Chapter Text
Lightning split open the hazy black sky. Ishimaru counted out two seconds before thunder cracked loudly enough to shake the rain-pelted window. His lights flickered. He leaned back against his only real furniture; a worn, squishy couch.
His stomach gurgled, and he looked at the book he’d been studying with eyebrows drawn. His eyes flicked to the clock.
“Midnight?” he sighed, setting the book down. He glanced over at the foot or so of counter, rattling fridge, and chipped sink that made up his kitchen. His rice cooker sat beside his hot plate, both devoid of anything edible. His pantry had been bare for a week now, his fridge stood empty, and his tiny freezer held nothing but a crusting of ice.
He watched torrents of water run down his apartment’s windows, and sighed again.
Ishimaru got to his feet and tugged on a thick sweater, toed on his shoes, and stepped outside with his wallet and umbrella.
Rain sluiced down the streets, chip bags and cigarette butts floating through tiny eddies and sticking in gutter grates. The wind had thankfully died down, but fat drops of water still thudded against Ishimaru’s umbrella and splashed on his pants. Aside from the luminescent puddles under each streetlight, the night was jet black. Ishimaru hurried.
He waded towards a nearby alleyway, soaking his socks in gritty, cold streetwater. A sudden wind kicked up, and he broke into a jog. He passed under a yellow light and ducked into the alley, exhaling in relief as the breeze died between buildings.
Now that he’d escaped most of the cold weather, his thoughts returned to how empty his stomach was. It growled in agreement. Cup ramen sounded more enticing than even grilled eel or hot pot at the moment, because it was nearby and it was fast.
Something rattled in the darkness. Ishimaru paused for a second, still mostly blind from the streetlamp.
“Hello?” he called, hesitantly.
The wind whistled in reply.
Ishimaru cleared his throat, steeling himself to continue on. He gripped the handle of his umbrella like a sword, scowling ferociously into the shadows.
A cat fell over with a clunk, and glass tinkled as it broke. Ishimaru crouched, ready to fight or flee at the first sign of trouble.
A cat, fur slicked back with rain, meowed and pattered past him.
He breathed and shook himself. Just a hungry cat, he told himself, nothing to worry about.
He relaxed, wiggling his shoulders a bit and releasing his death grip on his umbrella. After a long moment, his heartbeat slowed. He laughed at himself for being so wary on a peaceful street like this one. With a few cheerily whistled notes, he put one foot in front of the other.
Something heavy shifted behind him; something that rasped against the asphalt and plastic bags like leather on leaves. Something that let out one long breath in a chilling hiss.
Ishimaru froze stiff. And then he spun, brandishing the closest thing he had to a weapon.
Eyes blazed above Ishimaru’s umbrella, a good seven feet off the ground. He peered up, the makeshift sword drooping in terror.
A huge, muscular man towered over him, pearly fangs bared in a grimace. He stood shirtless, bare hips smoothly transitioning to - Ishimaru stared - a sleek, black snake body. The thing froze, his reflective eyes shining in the darkness.
And when Ishimaru blinked, he shrunk back, trying to hide behind a dumpster.
A moment passed between them in dumb silence. Ishimaru’s gaze flickered between the space between the walls, bathed in golden light, and the shifting darkness twisting like a scaly sea.
“Hey,” Ishimaru called out, breath catching in his chest. His heart pumped in his ears. He swallowed thickly.
He didn’t know why he stumbled towards the monster, holding out his umbrella to shield the strange half-snake creature from the rain. He looked so small against the heaping piles of trash bags, wedging himself between the wall and dumpster in an effort to escape Ishimaru’s outstretched arm. His tail writhed endlessly in fear, knocking over plastic bags of spoiled food and soaked packaging with powerfully spiralling coils.
“It’s okay,” Ishimaru told him, barely above a whisper. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The creature bared his fangs again, slitted eyes narrow with suspicion. He lay still now, snake body wound tight and ready to spring.
“Are you hurt?” Ishimaru tried, taking a careful step forward.
The snake-man hissed again, lurching forward testily. He held his hands out to his sides, tipped in nails like claws.
Ishimaru rocked back on his heels, but didn’t balk.
“There’s no need to be angry with me,” he tried to reason, “I’m going to help.”
Something about his resolute tone made the monster sink away, blink, and close his mouth. The tension in his shoulders remained, but he took a quiet breath and seemed to calm a bit.
Ishimaru and the creature’s chests rose and fell in unison for a few long moments. Ishimaru tried to study the monster in the darkness, searching for injury or any clues about what it was. Meanwhile, the half-snake man sized up Ishimaru’s umbrella in apprehension.
Then, a faint gurgle broke the silence.
The creature moved to hold his stomach, curling up in pain. He showed his fangs again, daring Ishimaru to step closer.
“So that’s why you’re in the trash!” Ishimaru muttered triumphantly. “Okay, stay put, I'll return with a hot meal!”
He swelled with pride, and raised his umbrella back over his head.
The monster’s eyes followed his every move, shining after him in the darkness.
Ishimaru turned and marched away with a purpose.
The man slumped in his bed of garbage, watching him disappear around the corner. He snarled to himself, settling down in a circle of black scales.
-
Ishimaru returned only minutes later, cradling two styrofoam cups to his chest and powerwalking like a veteran. He puffed through his nose; the rain stuck his pants to his legs and made moving quickly that much harder.
He’d left him right around this dumpster, a hulking black shape in the darkness. Ishimaru edged carefully around it.
“I brought you some cup noodles!” he called over the howling wind and rushing rain. “I had them make it up in the store, so it’s ready now, nice and hot!” He moved slowly, the hiss and lunge still fresh in his mind.
He poked his head around the side of the dumpster, being careful not to slosh broth onto his shirt.
A few bags of trash sat where the creature had been, some spilled on the ground. The cat rummaged in the mess.
Ishimaru stared at it. For a few long moments, he blinked with blindness and tried to search the alleyway for any other movement. He’d left the man just here, it couldn’t have taken him that long to return with the food.
But it was after midnight, and Ishimaru knew himself better than that. He’d let himself get tired, trying his best to learn just one more concept for this school year. The hunger had helped to cloud his mind as the storm clouded his vision, and the stress he’d been under lately had invented something that couldn’t have been there.
He set his jaw, and instead of becoming disappointed, reminded himself that he now had two fresh cup noodles to eat.
He didn’t need two, of course. One would be plenty for him. He didn’t mean to waste money in such a way. But he could eat both now, and hope it would stave off the hunger tomorrow morning in return.
Ishimaru sighed and resolved to put one foot in front of the other. Of course a snake man couldn’t have been real. It had looked real, of course...perhaps his lack of companionship was beginning to affect his mind in unforeseen ways...
He stepped into the golden pool of light at the alley mouth and tried to wade while tightly gripping his umbrella. The going would be slow with his uncertain grasp on the ramen noodles.
Ishimaru heard a slosh he was pretty sure hadn’t come from him, and turned.
The snakeman slithered into the yellow lamplight after him, hands held out ineffectually as he tried to stop the rain.
Ishimaru beamed. His snakeman - Ishimaru had claimed ownership of him in his mind, now that he’d followed Ishimaru this far - sniffed and wound closer, trying to see what he was holding.
“We can't eat it out here,” Ishimaru scolded him gently, still grinning as he shook with cold. “You would be seen if anyone came down the road, and you could catch something if we stay out in this weather.”
He marched across the asphalt proudly, turning back every few steps to watch the way his new companion wove in a wide S with his torso held forward from his twining snake body. The freezing water rolled off of his black scales and plastered down his long, dark hair. He kept his hand in front of his eyes, baring his fangs at the pelting drops as if it would make them stop.
Ishimaru knew the chances of anyone driving down this road, in this weather, at this time of night were slim, but he still hurried to his door and fumbled with the key.
He pushed open the apartment door, stopping only long enough to take off his sopping shoes and tuck them neatly away. Behind him, the snakeman slid past the threshold with the rasp of soaked scales over wood. He dragged a small river in with him, trickling out of his hair and dripping from his icy fingertips.
“Stop there!” Ishimaru shouted, heaving the end of his thick tail past the doorway and then leaning against the door. It closed with a sharp click, the sound of the bolt solidly connecting with the frame. Ishimaru nodded at it sagely, and then turned back to the creature in his home.
The snake man’s skin didn’t prickle and his spine didn’t twitch in a full-body shiver, as Ishimaru expected it to. Instead, he stared morosely at the growing patch of water, slumping in place. His skin had turned pale and clammy in the freezing rain.
“I’ll be right back,” Ishimaru informed his guest. He marched toward the bathroom, head held high, eyebrows gathered with utter seriousness.
Two patchy towels lay front and center in his linen closet. Ishimaru grabbed them both, and after throwing the patchier one over his own head, brought the other one to the dripping creature. Ishimaru unfolded it and draped the thinning fabric over the creature’s lank hair, then showed him to rub the towel over himself.
Ishimaru dried his short black hair in seconds, and then began rubbing it down the scaly black snake tail. It snagged several times on the creature’s rough, spiked scales, finally coming away with new holes poked through it. Ishimaru sighed, and spread it on the ground in front of him.
“You need to dry off your stomach,” he instructed the beast, who continued trying to massage the towel against his hair. “Move across this towel, and you should be dry enough to go onto the tatami.”
The snakeman dragged himself over the damp rag, still imitating Ishimaru’s head-rubbing technique. He slunk deeper into the house, trying to escape the cold air leaking in through the doorway.
“This way! I have a blowdryer for your hair, so you can put the towel down!”
Obediently, the snake man dropped the towel on the mats, still looking pale.
Ishimaru shuffled in a cabinet for a second, and brought out a mass of cords attached to a plastic device. It took him several long moments to untangle it, but when he’d finished, he smiled and pointed the gun-like object at his strange housemate.
The naga jumped, then hissed and bared his fangs, eyes narrowing and claws held out at his sides.
Ishimaru brandished the blowdryer again, looking puzzled. Sure enough, the naga hissed and ducked out of the way again, glaring at Ishimaru.
“It’s a blowdryer,” he repeated. “Here, it just blows hot air, look.”
He flipped it on and turned it towards his own scalp, the rush of hot wind flipping his hair flat. He smiled and scrubbed his free hand around a bit, and when he was satisfied with how dry his head felt, he turned it back onto the snake man.
This time, he slithered his way closer. He turned his cheek towards the warm breeze, and the side of his mouth curved up.
Ishimaru waved the blowdryer around his head, watching the man’s long, wavy hair blow in the artificial breeze.
“Do you like that? It feels nice, right?”
The monster copied Ishimaru again, now running one clawed hand through his hair as Ishimaru dried it. His fingers stuck a few times until he used both hands to peel the hair apart, but eventually he could comb his hand through.
Several long minutes later, his hair dried smooth, if a bit fluffy. But when Ishimaru put the blowdryer away, he still looked pale and tired.
“Now you can sit and have your cup noodle, if you’d like it,” Ishimaru offered. He motioned to his couch, easily the largest piece of furniture in his apartment. He brought the styrofoam cups over to the couch, and sat.
The snake man slithered slowly over to it, and stopped. He gave the furniture a hard look, and tried pushing himself up to get on. After a few seconds of writhing, he managed to climb up and sit in a way Ishimaru had come to associate with “standing up” but could, now that he thought about it, also be seen as “sitting down.” His snake half bent out where the halves met, holding up his human spine. He seemed confused by Ishimaru’s position, sliding his torso backwards into the cushions and wrapping his tail in a great big circle.
Eventually, he resembled nothing so much as a woven circle rug, coils spilling off of the couch and torso flopped inelegantly in the worst sitting posture possible.
Ishimaru silently handed him his dinner, and reached to find his chopsticks.
Something made a horrifying wet popping sound, and then a second pop. Ishimaru turned to see the naga tip his head back, bottom jaw hanging loose, and tip the entire cup noodle down his throat with one gulp.
Ishimaru exhaled, and turned away. He didn’t dare turn back until he heard two more gut-wrenching snaps, and the sound of teeth clacking together.
“You...could have used the chopsticks,” he pointed out faintly, staring down at his own dinner and wondering if, after all that, he was still hungry.
His stomach groaned at him. Yes, somehow, he was.
-
“I’m not sure where you would like to sleep,” Ishimaru thought aloud, pacing around his small bedroom.
The snake man had gone still as a statue again, quiet and morose. He stood - or sat, Ishimaru still wasn’t sure - in the doorway, looking like a child waiting to be punished.
“I know, you can have my bed. Just try not to tear it on your scales, okay?” He pointed at his futon, then clambered to his hands and knees to pull the comforter back. “This should keep you nice and warm.”
The snake man crawled over carefully, watching Ishimaru pat the bedding. He wound himself into a tangled circle, his human torso in the center, and ducked between the coils. Ishimaru threw the comforter over as much of the snake man as he could, tucking the edges under his tail. After a bit of shifting, he managed to fit under it with only the top of his head sticking out.
Ishimaru smiled at him.
“Goodnight,” he stated calmly, “I hope you have a restful night’s sleep, and do not wake up before you have had a healthy eight to ten hours. Or more, if that it what you require,” he added, all honesty and confusion.
The snake man looked up at him sedately, eyelids fluttering closed even as Ishimaru spoke.
“I will see you in the morning,” Ishimaru whispered, and left his bedroom.
The couch would make an acceptable bed, he thought, at least until he could figure out where this snake man had come from and why he was here now. He couldn’t be here out of malice, could he? Ishimaru knew legends of men with animal bodies who gobbled up foolish children, but this creature just didn’t seem to be bad.
He threw his clothes neatly over the back of the couch, each article folded and placed one on top of another. Then, he wrestled open the thin blanket he kept perched on the couch, and wrapped himself in it for the night ahead.
That snake man - his snake man, now - looked terrifying, with claws and eyes like a cat’s and an impossible predator body. But he’d smiled under the gentle heat of the blowdryer, and let Ishimaru dry him and shied away from rain.
Terror might have been Ishimaru’s first impression, but he truly believed that every person deserved a second chance.
-
Ishimaru woke early, as always, and waited for his alarm to go off before rising.
The dawn crept through the windows, still grey and chilly when Ishimaru padded quietly into his bedroom with his blanket thrown over his shoulder.
His futon lay rumpled and empty, the pillow and comforter gone. Ishimaru turned off the alarm, then frowned and knelt, touching the bed. It was cold.
He poked his head into the closet with no luck, and stepped into the hallway. No black snake tail here, either. He blinked, but remembered his schedule. He’d be late if he didn’t hurry and shower. He couldn’t worry about the snake man’s shoulders and if they were narrow enough to fit into his air vents, or check his cupboards and linen closet. He looked suspiciously in the direction of the kitchen before pulling himself back into his bedroom to drop the blanket and find a clean outfit.
Slacks, dress shirt, sweatervest. He threw them over his arm and carried them to the bathroom. He pulled open the linen closet as quickly as he could, and found nothing but hand towels and pillowcases.
He closed it with a sigh, and turned to his tub.
“Oh, there you are,” he said gently, smiling at the lump tucked under his comforter. It filled his tub, one edge falling out and drooping towards the floor. He reached for the corner and gently peeled it away.
The snake man had both arms wrapped in a death grip around his pillow, and for some reason, had tucked the blowdryer into the tub beside him.
“Good morning,” he said, trying to rouse him. “I’m very sorry, but I need to use the tub.” He threw the covers open and began reaching for the snake man’s long hair, but stopped when his eyes flickered open.
He looked wild, panicked. He let out a warning hiss and flashed to a striking pose, moving so quickly it startled Ishimaru.
He saw the snake man’s long, thin fangs.
“I’m very sorry,” he repeated, quieter this time. He pulled his hand away slowly, carefully. “I would really like a shower though, please. I have another blanket if you would like to go back to sleep in the bed.”
The snake man seemed confused, blinking and folding back his fangs as he closed his mouth.
“It’s okay,” Ishimaru tried, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Scales scratched the tub. The snake man, trying to be small again, crawled out. He cradled the blowdryer and pillow against his chest, edging away from Ishimaru without looking at him.
His tail flopped out with a slap at the same time his torso disappeared around the corner. Carefully, he tangled himself back into Ishimaru’s bed.
Ishimaru threw the blankets over him again, and looked at his clock. His eyebrows drew together, but he took the time to tuck the blanket under the snake man’s tail again.
“I have to leave soon,” he explained in a firm voice, “but I will be home later tonight. Please do not worry. I’ll bring food for both of us.” He tiptoed towards the door. “When you get up, please be sure not to go too near the windows or open the door for anyone. I would not want you to cause a stir and put yourself into danger. I am very sorry that there is so little to do in my house...” He let out a long breath. “Please stay safe,” he repeated one last time, and closed the bedroom door gently behind him.
-
Ishimaru pushed the apartment door open with great caution, and poked his head inside. He snuck around the door, and closed it tight behind him. A quick turn of his wrist locked the door.
He listened for quick movements or faint screams or perhaps the sound of something burning. The building stood silent, nothing to hear other than the faint rush of wind against the walls and people talking across the street.
Ishimaru put his shoes aside, and stepped into his living room.
One window still streamed with evening sunlight, leaving a great amber pool of sun across the tatami mats. There, a bit crooked now that the midday sun had begun falling, lay Ishimaru’s blankets. And sticking out from one side was the snake man’s warm, tanned torso. He smiled gently in his sleep, one wavy hair moving as he breathed.
Ishimaru set his bags down gingerly, and knelt beside the...naga. He had found that word in a book at school, beside a picture of a man with a snake tail all carved out of stone.
Slowly, he reached out one hand and brushed aside that hair. He tucked it behind the naga’s ear, and beamed as he ran his fingers through again.
The naga’s eyes snapped open, icy and slitted and scared. Ishimaru pulled his hand away, but the snake man didn’t lunge or bare his fangs this time. He only stared at Ishimaru for a moment with confused, startled eyes.
When he blinked the sleep from his vision and recognized Ishimaru, he slithered out from under the blanket and pressed the crown of his head against Ishimaru's hand.
“Good evening to you too,” Ishimaru grinned, petting the naga’s hair again and watching him lay his head down on Ishimaru’s knee. “I hope you were okay today while I was out, I had no intention of leaving you for so long.”
He tried running his fingers over the man’s muscular shoulders, pretending like he didn’t notice the huge black tail curving around his legs in a sinuous arc.
“I had classes, but afterwards I bought some dinner for us.”
The naga looked up at the word dinner, and then meaningfully at the bag Ishimaru had set down beside his bookbag. He rose up and dragged his belly over Ishimaru’s lap, sniffing at the bag in a remarkably canine way.
“It’s sushi!” Ishimaru revealed, taking the convenience store package out of the bag before the naga tried to swallow it all whole or something equally idiotic. “Here, I’ll feed it to you.”
Smiling, he easily lifted a piece of sushi between his chopsticks and lifted it to his guest’s mouth. When the snake man showed his forked tongue, Ishimaru popped the morsel of salmon and rice on top.
“Now, make sure to chew,” he muttered, not sure if the naga needed reminding. He ate one himself, and the naga imitated his polite, closed-mouth chewing. He swallowed, and happily opened his mouth for another.
They continued like this for several more minutes, Ishimaru alternating between himself and his naga. After every piece, the naga would show his forked tongue.
Ishimaru tried not to stare, but he found the shape intriguing. He pretended to lick a drop of soy sauce from his finger, touching his tongue and wondering what it would feel like to have it split, just there.
When they had eaten all of the sushi and Ishimaru sat with an empty plastic container on his lap, the naga leaned close, sniffing and eyeing it suspiciously.
“It’s gone,” Ishimaru reassured him, tipping the container so he could see inside.
He looked disappointed for a moment, but quickly gave Ishimaru a soft smile. He moved slowly, circling Ishimaru until a thick coil curved against his thigh and the naga’s torso leaned into his back. He closed his eyes and presented the crown of his head.
Ishimaru patted his new roommate, smiling as the naga settled down with his forehead on Ishimaru’s shoulder. He breathed slowly, calmly, his tail curling across Ishimaru’s tatami mats and around his body with the faintest hiss of scales over straw. His arms wrapped loosely around Ishimaru’s waist, stealing his body heat.
“This is nice,” Ishimaru hummed, leaning his head against the naga. “I really enjoy your company, uh...” he trailed off, shifting and crossing his legs. “I wish you had a name, something I could call you.”
He felt his guest inhale, and straighten up behind him. He pressed his face to Ishimaru’s neck, soaking in the boy’s warmth.
“Oowada,” the naga rumbled, in a cautious, unpracticed growl. “Mondo.”
Ishimaru’s eyes widened, goosebumps blossoming first along every inch of skin the naga touched, and quickly after, prickled over his entire body. He swallowed.
But most surprisingly and least appropriately, his toes curled in his neat white socks.
“What...?” he squeaked, trying to stay perfectly still.
The naga flinched, as if worried Ishimaru would strike him.
“My name,” he spoke conspiratorially again, “is Oowada, Mondo.” He paused between his family and given names, clearly implying a necessary comma.
“Oowada, Mondo,” Ishimaru parroted in a similar cadence.
The naga nodded, and Ishimaru felt him relax as the side of his fanged mouth turned up.
“I’m Ishimaru, Kiyotaka.” He gave a little bow with his head. “I apologize, I...did not realize you could speak.”
Mondo shook his head. “...’M not supposed to,” he whispered.
After a moment of silence where Ishimaru tried to let this new information sink in, Mondo yawned his too-wide, snakey yawn and pulled Ishimaru tight to his chest.
He rumbled again, no words this time.