“Crystal, goodness. And here I am the plain steel variety,” Joscelin teases, gently. He goes to the handwash station near the touch tank and begins to clean his hands thoroughly and methodically, far more fastidious than a normal boy might.

Once he’s done, he turns away from Ginia, but keeps talking. His voice is quiet and subdued. “I was also a Japanese-style dagger, when I was...when Ayumu was still here. I was so worried for her—she had to get so close to the ayakashi so that I could feed.”