The spongy, orange mass releases itself from the bone and the meat and all the fluids in the man’s body, and rises to the surface of the skin again. Two eyes like black seeds twinkle and observe the stranger. A quick shiver, and it hops into the box.
“Good boy,” the man coos. “Ii-ko, good boy.”
The orange creature churrs and mewls as the man replaces the lid and slips it back into his pocket.
Carefully he steps back through the c*****e to where Hana is wiping down the counter. She’s already turned off the grill and has decided to take the yakitori skewers home for a late-late dinner. She imagines she’ll be hungry by the time she gets home.
“I’ll send over the others to clean this right up,” the man says.
Hana bows and smiles. She doesn’t have to say a word. She follows the plodding ma
