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The passing of night brings Aoba torturous longings for fire and shattered earth that cut deep inside his gut as he tosses and turns in bed. There’s no rhyme or reason for the dreams, no trigger. They come after a productive day, an awful one, during short, fitful naps or a deep sleep that lasts him well into the next morning.
He charges through scenes of wreckage and ruin, howling in an ecstasy nothing short of bestial. Smoke and ash fill his nostrils like snorted lines of something dangerous and addictive, spilling out of his mouths as flames and sparks that ignite everything around him. The sky blackens at his passing, each step he takes sending devastating shockwaves through nearby buildings and smashing concrete underfoot. He laughs as he gouges a terrible wound into Midorijima, the very epicenter of a storm ripping the entirety of life to pieces.
Nude and streaked with filth, he stills and seethes, lava dripping from his cracked, bleeding lips and heads pounding fit to burst. Let all things that will not burn tumble into the gaping maw. Let the humans fall and the animals rot and death steal what destruction does not crush. This is just a taste of what is to come. The breaking of his binds is inevitable. Nothing will stop him from presiding over the splintering of the world.
His heads lift and what erupts from his unhinged jaws are not deep-throated roars but wrathful, shattering shrieks, a cacophony made worse by the groans of a crumbling island in the last violent throes of its existence and the screeching of carrion birds circling above joining this awful symphony. Screams upon wails upon shouts upon cries that build and build until the air shakes, until the sound stamps out all things that dare stand in his way and there is nothing left but shrieking, shrieking, shrieking —
“Uuugh, shut up!” Aoba rolls onto his stomach and yanks a pillow over his head. He is no terrible god outside of the deepest recesses of his being, just a simple human no less mortal than the next. His clock doesn’t stop its shrill ringing at his command, the birds keep chirping regardless of his wishes. There was no magic behind his words to make them listen to him. The excited, laughing voices of children drift from the sliding glass door across the room he left cracked open throughout the night, oblivious to the grouchy witch they disturbed from slumber. He hears them joke about one thing or another, the words too far away to discern any details. Midorijima’s Old District has awakened.
There is a moment of hesitation after Aoba reaches for the nearby shelf and smacks his alarm off. The covers are so nice, still comfortably cool against the heavy heat of last night thanks to the charmed iron coin he slipped underneath it, and recently cleaned. It’s Sunday and the shop is closed. He can huddle deep under the peaceful darkness of his blankets, let five more minutes in bed become ten, ten more minutes become thirty…
With a weary mumble he leans over and grabs his Coil from the shelf, pecking out a simple text with eyes half-shut.
Aoba: good morning
By now it’s a well-established habit to send such a message, though recently with more weight behind the words. It’s too early for him to tag it with any kind of silly smiley face and he doesn’t wait for a response, either. He flips through the holographic screens until he finds his music library and the latest episode of his favorite podcast, starting it up and making his way down the loft ladder as the opening jingle plays.
“Hello, and welcome to the Spellcast, the one and only web show for Old District witches on the go! I’m your host, jack-of-all-trades Hamasaki Ayane. Joining me for this installment is…”
“Nishimura Kyo, devoted student of divination. Thank you for having me again, Hamasaki.”
“Always a pleasure!”
Aoba wanders over to the sliding doors, opening it and the screen and stepping out onto the small balcony. A good portion of the space is taken up by a potted plant in desperate need of water. Granny isn't going to like that if she sees it. He scratches at his stomach, yawning while the Spellcast rolls through its usual introduction. The sky is a clear, cloudless blue, the slight wind already warm despite the early hour. He closes his eyes and smiles a little. According to his weather app it will become almost too hot to bear, most likely sooner rather than later, but for now he can bask in the pleasant morning air.
“Ren? You awake?”
He feels the pressure of the shifting field near his feet, followed by the muffled pop of collapsing air. Ren announces his appearance with a loud bark and hops into Aoba’s arms.
“Good morning, Aoba. Did you sleep well?”
Aoba nods and rubs his face against Ren’s. “Best night of sleep I’ve had this week.”
“Don’t dismiss the mystic significance of dreams, listeners. Write them down the moment you wake up if you can. A few of you may discover hints pointing toward foresight, talent always in demand both in and out of the magical community.”
“Dreams, huh?” He sighs and buries his face deeper into the soft fur of his familiar, mind floating along a lazy pathway. Did he dream? He thinks he did, but the tiny fragments that remain are not enough for him to recall it. All that is left now are shifting, indistinct shadows. Pondering on them only makes him sleepier more than anything else.
“Is something wrong, Aoba?”
“Ah…nothing much, just thinking. Should I start writing down my dreams?”
“It’s good advice for those wishing to discover or strengthen their oracular gift.” Ren’s tail swishes. “But I currently don’t have any fortune-telling augmentations for you to utilize.”
His tone makes Aoba huff. “If anything that’s because of me, not you! You’re fine as you are. Knowing the future seems like more trouble than it’s worth, anyway.”
Saying that out loud makes him think of Sei.
“Definitely,” he finishes to himself, voice lower.
“…gonna need to remember that advice as an Aries, myself! What’s the good word for all the Taureans out there, Nishimura?”
“It’s an excellent time of the year for Taurean witches to expand beyond those magical comfort zones they love so much. Perhaps trade the physical for the spiritual for once? Along those lines, the oncoming days will favor your efforts in the art of warding against unfriendly entities. However, keep in mind — ”
“Have we been having any problems with stuff like that lately?” Aoba asks. He likes to take the Spellcast’s horoscopes as study suggestions more than actual predictions, activities to do on his rare bits of time off.
“None in the past couple of weeks,” Ren tells him. “I haven’t sensed significant field disturbances in this area for quite awhile.”
Aoba gives Ren a thoughtful stroke as he watches the trickle of pedestrians outside pass the front of Heibon, deep in their own morning routines. Quite a number of them pause in front of his doors before continuing on their way. Probably checking his business hours. A quiet, happy hum escapes Aoba’s lips at the sight.
“ — or for those of you who don’t practice the magical arts, your lucky item is milk tea. Taureans will find themselves more distracted than usual, but they’ll be faring particularly well when it comes to partnerships and physical health.”
“Well, I think I’ll still dig up a tome on protective sigils before I go to sleep tonight. It’s been ages since I’ve done anything serious with them.” He lets Ren drop to the floor and stretches his arms, keeping them up as he looks through the day’s agenda on his Coil. “Cleaning, grocery shopping, get more rosemary from Granny, call Haga-san and the quartz vendor, and one-two-three-four-five-six charms that need to be made by Wednesday. Nice! Business has been booming this month.”
“ — so make sure to do some close readings on that subject. In more mundane news for Gemini, monetary gains are looking particularly good, and heavy concerns troubling their ever-active minds will be assuaged. Take precautions for a sudden drop in energy. Ramune will be this week’s lucky item for — ”
“Aoba, please don’t overwork yourself.” Ren places a small paw on Aoba’s bare leg. “If you wish to get through that many orders make sure to eat a proper breakfast for adequate energy.”
Aoba bends down and runs his fingers over his head. There is the vibe of a promising morning in the air, making him feel cheery and light. “I got it, I got it. Mind helping me with my errands today, or would you rather stay in the field?”
“It would be my pleasure to assist you.”
“Then it’s time for breakfast,” Aoba declares, marching back inside. “Hm, what to eat?”
“The refrigerator and cupboards are not stocked well enough for breakfast,” Ren says. “Perhaps we should start with cleaning your room.”
Aoba makes a face as he looks around. It’s been messier, but all the same... “You know what? How about I wash up, first? We can worry about cleaning after that, but I swear I'll grab some food from the nearest store before working on those charms. How does that sound?”
“It's a good plan.”
“C’mon, then, puppy,” says Aoba with a smile, “let’s get started.”
“Thanks, Nishimura! We’ll return to the Weekly Sun Sign Forecast after this quick word from Apollo Flight. For witches seeking both style and comfort in their aerial tools, no other brand compares. And remember, if you’re looking for a more in-depth reading of your horoscope, consulting a certified oracle is going to be your best bet!”
It takes him about fifteen minutes to leave his bedroom and squeeze himself into his bathroom. Having his futon up a ladder often prevented the fierce temptation to crawl back under his covers on many a weekend, but he didn’t account for his plethora of easily reachable tomes preventing productivity when first setting up his living quarters. This time the culprit is a guidebook on the finer points of hand gesture casting he almost tripped over in the hallway.
“Geez, I can barely tell the difference between figure one and figure two,” Aoba sighs. He only narrowly avoids bumping into the bathroom door frame while turning the page. “The index finger is maybe a millimeter lower! Who can keep track of something like that when you’re casting a spell?”
“Finger positioning becomes important in more complex rituals,” says Ren. “Whole-hand movement is common in day-to-day magic. I would start at that level before considering master techniques.”
“I am! But I still just keep flipping things over when I only use my hands.”
“Even in my active form I am not adept enough at hand gestures to guide you.” The return of his apologetic tone has Aoba sighing, but he supposes familiars also get frustrated with their shortcomings. “Perhaps you will learn better by watching Usui.”
Aoba can’t help the twist of his expression. “She’s a little, well…”
“I understand.”
“Right. I’ll keep at it, but today I’ll stick with what I know,” He looks at the book in his hand and hones his focus for a moment. “Rise.”
The book leaves his hand and levitates near his head, held open to the page he was reading. Ren takes his usual seat on the lid of the toilet and Aoba reaches for the cup of hairpins he has inside his medicine cabinet for something to hold his bangs away from his forehead as the Spellcast moves from horoscopes to current local events.
“ — resulting in the arrest of several self-proclaimed members of the Dying Moon coven on charges of vandalism and disrupting the peace inside Platinum Jail. According to reports, the leader of Dying Moon is very adamant she and her team are not affiliated with the perpetrators.”
“Ugh, what an embarrassment.”
“Tell me about it. Look, listeners, unless you’re licensed to sell approved merchandise within Platinum Jail territory just put away your spells, your familiars, your broomsticks, your...whatever you have that’s magical if you’re going there. It’s not worth it. It really isn’t.”
“I would also suggest refraining from holding coven matches within their walls. And races, if we must be thorough about this. Consider the fate of these alleged Dying Moon members as a prime example of the consequences.”
“Morons,” Aoba mutters. He slips his Coil off his wrist and hands it to Ren’s waiting mouth, who places it next to him on the toilet lid while Aoba splashes his face with cold water.
“Nishimura shouldn’t have to say that out loud. It’s not some kind of hot tip, it’s just common sense! Let the people in Platinum Jail live their way. All of us here in the Old District will live ours.”
“Far more interestingly, if you ask me…”
“Hey, now! There’s nothing wrong with being safe, but —”
Aoba squeezes toothpaste onto his brush with a shake of his head. “I feel like that’s been happening more often lately.”
“I don’t understand,” says Ren. “Here there is little authority to keep covens from their competitions. Why go through the trouble of entering Platinum Jail?”
Dark pieces of Aoba’s memory reminds him that he understands all too well. “...For the thrill of it, I guess. There’s more rules to break over there. Lots of shiny, expensive property to wreck.”
“I’m sorry, but I still don’t understand.”
“That’s nothing to be sorry about, Ren.”
“Is this an aspect of humanity that familiars cannot make sense of?”
“That, I can’t say,” Aoba tells him honestly. “Does this work? Humans — and yokai, too, I’d imagine — can get the urge to be reckless and cause as much destruction as possible. Some people find the danger fun, and that’s probably where these Dying Moon guys fall under. For others it becomes a habit, or the feel like they need to do it. The reasons get pretty complicated at times. I’m probably not explaining this very well...”
“I’m beginning to see the picture. There are species of yokai that exist as a malevolent presence to everything on this plane and in the field itself. Is it like that for humans, as well?”
Aoba huffs a laugh. “That’s kind of extreme! For us, I think outside influences matter a lot in how we act. And that’s different for everyone.”
“So it depends on the individual?”
“There you go.”
“I see.” Ren seems satisfied with the answer, and settles into a contemplative silence. The end of the topic releases the breath Aoba didn’t realize he held. He begins to clean his teeth again, reading his floating tome while the podcast provides comfortable background noise that drifts into one of his ears and out the other.
“Our first email of the day is from Pyromancer Ninety-One. ‘Dear Spellcast,’ they write, ‘I’ve been studying magic ever since I was small, but I’ve never summoned a familiar. A lot of my practitioner friends think it’s weird, and even my buddies that don’t use magic wonder why I don’t have one! I just don’t find them that important to my craft. What’s so good about having one arou —’”
The notification of his Coil goes off with a loud beep and heavy buzz, startling Aoba into spluttering and dribbling saliva and minty paste down the front of his shirt. His concentration is jostled enough to disrupt his levitation spell. The book plummets, bouncing off the toilet and landing with a heavy thud between it and the tub a while the backlash of interrupted magic zaps his mouth with electricity.
“Aoba, are you alright?”
“Yeah,” he grumbles after spitting into the sink bowl. The bathroom’s size makes his Coil’s popup screen an easy reach. He leans over and drags it in front of him with a wet finger, fully prepared to dismiss the spam that almost made him choke.
Spam is not what he gets. His eyes widen with every line he reads until it feels like they’re in danger of popping out of their sockets.
Letter of Resignation
A. Wim
080-XXXX-XXXX
[email protected]
2XXX-08-06
Seragaki Aoba
Sole Proprietor
Charm Shop Heibon
To Seragaki-san,
I am writing to inform you that I will be leaving my positions as stocker and sales clerk at Charm Shop Heibon two weeks from the date of this email due to personal reasons. Should you need help finding a replacement I can assist in reviewing potential external candidates with
Aoba closes the screen.
“Is there something wrong, Aoba?” Ren rears up and places his paws on the lip of the sink, rubbing his face into Aoba’s arm. “What does the email say?”
The tightness in Aoba’s throat keeps him from speaking right away. “I guess now I’m short of a temp.”
“Has something happened?”
Good question. Aoba pulls his email screen back up and scans it for clues, but if there’s anything hidden behind the polite business wordage he can’t see it. “Did I get any new texts?”
The Coil having only notified him of the email is an obvious enough answer, but Ren responds as dutifully as ever. “None after the message you received when we were still in your bedroom.”
It was a reply to his morning greeting. Noiz’s typical “yo”, and nothing more. Not the most helpful text he’s ever received.
“I believe you have a few more waiting from last evening, but you didn’t mention if replying back was a high priority.”
“Right. Thanks. I — I’ll get to them later.” Aoba sticks his toothbrush back in his mouth to keep himself away from the rising panic urging him to snatch his Coil and make a potentially embarrassing call, but something hard pierces his gums instead of bristles. The acrid taste of burnt plastic scrapes against his tongue. “Ow! Shit, what was — huh?”
The head of his toothbrush is gone. All that is left in his hand is the handle, melted at the end where the brush once was. He finds the missing piece among the foam and spit in the sink, the bristles blackened and the back of it bubbled up as if a blowtorch was taken to it.
Not for the first time, he wonders if there’s a morning breath joke to be made out of this.
“Great. Just what I needed. I feel like I use half my budget for these damn things...” He throws the ruined handle and brush into the trash with more force than necessary. There’s a bit of childish catharsis in hearing the loud smack they make against the bin.
“You've broken your record for toothbrush loses this month,” Ren says as Aoba opens the sink drawer for his sizable pile of spares. “It would not hurt to add an extra pack of them to your shopping list.”
All Aoba can think to respond with is a long, frustrated groan.
Once done with the rest of his morning preparations, Aoba makes his way back to his room and takes stock of it with a disheartened gaze. Magazines, clothes, and books scattered over the floor, remnants of food packaging on his table, disorganized shelves, a futon in disarray, the usual chaos that accumulates over a busy workweek with no time to tidy up. He should really clean it all by hand, or perhaps get some practice in with sigil sketching.
He shifts from one foot to the other. Why does it feel like he doesn’t have any time for this? His schedule for the day isn’t really tight, he could get through errands at his leisure…
The title of Noiz’s email zips across his mind’s eye again, searing itself there. His fidgeting increases as all the nervous energy billows up his throat and into his mouth, scorching it, threatening to spill out into the world and cause havoc.
Ren seems to follow Aoba’s instinct before Aoba can parse it on his own. “Be careful, Aoba. The standard incantations will take more time to get your room clean but they’re ultimately the safest magical option for you.”
Aoba licks his lips and steps forward, closer to the center of the room. “I’ll clean all of downstairs without spells. That should even everything out, right?”
“Very well.” There’s no judgement in Ren’s voice, but the guilt prickles at Aoba all the same. “I will be on guard for signs of increased field activity within the coming days. I don’t recommend using any magic in this area until the end of the week to keep attraction of unwanted yokai to a minimum.”
“Will do.” Aoba breathes slow and deep and closes his eyes. It takes longer than usual thanks to that ill-timed email, but in the end all thoughts are delicately wiped out of his head. For one glorious, freeing moment, his ties to the physical plane weaken. The waves of the field wash over his room, and his mouth crackles with its power.
“Look,” he says, his voice reverberating in a strange, deep intonation. “I don’t feel like doing anything complicated for this. I just need my room clean.”
The waves disappear from his vision and drop him back down to reality just in time for him to dodge a pair of old jeans threatening to cuff him around the head as they fly toward his hamper. His room bustles with activity lead by the persuasive hand of magic, everything around him hurrying about to neaten the surroundings for him. He’s particularly pleased with his books, which have taken the liberty to re-sort themselves in alphabetical order on his shelves.
“How is it?” he asks Ren, watching his futon fold and tuck itself neatly against the wall of the loft. Out of the corner of his eye he also spies a broom and dustpan drift in from the hallway and begin to sweep his floor with far more enthusiasm than he can ever muster for the task.
“Stable,” Ren answers. “The field has correctly interpreted your demand. We can leave it on its own. Well done, Aoba. How are you feeling?”
“Tired?” He grimaces as he does a quick health check. His lungs are tight and strained, heartbeats quick like he spent some time sprinting up and down the staircase. “I’ve felt worse, though.”
“You may have let too much energy flow through you. Your field connection doesn’t need to be that strong for a room of this size.”
“Couldn’t help it,” he admits. “It just sort of...poured out.”
The rush felt amazing, too. An out-of-this-world pick-me-up all too brief for him. He wants to do it again. That he keeps to himself.
He takes off his toothpaste-stained tee and lets the spell snatch it from his hand, grabbing another shirt out of the whirlwind of self-sorting clothes in exchange. It’s wrinkled but carries a faint hint of detergent. Clean enough for him.
“Better get a move on straightening out the shop if --" Old candy wrappers slap him in the face on their way to the trashcan before he can close his mouth. Some start to his day this is turning out to be.
“Has Noiz contacted you again? ”
Aoba finishes securing the scarf over his hair and checks his Coil as he and Ren walk down the old, creaking staircase into Heibon proper. Nothing.
“No word.” Aoba sighs. “Ren, was I a bad manager? Did he look at all dissatisfied the last time he was here? When was that...Wednesday, I think?”
Spirits low and jumbled, he turns on his Coil again, this time to one of the many music stations he cycles through. The bubbly beat that begins to stream out of the watch does little to cheer him, however.
“My observational capabilities concerning other humans aren’t sufficient enough to give you an accurate analysis.”
“How about your opinion?”
Aoba flicks on the lights in both the store and the break room, taking a quick look around to see what needs to be done. Last night’s dirty dishes soaking in equally dirty water in the sink, various footprints scuffing the linoleum, counters that could use some wiping down. He considers a round of heavy-duty dusting and reorganizing some of his products, as well. A lot of work to keep him busy and steer him away from uncertain feelings. He hopes.
“Noiz appeared content to me,” Ren offers.
“That’s what I thought, too.” He opens the tiny closet in the break room, pulling out an apron and a broom. “Maybe we’re both wrong. He’s hard to keep up with, after all. And guys his age can be pretty flighty, you know?”
There’s the faintest note of hesitation when Ren speaks again. “Have you tried contacting him about this?”
“No, I…” He loops his apron over his head, jaw working slow and reluctantly over his next words. “Uh, well, it’s a two-weeks notice, so I figure I’ll hear what’s up eventually, right? Unless it’s something too personal, I guess. Besides, wouldn’t calling him up right after he sent his resignation make me look…”
“Aoba?”
Desperate is what he can’t quite bring himself to say. He begins sweeping the break room with unnecessary vigor, eyes glued to the floor. Ren’s gaze is trained on him, patient and curious. It’s not long before Aoba’s body gives up on his task. He drops his broom and falls face first into one of the sofas, slippers threatening to fall off his feet. Another song plays from his Coil, disgustingly happy in mockery of his heavy mood.
“It’s more than just him suddenly up and quitting on me,” he mumbles into the cushion. He lifts an arm. Ren slips underneath it with a sympathetic whine.
“I thought as much. I would like to help ease your troubles, but this is another aspect of human interaction I’m unfamiliar with.”
“This is enough.” With considerable effort, he flops onto his back and squeezes Ren to his chest, who gives him a fond lick against his nose in return. “It was really nice when it happened, but one night together and a few days of making out afterward doesn’t make anything official between us, Ren.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Don’t really have enough of a grip to nag him about this.”
“Even though you’re concerned?”
Aoba sighs. “Maybe? God, I don’t know. Ren, I’m so out of practice. I haven’t been this far with anyone in ages. Actually, pretty sure this is as far as I usually get.”
“What do you need to practice on?”
The honest inquisitiveness of the question makes Aoba laugh again. “A lot of things. I’ve been neck-deep in this place for so long. Serious dating isn’t a skill I’ve been brushing up on while I’ve been here…”
He turns his head, earning himself a view of Heibon’s front counter from out the break room’s open doorway. It’s not a very big building, Aoba knows that. He thinks it might be his prone position on the couch that makes it look as if it expands into an inescapable infinity. But it’s his home now, more or less. A nice place. A quiet, peaceful one where he can study his magic without disturbing anyone else. It’s a bit lonely at times but it’s convenient, it’s comfortable, it’s —
My prison.
The thought is so harsh and whispered with such rancor in his mind that it doesn’t register with the rest of him before it flashes back out of existence. What Aoba does register is a single pulse of dull, throbbing pain contracting around his skull.
“I think I’m giving myself a headache worrying about all this,” he grunts.
“You do tend to overthink things.”
“That’s for sure.” Aoba forces himself to sit up, letting Ren jump down from the couch. “Ugh, okay, I can’t keep moping when I haven’t even heard back from him, yet.”
“The resignation was very abrupt,” says Ren as Aoba stands and reaches for his discarded broom. “I don’t blame you for being shaken by it.”
“I’ll find out what he’s up to. If I don’t hear from him today I’ll call tomorrow, for sure.” Aoba tells himself, speaking firmly to lend his words more confidence. “After that, well, we’ll go from there. Whatever happens, happens. If he’s had his fun, then I’ll —”
“But what would you like to happen?”
Aoba is taken aback by the question. He blinks down at Ren, who is wearing the most serious expression a dog can muster.
“As your familiar I consider it my duty to watch over your magic, well-being, and happiness,” Ren explains. “In regards to you and Noiz, what would make you happy?”
“Ah.” Aoba looks away. His face heats up, lips pressing into a tight line before they release his answer. “I think being — hah, being official with him would be...nice. I’d like to be with him. Yeah.”
“Then I encourage you to pursue that,” says Ren. “And I hope it leads you to more happiness.”
“Ren...” Aoba drops his broom again and swoops his familiar back into his arms, burying his face into fur that has comforted him for so many years. “Damn it, I’m more scared of this than I thought I would be.”
“I will be there to support you no matter what happens, as always.”
“...I know. You’re a really good dog, Ren.” Aoba swallows down the heavy lump threatening to form in his throat. “Is it bad that I hope Noiz will want to stick around for awhile longer? I’ve really gotten used to having him nearby.”
“As your employee?”
“In whatever way works out.”
Ren shifts in Aoba’s tight grip, reaching up and nuzzling their faces together. “I don’t think it's wrong to hope for that. Do your best Aoba.”
“I’ll try. I’ll be fine so long as he’s happy in the end, but...I’ll try.”
When they finally extricate themselves from their embrace, Aoba returns to cleaning with renewed vigor. He spends well over an hour scrubbing through the break room until it sparkled from top to bottom, even going so far as to take cleaning fluid and a sponge to his ancient refrigerator. Seeing its barren contents made his stomach growl so loud Ren asked if he was alright, but he forged ahead despite the bodily protest. Putting chores at the forefront of his mind went along way in calming him, and he didn’t want to break his stride so soon.
His cleaning spree is halted not long after he moves it to the storefront, however.
He doesn’t hear the knock at first. The bass thumping out of his Coil drowns out most other sounds, and he’s too deep in nodding to its thrashing beat while wiping down the product shelves over the back counter to notice Ren calling for him until he feels a heavy hand on his shoulder.
Aoba flinches and spins around, only to find him staring at the rather muscular chest of Ren in his active form. He turns down the music and tilts his head up so he can meet Ren’s eyes.
“My bad. What was that, Ren?”
“Someone’s here. They don’t seem inclined to heed your business hours and the closed sign.”
Aoba hears the next knock. It’s a steady, loud rap against the glass door. Insistent. He sees the knocker’s shadow behind the blinds, too vague to recognize who it belongs to.
Ren peels back his lips ever-so-slightly, revealing sharpened fangs. “Shall I tell them you’re closed?”
Aoba frowns and almost gives Ren the go ahead before the knocker speaks up.
“Oi, it’s me.”
It’s muffled and far away, but there’s no mistaking that voice. Ren’s building aggression vanishes at the same time Aoba tenses.
“J-just a second!”
He senses a deep shift in the field, and when he looks back from the door to Ren, he finds him sitting among everything he placed on the front counter before cleaning the shelves, once again the small dog modeled after the komainu he loved to learn about as a young child.
“I’ll keep Usagimodoki company while you and Noiz speak,” says Ren. “Let me know when you would like me to resume cleaning the ceiling corners.”
“Appreciate it,” Aoba replies. He pets Ren once for good luck, takes a deep breath to steady his wriggling nerves, and heads toward the door, opening it rather sheepishly.
“‘Morning,” he murmurs, stepping aside to let Noiz through. It’s a mark of how hot it’s supposed to be that day to see even Noiz in lighter clothing. Some of his jewelry has been switched up, too. More tight cuffs around the shell of his ear, a thin chain dangling from a piercing to one of his lobes, a different set of studs under his lower lip. Such upkeep seems like nothing but a huge bother to Aoba, but he has to admit Noiz makes all the metal look good on him.
“Hey.” Noiz takes off his sunglasses and sticks them in a pocket. “Didn’t get my text?”
“Eh?” Aoba checks his Coil’s message screen. Sure enough, there’s a new one from Noiz waiting for him, well over a half-hour old.
“Nothing important, just letting you know I was coming over,” he says before Aoba can bring it up.
“Sorry about that, I had my Coil on silent.” Aoba makes a slight move toward him, a shift of his hands he thinks the better of and balls into fists at his sides, instead. “Go ahead and sit down. Feel free to move the stuff on the counter out of your way. I'll get you something to drink.”
“No need. I brought some.” He lifts the plastic bag in his hand. “And food, too. You can have whatever you want.”
Aoba’s stomach shivers again, hunger returning with anxiousness in a most painful mix. Noiz is as hard to read as ever. Hand rubbing his opposite shoulder, Aoba decides to break the ice with a direct approach.
“We should probably talk first before we eat, don’t you think?”
He watches Noiz’s face and sees a tiny crack in the wall. A quick darting of his eyes away and back to Aoba.
“Okay.” The word is followed by a hum from low in Noiz’s throat Aoba’s can’t quite interpret.
They head back to cash register area. Noiz takes a seat on his usual stool in front of it. Aoba circles around and hastily crams some of his merchandise on the crowded back counter and the one shelf he cleaned before the interruption.
“P! We’re in, we’re finally in!”
“It was so hot outside, Ren!”
Aoba glances around and finds a few of Noiz’s familiars floating around Ren. One is bouncing its simple, soft little body on Ren’s head and they’re all squeaking in excitement.
“It’s good to see you again,” says Ren.
“Ren, Usagimodoki wants a ride around the store!”
“Yeah, a ride!”
“Give us a ride!”
“You’re being troublesome, Usagimodoki,” Noiz tells them.
“Usagimodoki can’t ride on Ren?”
The question is asked with such forlorn Aoba swears his heart nearly crumbles. Noiz just rolls his eyes.
“That’s not what I mean. You’re too loud, is all. Do whatever you want.”
“P! Thank you, Noiz, thank you!” One of them flutters over to Noiz and rubs itself against his cheek.
“Knock it off.” Noiz sounds more weary than annoyed, and the hand he brushes Usagimodoki away with is gentle.
“Ren, you okay with giving them a ride?” Aoba asks, resisting the intense need to snap a picture of Noiz and his familiar before plunking down on his old computer chair and sliding back to everyone else.
“It’s not a problem.”
The Usagimodoki respond with cheers and waste no time hopping on to Ren’s back in a neat row.
“Hold on,” Ren cautions, and leaps gracefully off the counter once the rabbit familiars settle against him. “Try not to get tangled in my tail again, please.”
“But Ren’s tail is very fluffy!”
“Super fluffy!”
“Usagimodoki’s as cheerful as ever,” says Aoba, unable to help his small smile.
Noiz’s sigh is long-suffering. “They wouldn’t shut up when I told them we were coming over.”
“With the way you talk I would almost believe you were mean to them if they didn’t adore you to pieces,” Aoba says with a tut.
“I looked that up after the last time you got on me about it,” says Noiz, brow furrowed. “Being nice to your familiar has debatable results at best. The original summoning sigil we create for them specs them out to suit our every need. They’ll happily serve their master regardless of how they’re treated.”
Aoba wrinkles his nose. “You could have pulled that directly from the mouth of the creator of familiar summoning and I still wouldn’t agree with it. Besides,” he adds, a small, slick grin spreading across his face, “you might as well drop the uncaring act around me, kid. I see you playing with Usagimodoki when you think no one’s looking.”
“Playing?” The layer of warning in Noiz’s tone only encourages Aoba to press his buttons harder. “I’m not a child with a toy.”
“You say that, but even during work you’re always messing with them. Bouncing them around, letting them hop all over you, petting them til it giggles.” Aoba snickers behind his hand. “You call them Usa-chan when you’re at home, don’t you?”
“I do not.”
The flat, petulant denial makes Aoba laugh his first full, honest laugh of the day, rebalancing him in a way all his harried cleaning earlier that morning failed to do. He’ll enjoy his time with Noiz, he thinks. Even if he doesn’t have a lot of it left.
Whatever happens, happens.
“So defensive.” Aoba breathes a dainty sigh. “But Usagimodoki is really cute. You made them that way, after all. I don’t blame you for also wanting to give them an equally cute nickname.”
“Can I apply that to you, too?”
“What do you mean?”
“Usa-chan seems a better fit for you than my familiars, all things considered.” Now Noiz is smiling. It’s his usual slight upward tilt of his lips, carrying the sharp edge of triumph with his sudden upper hand. Aoba considers it dangerous in more ways than one. Bad for his heart, without a doubt. “Or should I stick with hasi? Have a preference?”
“I don’t!” And Aoba almost winces at the even, brutal turn of the table between them.
“No preference? Then how about...” Noiz makes a sound of deep, polite consideration, especially galling when he is acting anything but. “Kaninchen? Pyon-pyon? Or we could go with Aoba-chan —”
Aoba slaps a hand on the counter. “Seragaki-san! I’ll make you call me Seragaki-san from now on! And that second one, you — way to prove you’re not a child, Noiz!”
Noiz’s soft laugh are gentle needles prodding at him, an irritant almost always strangely welcome to Aoba.
“You’ll never let me live my animal form down, will you?” Aoba mutters, face hot as he settles back into his chair. “Look, this isn’t how I meant to start this conversation.”
“Really? You seemed pretty into it for awhile. But fine.” Noiz straightens up in his stool, laces his fingers together, and in a trice the mood takes a turn for the serious. “You mean my resignation, right? What else do you want to know?”
Aoba wills his cheeks to cool, mimicking Noiz’s posture and steadying his expression. Sloppy house clothes and dirt-smeared apron be damned, this is still business talk. And business talk calls for an air of professionalism. Or at least a thin veneer of it. He can feel his pulse speed up, beating hard against the underside of his skin.
“Well, I’d like to know if you’re alright, first of all.”
“Alright?” Noiz’s mouth curls downward. “Did my email make it seem like I wasn’t?”
“No, but it didn’t tell me much besides the basics,” says Aoba. “If you need to quit because of some kind of trouble, I’m here to help. As much as I can.”
Noiz stares at him, the silence measuring for a beat too long before he replies. “I’m fine. Been pretty good lately, really.”
There’s one possibility scratched off the list, and Aoba's glad for that. At least the issue isn't something severe. “I remember your email stated it was due to personal reasons, but...too little hours?” Aoba guesses. “Not enough pay? I know not much goes on here at times.”
“Which you warned me about during my interview. Not a problem, my own work more than makes up for it.” Aoba catches the subtle movement of Noiz’s interlocked fingers, wonders if he, too, is not as collected as he appears. “I’m quitting because of something you said. It was last Monday evening. Do you remember?”
Another spike in Aoba’s pulse fills his memory with static. He’s not sure he would be able to recall even under ideal circumstances. “Last Monday…?”
“A customer almost walked in on us kissing.”
The bluntness of the statement whacks Aoba over the head, jogging his brain. “Oh. Yeah. And I told you that...that —”
“That going out with your employee wasn’t the smartest idea you’ve ever had.” Noiz recites it as if he memorized it word-for-word. And Aoba remembers it now, remembers how he mumbled it in response to Noiz’s confusion when he questioned Aoba’s panic after the customer left and tucked it away where it wouldn’t distract him while he and Noiz closed Heibon for the night. A worry he meant to reexamine later but forgot about.
“It stuck with me,” Noiz continues. “I kept thinking about it and — you meant it, didn’t you?”
With the recollection at the forefront of his mind, Aoba can’t deny how much it bothered him at the time. He nods, once again tucking his mouth into a tight, apprehensive line.
“You had a point. So two weeks from now you won’t be going out with your employee anymore. I don’t know what’s going to happen between…” He trails off, seems to hold his breath, and starts again. “Whatever happens in the future, this will keep things simple for us.”
“I understand,” says Aoba softly, and it brings a pang to his heart. It’s pragmatism melded with Noiz’s own private host of uncertainties. He knows if he asks for it, Noiz would agree to a contract to cement it all. Aoba can already envision the main term: no disputes over money or property on the event of a break-up. “Noiz, you know I trust you, right?”
“I know.” He doesn’t smile, but Aoba is getting better at reading him. There’s some warmth behind the light, brittle greenness of his eyes. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you think I quit?”
All of Aoba’s muscles go stiff, thoughts tumbling back to a couple of hours ago. Of how, for far too long and with far too much certainty, he prepared himself for Noiz disappearing from his life as abruptly as he crashed into it.
He’s not ready to speak of such fears to him. Not yet.
“I had no idea!” Aoba tries for a smile. “‘Personal reasons’ could mean anything. I thought something bad might have happened when I got that email so suddenly.”
“Sorry,” Noiz says. He sounds a bit abashed for once. “I figured you'd remember what happened last Monday and make the connection right away, and I didn't think you'd appreciate me putting too many details about it in a professional letter you probably have to keep around for your records.”
Aoba blows out a breath. Out with his anxiousness, in with relief. “Yeah. Still, forewarning would have been appreciated, but I forgive you. Have anything planned when your two weeks are up?”
“I have a personal commission line taller than this building,” he tells Aoba, his posture relaxing. “And it’ll only get bigger once the word gets out I’m picking them up at my usual pace again. I’ll be busy for awhile. Then there's the October races. That’s extra practice sessions with my team on top of all our modding.”
“Wow, sounds like you’ll be fully booked soon enough, ” Aoba says, and maybe his tone didn’t sound quite as casual as he meant it to be, because Noiz’s gaze sharpens.
“I’m not going to stop visiting,” he tells Aoba, words quick. “A lot of what I usually do can be done wherever. Like at my apartment, or here. I happen to like it here. I’ve gotten used to this place.”
“Do what’s most convenient for you.” It’s an automatic response, a truthful one, but light glows inside of him at Noiz’s answer all the same. “If you’re busy, you’re busy.”
“I’m going to do what I like,” Noiz retorts. “Like lending a hand on my off days. I don’t mind that. Consider whatever help I give you around the store unsolicited volunteer work after my two weeks are up.”
“So you’re back to being the kid trying to bug me when you have the chance?”
Aoba means it as a joke. His heart falls when the expression on Noiz’s face tells him it hit the wrong chord.
“If you want me here.”
“I do,” Aoba assures him at once. “And I really appreciate it, but I’m not going to take advantage of your free time if I can help it. You work here, you get paid.”
“I thought you’d say something like that.” He looks away, teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he refocuses on Aoba. “I’m not very good at this.”
The abrupt statement takes Aoba by surprise. “At what?”
Noiz’s mouth twists. “Well, that’s not quite right. It’s more that I’ve never tried to keep something like this going. Didn’t care enough to bother much beyond sex. Never got any complaints when it came to that. But as for the rest of it...I don’t know a lot.”
“I get you,” says Aoba. His hands itch to hold one of Noiz’s, but he’s not sure if it’s the right moment for that. He glances at them. There’s only one ring adorning his fingers this time, the brilliant green gem glittering beyond what a reflection of the light can give it. “Believe it or not, I’m in the same boat. When it comes to...the rest of it all, I’d like to learn with you. We could learn together.”
“That sounds good. You’ve been making the lessons pretty easy so far.” Noiz makes the first move, reaching over and tucking a stray strand of Aoba’s hair back into his head scarf. Brief, but fond. “Are you asking me out officially?”
“Yes.” Aoba curses his own face, at the ease of which his blood rises to the surface and gives everything away. But he looks Noiz dead on, regardless. “What do you say? To being...official?”
“Sure,” he tells Aoba, and the response has Aoba clicking his tongue despite the wild, joyous fluttering of his insides.
“That’s all you got? So casual.”
“I wasn’t finished.”
Noiz leans forward. Aoba catches the spice of his cologne, the warmth still left over from the summer morning he brought in with him, allowing himself to drift in the heady mix as he shuts his eyes and parts his lips. This really is the last thing he expected to end up with when he first accepted Noiz’s job application. It’s so much more. He’s so overwhelmed with the possibilities of what’s in store for them but right now what his body truly aches for is —
With all the force of an oncoming train his stomach emits a vicious growl, bowling him over with the agony of long-ignored hunger and mortification. He whines and shudders, eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of discomfort.
He hears Noiz laugh somewhere above him. “That sounded louder than the music you had going on.”
“K-killed and buried that mood, didn’t I?” Aoba refuses to raise his head.
“Not really.”
Noiz slips his hand under his chin and lifts it, giving him kiss after firm, reviving kiss until Aoba can’t dwell on his embarrassment. Just on how much he likes the fit of Noiz’s mouth against his. His lips are on the thinner side, eager with its movements, something he wants to get to know better until the touch of them is imprinted on his skin.
“Guess we should listen to your stomach and eat,” Noiz suggests when they pull apart. The break of the kiss is slow and hazy, too much so for Aoba to rise to the obvious amusement in Noiz’s words.
“Good idea,” Aoba agrees. His breath feels weak, his face still scorched. He presses it against the cool material of the counter top and recovers while Noiz rustles through his grocery bag, recovery made all the more difficult when he feels Noiz’s hand rub a tender path over the back of his neck.
A soft chorus of squeaks drift up from the edge of the counter, causing the atmosphere to break and Aoba to look around in surprise when the Usagimodoki speak up. “Are you done talking?”
“How long have you guys been over there?” Aoba asks, rather bemused to see how seriously their familiars have been waiting for them.
“For some time,” Ren informs him. The Usagimodoki rise out of his coat and orbit around Noiz. “We thought it would be rude to interrupt.”
“Did it go well?” one of the Usagimodoki asks its master. “Is Noiz okay now?”
Noiz shoots the curious one a sharp look. “Went fine,” he told it shortly. “Aoba, here. Go ahead and pick first.”
“Ah, thanks!” He chooses a fruit sandwich bursting with strawberries and kiwi from Noiz’s sizable haul of convenience store food, twisting around so that Ren can leap onto his lap. “I haven’t had one of these in — oh.” His hand hesitates near the beverages Noiz laid out.
“Don’t like any of them?” Noiz asks, looking up from his half-unwrapped roll cake.
“Actually, I’d been thinking about getting some milk tea when I get around to shopping later today.” He grabs the bottle with a smile, cracking it open and taking a long pull from it. “Want to come with me? I’m just running errands, though. And that’s after I finish cleaning. The rest of the evening I’ll be making charms. Might not be too interesting.”
“That's fine. Finished all my stuff last night.” Noiz shrugs after swallowing a bite of his cake. “Today, I’m with you.”
Aoba nibbles on the corner of his sandwich but doesn’t taste much of it. “A-and tonight?”
“How forward.” He doesn’t need to look at Noiz to know he’s grinning. “Also with you.”
Aoba wants to snap back with his reply, wants to say something scathing about Noiz’s one-track mind, but he doesn’t get a chance. When Noiz leans forward once more, it’s to rub his head against the crook of his neck.
“I’m really happy I can say that,” he murmurs, his breath raising pleasant goosebumps over Aoba’s skin. “I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been wanting this.”
Aoba lets some of his weight press against Noiz. “Same here. I’m happy, too. Very happy.”
“I’m also pretty curious about that futon you keep bragging about. We didn’t make it up the ladder the first time.”
“It’s amazing,” Aoba quips, flicking Noiz’s forehead and pushing him away with his shoulder. “If you play your cards right I might just let you sleep in it one day.”
That dangerous little smile is back on Noiz’s face. “If you ask me, there’s room for two inside of it. I think I can convince you to share.”
Aoba looks forward to it. To all of what awaits the two of them. It’s unknown territory, something that still frightens him in the deep, quiet corners of his mind, but he wants to try. Hand in hand with Noiz, he wants to try to explore as much of it as they can. The idea of it being a long, fruitful journey together fills him with something incredibly bright and warm.
“Good luck with that,” he tells him, and though Noiz doesn’t need any help in rushing to his daily maximum sugar intake before lunch, he pushes a bottle of Ramune at him.