So Kusamakura spent his abundance of time alone, thinking to himself as usual. In no time his one uncertainty came to mind. That human really did seem to be terrified when he saw Kusamakura. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was no mistake. Maybe it was because he suddenly showed his face from inside the thicket when no one else was around—but he wasn’t optimistic enough to think that way, he could see the reality of the situation.
—In other words, no matter who looked at him, neither beings saw him as one of their own, even though he couldn’t see how they were different.
I don’t really care if that’s the case, he tried to tell himself as he wrapped his arms around his knees.
At that moment, a young female ghost cat went by in front of him. Kusamakura watched her, she was a cat wearing a decorative kimono that looked as heavy as shackles. She plucked a shamisen with her claws, singing a song as the hem of her kimono dragged across the ground. The unfamiliar smell of her white make up, and alcohol riding on the night wind pierced his nostrils. She must have gone to the town to haunt some humans. She seemed to be in a rather good mood.
Something fell from her kimono sleeve. It made a faint metallic sound, but the cat didn’t notice. She was returning to her home with a cheerful gait as she played her shamisen without a care in the world. He thought about ignoring it, but since he had seen it fall, he reluctantly picked it up and called out to her.