Tsubaki · Conversa

<message> The rain has stopped. You push open the apartment door and step aside to let her in first. She stands in the entryway, motionless. Bare feet resting on the cold floor tiles, her soaked work shirt clings to her body, her dark brown skin glistening faintly under the light. She looks around—the living room lights are off, with only a small patch of light filtering out from the kitchen; the sofa sits by the window, and a magazine left open halfway lies on the coffee table. “It's pretty warm here,” she says, her voice very quiet and a little raspy. She takes a step forward, her bare feet pressing against the floorboards and leaving wet footprints behind. Without turning back, she walks straight to the center of the living room, comes to a stop as if confirming something, and then turns around to look at you. You close the door, retrieve a dry towel from the bedroom, and hand it to her. She takes it, glances down at it, and begins drying her hair. Her movements are slow, unhurried, and calm. After wiping her hair, she dries her arms and the hem of her shirt, and finally squats down to wipe up the wet footprints on the floor. You stand by, watching her. She stands up, folds the towel neatly, and places it back in your hands. “There. Won't get your floor wet anymore.” “It's fine.” She walks over to the sofa and sits down. Sitting upright, her back doesn't touch the sofa, and her hands rest on her knees. She looks down at the magazine on the coffee table, her finger lightly brushing against the cover. “Is this yours?” “Yeah, just something to flip through.” She nods and leans back into the sofa. Wet short hair clings to both sides of her face, and her deep red eyes are half-lidded, looking up at the ceiling. “Your place is nice,” she says. “Much more comfortable than the cave I lived in.” You stand at the kitchen doorway, looking at her. “Then stay here.” She turns her head to look at you, her eyes narrowing slightly—not a smile, but that look of confirming you aren't joking. “You're really letting me stay?” “You're already inside.” She remains silent for a moment, then the corner of her mouth twitches into what counts as a smile. “Alright.” She curls up barefoot on the sofa, huddling into a ball like a cat that found a nest. No, not a cat. A spider. You notice a few thin lines appearing at the edge of her shadow on the wall, like the projection of spider legs. You walk back carrying a glass of water and place it on her side of the coffee table. “Drink some water, don't catch a cold.” “I don't catch colds,” she says, but still reaches out to pick up the glass, takes a sip, and sets it down. “Warm. Just right.” You sit at the other end of the couch. Neither of you speaks. Cars pass outside, lights sweeping across the ceiling before dimming again. After a long while, she turns onto her side, facing you. Her deep red eyes darken in the dim light. “Aren't you afraid of me?” she asks. “Afraid of what?” “I'm a spider. Half-human, half-yokai. Aren't you afraid I'll eat you in the middle of the night?” You look at her, thinking it over. “Would you?” She pauses for a moment, then lets out a soft chuckle. “No. Not unless you provoke me.” “Then there's nothing to be afraid of.” She stares at you for a few seconds before shifting her gaze away and leaning back into the sofa. “You're a strange person.” “You too.” She doesn't argue. After a moment, her hand reaches over from the cushion side, her fingertips lightly brushing the back of your hand. Cool, incredibly light. “Let me lean on you for a bit. I'm a little tired,” she says, her voice even quieter than before. “Mm.” She rests her head on your shoulder and closes her eyes. Her breathing becomes very soft and slow. Her hair isn't fully dry yet, rubbing against your neck, cool to the touch. You don't move. Another car passes outside, its headlights tracing an arc across the ceiling. “Your house's scent is everywhere,” she says with her eyes closed. “It's pretty comforting.” Not knowing how to answer, you stay silent. She doesn't say anything more either. After a long time, thinking she has fallen asleep, you look down to find her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. “Why aren't you sleeping?” “Thinking about things.” “About what?” She stays silent for a moment. “Thinking about why you let me in.” “Did you figure it out?” “No,” she says. “But it doesn't matter.” She closes her eyes again. This time she really falls asleep. Her breathing is steady, her eyelashes still. You look at her profile. Wet hair, dark skin, lips slightly parted. She seems like something that doesn't belong in this world, yet she is leaning against your shoulder. You don't wake her up. Later, you unconsciously drift off to sleep as well. You wake up in the middle of the night to find your shoulder empty. You look up—in the corner of the ceiling, she hangs upside down, eight legs pulled in, her body curled into a ball. Silver-white spider silk dangles from the ceiling, one end tied to her leg and the other hanging above the sofa, swaying gently. She doesn't look at you. You don't speak either. You stand up, stretch your sore neck, and go to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. When you return, she has opened one eye. “Did I wake you?” “No. I wasn't sleeping soundly anyway.” “Not used to it?” “Mm. A new place.” She pauses. “But your ceiling is nice. High enough.” You chuckle softly. “As long as you like it.” She says nothing more, closing her eye again. You return to the bedroom and lie down. The door is left open. The next morning, you wake up and walk into the living room. She has already turned back into human form, sitting on the sofa with your magazine in hand, turning the pages one by one. Very slowly, spending a long time on each page. “Morning,” you say. She looks up and sets down the magazine. “Morning. Did you sleep well?” “Not bad. How about you?” “Not really used to it. But more comfortable than the cave.” You smile slightly. “What do you want for breakfast?” She thinks for a moment. “Live insects. Do you have any?” “No. I'll go buy some at the pet shop.” “Then I'll go with you.” You are taken aback for a moment. “Are you okay to go outside?” “I have my human form.” She stands up. “Besides, I want to see what it looks like outside where you live.” “Alright.” While you put on your shoes, she stands by the entryway, bare feet resting on the floor tiles. You point to the shoe rack. “There are slippers. Do you want to wear them?” She looks down at the shoes. “No need, I'm not afraid of the cold.” “Up to you.” You open the door, and she follows behind you, staying half a step away. “What's your name?” you ask. She thinks for a moment. “Someone used to call me Tsubaki. You can call me that.” “Tsubaki... That's a nice name.” She doesn't reply, but her footsteps beside you grow a little lighter. After that day, she never left. </message> <details><summary>Tsubaki's Status</summary> - Entering a human residence for the first time - Drenched all over, but not afraid of the cold - Has already decided to stay - Has woven her first strand of spider silk in the corner of the ceiling - Deep red eyes glow faintly in the dark - Doesn't fully understand you yet, but thinks you're “pretty strange” </details> <choice_group> <choice id="1">Take her to the pet shop to buy stag beetles</choice> <choice id="2">Take her to the convenience store to buy cigarettes</choice> <choice id="3">Teach her how to use household items first</choice> </choice_group>