Work Text:
.
.
Gura’s day begins with a note.
She spots it on the kitchen counter. She’s nursing a headache and bedhead she knows will take twenty minutes to untangle. Her pajamas are rumpled. She can barely keep her eyes open. She grabs the note and drags herself over to the fridge. She is ready to scavenge for breakfast when she finds a tupperware with her name on it.
“You weren’t there yesterday.” Gura mumbles.
She takes it and nudges the fridge closed with her hip. She’s balancing the note in one hand and the container in the other as she stumbles to the counter. She leaves the note for now. Her tummy was rumbling.
She pries open the tupperware. She pauses, her eyes raking over the contents. Apple slices cut neatly around blueberries. A yogurt cup. A banana. There’s a juice packet in there as well that makes her brow furrow. It’s a perfect breakfast for her.
Gura glances at the note. She watches it warily, aware of its contents yet unsettled all the same. She cautiously grabs it and flips it over.
Left you breakfast for today. I’m working tomorrow so I won’t be able to visit, but I promise to drop by with something if I have the time.
- Ame
Gura reads the note over twice to make sure that’s what it says and it’s not playing tricks on her. No, it’s the same kind of note she’s found almost every day. She glances between the note and the container. Her stomach is twisted into a knot. Quietly, she places the container in the trash. She has no special attachment to it. A part of her wishes she did.
It’s the same part of her that wants to know who Ame even is.
.
.
The next day is quiet. She wakes up and makes herself some pancakes. She throws on a jacket and makes her way out into the cold. The snow is awful on her shoes and reminds her she needs to get boots, but she isn’t in the mood for that. There’s snow building over the back of her neck and collecting on her shoulders. Her breath mists over her cheeks. She barely feels a thing.
Apex predator, she thinks but it’s without her usual smugness.
She finds a bench to sit on. Here she people watches for an hour. She observes the humans in the clothing store across the street. There’s a group of teenagers at the corner of the street. They’re laughing and huddling together for warmth. The bus stop next to them is occupied by a woman and her stroller. Every once in a while one of the teenagers will poke their head in and the woman laughs. A businessman jogs by her bench, his fancy shoes slipping and nearly sending him into the road.
Gura watches this all neutrally. She feels warm as she watches them. This is home to them, this is their lifestyle. Humans have others to rely on, to smile to, to walk amongst. It’s that same warmth that leaves a hollow pit in Gura’s stomach.
She exhales. The wind takes her breath and leaves her feeling emptier than before.
After a few minutes, she leaves her bench. She could at least say she went out today. It’s not like anyone would ask, but she feels better about it.
.
.
She wakes up and there’s a container sitting at her bedside. Gura rubs her eyes, her tail lashing with nerves at the sight of it. She knows what’s in the container. There’s a note tagged to it.
You really tried to throw my stuff away? That’s mean. Do you want something else? Just leave a note or something, it’s not that hard.
- Ame
Gura’s lip curls. She doesn’t even look in to see what food was made. She takes it and trudges back out to the kitchen. She gifts it to her trash again, this time with the note included. She's grabbing one of the napkins from the counter and a pen she tries to write with, but the pen isn’t giving her any ink to work with. She’s frustrated. She throws both in the trash and gives it a kick for good measure. She crawls her way back into her bed and angrily pulls the pillow over her head.
.
.
The next day there’s a strange girl at her bench. She’s reading a newspaper and it’s obscuring most of her from Gura’s view. Gura doesn’t mind. She sits on the other side of the bench and observes the happenings around her. She’s barely able to focus on anyone walking by when the girl sneezes.
“Bless you,” Gura says absently.
“Thanks.” The girl sniffles. Gura glances at her and pauses. The girl lowered her newspaper to and was rubbing at her eyes. Her face looked flushed.
“You okay?” Gura mutters. The coat looked fancy.
The blonde waves her off, “I’m good. Someone must be talking about me right now.”
Gura rolls her eyes. The girl catches it and her lips twitch up. Gura turns her head away. She doesn’t like being caught like that.
“Are you waiting on someone?” The girl asks. “I can go.”
“No,” Gura says shortly. She crosses her arms and leans back against the bench.
The blonde is still looking at her, “You look hungry.”
Gura wrinkles her nose, “How do I look hungry? What’s your deal anyway, am I in your space or something?”
The girl smiles, “No, I’m just bored.”
Gura frowns. She doesn’t say anything in hopes that’s the end of that. When the girl scoots closer to her on the bench she feels her hackles rise.
“What’s your deal, huh?” Gura hisses.
Her nuisance is kicking her feet off the side of the bench and looking for all the world like the lack of distance between them wasn’t a problem. Gura glares at her. She gets a bright smile in return.
“I was gonna say if you’re hungry, I brought something with me.”
“No thanks,” Gura says immediately.
The girl isn’t waiting for an answer. She’s pulling out a box and shoving it into Gura’s hands. Gura squeaks, her tail slapping against the bench as she fights not to fall off from the abruptness of it. She’s opening her mouth to yell when she turns her head and-
The girl is gone. The newspaper is neatly folded on the bench in place of her. Gura wildly looks to and fro but there’s no fancy coat, no blonde hair. She eyes the people walking by with suspicion. No one looks like her.
Gura glances down at the box. Her insides twist and she feels her mouth part with surprise.
It’s the container.
.
.
Hey
Get out of my house
- Gura
.
.
Hey
Eat your fucking fruit
- Ame
.
.
Gura has a plan. It’s all about finesse and nine thousand years of intellect. She was going to defend herself by any means necessary. She puts nails facing upwards along the window. She duct tapes the fridge shut. She buys a room lock for her door.
The next morning she finds the window open and all the nails missing. They’re all missing because they’ve been hammered into the fridge to keep the container there pinned sideways. A note on the front of it says nothing. There’s a menacingly drawn smiley face on it.
That goes in the trash too.
.
.
“So how is this gonna go, huh?” Gura sits as far away as possible on the bench. Her leg bobs up and down. She’s ready to bolt at a moment's notice. “I’m gonna report you for stalking.”
The blonde, Ame, is reading the newspaper again like she has no business with Gura. She says, “Huh?”
“Don’t play dumb, you’re breaking into my house.”
“Technically, yeah,” Ame says. She hums as she reads, “That looks like a fun case…”
Gura scowls, “Are you listening, jackass?”
“I am.” Ame glances at her from over the newspaper. Gura doesn’t have to see the rest of her face to know she’s smiling, “If you were gonna rat me out, you would’ve done so already.”
Gura bares her teeth, “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Oh my god.” Ame is laughing under her breath, “Holy shit. Oh my god.”
“What?” Gura snaps. “Stop laughing. What’s so funny about this, anyway?”
“Because I know you,” Ame says.
“I don’t even know you.”
Ame hums, “Well yeah. We haven’t met yet.”
Gura opens her mouth. She slowly closes it. She eyes the girl sitting across from her with bewilderment and distrust. There was something about the yet in there that was catching her attention. When she glances at Ame she’s smiling. There’s an impish gleam in her eye.
I’m being teased, Gura realizes.
“You’re insane,” Gura says. She gets up from the bench and walks away.
.
.
The next note is attached to a takeout bag. It’s filled with fried food. The smell makes her stomach rumble.
Eat this or I’m dumping bugs in your bed
- You fucking know who
.
.
“We’re idols in the future,” Ame says.
Gura is buried under her hoodie and sinking into the bench. The mountainous weight of being in this wild person’s presence is giving her a migraine. She groans.
Ame is scribbling on a notepad. She says nonchalantly, “So how cool are you with death?”
“I want to kill you,” Gura says dryly.
“Oh, okay, good.” Ame says, “She’d think that's funny.”
“Who are you anyway?” Gura complains, “Why is it so important that I eat your dumb food?”
Ame glances at her. Her gaze doesn’t give anything away, but it softens. There’s something knowing in her gaze that sends angry electricity up her spine. Gura’s standing up. The snow on the bench is melting. It’s leaning towards her palm, yearning for her touch, to form a weapon. Gura closes her hand into a fist to stop herself from summoning her trident.
Ame says quietly, “It tastes good.”
“I don’t care if it’s the best food in the world.” Gura breathes, “Stay the hell away from me.”
.
.
Hey
I know you miss it. I know you’re angry. You don’t know me and I know you. If you’re mad at me, blame yourself. You’re the one who taught me how to make this.
- Ame
Gura holds the note in the dark. A container sits on the table. The smell alone had drawn her to it. It opened the lid on raw memories. Healing wounds feel picked at. She cautiously pries open the lid. The smells from thousands of years ago wrap around her nose. She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she takes the first bite.
.
.
Gura places the empty container beside her. Without looking up from her notepad, Ame grabs it and drops it into a bag by her feet. She’s very nonchalant about it, Gura notices. Too casual. There’s a tenseness in her eyes that she’s not showing.
Gura murmurs, “It tasted good.”
“I told you it would.” Ame mumbles. She scribbles something. “Nice to see you enjoying my cooking for once. Sheesh.”
Gura tilts her head. She says, “You’re saying a bunch of weird things again.”
“You’ll figure it out later.” Ame waves her hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
Gura deadpanned, “Like how we’re gonna be idols?”
Ame purses her lips. She kicks her feet and there’s a happy note of it that has Gura perking up. The blonde finally says, “You’re gonna have to find out. I’m spoiler free baby.”
“Huh.” Gura says. She crosses her arms over her knees. The snow is a tickle over her hair and the hat she’s wearing. She feels warm. There’s a weight she hadn’t realized was there that’s been lifted. Or maybe it’s the fried food in her tummy. She likes both anyway.
.
.
She’s alone this time.
Gura looks up at the gray clouds. She can hear footsteps around her and the humans go about their daily lives. She listens to their sounds. She closes her eyes and inhales. The cold burns through her lungs. It reminds her of darker places deep under the sea.
She opens her eyes. Walking by is a man in a suit. Two women are walking hand in hand, huddled close for warmth and eyes on their shoes to watch where they step. They almost run into a kid sprinting by, a sparkle of laughter in the air.
A blur of yellow. Gura watches her move down the street with purpose. Ame looks different. She’s wearing her fancy coat but she’s got a hat on and a briefcase under her arm. She’s reading files as she walks. There’s something about her that’s just different.
She’s walking by the bench. She doesn’t even notice Gura. There’s a pretty gold watch wound around her fingers. Gura watches her keenly. She’s connecting the dots and it’s making her smile. Future and yet is ringing in her head.
Apex predator, Gura thinks and chases after the detective.
.
.