Teatime Therapy

By Hannah Carter

Very few things surprised Aoi, considering she was a witch. But she certainly hadn’t expected to be attacked by a sentient teapot when she entered her great-grandmother’s home.

Aoi huddled behind a couch as the tea caddy rolled on its own. The kettle and saucers clattered angrily on top, sloshing their boiling contents onto the floor.

“You’re not Kayda!” The tea caddy whined in a voice that sounded like the whistle of a boiling kettle.

Aoi swallowed. “I know. But I’m going to be running the charm shop from now on, okay?”

The whine increased as the tea caddy rocked on its wheels. “No, it isn’t okay! I don’t even know you.”

If the tsukumogami had eyes, Aoi imagined they would be narrowed in her direction. Her mother had warned her that some items in her grandmother’s house had reached their hundredth birthday and thus acquired a soul. But Aoi hadn’t expected them to be so… vehement in their dislike of her. They’d been so nice before they could talk.

She raised her head, only to duck again as a splattering of scalding tea hit the yellow couch. “Yes, you do. I’m Aoi, Kayda’s great-granddaughter. Remember?”

The tea caddy’s wheels squeaked as it rolled back and forth. “Oh. You’re the one that used to push me into the wall and laugh, aren’t you?”

Aoi’s cheeks flushed. “I was three! You can’t blame me for that. I… haven’t been here for a very long time.” Her eyes burned, but no tears fell. Some part of her told her to cry, but the numbness festering inside her since Granny Kayda passed away kept the droplets from falling.

“I have a scuff mark because of you.” The tea caddy practically sniffed in indignation. “I don’t want you to run the charm shop!” Tiny spoons lined up along the edges, and round, chewy daifuku stacked on top of each other in their bowls. “Fire!”

The spoons’ projectiles clunked against Aoi. They didn’t hurt, but she still screeched and sought shelter elsewhere. The tea caddy rolled after her, its wheel rattling in the pursuit.

Aoi tossed one spell behind her, but the caddy dodged and hit her in the head with another powdery daifuku. “Don’t you try and do magic on me! Kayda charmed me so that no one can hurt me. I love Kayda. I don’t love you.”

A hard manju snack pelted Aoi’s head. The tea caddy rammed into her, and her shoes slid off. Reeling forward, Aoi staggered into a door and fell across the threshold into her granny’s study, just before a few extra daifuku bonked her.

Aoi pushed herself up from the burgundy carpet—and her lungs compressed as the pictures on the wall caught her eyes.

Over the cauldron, on the desk, on the fireplace mantle. Every piece of space unoccupied by a book had snapshots of their family. Baby Aoi in Granny’s arms. Aoi smiling without a tooth. All four Tachibana witches—Granny Kayda, Grandma Chinatsu, Aoi’s mother Shiori, and Aoi at Tanabata. Black-and-white pictures of young Chinatsu. Shiori on her wedding day.

Aoi’s chin quivered. An ache thawed the numbness in her chest.

The tea caddy rolled over to a picture of Grandpa Rikuto and Granny Kayda holding Grandma Chinatsu. The tea brewed while the tea caddy stewed.

“I miss them, too, you know.” Aoi’s voice cracked.

Foam bubbled out of the kettle. “You weren’t even here. I’ve been here for everything, ever since Rikuto gave me to Kayda on their wedding day.”

Funny how something so old could sound so much like a petulant child.

Aoi sniffled. “I know.” She pulled her knees up to her chin and stared at her socked foot. “You spent a lot more time with her than I did.” Her fingers clenched her skirt, and the pattern on the rug rippled like a pond. “Do… Do you think she knew… Do you think she knew how much I loved her?”

The gasping sob escaped Aoi’s lips, and she buried her face in her knees. The wall of ice shattered inside her soul, and her grief overflowed, threatening to drown her in her own tears.

“I should have called more. I-I should have come to visit once I moved to Tokyo. I got so wrapped up in school and studies and my friends—but I should have made more time. I should have come home for New Year’s this year. I would have if… if I’d known…” A hundred and fifty was old, even for a witch, but her death still seemed so sudden. Aoi had naïvely expected her great-grandma to be a permanent fixture in her life, just as she had always been.

Something nudged Aoi’s toes. She peeked open one eye and saw an antique cup filled with green tea. A bridge of sentient spoons retreated back to the caddy, their mission complete.

She raised her head quizzically, brow furrowed.

“Drink,” the tea caddy said.

Aoi sniffed and lifted it to her lips. When it didn’t scald her tongue, she gulped it down.

“She missed you a lot.” Misery threatened to choke Aoi until the tea caddy added, “But she knew you loved her.”

“You’re sure? But how?”

“She always said so. She would talk on the phone with Chinatsu for hours. They always gushed about how proud they were of you, at your fancy Tokyo school. How loving, how smart, how sweet you were. How you were a real entrepreneurial witch.” The tea caddy wheeled closer. “She kept every spellcasting project you sent her.”

Aoi wiped at her damp cheeks. Maybe that was why Granny had bequeathed her magic shop to Aoi.

“Thank you.” As way of apology, Aoi continued, “I’ll try and clean your scuff mark.”

“Good.” The tea caddy gurgled. “Then I might help you run the shop.” But in a sweeter voice—one that sounded more like tea being poured into a cup, it said, “Maybe together, we can keep our beloved Kayda’s memory alive.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hannah Carter is just a girl who wakes up every day hoping it will be the day she discovers she’s secretly a mermaid. Her debut novel, Depths of Atlantis, is out through SnowRidge Press now. Her stories have been included in several anthologies: Whispers From Before, The Never Tales, and Havok’s Casting Call and Prismatic. Her flash fiction piece, “A Home for Nova,” won the 2022 Flash Fiction Realm Award.

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