"Someone brought these socks round for you," Ritsu's mother said happily.
"Oh," Ritsu said, with a definite lack of enthusiasm.
"Yes. She said that they had been knitted by a samurai and were haunted." His mother moved briskly round the kitchen as she spoke, measuring out tea. "She said that she was sure you could help."
"Oh," Ritsu repeated, wondering if he could get Aoarashi to eat them..
"But I'm afraid that they fell to pieces when I put them in the wash," his mother added apologetically. "They were very dirty."
"Don't worry," Ritsu said cheerfully. "These things do happen."
which references an earlier discussion here. And here is the return drabble: which gains, I agree, if you happen to know the Japanese series Hissatsu Shigotonin (Sure Death in English translation) and its main character Nakamura Mondo:
"Ritsu!! Your father--!!"
I tumbled downstairs and ran to where she pointed: the laundry shed out back. Aoarashi was half inside the washer, legs kicking. I yanked him out.
"What're you *doing*??"
"Ahh, the aroma-- the body--" Dark wet lint covered his fingers. He licked them lasciviously.
"Mmmmmhh. Violent death-- corruption-- anger-- mh? What's this?" He smiled. "The resentment of an adopted son-in-law!"
Mom came in with a wadded jacket for him.
"Dear, come back to bed. Mother's warmed the futon and your dinner's waiting for you."
"Nothing *you'd* know about," I hissed as he passed me.