Emishi keeps the beaded necklace close, though he doesn't let anyone know about it. Sometimes he wears it, when no one's looking. Sometimes he just holds it in his hand, and remembers when it looped beneath a wide grin that outshone even his own, and the throat it adorned made a mockery of his kansai-ben.

     Sometimes he touches the beads, one by one, and remembers running his fingers through strawberry blond silk, and breath catching in mid-laugh.

     Emishi's not sure why he remembers that, because it never happened. But as long as it keeps him from remembering feathers, it's okay.