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“You are,” Midoriya grits out for the twentieth time this morning, “the biggest baby I have ever seen.”
The green-haired boy prods at the purple snake coiled up in the corner of his closet with his feet. Nobody would believe him that said reptile was actually an uwabami— the fabled gargantuous snakes of Japanese folklore, known for their shape shifting and their penchant for alcohol.
Well, Midoriya quirks an eyebrow, this particular one had an addiction to bitter coffee.
“Stop trying to escape your social obligations, you overgrown snake,” he tries again. A moment later, the snake peeks its head from its coils.
Midoriya suppresses a sigh. “Shinsou-kun….”
A hand massaging his temples, the freckled boy recounts his first encounter with the uwabami.
Roughly 6 months ago, the soon-to-graduate high schooler had been searching for a place near his university, willing to bear with whatever horror stories— gruesome murders and the like— that made the jiko bukken* cheap enough to fall within his monthly budget.
“1LDK, 45 sqm, roughly 10 minute walk to Ueno Station, 50,000 yen per month. There’s no pest problem; we actually recently renovated the bathroom. Oh, you’ve been admitted to Todai*? I’ll knock off the first month’s pay for you, since you seem like a diligent and hardworking student.”
Maybe it sounded a little too good to be true, but it was already too late; Midoriya had bought into the deal, hook, line, and sinker.
Midoriya had justified his deposit; it wasn’t like he was born from money, and when he had checked the apartment, it was clean and bare. That had already in and of itself, sealed the deal for Midoriya, especially given the price that the property was offered for. When he asked the real estate agent about the reasons why the one-room was slotted as stigmatized property, he’d been told,
“There were… some reports of yokai sightings. But… yokai don’t exist, so I assume it was the hallucinations of overworked residents.”
That was all the information he’d been given by the sheepish agent, before signing the contract to rent the apartment suite.
Midoriya truly believed that reports of a giant snake (in Tokyo, no less, where exotic pets would be extremely hard to keep) were outlandish, until he had, quite literally, tripped over Shinsou’s tail on his first night at his new humble abode. And that was on his trek to the bathroom.
Between his shock of a huge ass snake (that could transform into a human being) in his apartment and his status as a broke uni student, the latter won. (It might have also been because he was too tired to care).
The week after that fateful encounter, Shinsou and Midoriya had worked out a living arrangement of sorts; it helped that Shinsou was quiet, didn’t steal Midoriya’s food (not that Midoriya ever saw him eat), and generally made his presence unknown except to browse the internet when Midoriya was at school and work.
“Don’t… don’t you have places to go? Or friends?” The university student had once hesitantly asked the uwabami, who only shrugged in response.
Now, in the present, Midoriya was done stepping carefully around the overgrown snake, who literally did nothing but sleep and browse the internet all day in this dinky little apartment.
“Hurry up and transform, we have guests coming and I’m not in the mood to explain to my high school friends about why I’m illegally keeping a car-sized snake in my tiny-ass one-room,” the freckled student hisses.
After a moment of silence, there’s the familiar sound of stretched skin that marked Shinsou’s transformation; Midoriya busies himself with pulling out the clothing he purchased last weekend for the lanky yokai.
When he turns around to thrust the articles of clothing into Shinsou’s arms, he is met with the uwabami’s disgruntled expression, and—
Midoriya sighs, probably for the fiftieth time in a row (he isn’t counting, but it’s the principle that matters).
“Shinsou-kun, you can’t wear these jeans without legs.”
The purple-haired yokai doesn’t respond, silently pulling the sweater in Midoriya’s hold over his head. When he is finished, Shinsou stares back at Midoriya, crossing his arms.
“I don’t recall agreeing to play host for your high school friends. My presence is not necessary, after our initial agreement that I would introduce myself. Preferably from this bedroom.”
The human groans in frustration. “No, Shinsou-kun, that’s totally weird— my friends are going to ask why my roommate is in my bedroom instead of the living room he’s supposed to be renting!”
Shinsou frowns. “You can say that you’re letting your socially-anxious roommate an escape option by offering your room while you entertain your high school friends out in the living room.”
“Shinsou-kun, you’re not just my roommate, you’re my friend now.”
At this, the uwabami drops his defensive stance, slumping a little forward. Midoriya bites back a fond, exasperated smile. “Plus, Uraraka-san and Iida-kun will both want to know who I’m rooming with. They’re kinda—”
“—overbearing?” Shinsou offers with a crooked smile, and the green-haired boy rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.
Coughing into his fist, Midoriya extends the jeans towards Shinsou again. The yokai accepts the pair of pants, places them on the floor, then stares back at Midoriya expectantly.
“...Shinsou-kun?”
“...need energy.” Shinsou replies, lifting his tail.
Midoriya flushes. “R-right.” Bending down, the human places his hands over Shinsou’s tail, feeling the powerful muscles twitch and flex under his touch. No matter how many times he had done this, it never ceased to fascinate the human boy.
The uwabami had explained to Midoriya, in the first week, that no, the snake yokai did not eat human beings, but yes, in order to transform, he required energy, and that energy did come from human vitality. The method of obtaining it seemed to differ per yokai, but Midoriya figures he lucked out in that department, as all Shinsou required was some skin contact, instead of something like his liver.
“Okay, that’s good enough.” Shinsou breathes out a small hiss between his teeth as he focuses on completing his human transformation; Midoriya looks away hurriedly in response.
“By the way, Midoriya.”
“Y-yeah?”
“Am I supposed to wear this without underwear?”
“Oh—!”
The human boy stammers, sporting a vibrant crimson flush as he runs across the room to dig through his drawers.
“Oh my god, I didn’t think about that, uhm, hold on, lemme see if I can—”
“Deku-kun!”
Midoriya freezes, looking like a deer in headlights as the muffled voices of Ochako and Iida ring behind the front door.
“Oh, the door’s unlocked! Pardon the intrusion!”
Shinsou and Midoriya exchange looks.
Oh, fuck.
[omake]
It is 2 A.M. When the veils between the world of the living and the dead are at their thinnest, Shinsou’s nighttime duties commence. Leaning over, the uwabami gently traces a protective charm onto the human boy’s forehead, before he quietly rises from underneath the covers.
The omamori left behind by Uraraka Ochako— the zashiki-warashi that had been glaring at him during the entirety of her house visit— emits a soft glow only visible to the obake*.
As if Shinsou would dare harm Midoriya.
Midoriya was probably not aware that his childhood friends were yokai; there was something very warm, kind-hearted about the freckled boy that drew the uncanny and supernatural to him. Naturally, this meant that Midoriya attracted spirits with ill-intentions— those with unfinished business in the living world and were drawn to the sheer energy thrumming under Midoriya’s skin.
That meant, in the witching hour, Shinsou had his work cut out for him.
Phasing out of the apartment suite, the uwabami makes his rounds, fortifying the protective barriers around the complex, surveying the area for ill omens, and—
—in a flash, his tail wraps around a vengeful spirit that shrieks at him, clawing at his scales.
Shinsou is not, by any means, a yokai meant to protect humans nor perform purification ceremonies. He can only do what he does best; his jaws unhinge to ingest his prey.
The witching hour passes; the night air is quiet again, and Shinsou breathes a small sigh of relief.
It would take some time until he can suppress and complete the consumption of the evil spirit in him; Shinsou tiredly crawls back up the apartment complex, and into the warmth of Midoriya’s side.
When morning arrives, Shinsou is soothed by the sound of Midoriya’s worried muttering, leaning into the boy’s touch as Midoriya places his hand on Shinsou’s forehead.
“I wonder if it’s normal for you to always be so tired… you don’t even eat human food, and I’ve never seen you eat anywhere else… I hope you aren’t hiding things from me, just because I’m a human. You’re my cherished friend, Shinsou-kun.” The green-haired boy sighs, tucking the covers around the uwabami.
Ah, Shinsou thinks, he wouldn’t trade this for the world.