Of course, she wouldn't see it happening, but for Toshio the true purpose of throwing salt over your shoulder was visible, plain as could be.

Salt is like acid to demons. And so Toshio watched as the one who had curiously slipped away from Takeo, to hover over Kaori, was now screaming and clutching his face, screaming about how his insurance didn't cover this.

And Toshio smiled. Softly. Sweetly. "There you go. Old superstitions and all that. You don't want a jinx to pass on."