Chapter Text
“We’ll check out what’s going on with Mika, and then we’ll head straight back home. Man, I can’t believe Whisper guilted me into this…”
The rain’s really coming down, and each drop makes a heavy sound against the concrete. Fumika is pouting, as dark as the weather, and grumbling under her breath. Most likely, she’s thinking about Whisper – right now, he is undoubtedly curled up in front of the electric heater in her bedroom, nice and toasty-warm. Even though it was Whisper’s amused suggestion that Fumika keep an eye on the developing love-triangle situation, it was Fumika that was out the door minutes after scoffing dinner, calling behind her that she wouldn’t be a minute. While the others returned sleepy goodbyes as the door swung shut, Ame-onna stood and smoothed her skirts, face pulled taut with worry. She’d run out after her, and caught her halfway up the street.
“I know you have the watch…And you can call for us whenever you need to…But I’d feel better…If I accompanied you there…”
Fumika looks surprised for a second, before she smiles brightly. It’s an expression that strikes Ame-onna, harsh as a brick to the head, with how young she is. Humming lowly, like a mother, she reaches over and tightens the drawstrings on Fumika’s hoodie. Then, she tucks in as much hair as she can, but little wispy baby-hairs peek out around the sides and frame her round face with childhood.
Finished with her fussing, Ame-onna gently pats at Fumika’s cheeks with rain-soaked palms. “You’re far too kind…You shouldn’t be out in this weather…At this time of night…Without the others…”
“I know,” says Fumika, clasping her hands over Ame-onna’s and stilling them, “but Mika looked really nervous and I’m worried about what Takumi and Kenji are up to.” She grins a bright sunbeam of a smile, and softly tugs Ame-onna’s hands away. “We won’t be too long, I promise. I know you’re worried about being out tonight-”
Then, she spots Takumi and Mika on the pier, and abruptly scrambles to crouch behind a post. Ame-onna knows that the other children won’t spot her, but she crowds close to Fumika, and lightly rests her open palms on the backs of her shoulders. In reply, Fumika snakes an arm behind her to squeeze Ame-onna’s hand reassuringly. The warmth of the gesture casts fog over harsh memories of icy fingers tight around her wrist, a woman cloaked in tangles of dark hair roughly dragging her away from the path, loosening stones under her protesting feet.
And breath as cold as death, rattling right in her ear.
Kenji suddenly appears from somewhere behind them, an angry scowl from beneath his plastic umbrella. Even though Fumika startles at his shouts for Takumi to get away from Mika, he doesn’t seem to notice her eavesdropping. His gaze is that sharp and hyper-focused. They watch, Fumika in horror, and Ame-onna passively, as the two get right up in each other’s faces. Ame-onna absently thinks that Fujimi Gozen would find this hysterical and wonders if she should tell her about it later to get into her good books. Beyond that thought, Mika is desperately yelling that it was “pretty much a coin-toss” that determined who she came out with, but she goes ignored as the two boys shoulder each other and grit their teeth.
“D’you think that this is the work of a yo-kai?” Fumika murmurs worriedly, already reaching for the lanyard around her neck. The white light from the watch’s lid casts a small circular beam that pierces the falling sheet of rain. From amid a thick purple haze, a small, broken pot emerges. He hops around excitedly, egging on the fight and shrieking in a high-pitched voice like sandpaper. His eyes are manically wide.
“Huh. Guess that’s our cue,” and Fumika rocks forward onto her toes, forcing herself up. She plants her feet hip-width apart and plants her hands on her hips, like a superheroine. She juts her chin out proudly, and that kind of confidence fills Ame-onna with more drive and determination than is typical. It’s something that only Fumika’s (reckless) fearlessness seems to be able to alleviate somewhere. Perhaps it’s her own lost child, that usually weighs heavy in her belly like an iron ball. Pulls her down, sinks her deep beneath writhing, angry waves of dread.
Ame-onna exhales to stop that thought, and straightens her shoulders – Fumika’s depending on her, and her alone, now. She can do this.
“Hey!” she yells, her quiet voice sharp as a slap through the rainfall and squabbling.
The yo-kai – Dokidoki - snaps out of his spirited mischief-making and turns around with a nasal “huh?!”
“Knock it off already! This is getting serious!” Fumika yells, punctuated with a stomp of her foot for emphasis.
“Uh, obviously?? That’s the point! Heehee – they’re really gonna go for it!!” He trills excitedly. Sure enough, Takumi and Kenji look ready to start throwing punches. Fumika’s not entirely sure what it is exactly this yo-kai’s done, or even if he’s wholly to blame, but it’s fairly obvious he’s the one who’s escalated it dramatically.
She tosses a side-long glance at Ame-onna, and that’s the signal to summon a bone-crushing wave of icy-water. It clutches at the screeching yo-kai, talons made of sea-foam and black ocean. He is rolled and pulled under with a gentle gurgle, a monster finishing its meal and sighing in relish.
Now that he’s gone – vanished in a cloud of smoke – it’s up to Fumika to try play peacemaker. Even though heart-rates have settled nicely on their own, it seems like Mika’s pulse is still thrumming hot. She’s so angry and distressed that fat tears are rolling down her cheeks and she’s bellowing so loudly that it echoes across the languidly rolling sea. Ame-onna notices the (familiar) dazed looks on both of the boys’ faces, and her eyes twinge in sympathy. No matter how badly she wants to swoop in and protect her, this is a problem she's going to have to deal with on her own. Finally tearing away her own gaze, she grasps Fumika’s sleeve.
“Maybe we should go…Let them sort it out…”
Fumika casts one last look at them with creased brows, but then catches the shadows swimming under Ame-onna’s dark eyes. She shrugs and says, “yeah…that’s probably for the best.”
They start off up the pier together, bathing in a comfortable silence that somehow reminds Ame-onna of warm shallows; the gentle side of the ocean that she had forgotten even existed.
When they pass by a vending machine, Fumika stops and rifles through her pockets. Ame-onna tilts her head questioningly at Fumika’s silly dance, hopping from one foot to the other in an attempt to move in the drenched coat that is now clinging to the clothes beneath. Eventually, she finds the right change, and with a slightly sardonic smile, crouches and buys two y-colas. She deposits one in Ame-onna’s thin fingers, and pops the tab on her own.
Clinking the cans together, she smiles – warm and summery – and whispers,
“Thank-you.”