Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In retrospect, her fate probably starts on that cloudless summer day, when she gives the cookies from Home Ec to a girl with a rumbling stomach. Under the blinding sun ray slanting through the clear window, she feels a strange chill breeze that stirs her to lift her head from the textbook, and at that moment, her gaze falls upon a heat haze draping like an unwanted scarf over the girl who will go on to become her best friend.

Dad says she is special. He says she can feel things nobody else can, but Dad’s eyes flick back and forth, following something she can’t see all the time. He says she is to come to him immediately if anything like those not-there bothers her. So, she asks Dad to pick her up the next day, plies Hana with snacks when her stomach rumbles and pushes her into Dad’s line of sight. The not-there melts like a snowflake under the sun.

Dad never sits her down to tell her what those things are. She doesn’t ask. She can see he is waiting for her to ask, he prepares for a conversation that makes his shoulders tense up everytime she brings Hana home with another passenger.

Dad isn’t around much but he makes time for her when he’s able to. He is there for anniversaries and calls when he’s unable to. He tries his best to be a good father.

From her admittedly biased perspective, he succeeds. She wouldn’t trade him for anything else in the world.

Maybe wrongly, she figures that what Dad really, truly wants is a daughter he doesn’t need to worry about. One he can protect to his heart's desire. One who listens to him in important, life-or-death matters. One that doesn’t ask questions he both wants and does not want to answer.

So that is the type of daughter she becomes.

Still, the non-existent phantoms flit around her entire life, and even when she closes her eyes, nothing disrupts strands of moonlight pooling beneath her window.

For a long time, though, Miko is convinced it all starts when she wakes up in the hospital filled with a concrete certainty that Dad is no more and it’s all her fault.

Yotsuya Miko, the first daughter of Yotsuya Mamoru and Yotsuya Touko, is not an easy infant to care for. Acutely sensitive to sound and light, her parents have to take elaborate precautions to nurse her or else, the stimulation would drive her to scream herself hoarse.

Fortunately, otherwise from being a fussy baby, she is as healthy as a child can be.

Her parents breathe a sigh of relief.

When she is younger, on a sunny morning, Miko decides the world outside of her house is awfully loud and terribly bright and she hates it. She sobs into the couch when Mama tries to get her to step outside once more. To go to the play yard where it’s noisy, noisy, noisy.

She has bursted into tears the moment she stepped outside and refused to do it again. Frustratingly enough, she remembers days when the world hadn’t been so accursed. She woke up to find the world went mad overnight. She had thought maybe it would pass. It hasn’t.

The dizzying scorch-haze light is easy to ignore in comparison.

“Don’t you want to play with Rio-chan again?” Mama askes. A warm, soft hand lands on top of her head. “You had so much fun last week.”

Most of the neighbourhood's louder children came down with flu last week. The playground was deserted and blissfully silent. She cringes at the thought of going there today. It was tolerable once. Was. It was when the world was normal.

Miko likes Rio. She doesn’t like to talk much. They can play together for hours and her ears wouldn’t hurt at all.

She shakes her head. Sorry, Rio.

Mama stops trying after she not-shierks her refusal.

At home, Mama and Papa always talk softly. The TV is set at the lowest volume. The clocks don't chime at the passing time. After she complained about the hands, Papa brought home ones without annoying tick-tocks like those in Grandma’s house.

She learnt very early on that she wasn't like other people. Papa explained that she was more sensitive than normal people. Mama can’t follow the television when it is at the lowest volume on the other side of the room. People can’t hear the popping sound of boiling water unless very close. Papa doesn’t wake with the clicks of bird’s breaks crunching seeds outside a closed window.

She thought very hard about that. In the end, it just means she is special, right? It hadn’t been much of a problem until now.

She doesn’t want to leave home ever again.

Her decision lasts a week before her parents realize it isn’t a phrase. Maybe, it has something to do with her admitting she can hear Mama’s heart beating in the kitchen while she is on top of the stairs.

Well, more exactly, Mama realizes it. Papa has been at work since last Sunday.

Mama is worried. Papa, too when Mama calls him. He comes home within the day.

She can hear their murmurs in the kitchen after tucking her in for the night. She shuffles off the bed, dragging her blankets down with her. She presses an ear on the floor.

“–s lower than normal.” There is the small clattering of glass being set down on the table in the brief pause following her Papa's words. “Miko’s not like me. She can’t see them. I know of cases like her but they’re different too.”

“So, nothing you know can help.” Different from Papa, whose voice never waver above mild, Mama’s is more spirited. “Fortunately, I’ve looked up ear specialists.”

A sign, “Let’s try the doctors first. I know a few people I could ask. I just prefer not to.”

She scrambles back on the mattress the moment she hears cups being washed up. Miko buries herself under soft layers just in time for the bedroom door to part. Mama, from the heartbeats.

“Go to sleep, Miko. It’s late.”

She cracks open her eyes. Busted. “Sorry, Mama.”

“Good night, dear.”

“Night.”

She wakes up with the ding of the rice cooker, the scrape of a knife on the chopping board and the handle of her door turning.

A calloused hand lands on her head, ruffling her hair. Another pulls the blind aside to make way for sunlight. Miko scrunches up her eyes. Burrows deeper into the pillows.

Papa laughs gently. “Wake up, apple. We have an appointment to keep today.”

“...Why apple?” She yawns, blinking blearily. “I thought I was a chestnut.”

“Why use only one nickname when my little girl is this adorable?”

His laughter bounces off the wall at her puckered pout.

Mama bundles her into a car she is sure that wasn’t there yesterday right after breakfast. Papa is driving. Then, they’re off to whoever her parents want to bring her to. The car is a stalwart protector that guards her from the hateful outside.

Miko is today years old when she realizes she doesn’t know what Papa’s job is. Mama said she was a designer (what’s a designer?) working from home until Miko was older. Mama didn’t answer when she asked how much older. Miko is a big girl already.

Papa couldn’t be a ‘salaryman’ because he doesn’t go to work everyday. He also doesn’t work from morning to late night and comes home drunk. He doesn’t wear a suit.

Papa is absent more often than not. Mama told her he was helping people. He doesn’t look like a police officer. He sometimes comes home smelling like the coins in Mama’s purse and a peculiar smell her brain had labeled as Bad until she sniffed an opened package of incense.

Perhaps, the reason for her child brain to jump to that conclusion is because Papa is always so sad when he comes home smelling like that. Or the fact his smoke-tainted hugs are always a bit too tight, a bit too long.

She has learnt to associate the hum of a phone vibration with ‘work time’ as Papa calls it. He sometimes wakes her up when he comes back past midnight. On occasion, he doesn’t come home for weeks on end.

Privately, Miko thinks Papa is a secret agent. Or a superhero. Both are cool. She resolves to never ask him about his job. Like in Kitty & Rabbit, the hero needs to keep his secret identity from his family to protect them. She doesn’t want Papa to have to lie. Miko can keep a secret.

They stop at a warm, small office.

Miko sits in a small chair and watches Mama leave the room. She is going to talk with the doctor, Papa tells her. While a round-faced nurse is going to lead them through a series of tests.

She doesn’t know what a ‘test’ is but Papa has said they would stop immediately if she doesn’t like it. Papa wouldn’t lie.

The tests are actually kinda fun except for a machine that makes high-pitched ringing sounds. Miko doesn’t cry but her eyes itch. She gets an ice cream on the way home for being a good girl. Vanilla chestnut ice cream is delicious.

The doctor calls her into a follow-up appointment a week later. She sits between Mama and Papa and does not fidget in her too-large chair. She hasn’t had anymore success in stepping out of the house. She spent hours listening to the groans of the branches outside her window last night. The colors on the TV are getting more and more vivid. She hates the pain-bright spots throbbing behind her eyelids even hours later.

The noise is still worse. At times, when she concentrates in her room, she thinks she could hear heartbeats all the way on the other end of the house.

The doctor steeples her fingers over her lips. She has stacks of paper on her desk, shiny papers overflowing on the wooden surface. Her eyes pinch at the sides as she looks at Miko.

“Hyperacusis,” she says with a smile.

(“It means you’re sensitive to certain sounds,” Papa later explains.

Why does the doctor have to use such a big word? As if Miko doesn’t know that already.)

The doctor assures her parents there are ways to help. Miko would still have a normal and healthy life. She just needs some help getting there.

Mama’s shoulders droop then square up as if to prepare for a challenge. Papa doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t think Papa agrees with the doctor at all.

Miko wisely doesn’t say anything about how she can count the light fractals in the doctor’s crystal earrings. They distract her for the rest of the visit.

They return home with stacks of guides and an apple lollipop for herself.

(Years later, she would look back on this moment as she stares through the fractured parody of Dad in matted fur, sickle-hooked claws on human fingers and hooves. Listens to the ringing of rusted bells.

The guides were mostly not very helpful. They also became obsolete when she learnt to filter out all the noise months later.

However, who knew they would prepare her for getting used to and ignoring unpleasant, unexpected, dangerous sounds? She didn't.

Now, if only she can do anything about her eyes and her Waking Hours Paralysis Demon without resorting to desperate measures.)

Chapter Text

Miko is cold. She tosses and turns in her bed, pulling her blanket up to her chin. It doesn’t help.

She pokes a leg out from the cover to the side of the mattress. Warm night air thaws her freezing toes. She sits up. Her back instantly warms up. A sensation not unlike pins and needles catching on her spine knobs.

There is something outside the window.

Miko perchs at the edge of the bed where it’s the coldest. The layered cloud diffuses the moonlight outside until the shadows are soft. The thing outside casts no shade.

It would only take a turn of body to look. She doesn’t want to.

There is something outside.

She doesn’t know how she knows it. She can’t hear anything. Her breaths don’t mist when they escape even though her brain insists they should. Only a sudden cold spot and the guts instinct screaming she shouldn’t look.

Her hands fist in cold fabric. She bites her lips to keep the tears at bay. It is better to cry out, Papa and Mama would come running.

But for some reasons, gripped from within by something, telling her to stay quiet—

She breathes through her mouth. Without meaning to, she slides down, knees bending. It feels like her legs are dunked into iced water.

Something is looking in.

In a daze, Miko watches as her knees straighten, then her foot steps forward, and carries her out of the room. She doesn’t look back.

One step, and then another.

The further she gets away, the warmer it is. There is no light in the hall. No sound other than the distant vehicle rumbles. The house had always been quiet, but it morphs into something unrecognizably still at night. She had never seen this side of her home, if not for something, she wouldn’t have the courage to take a step at all.

Papa is sitting up, reaching for his glasses on the nightstand when she pushes her way into their bedroom. Mama a shapeless lump beside him.

“What’s wrong, Miko?” He whispers.

“Miko?”

He swings his legs to the side of the bed when she doesn’t answer. She wants to but her voice is stuck in her throat. Instead, she lunges for Papa, wrapping her short arms around him.

“Are you okay?” Papa returns the hug uncertainly.

“T-there’s something outside the window,” she mumbles, shaking. Then, her feet stop touching the floor. Before she knows it, she is deposited between Papa and Mama. Mama tucks her into a cuddle, chin pointed on the crown of Miko’s head. When has she woken up?

"It doesn't try to get in?" He asks after a pause.

She shakes her head the best as she can. Considering her position, it's an attempt.

“It has been a while since all three of us slept together, hasn’t it?” Papa stands up. “Sleep with us tonight, pineapple,” he trudges outside and doesn’t close the door. For a second. Miko thinks she sees the fuzzy outline of something peeling off his back.

“Papa’s just checking your room. He will come back soon,” Miko feels the vibrations travel up Mama’s chest before they spill out of her throat and become words. Miko sinks into the warmth.

“He’ll be fine,” Mama pats her side.

Her heart is too loud. Mama’s heart is a steady thump. Papa’s heart grows dimmer the further he’s away.

Mama hums a wordless tune. Long fingers slot in with hers. Miko presses her ear to the warmth. A gust of wind sweeps through the streets, rattling the gnarled branches outside.

Papa comes back after an eternity (if she looked at the clock, she would see it hadn’t even five minutes yet) and slides back underneath the cover. There is nothing behind him.

“Nothing will ever bother you in your room again,” Papa reassures. She trusts him.

Between Mama and Papa, Miko is the safest girl in the whole world.

At the entrance of autumn, Miko is told she will become an older sister.

“We want to let you know,” Mama begins, one hand curls around Papa’s. “By spring, we might have someone new in our family.”

Miko tilts her head to the side. The dots aren’t connecting. The bulb isn’t shining. The page isn’t loading. In short, she doesn’t understand.

“You will be a big sister soon,” Mama’s lips twitch. “Do you know what that means?”

Her mouth drops open. “I have to sleep with earplugs in?” She blurts out the first thing in her mind.

Mama blinks. Papa laughs. “Maybe,” he answers. He runs a hand through his hair. “Probably. I’ll buy you new ones.”

“It also means you have a job now,” the smile doesn’t fall off his face but she can tell he is serious.

Miko straightens up. “A job?” She parrots.

“Your sibling will be very small. This world would be a whole new world to them. They wouldn’t know anything about it and they will need us, including you, to guide them. To protect them. To make them happy. Before anything, we’re a family.”

“Do you think you’re up for that responsibility, Miko?” Mama continues after Papa.

Her parents are serious so Miko has to be serious too. She purses her lips and thinks. She retraces her parents’ words in her little brain. She doesn’t know how to be a big sister but she can learn. She is still discovering new things everyday but she can teach what she actually knows. There are scary things she doesn’t know how to deal with but Papa and Mama know, she can ask them.

Miko misses the entire silent exchange between her parents going over her head.

In the end, she sticks her pinky out and says solemnly.

“I promise I will be the best sister ever.”

Three pinkies hook together to form a promise.

A few months later, Miko learns that Papa is a teacher. The way she learns that sets the pattern of her life for the next decade. She doesn’t learn it because she asks or from Papa’s mouth, she learns it because somebody else tells her.

Miko comes home to a car parked at the front door. She waves goodbye at Haizaki-san lives at the end of the street. Her parents have worked out an arrangement with Haizaki-san and the school for when they can’t pick her up.

A stranger is standing in the living room. Huh.

She can hear Mama and Papa talking from the second floor so the stranger is a guest, she thinks. Which is weird since Mama always tells her not to leave a guest unattained.

She looks up, up, up and up to a face that looks like it is born kind. Black hair pulled back into a bun and eyes that shine purple in the light from ceiling lamps. He is wearing a strange black uniform and black earrings. She has seen school uniforms before and his looks like them. Mostly. She doubtfully eyes the puffy pants. The piercings look cool however, Miko reminds herself to ask Mama whether she could get her ears pierced too.

Miko blinks at the (maybe) guest and takes in his deer-in-the-headlights expression.

“Hello,” she greets. “Are you Papa’s guest?” She has met Mama’s friends before. This older brother feels more like Papa’s.

He blinks back at her. “Ah, hi there,” he clears his throat and squats down so she wouldn’t have to keep straining her neck. “I’m Getou Suguru. Your, uh, Papa’s student.”

Papa’s student?

Papa is a teacher?

“My name is Miko. Nice to meet you,” she reflexively replies. Her eyebrows unwittingly draw together to organize this new piece of information to fit in with her theory. Being a teacher still explains nothing about Papa.

“Is there something wrong?”

She refocuses on Getou-san. That was rude of her. “I didn’t know Papa was a teacher,” she tilts her head. “Thank you,” for your information.

“You didn’t know your father’s job?” He repeats dubiously.

“Papa wasn’t home that week when Sensei told us to write about family,” she protests. “So I only wrote about Mama. Complains aren’t allowed when you are not there,” she explains sagely.

“How old are you?” He asks speculatively, looking like he is trying to solve a complex question.

“Five,” she returns without missing a beat.

“How come you never asked your father what he does?” Getou-san mutters. “Aren’t kids supposed to be curious about things like that?”

She opens her mouth to explain her totally valid theory. Then, Papa pads down the stairs, completely derailing her thought.

“Sorry for making you wait, Getou-kun,” Papa’s eyes flicker between Miko and the guest. “I see you have become acquainted.”

His hand gestures in a belated introduction. “Miko, this is my student, Getou Suguru. Getou-kun, my daughter, Miko.”

“Would you like some food before I drop you off?” Papa asks Getou-san.

“I can’t impose,” he protests. “How’s your wife?”

Papa levels a look at him. “She is fine. I dragged you here because of personal business. The least I can do is feed you.”

Miko knits her hands behind her back and waits.

“I can take the bus back,” Getou-san hurries to say. “You should stay home with your family.”

“You still haven’t had lunch yet and I still need to turn in my report,” Papa disagrees. “Miko would be fine on her own for a few hours and she knows who to call if anything happens.”

Miko nods in agreement. Numbers were the first thing Papa and Mama taught her.

“We’re having soba for dinner today,” she says when Getou-san still looks indecisive.

“At least let me help with the clean up,” he yields, a wry twist stealing over his mouth.

Papa nods satisfiedly. “Go put away your bag, Miko.”

“Wash your hands too,” Papa reminds on her way up. Hmph. Of course, she’d remember.

The soba is delicious as expected. Miko gets to know more about Papa’s student and by extension, his work. Getou-san is fifteen this year. Papa isn’t his teacher but a substitute. He is with Papa today because Papa can teach him skills his teacher can’t. She doesn’t manage to convince him to help her convince Papa to let her pierce her ears but she likes him.

She wouldn’t mind if he visits again.

From Papa’s smile when he heard her saying that, he agrees too.

Chapter Text

Kyosuke enters the world on a cold spring night.

Miko sits patiently in the waiting room. Mama’s phone is a strip of warmth in her lap. The night-shift nurse at the reception table occasionally peers over her worriedly through a layer of glass. She waves at the lady.

One family member is allowed in the room during labor but a nurse had asked her to stay outside. She doesn’t know what ‘Cee-section’ means but it sounds pretty serious. 

Bouncing her shoes against the plastic of her chair, Miko wraps cold fingers around the warm can of corn potage a nice nurse had given her, after asking if there was someone she can call for her. 

(After calling the ambulance, Miko had tried Papa’s number but his phone was turned off. Which was honestly not surprising due to the speed Papa rushed off this morning. She called the next number on the list instead.

Thankfully, her aunt was available even at 10 in the evening.) 

The digital clock on the wall tells her it’s 10:30. Normally, Miko would already be in bed at this hour. There is no one around to tell her to go to sleep today. She probably wouldn’t be able to sleep with a heavy lump of nervousness in the pit of her stomach anyway.

Soon after, the automated doors roll open and Aunt Mina walks in. Purple shawl draped over her shoulders, cheeks flushed, she strides toward the reception desk then the waiting room right after the nurse gave her direction. 

Not for the first time, Miko is struck by how much Aunt Mina looks similar to Mama. Honey-gold eyes and black hair. However, Aunt Mina’s hair is kept short, barely brushing her shoulders.

A displeased frown rises on Aunt Mina’s face after tired eyes scan the waiting room, finding nobody else but Miko and the emergency hospital bag she is using as an armrest. It is a slow night.

The lump in her stomach lightens.

“You’ve done well, Micchan.” A gloved hand pats her head. She feels her voice more than hears it, rich and warm and just on this side of hoarse. Different from Mama.

She relaxes her clutch on the now lukewarm unopened can. Aunt Mina sits down next to her, pulling fur-lined gloves off. 

“What’s ‘Cee section’, Aunt Mina?” Miko takes the chance to satisfy her curiosity.

“What brings this on?” The woman makes a considering noise, peering inside her purse. Her purse is what might once be a rich shade of black, but the years have lifted the color and frayed its edges. Miko doesn’t understand why she insists on carrying it when the rest of Aunt Mina always looks like she steps out of a glossy magazine page.

“I heard from the doctor. He told Mama there was a chance they’d need a Cee section. She fell .” She fails at keeping a whine out of her explanation.

“I see,” Aunt Mina says simply, but the slight down turn of the corners of her mouth shows the magnitude of her displeasure. She looks at Miko, hesitating. “It means it would take a long time for your little sibling to be born and your Mama needs more help after.”

The heavy lump in her stomach returns with company.

“Touko will be fine,” her aunt stresses. She stuffs a hand inside the purse and takes out a battered phone. She squints at the cracked screen, fingers fly on the keyboard. Then she throws it back into the depths with a satisfied air.

“Have you eaten yet?”

Miko nods.

“Have you called that guy?”

She doesn’t have to think to know who “that guy” is. Fire is hot. Water is wet. Aunt Mina likes to pretend Papa doesn’t exist when Mama lets her get away with it.

Instead of answering, she flips open the phone and presses the quick call button. The robotic notification echoes in the silent room. 

Aunt Mina goes thunderous. With a stream of mutters Miko can’t understand, the poor phone is pulled out from its short-lived rest. Lacquered fingernails compose a rather threatening message (it’s a message consisting of nothing but symbols, but Miko could see the threatening aura very well).

Disapproval basically leaping out of her face, the threatening message is sent with a final swipe of nail against plastic. The abused button acquires another chip.

Then, Aunt Mina stands up. Miko latches into her arm before she even registers what just happened. Her aunt’s face smooths out. Her eyes crease and a small smile tugs at her lips. The flush on her face has drained away, leaving her pale. In accordance with her tired eyes, Aunt Mina looks exhausted.

“I haven’t had dinner yet,” she explains. “Do you want me to get anything from the vending machine?”

“I want strawberry ice cream.” Belatedly, Miko adds. “Please.” 

A raised eyebrow. “Are you supposed to have sugar this late?”

Miko sticks out her lower lips.

“You know what? One ice cream coming up for the best girl of today. Spirits know you deserve it.”

Her little brother is small. Red and kinda squashed looking. Shriveled like a pickled plum. The fliers lied . Where was the cute baby she was promised?

“You looked just like that when you were born too,” Aunt Mina chortles at the furrow on her face. She then has to muff a shoulder-shaking bark of laughter with her hands at Miko’s offended huff. 

Miko presses closer to the panel of glass that makes up half the wall of the baby room, trying to see if the changed angle would reveal any cuteness. No luck.

Kyosuke chooses that moment to whimper before letting out a rattling wail.

A nurse cradles Kyosuke in her arms, resting his tiny head against her shoulder, and hums a lullaby until he falls back to sleep.

He is so small , Miko thinks. Someone needs to protect him.

“Aunt Mina?”

“Hmm?”

“Was Papa around when I was born?”

“Yes. He cried for an hour and refused to hold you because he was so afraid he would drop you. Useless man.”

“ Really? ”

“Really.”

Papa stumbles into the hospital two days later, looking like he came directly after work. Mama sends him back home to clean up after he cried over Kyosuke for 15 minutes.

Aunt Mina doesn’t even pretend she isn’t laughing at him.

Months pass, Papa is a constant around the house. Miko can’t remember the last time she had seen Papa around this much. She knows enough that it's because of Kyosuke. She also knows enough not to be jealous about that.

It’s just strange. Nevertheless, more time with Papa.

He also brings more of his students around. They are all nice except for Gojo-san. Gojo-san has the prettiest eyes and she hadn’t seen a young person with hair that white before. He is also a jerk.

Her current leading theory about them is a superhero school.

“Hey, hey, hey, Miko-chan. Are you on Team Bread or Team Rice?”

“Team Bread or Team Rice?”

“Yup. Nanami here is on Team Bread. I’m on Team Rice. Let’s team up to convince him that rice is superior.”

“Did you just decide by yourself that she was on Team Rice?”

“Sorry Haibara-san. I like bread better.”

“A sudden but inevitable betrayal! I thought you liked me, Miko-chan. Also, for the last time, call me Yu.”

“Huh. You’re tiny.”

“You’re taller than some doors, Gojo-san. You’re just over-sized.”

“Hah! I’m perfectly sized. Back me up here, Shoko, Suguru.”

“Needing us to defend your honor against a preschooler now, Satoru? How low can you sink?

Over the years, the frequency of the visits drop then stop entirely.

At first, Miko thinks nothing of it. Papa’s work has picked up again and he is busier than ever. Kyosuke is more docile than Miko herself had been according to Aunt Mina.

(The first few nights were the worst. He kept crying . Miko loves her parents more than ever.)

At first, Miko saw Papa’s students once every few months. A few dinners. A few lunches, here and there. One memorable occasion, a big uncle named Yaga gave her a stuffed panda. Lord Panda is very cute, very fluffy. His throne is on her bed permanently.

Then, after a point, nobody had the time anymore. She barely saw Papa most days.

The final nail in the coffin is the day he returns home smelling like incense and tears. Not that he has never come home with those scents draped over him like a shawl but this time, it is different. 

She knows Papa tries to clean himself as much as possible before coming home because he knows she can sniff him out without trying. Her nose only gets better with time.

Normally, it’s blood and sweat and something doesn’t exist, nevertheless doesn’t make it any less real.

This time, it is incense and tears and a hug so tight she can’t breathe. His arms tremble around her. She hugs him back as hard as she can.

“I don’t think I can bring them over anymore. Sorry, kumquat.” He says. Miko feels a brief pang of loss. In the end, she doesn’t know them that well. There is something all of them don't say around her. Something she doesn’t want to know.

It takes her a long time to understand the true meaning of his words.

There is a man standing in front of the house. The sun is shining in the sky. It casts a dark shadow at his feet. There is something rippling between motes of dusk. 

Tall, in black. To be honest, she recognizes him mostly thanks to his earrings. It has been a long time since she last saw Getou-san.

He has changed a lot. He is a bit taller. His shoulders are broader. His face is the same. She can’t remember if Getou-san ever looked so cold before. A palpable veil of copper hangs on him.

“Miko,” Getou-san calls, finally realizing she is there.

“Getou-san, are you here for Papa?” She asks. Mama is home with Kyosuke. She should invite him in. Papa should come back soon. She doesn’t want to. Something at the back of her mind screams. She wants him nowhere near her home.

Getou-san shakes his head. “I'm about to leave.” There is a small smile on his face. It looks like a crack, devoid of joy. No kindness. “I'm in the area but alas, it is not meant to be.”

“I can tell him you swung by, if you want?” She offers because that’s good manners.

“You don’t have to. I can contact him anytime I want.” She is certain there are many unsaid meanings in his words. She doesn’t want to know. 

Instead, she nods. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“I can say the same.”

That is the last time they ever met. 

(Later, when she told Papa, he went as white as a sheet. He made her promise to never approach Getou-san and call him immediately if she saw him again.

Her instincts were completely right after all.)

Chapter Text

Outside the windows, the sky is overcasted. Rolling gray clouds are weighted with rain even after the brief drizzle earlier. Petrichor suffuses the air. Damp earth gurgles, soothing in its melody.

“Mikooooooooooo—” Hana whines, chin resting on her table. Both of her arms are clutching her stomach. Miko hears a stomach trying to eat itself even through her headphones. A drop of water rolls down the foggy window and splashes off the metal frame.

Without looking, she fishes a container of cookies out from her bag and tosses it at Hana. “Didn’t we just eat lunch an hour ago?” She asks without expecting an answer, going through the motions mostly. She can’t remember how many times she has asked this question, which is quite something when she thinks about it.

“I know,” Hana stuffs a cookie in her mouth immediately. “Ooh, bacon! Delicious. But you know how it is.”

Miko definitely knows how it is even though she doesn’t want to. “You’re a growing girl. Your body demands sustenance to build itself.” She glances around from beneath her lashes, one hand cupping her cheek while the other picks up her forgotten pen to deal with the last part of her math homework. 

Hana is working through the container at recorded speed. The group of students across the class is talking about the terrible adaptation of a book she vaguely remembers reading years ago. 

Where is it?

“You don’t see me getting hungry constantly, I’m a growing girl too.”

Hana pouts through a mouthful of salty goodness. The overhead lights all seem to be in order, and Hana’s bag is still on the hook, untouched. Two floors below, somebody drops a plastic bucket. The bucket bounces exactly four times before bumping into a wall and stops.

Where is it?

“Miko is so mean today. And I’m helping her clean up too.”

The hum of the lights is starting to buzz unpleasantly in her ears. Lightwaves dissolve into multi-colored mosaics. Through the haze, she still can’t see anything except for a patch of air that reflects light differently, curling around Hana’s waist. A heavy raindrop bounces off the canopy below.

Found you.

“You mean profiting?” She breathes through her nose, trying not to let out a noise of discomfort. She blinks rapidly so that tears wouldn’t fall. 

“Helping.” Hana counters. “Didn’t Kyo-chan refuse to touch your untested recipes after the mustard honey cakes incident? I’m promoting anti-wastefulness. You should praise me instead of sprouting baseless slanders.”

“First of all,” Miko says slowly, so as to not make her distraction obvious, “I label all the containers. It wasn’t my fault he didn’t read the ingredients list. Second, my dad likes most of my recipes. Third, I like most of my recipes. We could have worked through everything eventually.” The moment she found it, she can't unsee it anymore. The absence of its existence dug its claws into her awareness.

“‘Eventually’ is the keyword. How long would it take? I graciously lend you my assistance so that you would have more creative freedom,” Hana clutches her heart in mocked offense. “A great betrayal. Betrayal, you hear me? I’ve been mercilessly betrayed.” She mimes wiping a heartbroken tear.

The thing that definitely isn’t there stiffens and doves through the floor as Hana’s stomach is full again. Hana is still miraculous no matter how many times she has seen this happen.

“Sure, sure. My mistake for not seeing the truth. Miss Hana is the greatest,” Miko concurs monotonously. “Praise be to Miss Hana.”

Hana looks serious, for a moment. “Glad to see you finally understand my greatness, my partner in consumables,” she says, “I know you would see the light.”

She laughs when Miko lightheartedly squishes her cheeks. Water from heaven once more loses the fight against gravity and falls to the earth in torrents.

“A mountain trip?” Mom asks, placing the stew down on the table before taking the seat. “Have class trips changed so much since my time?”

Kyosuke looks up from his bowl. “Where did you go?” 

“Tokyo. It was the dream location for class trips,” Mom says, nostalgia stealing over her face, “of every student in Hokkaido. Or, still is, I wouldn’t know. It has been a while.”

Miko stuffs a spoonful of rice into her mouth to stop herself from having to say anything. Mom rarely says anything about her days before she moved to Tokyo. There are probably stories behind why Aunt Mina is the only family member on Mom’s side that has a standing invitation into their house. Miko has met her maternal grandparents exactly two times. Both times were filled with awkward silences and enough context-necessary arguments to make her head spin. Not something she wants to dwell much on.

Thinking about it, she has never met any relatives on Dad’s side either. The closest she got to know them was that assignment on the family tree in elementary school. Dad’s side was ostensibly empty while Mom’s were full of names she didn’t recognize. Miko put another thing in her “do not ask until it is brought up” pile that day.

“It’s just an extracurricular trip. My history teacher’s idea,” Miko says to banish the undesirable mood before it can fully manifest. “He wants us to ‘bask in the sad reality of rural abandonment’.” 

She is pretty sure her teacher got the idea from a reality TV show and somehow convinced the headmaster to agree to the trip. Miko is in awe of that much power.

Mom folds the signed permission form and puts it on the kitchen counter, away from any potential slash zone. “Shouldn’t school trip destinations be famous places like Kyoto or Okinawa instead of a random mountain near Tokyo?” Mom continues, sipping the milk tea Miko made for all of them. “I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“Sensei promises to give out bonus points,” Miko shrugs. Bonus points are bonus points. Totally not because she kind of blew the latest test. Totally not.

“Your father would return that night too,” Mom gamely doesn’t ask about why Miko would want extra points, tacking on a teasing grin. “He promises to bring a few boxes of regional limited puddings back.”

“Are you seriously still mad at Dad for eating your pudding?” Kyosuke pipes up incredulously.

“He knew what he did. That was a limited edition Praline Pecan Bread Pudding. They only sold twenty cups everyday for a week. Twenty.” Miko sneers, polishing off the last of dinner.

“I did tell you to put your name on it.”

“I never thought my own flesh and blood would betray me like that.”

The scent of rots clinging to Hana ices over her veins.

Under the warm May sun, Miko shivers. There is a presence. Almost as if there is a patch of something lighter in the darkness beneath the bus, or a sound she could barely hear, or a movement of the air, under her skin where the air shouldn’t move at all. Something is here.

She chooses a window seat even though the sunlight is too bright. It's far preferable to the bone deep chill that is assaulting her.

The feeling doesn’t go away when the wheels start rolling. Miko knows whatever it is, it definitely is following them. Hana. 

Her hands shake. Don’t let them know you can see them . She presses the heels of her palms against her eyes until her fingers are steady again.

“Miko. What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t jolt. However, her heartbeats are a bit too loud in her ears. The heat radiating from the window is uncomfortable. She presses her stiff, frozen fingers on the panel of glass to warm them up.

“Miko?”

She takes a deep breath before smiling. “The aircon is too low.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” Hana fusses. She reaches up to close the air vent before taking off her coat and draping it over Miko. “You really should speak up more when something is bothering you. We talked about this before.”

You attract them like flies to honey , Miko thinks. Even Dad doesn’t know how to deal with it , she doesn’t say that out loud. Being around you makes my stress skyrockets , she swallows the words down.

“It isn’t that bad,” she says instead. It really isn’t. Hana’s Hananess can deal with most unwanted hanger-ons with time. The stronger ones tend to wander off by themselves. If there is an especially clingy one, Miko’s superpower is asking the right people for assistance. 

“Not that bad ?! You’re shaking.”

Miko pulls the coat up to her ears instead of answering. She shoots a text to Dad, just in case. 

Chapter Text

Miko feels alone amidst her classmates. Even Hana’s reassuring chatters do nothing to soothe the butterflies in her stomach.

The bus grows quiet as they leave the city, into the countryside where the mountain is - but she hardly notices, as the white noise fades into the background, and her breaths become the only distinct sound to reach her ears apart from the whistles of the breeze. Miko’s thoughts are far away, everywhere and nowhere.

A shrill sound, like nails on metal, interrupts her thoughts, and she looks around instinctively, expecting someone being a bother to everyone due to boredom. But the direction of the sound is wrong for that - perhaps she misheard?

Then, the sound happens again. The light outside her window ripples. Hana’s head shifts on her shoulder. She still mumbles about food even deep in dreamland.  

The roof. It’s looking.

Miko continues to scroll through the story she is reading, gripping the case a little tighter in spite of herself. The words blur together into misshapen paragraphs. She swipes a finger under an eye to make sure she isn’t tearing up. The finger comes back dry.

The silence around her is suddenly very loud, the air around her congeals like blood - there’s a prickle at the back of her neck that makes her shoulders tense. Which is silly because she knows where the danger is and it isn’t at her back.

Don’t let them see your fear. They will know.

Miko can feel her palms begin to sweat, her jaw locking in place as she clenches her teeth behind lips pressed together - not tightly, but more so than usual. She sucks in a breath through her teeth with a low hiss. She is trapped.

She sends more texts to Dad when the call is declined.

It’s nearly an hour later that the bus comes to a stop at the base of the mountain. “Basking in the sad reality of rural abandonment” ends up as a visit to a pottery village with no inhabitant under the age of 50. She vaguely remembers the guide their teacher procured from somewhere explaining the traditional art of the village before modern industry put them out of business and pushed them into barely profitable tourism.

She might have been able to enjoy the tour if she hadn’t realized the thing had been getting closer.

She hadn't been certain at first, seeing as she could only barely guess where it was. However, soon it is impossible to ignore the fact that the thing is slowly growing closer. 

At first it had only been present beneath the bus, tucked away innocuously in the shadow where she had first caught the smell of it. However, on the bus, it had been sitting directly above them on the roof, drawing ripples on the glass. Now, when it is in the open under the sun, Miko feels its rot sticking to her skin.

Once, several years ago, Kyosuke had accidently unplugged the fridge before they had gone on a week-long vacation while leaving the fridge door open as well. The smell then reminds her of the one this thing emits: the musty stench of old blood mixed with the cloy of rot and decaying meat, the sour notes of spoiled milk and fruits, and all intermingled but not overshadowed by the musky odor that generally accompanied maggots.

She accepts a spicy fried dough stick from Hana so that nobody can hear her teeth chattering. The taste of the snack inside her mouth is acrid like lemon and rancid like stale blood. She swallows and smiles at whatever Hana is talking about.

Her texts are still unread.

To top off the visit, they are trekking up the mountain to visit a shrine. A bubble of hope swells up in the anxious depth of her stomach. A holy ground should be able to keep the thing away, right?

As the world likes to dash her hope, the guide explains that the shrine has been abandoned since its last caretaker died two decades ago and the shrine has enough rumors surrounding it that no one wants to be responsible for it anymore. The stories about the shrine seem interesting because everyone is silent on the way up, listening with bated anticipation. Or the guide is a good story teller. Or both.

However, Miko can only hear the rabbit-fast thumps of her heart because, in the last half hour whatever factor that had originally caused it to maintain its distance seems to be losing its importance to the thing. It is close enough to touch them. She doesn’t know how she knows that, but she knows .

Concrete turns into brown dirt turns into weathered stones.

The first sign that notifies her of the change is the smell. The thing’s scent is being overridden by decaying leaves and the musk of animals. Stale but strong. At least she can breathe without retching now.

The second sign is that only her and Hana and the thing remain on the steps. One moment, they were in the middle of a gaggle. The next, everyone else has vanished like swirls of smoke in the wind. Hana jumps, heart accelerating.

“Miko,” Hana tugs at her hand, shivering, “d-did we just get spirited away?”

Miko gives that statement five seconds of thought it deserves. “Apparently, yes. Like in the movie.” She is impressed at how even her voice is.

Hana doesn’t appreciate the answer at all and her grip becomes bone-crushing. Dozen meters ahead, at the end of the stairs, a bright-red Torii gate marks the entrance of the shrine, almost glowing under the cloudy gray sky. The sign is a faded thing compared to the vibrant red. The white braided rope beneath the sign sways with the beats of invisible winds.

“W-what s-should w-we d-do? I-I don’t want to work at a bathhouse!”

Another person’s obvious fear manages to calm her own. Not enough when the thing starts growling. Slow, low and throaty. Strange rattling percussive noises. 

She pulls Hana into a power walk. “Let’s go to the shrine. We can wait for rescue there!”

“Eh?” Hana yelps. “Will that work?” She keeps pace after a small stumble.

“We’re supposed to go to the shrine anyway. Maybe everybody is already there.”

*

Unfortunately, nobody is waiting for them at the end. Nevertheless, the shrine proper is a majestic enough sight to distract Hana from her terror. The sunlight is a watery, diffused layer on whitewashed stones. The trees surrounding are a deep green, nearly black contrast.

This close, she can see the Torii gate is an old thing, un-maintained but still manages to retain its original color. As the last caretaker died two decades ago, remarkable to say the least. The sign is still barely legible. Two mossy kitsune statues guard the entrance.

Miko makes a beeline for the offering box. She hopes gods exist and they can help them. She resolves to finally ask Dad about these things. This incident has opened her eyes. She doesn’t think her heart would survive another.

“Is five yen alright for the offering?” Hana takes out two coins and holds one out for her. She’d look composed if not for the way her knees are shaking. She doesn’t ask why they’re praying and Miko is thankful for that. In Hana’s mind, this abrupt course of action is probably something in the vein of “Miko wants to do this harmless thing so I’ll support her as a friend should”. She’s a good friend that way.

However, she is faintly jealous of the way Hana can just tunnel-vision in helping and ignore the rest of reality for a while.

The coins bounce on wood. The golden bell rings in a peal. The wind blows. The dark brown cord wobbles. The fine hairs on her nape stand on end. 

Miko clasps her hands together and prays with all her heart.

Please do something about that creepy thing following Hana around.

I will do anything to have that thing stop following her.

Please help us go home safely.

Her mouth feels strangely parched. She claps to finish her prayer before she even notices the shapes standing behind them, and then freezes in place, only her head turning.

Finally, for the first time since she first knew of their existence, Miko sees . 

Regrets crawl up her spine and threaten to escape from her throat. When she first knew, she hadn't been able to make out much or anything at all. She just knew they were there, and that whatever they were they were foul. Now though, she sees the true travesty of their nature.

The first impression Miko has of the thing is arms.

It is hard not to notice; there are so many. Long, spindly, alabaster arms, constantly moving in writhing rows, like the waves of a field of grass when the winds blow. Its body sways like a doll being poorly manipulated by some amateur puppeteer. 

With a dragging motion, as though it couldn't properly make use of its legs (too many) and arms playing as legs (also entirely too many), it takes a slow step, crossing the border that the Torii gate marks from the outside world. A drooling mouth. A long pointed tongue. Snail-like eyes swerve back and forth but never move away from Hana. It wears a ground-sweeping old robe, which at one point might have been a color other than soiled, but now settles into a dirty gray. Souls of the damned wail on its back.

Miko nearly doesn’t see the two upright fox spirits standing next to it, distracting as the thing is. They jump.

Then the nightmare begins.

(Years later, she still remembers standing in the golden shadow as the sun swept through the sky. Coldness bursts in her chest like a thing shattered. The body seizes and gasps, and misses the next step, and keeps missing. The sheer amount of cruelties it gave off still gives her nightmares to this day. Legitimate nightmares. Daymares, even.

If she is asked to pinpoint when exactly the worst of her nightmares begin...it would be when the God of the Mountain’s maws split open.)

Fear.

Miko has always known what it is. She felt it when she awakened to a presence testing the boundary of her room from the outside; it might have succeeded, had it not been for a timely intervention by Dad. She felt it when Mom fell all those years ago, in the brown stains stubbornly clinging to the kitchen grout. She felt it when invisible beings came and went, leaving their oily films on Hana. She felt it when something intruded in their home when Dad was away. She felt it when she realized Mom and Dad weren't invincible and she would have to learn how to fend for herself in the future.

Fear for her family. For her friends. For herself.

But this isn't the same, no. Her fears have never gotten this bad. This is the fear for lives.

The relief at seeing the deity (what else could it be?) swallows the monster is easily drowned out by the being’s attention on her. On her. Not Hana.

Her knees shake.

Her memories get a bit fuzzy from there on.

She remembers falling on the rough stones. She remembers Hana falling beside her. She remembers Hana speaks words to her and she doesn’t understand. Her eyes fall into the sucking hollow blackness behind the slits of the entity.

She remembers the bells. 

She remembers the bells.

She remembers the bell dangling from a long, elegant, alabaster arm. It is of weathered brass, patches of oxidation blooming green-blue from place to place.

She doesn’t remember lunging for the dark red string before it can touch Hana.

“Hana, wake up. Sensei is calling and you’ve put my legs to sleep.”

Hana wakes with a start, drenched in sweat and heart pounding. She feels too hot and too cold at the same time, as if she’s just come down with fever. The summer heat is unbearable, but the ache of cold still lingers. She reaches up to touch her chest. It feels like it should hurt to breathe, but it doesn’t. 

“Hana?” Miko looks down. “What’s wrong?” Her head is on Miko’s lap. She doesn’t remember falling asleep.

She sits up so fast Miko has to lean back so that her forehead wouldn’t break her chin. “I just had a very scary dream.” It was so vivid.

“Oh, what was it about?” Miko tilts her head while kicking her legs out for blood flows to resume.

Hana opens her mouth to regale her friend with all the fiendish details. However, the details have already slipped through her fingers like cookie crumbs. Hana frowns, trying to shake loose of some details that have to stick, but there is nothing but aimless terror.

She wilts despondently. “I forgot. But it was really scary!”

“There, there, I believe you,” Miko blinks slowly. “If it’s that scary, you don’t have to try to remember.” She stands up from the bench they are on then holds out a hand, legs still slowly kicking up and down. “Let’s go. Sensei is already mad at us for being lost. I still want that bonus.”

Her stomach chooses that moment to rumble. She suddenly realizes she’s ravenous, enough for her stomach to consider eating itself. Miko has already ripped open the seal of a melon bread. Her best friend is the greatest.

“Do you want to go to Mrs.Donut later?” Miko askes later when they have been ushered on the bus.

Her mouth waters at the thought of sweet goodness. Yet, “Mum wants me home early today. Let’s go tomorrow.” She is still starving after three packets.

Miko’s hands hover over the glass for a moment. Slowly, she drags her eyes away from the increasingly small mountain outside. Hana takes a peek, she can’t see anything that would make Miko look so intensely.  

“Yeah,” she replies eventually. Miko’s lips twitch slightly, but other than that, her expression is as placid as ever.

“Hana, is Miko with you?”

“Touko-san?”

“I’m sorry for calling you at this hour but is Miko with you?”

“No. We split at the school. Did something happen?!”

“Touko-san? Touko-san!”

“...”

“The number you’re calling is currently out of reach…”