Moo
Blades to forge, fangs to temper, finishing touches to add, the old demon's work seemed endless.
"Ah, what am I to do?"
Three-eyed Momo next to him responded in one syllable. "Moo."
"No, no. Be quiet for a minute!" The swordsmith heaved flames from his throat, hammer pounding in a furious attempt to meet a deadline.
"Moo."
"Hush."
He worked late into the night, his masterpiece shining before him the next dawn. Perfection at long last.
"Your blade, my lord."
"Good work." The demonic comissioner inspected the blade, sheathed it, and turned on heel westward.
"Ah, my payment, sire?"
"Moo," Momo vouched.
"You're alive along with your pet, right?" Taking flight, the ungrateful yokai left.
"Moo," Momo humphed.
"Yes, I know I worked too hard for that one."
Momo nuzzled and licked its friend's ear gently.
"Thank you, my Peaches."
"Moo."
Totosai had to smile; it was the most sensible thing anyone had said all day.