Chapter Text
Moroha hated when Yawaragi didn’t say anything.
The silence wasn’t rare, but there were different levels to the amount of quiet Moroha could stand all at once. Listening to the low hum of insects hiding in the forest’s brush and animals scattering out of their path as they trekked beneath leafy canopies, only allowing tiny slivers of sunlight, Moroha couldn’t even appreciate how easy it all felt. For a whole two days, the weaker yōkai crossing their path ran in fear of her, and Yawaragi hadn’t given her even a single ‘good job’ or a slight jibe. Restlessness welled up in Moroha’s chest as she stared at her master’s back, wondering if she’d done something wrong.
Yawaragi wasn’t someone to hold a grudge and their latest training sessions always seemed to end off on a good note. Moroha knew she had a way to go until the prized sword on her master’s hip was her own, but she was steadily gaining ground. Crossing that off her mental list of things she could have done wrong, she wondered if it had anything to do with how she’d been acting lately. A few of her den mates like Kai and Shinta told her she could be a little brash and unpredictable; even Kōga reprimanded her a few times for getting ahead of herself during hunts.
Then again, it was Nijizuki's fault for provoking her all the time.
Still, none of that ever seemed to bother Yawaragi. Half of the time, she'd knock both of them on the head and tell them to knock it off, so they tried to avoid her noticing. Ayame even teased that Moroha behaved around her. Of course, she did, though. Only a few people in the world could stop her without saying a word, and Yawaragi was one of them. It wasn’t that she was scared she would hurt her. Yawaragi never did. But there was something that just didn’t sit right with Moroha when Yawaragi was mad at her. Somehow, it felt like Moroha was a little kid all over again and running around Yawaragi’s legs trying to get her to tell her where they were going.
Shadows danced across her master’s silver hair, making it glimmer and shine like the coins jingling around in Moroha’s pouch.
Oh, maybe that was it.
She had snuck off to do a job all on her own. After all, certain things just couldn’t be foraged for, and while Moroha wasn’t above stealing— well, certain people found that wrong. When she came back, Yawaragi glanced up then shook her head at the offering of the steaming fluffy bun presented to her. Unwilling to let it go to waste, Moroha crammed it in her mouth after eating the other. Weird, Yawaragi usually liked sweet things as much as she did.
Just what is it I’m missing, Moroha grumbled to herself, wanting to pull her hair out from how maddening it all was.
She hardly had time to grab hold of her head when she stumbled into something solid, staggering backward with a choked huh.
“We’re here,” Yawaragi said, and Moroha was so surprised she was talking to her that she didn’t realize where they were. Peering past her master’s rigid stance, Moroha’s eyes widened at sight. It was a village, but not any ordinary village she’d seen before. Rice paddy fields, submerged and glistening in the morning sunlight with paths webbing through them. Trees and smudges of huts dotting across fields of bright green grass, stretching closer to an encircling forest. The distant red pillars of a torii gate catching her eye as she shuffled forward, feeling the unexplainable urge to run down there.
It was as if someone was calling her back home.
Moroha snapped out of it, turning around to see Yawaragi staring at her with a pinch between her brows. For the first time in two days, her golden gaze was focused entirely on Moroha and in them was a keen sadness Moroha wasn’t sure what to make of.
“We’re going to be staying here for a while,” Yawaragi declared, tearing her gaze away from Moroha so suddenly that it shocked her into remembering to breathe. “There’s a miko who can help teach you to use those holy powers of yours.”
“Really?” Moroha could feel the energy crackling beneath her fingers, but she was careful to expel it. The last time she used it, she’d almost…
The thought hit her like a blow to the chest.
Right, she almost purified Yawaragi.
“Er… about that time, I’m….”
“I’m not angry, Moroha.” Yawaragi’s voice cuts through her stilted apology with precision, and somehow, despite it, Moroha realized that she was telling the truth. Even in the gruff way she spoke, there was no anger there. Only an understanding of something Moroha couldn't put her finger on - but Yawaragi knew. She knew where her mind was headed, what she was trying to say, and she wasn't angry with her. Relief, cool and startling, made Moroha's next breath that much easier. If Yawaragi noticed the ease, she didn't say, staring off toward the village with a glassiness to her eyes. “Someday, you’re going to need to use those powers of yours. Even against a yōkai like me.”
Moroha snorted, shaking her head, but something was chilling in Yawaragi’s gaze. In a blink, it’s gone, and Yawaragi shakes her head before giving her a fond smile. “But first, you’re going to need to learn how to control it. Those little sparks aren’t going to do anything.”
This offer of normalcy, a bridge across the chasm between them, is one Moroha takes and clings to. Sticking close to Yawaragi’s side is easy as they continue on toward the village, that terrible silence filled with her laughing and jeering all the way.
But something settles in Moroha’s chest from those words, a seed of doubt watered by concern. What did Yawaragi know, and how did she know?
That unfathomable weight almost made Moroha wish Yawaragi hadn’t said anything at all.