Chapter Text
Fate can be a funny, fickle thing.
One could miss their bus, and while waiting for the next one, it could lead to a chance encounter with their soulmate.
Or murderer (remember, fate is fickle!).
Judging from your track record, you were definitely leaning heavier towards the unlucky end of the spectrum for these sorts of things.
Case in point, when you absentmindedly left your umbrella at work, who knew it would trigger a series of unusual events? Like witnessing someone tumble out of—what you can only describe as—a portal...?
Even saying the word “portal” in your head sounds ludicrous.
Hallucinating at such a tender young age, the poor dear.
Your mind spews out plausible explanations ranging from radioactive spiders to eating one too many poppy seeds in your muffin, and now you’re straight-up tripping. Damn Tsukishima for taking the last chocolate chip.
Or... It could be magic.
Not your average presto-chango-bingo-was-his-name-o street magic, but like next-level Expecto Patronum type of shit.
You know the situation is dire when magic sounds like a convincing reason. Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Lucky you.
---
Maybe it’s best to start from the beginning of how you even got stuck in this little predicament.
It all stems from how you needed money. About ten million yen, to be precise.
Yes, it’s a ridiculous sum.
And no, you weren’t a desperate housewife with a heart of gold hiding from a murky past. In fact, you wish that was the reason because at least it would make for an interesting backstory or a pilot episode.
The news of your debt was sprung onto you like a terrible migraine.
There’s nothing quite like having four burly men cornering you at your apartment and introducing themselves as loan officers. For the record, changing “loan shark” to “loan officer” does not make it any less pleasant.
You go through the five stages of grief as they read out the loan contract your deadbeat dad had endorsed.
Stage one: Denial
You laugh hysterically at their faces, assuring them they got the wrong person. The most you ever spent is on your tuition fee, and that is not even close to ten million freaking yen.
Stage two: Anger
Fury pounds at your chest as you skim through the thick pages with shaky hands.
You may not comprehend all the legal terminology, but you understood one thing. The rat bastard co-signed your name in the contract, and now that he has gone rogue, the responsibility now befalls on you to clear the debt.
WHAT. THE. HELL.
A tense relationship already existed with him, despite being the only other surviving family member you had. Once you enrolled in your college of choice, you immediately packed your bags and moved out with a swift goodbye.
Too busy cursing your dad out loud, it takes a longer time for you to proceed to the next stage. It’s not your finest moment to act that way in front of people you just met, but the loan shark (er, officer) reassures you they have seen worse.
“Fella started swinging a knife, and that’s how I got this scar.” He proudly rolls his sleeve up to reveal said mark. “I had to break his hand for that.”
His cheerful remark is enough to accelerate you to the next following state.
Stage three: Bargaining
The realities of your newfound situation make you ill. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you beg the officers for leniency, blabbing how you’re only a third year in college and need more time to gather the resources.
Unfortunately, the gentlemen at Happy Friends Lenders could not give two shits about your sob story. A contract was signed, and it legally bound you to pay them back.
“Don’t worry, doll. If you’re unable to pay, I’m sure we can work something out.” The officer says with a leer.
Yeah, noted with (no) thanks. You’re not eager to know how to make him into that kind of happy friend.
Stage four: Depression
You were truly and deeply fucked. Your future—once seemed so bright and optimistic—is bleaker than when Takeshi (that unimaginative pleb) from fourth grade ridiculed your art project in front of the entire class because you drew the sun with a green crayon.
Technically, when you compare it to your current situation, this is far worse. But either way, both are traumatic and leave a bitter taste in your mouth.
Stage five: Acceptance (still a work in progress)
After updating you about the payment details and interest rates, the men head out. Looking down at their business card, the smiley face logo doesn’t instil much confidence as you’re forced to accept your new way of life. With no one to turn to and desperate for cash, you drop out of college in favour of joining a temp job agency so you could scrape together the monthly loans. That was almost two years ago, and you weren’t even close to paying off the debt.
The whole situation sucked, but the world keeps moving, even if all you want to do is ignore your problems.
Time is fair, yet extremely unfair like that.
---
“Don’t trash the storeroom, or you’re fired.”
Ignoring Tsukishima’s idle threat, you pluck the keys from his outstretched hand. Your experience in customer service has made you immune to most rude (and often unnecessary) comments.
After working together for three weeks, you would think he’ll have a bit more faith in you.
“I’m just getting my umbrella, then I’ll lock up and go,” you reply with a sugary smile.
Waving goodbye, you part ways and start jogging towards your destination. You worked overtime today and were ready to go home to slug it out.
Sometimes it’s hard to believe the tall blond linguine, Tsukishima, is your supervisor, despite being the same age as you. It makes you wonder if you’ll ever reach a leadership position like him. Then again, with this lousy economy, it’s unlikely any of your current roles will ever grow into something more.
Your latest stint is at the Sendai City Museum (SCM). As an entry-level research assistant, it’s the fanciest role you ever received from the agency.
Those little white lies on your resume are finally paying off. Honestly, other than your personal information, almost everything else in your resume is fake. You were more than willing to do anything to make yourself attractive to any potential employers.
The internet is a wonderful invention. You could easily search and learn most of the knowledge needed for your jobs via online tutorials. When the temp agency asked if you had any experience in museum collection databases, you downloaded a seven-day free trial and fooled around until you got a decent understanding of it.
At least the ‘fast learner’ bit in your resume is factually correct.
---
For a rich cultural institution, the facade of the SCM is an austere one. Primarily constructed from stacked concrete, it reminds you of the building blocks toys kids play with. Except, the construction of SCM is more expensive and bereft of the bright colours that make it appropriate for toddlers.
Rounding the corner, you spot a familiar corrugated steel structure tucked behind some hedges. Besides keeping the gardening tools safe, many of the forgotten objects that have outstayed their welcome in the museum’s coat check room are moved to the storeroom.
Your umbrella is also inside, which you left by accident when you got distracted talking to a ground staff about an outdoor installation.
Wiggling the padlock open, you unlock it and enter inside. Despite leaving the door open, you’re shrouded in darkness, except for a faint orange trickle from a nearby streetlamp. Unable to find the light switch, you rely on your phone’s flashlight to navigate your way through.
Where the hell did you put it?
You’re trying not to scare yourself, but the entire experience is giving you the creeps. It doesn’t help that the eerie silence and obscure silhouettes on the shelves make everything feel much more ominous. You’re half expecting a bwahaha villain to pop out and drag you to his sex dungeon.
Is it sad to think that scenario might not be as terrible? You wouldn’t need to work so hard to pay off the debt. If you’re kidnapped, it has to count towards the Force Majeure clause in your contract.
You spend a few more minutes wandering the labyrinth of shelves before you spot a familiar polka-dot umbrella on the floor. Sighing in relief, you snatch the umbrella up and are about to go on your merry way when it happens.
A series of small flickering lights catches your attention. It’s a sharp contrast against the inky blackness of the room as it shimmers mid-air like fireflies on a summer evening.
You blink, then you blink harder to be sure.
Huh, that’s weird.
Curiosity getting the better of you, you sneak towards it, clutching your umbrella for protection. In hindsight, you should have realised you’re a walking cliche for any horror movie, where the heroine goes and investigates the weird noise in the basement before getting butchered by a masked fiend.
By the time you reach the glowing entity, more specks have already appeared. It floats in a dreamy, waltz-like manner, merging to form a larger cluster of light. You can’t help but marvel at the sight with child-like wonder as it fuses into a long oblong shape that almost reaches your height.
The awe doesn’t last long when suddenly an angry flash of red spills out.
With a frightened yelp, you jolt back in response. As you have the coordination of a newly born foal, your legs tangle, and gravity drags you down. You land on your butt with a wince, knocking your phone out of your hand. It scatters behind you.
Faced with danger, your body decides to be useless, disregarding the usual reaction of a fight-or-flight response. Instead, it chooses the unwanted third option: freeze.
Terror grips you as wispy red tendrils scurry to all corners of the room. The light chases away the darkness, blanketing the room with a shock of red.
This is one hell of a karmic retribution for fibbing on your resume.
And just when things couldn’t get any more horrifying, a clawed hand shoots out of the portal. Its movements are erratic, jerking back and forth as if it’s fighting an invisible game of tug of war.
And then there’s you. An accidental spectator to this macabre freak show.
You don’t remember if you screamed at the disturbing sight. Heart beating so hard, the furious tempo is the only thing echoing in your head. You were never one for religion, but now seems like an ideal time to pray for the holy spirit to descend and smite the hand with a thunderbolt.
Or maybe you’re thinking of Zeus.
Regrettably, your chance for a spiritual conversion is put on hold as the portal ejects a shadowy figure, who stumbles in a wilted heap near your feet.
Behind, the entire portal convulses, leaving a trail of smoke before shapeshifting into a glass orb. It falls on the floor with a faint thud and the room darkens again, save for the soft red glow emitting from… whatever that just fell.
The creature’s graceless entrance does little to lessen your fear, and you hike your legs up to create some distance between it. Your sudden movement is enough of an impetus for your fight instinct to kick in, releasing you from your internal paralysis.
Giving a strangled war cry, you jump up and blindly slam your umbrella down on it, raining several hard smacks for good measure. In between the hits, you may have heard it groan softly, but you’re too absorbed in your frenzied attack.
On your third blow, you hear a sharp hiss before its hunched form slackens.
On your fourth blow, you hear a distinct shattering sound.
You’re about to land a fifth blow when a searing ray of light blinds you.
Instinctively, your eyes squeeze shut at the impact. You drop your umbrella, letting it roll far away. With your hands now free, you cover your ears as a loud chorus of something whizzing soars above you.
Cracking an eye open, you’re equal parts flabbergasted and petrified at the bizarre scene of random glowing fragments of red slipping through the walls like a phantom.
Once it all disappears, you collapse on your knees. Loud gasps fill the room as your lungs remember how to function again.
Feeling something prickly against your right palm, you unfurl your fist to find a stray shard. The soft glow feels warm on your skin. With little thought, you slip it into your pocket for safekeeping—a souvenir for surviving hell.
Staring at the sprawled unconscious figure, you ponder on your next move. You can see its chest moving, a clear sign it’s still alive, and that you didn’t go complete ghostbusters on it with your umbrella.
Crap! Now what?
Thoughts echoing back to Tsukishima’s words, you hope he doesn’t actually fire you.