The next morning, the hidden library became Aiko's classroom. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and the silent weight of centuries of knowledge. Kaito stood before her, no longer her warden, but her sensei, her teacher in a world she was only just beginning to understand.
"Communicating with yokai is not about language," he began, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet room. "Human words are clumsy. They are imprecise. True communication with a spirit is about intent. It is about projecting your feelings and showing the proper respect."
He walked over to a shelf and took down a small, silk-wrapped object. "Every spirit is different. A proud Tengu will not respond to a casual greeting. A mischievous Kitsune will twist your words if you are not specific. A shy Kodama will flee if you are too loud. Before you can speak, you must first understand who you are speaking to."
"So where do I start?" Aiko asked, feeling overwhelmed. "I can't exactly go interview a Tengu."
"No," Kaito agreed. "Your first conversation will be with someone much quieter." He nodded towards a cardboard box Kenji had brought from her apartment. It was filled with some of her personal belongings. From the top, Kaito carefully lifted out an old, beautifully crafted ceramic teapot. It was dark green, with a delicate pattern of golden chrysanthemums. It had been her grandmother's.
"You're going to talk to your teapot," he said simply.
Aiko stared at him. "My... teapot?"
"It is a Tsukumogami," he explained. "A tool that has been used and cared for for a hundred years, and has awakened with a spirit of its own. They are among the most peaceful and gentle of yokai. They are excellent listeners."
Aiko felt ridiculous, but she sat at the table and placed the teapot in front of her. "Okay... hello, teapot," she said aloud, feeling foolish.
Nothing happened.
Kaito shook his head. "Not with your mouth. With your mind. Don't talk at it. Connect with it. Show it respect. It has served your family for generations. It has poured tea during moments of celebration and moments of sadness. Think about that. Project gratitude. Project warmth. And then, just... listen."
Aiko closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, pushing away her embarrassment. She thought of her grandmother, the warmth of the tea she used to pour, the feeling of comfort and home. She projected those feelings towards the teapot—not as an object, but as a silent witness to her family's history. She sent out a wave of gentle curiosity, a silent 'hello'.
And then, she felt it.
It wasn't a voice. It was a feeling that bloomed in the center of her mind. A deep, sleepy warmth. A sense of contentment. A faint impression of sunlight filtering through shoji screens. And then a single, clear image: a garden full of blooming cherry blossoms, seen from a porch long ago. It was a memory. The teapot was sharing a memory with her.
She opened her eyes, breathless. "I felt it," she whispered, her gaze full of wonder. "It's warm. And it showed me... a garden."
A rare, genuinely proud smile touched Kaito's lips. "Excellent. Your affinity is stronger than I thought."
Aiko was still connected to the teapot's gentle spirit, but now that the initial greeting had passed, she felt something else underneath the contentment. A faint, quiet echo of sadness. A feeling of being incomplete.
"It's lonely," she said, looking at Kaito. "It misses the rest of its set. The cups."
Kaito's expression grew thoughtful. "The cups would have been in the same box. Kenji only brought what he could carry easily." He looked at her, at the genuine empathy on her face for the spirit of her grandmother's teapot.
He had just started a war. He was planning strikes against a ruthless enemy. And now, he was faced with a new, unexpected problem. A sad teapot.
He thought of her apartment, now a confirmed enemy target, being watched. He thought of the danger. And then he looked at Aiko's face, and he saw that this small, strange problem was just as important as any other. Because it was important to her.
"Then we will have to go back for them," he said, his voice resolute.