.

  Yuki immediately puffed out her chest, her usual lazy demeanor vanishing as she basked in the undeserved praise. She shot me a triumphant look, grinning smugly. “See? Yuzu gets it,” she said, tilting her chin up as if she were some divine being who had just been recognized for her greatness.

  I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose as I tried to stop this nonsense before it got even further out of hand. “Yuzu, no, she’s not a—” I began, already dreading where this conversation was heading.

  But before I could finish, Yuzu gave a sage nod, as if she had already made up her mind on the matter. “Yuki bery delusional god,” she declared with utmost seriousness.

  Yuki choked. Ai let out a small, satisfied hum. I couldn't help it, I burst into laughter.

  “Yuzu… I trusted you…” she mumbled, flopping back against the tree like all the energy had been drained from her body. I burst out laughing as Yuki’s victorious smirk immediately crumbled into betrayal.

  Yuzu simply gave a sage nod. “Yuzu bery wise.”

  I bit my lip, trying not to burst into laughter as Yuki groaned, running her hands through her hair in frustration. “Fine, fine! I’ll wash it! You guys are unbelievable.” She waved a lazy hand in the air like she was swatting away an annoying fly. She grumbled something else under her breath, but I could only catch snippets like “hygiene police” and “getting bullied in my own home.”

  Ai, still wearing the same deadpan expression, simply tilted her head. “Consider it part of your rent.”

  Yuki let out a long, suffering sigh, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’m gonna regret staying here, aren’t I?”

  I smirked. “You already do.”