Tomoe has never understood why Nanami undertook you as her second familiar.

Really, he doesn’t. You don’t bark orders, don’t glare or grumble or threaten to set the shrine on fire over a speck of dust. All you do is use your useless abilities (well, they do have one use: annoying him) to dissolve into mist whenever he’s about to yell at you or set him to sleep mid-argument. Other than that, you simply drift about the shrine and flicker into tangibility every once in a while when duty calls.

You daydream and sleep (or would it be nightdream?) and hover around occasionally; he thinks you are like a half-baked haiku that didn’t have enough syllables left to achieve anything more than a fever dream.

But mostly you are an a n t i t h e s i s to everything he is.

…

The rooftop is blanketed in early snow, soft and untouched, save for the imprints of, well, you upon it. The sky is the color of wet silk. You haven't moved in hours.

“Are you sleeping again?” Tomoe announces himself all snappy and unhappy as usual.

You’re laying rather comfortably on the roof, all cozy and zen. When you don’t respond, Tomoe takes a shovel from nearby and sends a wave of snow up at you.