I Fell In Love With A Girl Who Died Before I Was Even Born

I froze.

Her hand rested lightly on my leg, not flirtatious.

Not accidental.

Just… present.

Like a question she wasn't asking out loud.

"Um…" I stammered, not wanting my show to be full of dead air.

I saw a flash of mischief in her eyes, and I was keenly aware that she knew exactly what she was doing and how badly this was short-circuiting my entire being.

She didn't say anything.

"Azuki?" I asked as politely as I could muster.

She smiled pleasantly.

"Yes, Inego?"

Then she took a breath.

"You're so tense, you know."

Her voice was soft now, still playful, but slightly deeper than it had been a minute ago.

Flirty, sure. But gentle.

That was worse. Way worse.

"How long's it been since you've had a back rub?" she asked.

I swallowed hard. My throat made a sound like a dying accordion.

Of course, before I could answer, she giggled.

"You a knotty boy?"

She punctuated it with a wink so sweet it should've been illegal.

Then I felt her fingertips—tracing a line up my spine like a question she already knew the answer to.

This wasn't even right because, as I was keenly aware, this was Azuki, the short girl with ground glasses, a bob haircut, dimples, and smooth thighs that proved the gods were good and loved mortals.

I jumped in my seat, suddenly recalling my broadcast.

"Azuki! What in the —"

"Shhh," she said, as if that was helpful. "I'm being nurturing."

"You're not supposed to nurture me. You're a trickster yokai! You've admitted as much, and I can't just sit back and let you run wild on this show."

She leaned closer, voice dropping just slightly. "Trickster doesn't mean heartless. Besides…"

Her fingers pressed gently into my shoulders, warm and slow.

And that was it. That was the very moment I felt my tension snap and begin to melt like soft butter under her warm fingertips.

"…you're the one who invited me here. Maybe this is just part of the cultural experience."

I had no idea what sound I made next. It was somewhere between a gasp, a squeak, and a very tired, emotionally bruised British man dying inside.

So, of course she giggled.

"Oh, Inego! What was that noise you just made? We're recording this, right? I need a copy for that noise alone! I wanna remix it so bad!"

I cleared my throat.

"Hey, let's get back to the tanuki statues for a minute," I said, trying to salvage what I could from the burning disaster that had become Inego Interviews.

"Pfffft," Azuki raspberried all over the second mic. "You wanna talk about balls some more?"

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Gods. What a terrible lifeline she just threw me.

"Sure, because I know where the image of a tanuki's ballsack comes from."

I expected her to tease me back or at least rib me like she'd been doing since the show began.

But instead she propped her elbows on the table and rested her head on her hands and looked at me as though she were genuinely interested.

"Really?" she asked, her eyes wide with excitement. "You've gotta tell me! Please! I'll behave!"

Color me gob-smacked. There was NO way it could be THAT easy, right?

"Um, okay… Giant tanuki balls came from goldsmiths using their scrotum skin for stretching gold leaf," I said.

A smile crept over her face and she nodded.

"Yeah! They sure did! I mean, from the human perspective, of course. Us tanuki have magic balls that let us transform into whatever. Human listeners, interpret that however you like!"

I chuckled and I continued.

"The Japanese goldsmiths made it weird, beautiful, and hilarious — and turned it into centuries of folklore about transformation and prosperity."

Azuki shrugged.

"No reason to stretch the truth, I suppose."

That pun was so bad it physically made me recoil. Which only made her laugh harder.

In desperation, I dug through the little bin beside my mic stand, where I kept all the emergency props, snacks, and stress candy, and pulled out a small straw hat.

One that I'd brought just for tonight. It looked exactly like the ones from the statues.

Her eyes lit up as soon as she saw it.

"Here," I said, offering it to her. "I thought maybe you'd want to wear this. You know… tanuki tradition. Iconography. Something visual for the social media teaser—"

She took it slowly, eyes wide with theatrical innocence.

"Inego! You shouldn't have! You want me to wear this?"

I nodded eagerly, glad she took the bait.

"Yeah. It's cute! Very on-brand. I mean… there's a reason the statues always have tanuki wearing a… um… kasa, right?"

Her grin widened and her eyes seemed to sparkle with glee.

"Oh yes! Of course! It's symbolic of being prepared against misfortune. Like, if it rains or anything, then we've got the straw hat to protect us. But more than that, it's meant to show a tanuki's humble origins!"

Brilliant!

"You're absolutely right! Thank you Azuki."

She held the straw hat up. Turned it in her hands.

"You're gonna put it on, right?" I asked.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Just this?"

"Sure."

There was a soft pop of yōkai magic. Like a champagne bubble bursting somewhere in the back of my skull.

I looked up, but I knew before I even saw. I mean… I already knew.

In my soul.

She was wearing the straw hat.

And.

Only.

A smile.

She turned toward me, a mischievous blush on her cheeks and her legs folded under her like she was trying to be art.

"Only the straw hat?" she asked sweetly.

I exploded.

"AZUKI! YOU! CLOTHES! ARE…WHAT HAPPENED TO… WHY DID YOU?! THIS IS A BROADCAST! THERE ARE!! THERE ARE RULES!"

She blinked innocently and bobbed her head from one shoulder to the other while she brought her finger and laid it softly on her left cheek.

"You said 'just this.' Tanuki magic's very literal, you know."

I felt my soul leaving my body as I silently screamed for it to please return.

She stretched, arms up, straw hat tilting slightly as she grinned at me from under it like a cat that just knocked over a priceless vase. "What're you gonna do, huh? Throw me out of the studio?"

I flailed at the buttons on my mixer. "I—I—yes! I mean, no! I mean—this is a broadcast, Azuki!"

She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. Her elbows were on the table. Her entire everything else was not dressed for radio or television.

"You're blushing soooo hard," she cooed. "Is it warm in here, or are you just imagining me in high definition?"

I collapsed inwardly.

She tapped her fingers together, mock shy. "Be honest. If you did pick me up, you wouldn't toss me out…"

"Azuki!" I stammered.

"You'd carry me, right? Mmmhmm? Probably back to your place."

"I—what—why would I—what does that even mean?!"

In the back of my brain, I could hear Flintwick agreeing with her.

She giggled and leaned back with a theatrical sigh, crossing one leg over the other.

"You'd cradle me like a sacred treasure, I bet. Like a little sleepy tanuki bundle. I bet you're stronger than you think! Fireman's carry? Princess style? No, wait—I bet you'd do that 'bridal scoop' thing."

"I would not do the bridal—!"

"C'mon, Inego, I'm soft and warm and only slightly cursed."

I glanced at my notecards, dropped to the floor.

Behind the two of us, the boiler whistled like someone watching from the sidelines.

"THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE AN INTERVIEW."

She gave me a cheeky little smirk.

"It is an interview! You're learning things. About culture. About folklore. About me… I mean, look, I've got nothing to hide," she giggled.

"Azuki."

"…about how dangerously good I look in just a hat."

That's when I noticed the board.

All the lights were off.

Recording—dead.

Broadcast—terminated.

We'd been cut off. Mid-interview.

Somewhere, out in the wider world, a radio station manager had heard one too many mentions of tanuki balls and just pulled the plug on the entire show.

I put my head down on the table and groaned.

Azuki giggled like a schoolgirl.

"Well," she chirped, voice bright, "what's next?"

I didn't look up.

I couldn't.

"I thought tanuki were supposed to bring prosperity," I mumbled into the mixing board. "Fortune. Good luck."

She leaned closer.

I felt her breath near my ear.

"Inego," she said softly, "you're in a small room…"

Her hand rested gently on my back again.

"…with a nude girl wearing just a straw hat."

She giggled, sweet and smug. "That's pretty fortunate, don't you think?"

I didn't move.

I didn't speak.

I was dead. Again. Emotionally. Existentially.

This was Inego Interviews.

Episode One: The Tanuki.

We are so, so off the air.