Chapter Text
Nanami sighed as she trudged back to the shrine from a short trip to the convenience store. It had only been several days since she’d become the new land god of Mikage shrine and made Tomoe her familiar. And she hadn’t gotten used to the idea at all. This entire week, she’d woken up thinking perhaps it had all been a dream -- it was just too ludicrous -- but each time she awoke, she found herself faced with Onikiri and Kotesu and, of course, Tomoe. Living with shrine spirits was one thing, but to live with a fox yokai? That was perhaps the most unbelievable thing of all.
It was lucky she’d escaped him for even a few minutes to pick up the feminine products she needed. Since she’d bound him with the familiar contract, he’d become overprotective. She had no idea what kind of person he was, but after kissing him, it seemed a switch had flipped inside him. Whereas before, he’d taunted her as useless and run from his duties, now he constantly hovered, complaining that she was too weak to fend for herself. She pouted. She didn’t see what was so dangerous about the mundane world.
She was about a block away from the shrine when a sudden cold chill washed over her, eliciting goosebumps. Shivering, she wondered vaguely if she was getting sick. Perhaps she did have a fever and all of this was a delusion. But that chill encircled her, twisting around her entire body, a weight following it. For a moment, she found it harder to breathe -- and then it passed as quickly as it’d come. Shaking her head, she decided to take a nap as soon as she got back to the shrine. The last few days had been strenuous after all, what with losing her home, being abandoned by her father, and now this.
Just as she’d taken another few steps, a sudden whim popped into her head, the thought almost like an external voice whispering in a wisp over the wind. "Look to your right." Instinctively, she did as the notion told her. "Look down." Her eyes dropped to the ground. At first, she wasn’t sure why she looked, but something urged her to scan the grass.
A contrast of gold against green caught her eye. “See what it is.” Crouching down, she laid her plastic bag on the sidewalk and leaned closer, hair falling in her face. There was something sticking out of the dirt. It was just a corner, but it looked like some type of botanical carving, a dusty pink and gold against a lacquered black background. Whatever it was, it looked beaten up, but that impulse struck again. "Dig it out."
Without questioning it, she found a nearby stick and began to scrape at the earth, oblivious to the strange glances she got from passersby. No one approached her, so she continued to dig, her anticipation growing as more and more of the object was revealed to her. So far, all she could tell was that the top was arched, decorated by golden feathers. Carefully, she picked the dirt out of the crevices to get a better look. A crane. What was this thing?
With greater fervor, she carved the dirt away. It was getting more difficult, the stick straining under the pressure, occasionally slipping forcefully. It was a comb, she thought, reaching into the dirt, trying to pry it free. It was still stuck. She dug deeper, wriggling the comb as she went.
Just as she made the hole deep enough, the stick suddenly snapped, the jagged end of it puncturing the back of her hand and eliciting a cry of ‘ouch’. Dismay flickered on her mouth at the sight of a nasty red welt over her skin and the minuscule droplets of blood rising to the surface. Never mind. She’d clean it shortly. The comb was almost free.
Using what was left of the stick, she pried the back of it from the dirt, taking care not to break it. As she lifted it, she brushed the final crumbs of dirt from the teeth. It looked quite old, a few of the teeth missing or broken. But the pattern on it was pretty, and she found herself drawn to it for some reason.
“This is cool,” she murmured to herself with a small smile. “I guess someone dropped it.” From the looks of it, it’d been buried for quite some time, especially if it’d been embedded in the ground so deeply. It was weird that she’d noticed it, she thought. She guessed it was her lucky day.
With the comb in hand, she picked up her bag and continued on her way. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with it yet but, at the very least, it’d be a neat thing to hold onto as a keepsake. She ascended the steps to the shrine, only vaguely noticing the slight resistance, the vibration in her hand, like repelling magnets.
--
Before dinner, she tended her wound and then cleaned the comb thoroughly in the bathroom sink. The dirt was difficult to get out between the teeth and the crevices, so she ended up using a Q-tip to pick it out painstakingly. It made little sense why it mattered so much, but she’d never owned anything traditional. There had been no family heirlooms passed down to her. Anything of value, including items of her grandmother’s, had been sold in an attempt to keep the family afloat.
She wondered what the owner of this comb had been like. In her mind’s eye, she pictured a beautiful woman with ruby lips and flowing black hair. Maybe it’d even been a noble’s wife, she thought, her fantasies getting away from her. Perhaps Tomoe would know something about it, since he seemed knowledgeable and she’d heard yokai lived a long time. Then again, she had no idea how old he was. For all she knew, he was close to her age.
Finally leaving the bathroom, she wandered down the hall towards the kitchen, where she heard the sizzling sound of fish being fried. She stared down at the comb, slowly making her way over to him. “Hey, I have a random question,” she began. For the time being, she held her hands behind her back, hiding the comb.
Not once taking his eyes off what he was doing, Tomoe asked, “What is it?”
He seemed in a mellow enough mood, Nanami thought. It was a good time to prod. “Not to be rude or anything, but how old are you?” Realizing it did sound rude, she quickly tacked on, “I have a reason for asking.”
He stopped what he was doing, turning his head to look over his shoulder, his brow furrowed. At first, he seemed annoyed, but then she realized -- that was just his face. When he spoke, there was an air of bewilderment to his tone. “What?”
“I know it sounds weird.” Her cheeks grew warm. “But you seem pretty traditional. Although maybe you grew up in a traditional family or something--”
“I don’t have family.” His tone was clipped. This time, he did scowl. Turning, his ears lowered and tail flicking, he grumbled, “Mikage was the only family I ever had.”
Her heart sank. Now it made sense why he was in such a bad mood, why he’d rejected her. Mikage had abandoned him, she thought, just like her father had abandoned her. Suddenly, she could be more sympathetic towards his attitude concerning her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, voice softer. “I didn’t know.” He failed to reply, but his tail had stilled, his ears returning to their normal upward state. Since he seemed to have calmed down, she continued. “I know what that feels like. To be left on your own.” She scuffed her socked foot against the wooden floors. “I mean, it just happened to me too. You know, with my father leaving.”
“Yes, unfortunate.” That was all Tomoe had to say about it.
A pout formed on Nanami’s mouth, eyes half lidding as she stared at the back of his head. But was she surprised? The last time she’d brought it up, he’d kicked her and then run to the world over yonder. This was empathetic compared to that treatment.
It didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it. So she made one last effort to be friendly. They were bound to each other anyway. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m happy to listen. I know it’s got to be hard.”
“Thank you, but I am perfectly all right.” He turned off the burner, plating the fish.
A small frown creased her brow. “Okay, let me know.” Although she wanted to pick some more, she decided it was time to pursue her original question. “Anyway, if you don’t want to tell me your age, you can just say so. I’ll even tell you how old I am--”
“I don’t care.” An angry sound caught in her throat, face burning, but before she could snap at him for being so rude, he turned around to face her, eyes locking with hers. When he spoke again, it became apparent that what he really meant was that he didn’t mind. “I am six hundred twenty-eight years old. I am not sure why it matters as it has nothing to do with anything, but you asked.”
Her eyebrow twitched. He was terrible with words, she thought. Despite his harsh tone, she found her shoulders relaxing. At least he wasn’t offended. “Oh, wow, that’s really old--” She snapped her mouth shut. “Crap!” she thought, feeling like she’d broken into a cold sweat, her mouth opening and quivering at the corners. “And I thought he was bad with words.” Quickly, she amended, “Sorry! That’s not what I meant!”
His mouth twisted in something like disdain, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned around, continuing to prepare dinner, this time carefully filling a bowl with rice. It was hard to tell if she’d offended him or not.
She babbled onward. “I just meant you’re a lot older than me! Actually, I was kind of hoping you were, because I wanted to ask you something. I found something that seems pretty old, and I thought you could tell me about it.”
“Hm, have you been rummaging through the storage shed?” he asked, blasé. “There are quite a few antiques in there.” Here, he shot her a sharp look. “You should not be going through it. You could easily break something. I have worked painstakingly to preserve everything in there. They are important artifacts to Mikage--”
“No, no, nothing like that!” she interrupted, waving a hand, the other still behind her back. “I wouldn’t do something like that. I don’t want to touch someone else’s stuff.” He lifted an eyebrow, seeming unconvinced, but at least his verbal onslaught had stopped. “I found something when I went out today--”
Now it was his turn to interrupt. “You went out?” She could’ve sworn his ears stood up even higher, a look of alarm flashing over his face. In an instant, it was replaced by a half-lidded gaze, his eyes dropping to the floor, mouth downturned and open. He lifted a hand to his head. “You give me nothing but headaches. So reckless.”
“Can you focus?” This time, she snapped at him. “I had to go out, okay? There was some stuff I had to pick up.”
“You should have asked me! You cannot protect yourself!” he bit back. “In case you have forgotten, you are a walking advertisement.” Here, he tapped a claw against her forehead, the needlepoint sensation making her flinch.
“Can we talk about this later?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m trying to ask you a question!”
Clapping a hand half over his forehead and half over his eyes, he sighed so heavily she could see his chest collapse. “Fine, fine. Ask me.”
This was when she finally pulled her hand out from behind her back. Supporting the comb carefully in both her palms, she held it out to him. His eyes opened, but she only saw one narrow pupil sliding sideways to look at it. “What’s this?” she asked. As his lips parted, and she saw his brow furrow, she quickly added, “I mean, I know it’s a comb, but it seems pretty old. Do you know how old it is?”
Dropping his hand, he hummed. It took him almost no time to answer. “That is from the early Meiji period.” He frowned deeper. “Where did you find that?”
She opened her mouth, then shut it. Now that she thought about it, it sounded ridiculous. An awkward laugh left her before she said dismissively, “Outside.”
“Outside…” he echoed. Then, turning his back to her, he said, “Get rid of it.”
Scowling, she asked, “Why? Are you saying that ‘cause you think it’s a piece of junk?”
He turned his head to frown at her. “I am saying that because it is over one hundred years old. We have no idea what its history is.”
“You make no sense,” she muttered.
Shutting his eyes, he arranged steamed vegetables on a plate next to the fish. “Leave it on the veranda. I will take it off the shrine grounds and properly dispose of it after dinner.”
“What? No!”
“It is imperative we remove it from the shrine grounds as soon as possible.”
“I don’t wanna get rid of it. I found it.” She held it protectively to her chest. “It’s my treasure now!”
He gave her a pointed look, then tilted his head. “Why are you so attached to it?”
It seemed too silly to tell him she felt a magnetic pull to it, that she held an inexplicable fondness towards it. After all, it was nothing more than an object. An old and broken object. But it was hers. And now it was one of the only things she owned. “You wouldn’t understand.”
He walked past her, carrying her plate to the table. As he knelt by it, setting it at her place, he told her once more. “Well, put it outside and come eat. Your food will get cold.”
“I’m gonna wash up,” she muttered, ignoring his demand.
He was being unreasonable, she thought, walking past him, as though towards the front doors. A quick glance behind showed he was preoccupied pouring her tea. So she only stepped out briefly, feigning the action. Then, she scampered to the back to stash it away in her vanity.
--
Tomoe could be so dramatic, she thought sullenly as she got ready for bed. When he’d gone outside and had found the comb was nowhere in sight, he’d thrown a fit. For a while, she’d watched him get on his hands and knees and search the grass -- and then beneath the shrine. The whole time, he’d been complaining and interrogating her with a raised voice, asking her where it was . She’d pretended to be ignorant, telling him she’d gone out on the veranda just like he’d asked her to. What she didn’t say was whether she had or hadn’t put the comb out there. Eventually, she’d tired of watching him retrace his steps again and again and had gone back inside.
For all she knew, he was still out there. He’d eventually give up, she thought, switching out her light and crawling into her futon. For a while, she lay there, her body gradually relaxing. It was still difficult to get to sleep when her mind was buzzing over the last few days, trying to absorb everything that had happened. It was strange to have a fox as a servant. To think -- she had a servant. That was awkward and a bit uncomfortable. But it wasn’t like she asked him to do anything, she thought with another pout. He chose to do everything for her. What a weirdo.
Finally, after forty-five minutes, her eyelids grew heavy. She felt herself drifting into a light sleep. Just as those borderline, nonsensical dreams wavered in and out, like a radio station coming into signal, she thought she heard a thump against the floor. Assuming it was part of her hypnagogic state, she ignored it.
Thump. This time, it felt like there had been a vibration next to her. She stirred slightly, flopping onto her back, one arm flung over her head, one leg sticking out of the futon. Silence. Slowly, she began to slip back into sleep. Just as she had fully relaxed, something cool and soft glided down her bare leg, the sensation of someone’s fingers trailing over her skin.
This made her eyes pop wide open, her heart rate spiking suddenly. She opened her mouth to complain in case it was Tomoe -- of course, that lecherous fox, she thought with an angry noise -- but her words died in her throat, reduced to nothing more than a squeak. There was an eerie, pale glow hanging in the air by her, close to her bare leg. Her breath hitched sharply, and she froze, gripping the duvet, unable to tear her eyes away from the cloud. Was she dreaming?
It floated closer, like a creeping fog. A whimper caught in her throat, but when she opened her mouth to ask if this was Tomoe and if he was playing a trick on her for the wild goose chase she’d sent him on earlier, she found she’d lost her voice entirely. The air felt clammy, cold, heavy, that same sensation of breathlessness from earlier hitting her once more. It weighed in her chest, and that was when she decided -- she was done.
Squeaking again, she finally found the strength to fling the covers aside. It was spreading over the floor, growing colder. She didn’t even look behind her as she raced down the hall at lightning speed. For all she knew, this was yet another spirit, because apparently those were real.
There was a scraping sound behind her, and an overwhelmingly sweet scent that reminded her of rotting flowers filled the room. It was definitely coming for her. She opened her mouth to yell at Tomoe, to tell him this wasn’t funny, to tell him to stop freaking her out. Once again, all that came out was a squeak. She raced to the front of the shrine, to the veranda, just in case he was still out there. No Tomoe.
It lingered behind her, this overbearing presence that made her shiver, goosebumps prickling her skin, the hairs at the nape of her neck standing up. As much as she didn’t want to turn around, she had to in order to go back inside. And when she did, she couldn’t even breathe. In a flash, she thought she saw the outline of a figure floating above the floor, long hair disappearing into nothingness, but then it vanished.
That hadn’t been Tomoe. Her legs went weak. Before she could collapse straightaway, her body went into autopilot and she tore through the shrine. She skidded to a halt right at the basement hatch, then flung it open. Without even thinking, she clamored down the stairs until she was near the base. It was completely black down there, and she couldn’t see where she was going, but she leapt anyway, a shriek dying in her throat.
Crash. Something soft yet sturdy broke her fall, and then she found herself falling forwards until she came down on top of it. It grunted from the impact, and when she felt bones pressing against her body through fabric, she realized she’d knocked Tomoe over. In the next moment, she realized his arms were around her waist. And in the next moment, she realized she was lying completely on top of him. Face burning, she shrieked again.
“Nanami!”
She withered to the floor as he jolted up, all but throwing her off. The light clicked on. She curled in a ball, trembling on the floor, teeth chattering and heart pounding madly. A sob caught in her throat. “You’re so mean,” she began, but she was barely coherent. Another sob.
Although her vision swam, she still caught the blurred outline of his figure crawling closer to her. A hand lighted on her shoulder and she flinched almost violently, a hitched breath wracking her chest. “What is wrong?”
Half of her had expected him to scream at her for jumping on him -- although it had been unintentional -- but instead, his tone held a sense of worry to it. She blinked rapidly, turning her head as far as it would go while her whole body was locked up so tensely her muscles ached. “G-ghost,” she managed to stammer out.
“What?”
She gulped air. “I saw a...a ghost.”
He scowled and loomed over her. “What are you talking about?”
“There was a ghost in my room,” she whimpered. “It touched me.”
“I did not sense anything.” Despite his words, he stood all the same, turning towards the stairs. “I will look--”
Suddenly overcome by the fear of being alone, the fear of going back upstairs, she seized the edge of his yukata. “No!” she shrieked, and his entire body went rigid, eyes huge. She paid it no mind. “Don’t go! I’m not going back up there until it’s morning!”
Slowly, he untensed. Then, sighing, he placed a hand over an eye. “What do you want me to do then?” He shot her a disdainful glare.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she spoke in a frantic, raised voice. “I don’t wanna be alone!”
“Oh, dear gods,” he grumbled. “Do you intend to stay here with me?” When she only stared up at him tearfully, he frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, his cheeks pink. “This is highly inappropriate--”
“I don’t care! I’ll sleep on the floor! Just please let me stay.”
He scoffed. “Sleep on the floor? I will not have my lady and mistress in such a miserable state.” Here, he attempted to pry her hands from the edge of his yukata. “Allow me to get your futon, at least.
“No! Don’t leave me alone!” Another flinch on his behalf.
An agitated sound caught in his throat. After a moment, it passed and he groaned. “Fine,” he spat. “Then take my futon.”
“But where will you sleep?” Her chin quivered.
“This is your own doing! You will not allow me to get another futon!” When she only whined, he growled under his breath, his ears lowering sideways. “Never mind.” Storming across the room, he ripped open one of the drawers to his dresser, digging around. Finding extra blankets, he flung them into a messy pile on the floor.
As it dawned on her what he was doing, she couldn’t help the shaky giggle that left her, her tears evaporating. It looked like a nest. “Is that your bed?”
He shot her a glare. “Yes.”
“I could sleep there instead--”
“No.” He added a final layer of blankets. “Now, take my bed.”
Sheepish, she crawled on gelatin limbs to his futon. Although she wasn’t sure she could sleep, at least her heart had calmed down. She felt a little safer with him there. “Thank you,” she said in a tiny voice. Until she finally slipped beneath the duvet, they exchanged a long stare. Once she was wrapped up in the blankets, she asked, “Can we leave the light on?”
“Fine,” he mumbled. Then, he rolled onto his side, his back to her. Another faint giggle escaped her at the sight of him nestling into the blankets in a ball, his tail curled around him. He looked like a real fox. But when he spoke, his tone chased away any thoughts of him being adorable or fluffy. “Go to sleep.”
So harsh, she thought with a small frown. But he was letting her stay, so she gradually relaxed. Deciding to take it the way she thought he meant it, she spoke to him softly. “Good night.”
He didn’t reply. She stared at his back until his ears started twitching lightly and she realized he was asleep. Then, she shut her eyes, holding the duvet tighter. It took her a long time to fall asleep as well.