Chapter Text
let's not make this complicated, i know you
last night i had the strangest dream that you knew me too
.
It was not often to have to be called to a forest, of all places, when it came to Len’s field of expertise.
It was usually homes or people or antiques that he had to deal with, but never whole areas . The sheer size of it alone made him wonder, with a nervous churn of his stomach, whether he should be doing this by himself.
Gumi had been available, but he was cocky enough to insist he was capable. So there he was.
The forest was unsettling at first glance, and that feeling further sunk to an ominous ebb as he pressed down the overgrown path that snaked through the middle.
It had been a popular shortcut for travellers, as it took them through mountain range separating one town from the next. Of course, recently, it was a place to avoid for many reasons.
One of the reports he had received claimed that metallic-scented liquid oozed from the trees. Another said that they experienced intense nausea and chills, and aching limbs. The most intriguing one of all stated that a pale, inhuman-looking woman chased them out with a piercing scream.
All in all, it was clear that there was a distraught spirit running amok. He was there to release it from whatever grief it was experiencing.
Amongst the heavy foliage, Len noticed it was significantly cooler than the outside. It was also eerily quiet; he could hear the ringing in his ears, almost deafening in the silence. Although he hadn’t yet experienced anything similar to what others had reported, the forest was, as one in his profession would say, spiritually charged .
The tips of his fingers tingled the same way they did on his previous jobs and escapades, and the smell, it was sickly sweet, like spoiled fruit. He could sense someone watching him, waiting for the right moment to catch him off-guard. And the trees, they seemed to have some ethereal glow; something the regular eye would not catch, or not know how to look for.
Once he was deep enough into the forest, he found a clear space to stop and put down his belongings. The bells on his staff jingled with the impact of the ground, pausing the silence for a moment.
If the spirit had not noticed him enter before, it certainly would have now.
He knelt to dig through his rucksack, removing a small, porcelain bowl, and a bottle of a clear substance. Popping out the cork, he was hit with a familiar, yet overwhelmingly pungent, smell. He set the bowl on the ground in front of him, carefully poured the liquid into it so that it was lapping at the rim. Then he tucked the bottle away, placed his bag aside, and sat down cross-legged in front of the bowl.
Len dipped his fingers into the bowl, and wiped them off on his temples and chest, leaving behind a glistening sheen. He closed his eyes, steadied his breathing, and let his mind wander.
It was easier to see the energy this way, to connect with the spirit. Everything in this world was intertwined, had its own energy, its own aura.
For example, the forest was a glowing cyan. Shades of other colours danced past his eyelids, representing birds, insects, other wildlife crawling amongst the trees. Pinks, purples, greens… beautiful, like oil paint on a canvas.
Then he saw her.
The spirit was a deep orange, stuck out unbelonging to this place. She warped and bent and distorted, crackled like fire, a rage, yet left drops behind her, like shed tears.
He didn’t need to catch her attention. She was already heading his way.
His eyes popped open in time to spot the woman standing between the twisted trunks, hauntingly gaunt and white against the deep greens of the foliage. Her dress was tattered at her knees, and her eyes dull and sunken. Blonde hair sat cropped neatly around her face.
They stared at each other as she approached, gliding over the forest floor with no sound. He had no time to move.
She was not malicious, but she was upset. She was distraught. And he could almost feel her story, and the pain of her last moments, and the injustice—
The spirit came to a halt in front of him, leaning in to scream something so loud it was just less of bursting his eardrums. A gust of wind hit him, sending his bowl flying into the trees behind where he sat, splattering his legs with the liquid. Leaves scattered around them like rain.
Before she could make a run for it, his hand darted out to catch her wrist. It was cold, light, barely even a whisper against his skin. Her eyes widened in alarm.
Len held her there in place, gaze searching her pale face. She stared back, terrified, and he could almost hear her ask, Are you here to send me to Darkness?
His free hand went to wipe at the liquid running down his legs, before he lifted it to her face. Her gaze darted to his wet fingers, panic rising as she tried snaking her wrist out from his grasp, attempting to dodge his touch.
“I need you to show me what will bring you happiness,” he told her, with an attempt to sound firm. But a quiver snuck out, and the spirit faltered, giving him an opportunity.
Before she could escape, he smeared the substance across her forehead, and dug his hand into the strings of her soul.
/
It was a homely cottage in the forest that she ran up to, her golden hair streaming out behind her. The cottage was small and covered in vines, but well-kept. A billow of grey smoke rose from the chimney. It looked to be mid-spring, a slight chill clinging to the air.
Len stumbled into the cottage after the woman. She didn’t notice his presence; she was alive, and he wasn’t part of this time, nor this world.
“I’m back, my love, and I brought berries!” she chirped down the hall, a basket in arms. She wore a light blue dress that was something reminiscent of the spirit’s clothes, and a white ribbon adorned her hair.
A loud slam from somewhere within the cottage made her start as she set the basket down on a table, and a deep voice called, “Where have you been, Rin?”
The woman stiffened at the tone of the voice, hands dropping to scrunch the fabric of her skirt. She turned her head slowly in the direction of the sound, as a dark figure began making its way down the creaking stairs towards her.
“I told you, I went berry picking over by the creek,” she said, a hesitation in her voice.
The figure revealed itself to be a man. Tall, dark-haired, with a handsome, yet cold face. He towered over her, broad shoulders, looking like he could crush her with one hand.
“I didn’t say you could go anywhere,” he said.
“Um.” Rin lifted a hand to brush at a strand of hair, revealing a deep purple-coloured bruise on the pale underside of her arm.
The puzzle pieces fell into place.
The man leaned in towards her, and she cowered, so small against him. “How many times do you have to disobey me?”
She gulped. “I don’t… I didn’t mean to, I was—”
His hand lashed out to grip her arm, fingers closing tight, digging into her skin and turning it white. She winced, but he didn’t bat an eyelid.
“How can I trust you? Especially when you keep going against my word,” he demanded. “One day you’ll leave and never come back. I know it.”
“No I won’t,” she said softly, eyes to the ground. “I would never leave you.”
He then twisted her arm sharply, leaning into her face with a snarl. A gasp of pain came from her as her eyes shot up to his face. “Lies,” he said. “You always lie. ”
Rin avoided his gaze, but he could see her bottom lip trembling. “I—I’m not, I—” she choked out. “No I don’t .”
The man released her arm, letting it fall limp to her side. Her hand fluttered up to rub at the imprint he left on her skin, like an ugly scar, an ugly reminder.
He looked down at her from under dark lashes, lips pulled back into a grimace. “Liar,” he hissed. “Remember that time you said you were seeing a friend? It was a man, that man, and you were cheating on me, you little slut—”
“ He was a friend ,” Rin spluttered, ears turning red. “We were only shopping, I—”
Another hand lashed out, and this time, she managed to dodge it, ducking around him. His hand knocked into the basket of berries on the table, and it tipped. The berries went flying in all directions, like an explosion, scattering across the table and floor.
He growled, agitated, and swung around to grab at her again. “Don’t avoid me!”
Rin jumped away, his fingertips grazing the collar of her dress. She immediately made haste, escaping for the stairs, a look of utter fear written on her face.
Len watched from the staircase, stomach churning. It wasn’t uncommon for distressed spirits to have such… violent ends, but nevertheless, sitting through these moments never got any easier for him.
She began to sob as she scrambled up the stairs, towards Len. “Please, no, please, don’t do this, don’t do this, love—” she cried, as he followed after her, hot on her heels.
But he wasn’t responding. His expression was that of pure rage. Of betrayal. A story, made up in his mind, that had spiralled out of control.
But there was no use for Rin. She couldn’t outrun him. His hand outstretched, as her foot touched the landing, inches from where Len stood. His fingers closed around the skirt of her dress and yanked her backwards, towards him, down the stairs.
Len knew this was the moment, held his breath.
But then Rin’s desperate eyes locked onto his— Len’s eyes—and she reached out to him, her hand latching onto his arm like a lifeline. She pulled him forward with her weight, as if he were really there in that moment, as present as she was at that time.
Panicked and confused, Len forced himself out of the past and crashed head first into the earthy forest floor.
/
When he came to, the sun was beginning to set. His head throbbed as if he drank too much black liquor the night before. His limbs were weak like he’d just finished climbing a mountain.
Someone’s hand was wrapped around his forearm—tight and clammy.
Len’s head shot up to look at the hand on his arm, before connecting it to an arm that belonged to a body, lying across from him, on their back.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled when he recognised who it was.
He sat up, taking his arm back, checking it was still intact—yes it was, he was fine, he was alive—before his gaze darted back to the limp figure spread out in the autumn leaves. It was the ghost, Rin.
Except…
She twitched, inhaling, exhaling, letting out a soft groan. The dress she was wearing was not tattered. There was a flush of colour to her skin that was not there, at least not when he first met her in the forest.
It dawned on Len with a horrifying realisation that she was alive.
Alive. Not dead. Alive!
A string of curses escaped his lips as he reeled over how on earth he—he managed to—he did what.
Len wracked his brain, trying to understand what had happened and what had gone horribly wrong. He hadn’t even gotten involved, and most importantly, no one should have noticed him . But in the end, there, Rin, she—
His eyes skipped back to her as she regained consciousness, stretching her arms out with a wince. Her eyes fluttered open, and she pushed herself up immediately, head turning to observe her surroundings.
She stopped on Len, staring at him with a confused expression, as if she had never seen him before.
He stared back, an equal amount of confusion, but for a completely different reason.
“Who… are you?” she croaked. “Where am I? What happened? Where’s…” She faltered, eyes widening. “Where is he?”
Len scooted backwards, finding his bag lying a few feet away. “Um,” he said, as he began digging through his belongings. God, what was he doing? There weren’t any answers there. He straightened back up to look at her and swallowed.
“I’m… uh, Len. You’re in Hakoga Forest, near the village of Haba,” he explained, watching her expression carefully. Her shoulders relaxed slightly. “There’s no one else here but you and me.”
As if not believing him, Rin looked around again. “I don’t remember how I got here. What happened? Did you…” She went silent, taking a breath. “Did you kidnap me, or something? Are you going to kill me?”
He blinked. “Uh, no…” His eyebrows furrowed as he wondered how he could explain what had happened without sounding crazy. Hell, did he even know what happened? “I don’t… I’m not sure what happened, either. I’m a Whisperer. I came here for a job. I’m not interested in hurting you.”
She watched him as he stood slowly, gathering his scattered things. “A Whisperer?” she echoed. “Like… like those people who deal with evil spirits? Is there something evil here? Is it dangerous?”
Len tightened the drawstrings of his satchel and latched it shut, swinging it over his shoulder. His staff jingled yet again, but this time, he noticed with it the faint chirping of crickets.
“...Not anymore,” he answered, hesitating.
Rin got to her feet. “Are you going to leave me here? I don’t know this part of the forest. It’s getting dark. I should be getting back to my husband. He’ll be so mad I’m gone at this hour—” She cut herself off, her voice trembling with those last few words.
He scanned her face, sensed the fear in her eyes. “I think it’s better you come with me, first. You should get checked by another Whisperer.”
Her eyebrows met. “Why? What’s wrong with me? I should really be getting back to him—”
“I don’t know your husband,” Len interrupted, a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought of the look of pure rage in that man’s eyes. “I don’t know why you’re here, either. That’s why I need you to come with me first. It’s my duty.”
Rin fell silent, staring down at her feet. Her hands clutched at the fabric of her dress. “When he finds me, he’ll kill me,” she whispered, barely audible amongst the sounds of the forest. “That’s why I need to go back to him now.”
It was getting darker and darker by the minute. He knew he couldn’t stand here arguing with this… woman all evening. But he couldn’t just lead her to her death again, knowing what he knew now.
“And he’ll kill you either way,” he told her. The words were slick and heavy in his mouth, but they spelled out the truth loud and clear.
She lifted her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes glistened. She opened her mouth to argue, but a sad expression crossed her face before she could say anything—even she knew her fate.
Without another word, she stepped towards him, and he set off. She followed after him out of the forest, quietly sniffling along the way, her hand holding on to the end of his staff. He tried not to look back at her too much.