Kusuriuri sat in silence, the dim light casting long shadows across the floor. He felt it before he saw it—a subtle shift in the air, the flicker of something not entirely human. A Yokai had entered. But he did not so much as flinch.

“I know you’re here,” he said calmly, his voice flat and unreadable. His yellow eyes drifted to the far wall, where the presence felt strongest. The Yokai was playing, choosing not to show themselves. Typical.

Rather than confront it, Kusuriuri played along. Slowly, he opened his medicine box and set a balance scale on the floor. It wavered—then tilted to the right, sensing the unseen spirit.