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Today, Momoyo talks about rocks, as she usually does when they aren’t fighting.
“See, the deeper down ya go, the softer the rocks get,” she explains, swinging her legs. They’re perched on a branch high, high above the ground, the mountain sloping treacherously steep below them. Momoyo reaches for another handful of rice from the basket balanced between them. “But! The softer ones got a flaky texture to ‘em— they’ll get stuck between your teeth, so I dunno if I’d recommend those.”
“What about the flavor?” Megumu asks, more to humor her than out of actual curiosity. Rice also gets stuck between your teeth, she doesn’t add.
Momoyo thinks about this for a moment. “Bland. Kinda rust-ish. Not really worth diggin’ all the way down.”
“If you go even deeper, you’ll reach magma,” Megumu says. “Magma is molten rock—“
“Shaddup, I know what magma is,” Momoyo snaps, grains of rice spilling down her shirt. She chews, swallows, and pauses. “… You can gimme a refresher, though.’
“Well, as I was saying,” Megumu says, “when enough spirits have converged beneath Hell, all that concentrated essence is hot enough to burn the earth itself. Their hatred and anger becomes molten. Thus, the surrounding rocks melt and you end up with magma.”
… Which actually may or may not be true, as far as Megumu knows, but it isn’t as though she keeps a regular correspondence with the underground. Does it even make a difference? The ideas of hows and whys aren’t of any concern to Momoyo, only if there is. There’s rice and barley stuck all over Momoyo’s clothes. Megumu reaches over to carefully pluck them off one grain at a time.
“Maaaan, you’re way too smart!” Momoyo declares through another mouthful of rice. “Spirits melting rocks? I would’ve never guessed something like that could happen! Hey, Iizunamaru, you really think I could dig far enough to reach magma? Like, for real?”
“I wouldn’t allow you. You could die.”
“Smart and bossy. Haha, you’re such a tengu.”
The tree shudders as a strong wind rattles through its branches. Megumu grabs the basket of rice before it can fall off their perch and places it on her lap; Momoyo takes it as an opportunity to scoot over until their sides touch. It’s nothing. She only draws close because the temperature is dropping, and Megumu’s feathers provide warmth. No other reason.
Still, Megumu wraps an arm around her waist, just because she can.
“So what would you do if I died, then?” Momoyo asks, resting her head on her shoulder.
“That would depend. If you died in battle there’d be little reason to mourn. But if you did something stupid, like digging your way right into a pool of magma—“
“Well, if you died, I think I’d be kinda mad!” Momoyo interrupts, as if she wasn’t even listening. She plunges her hand into the basket of rice, hard enough to jostle Megumu. “Since you’re really smart, the only way I can see you meeting your end is if someone stronger than you came along. You’ve got a real knack for pissing everyone off, y’know? So I bet there’d be loads of people who’d wanna kill ya.”
“Like yourself?”
“Yeah! Uh, well, minus being pissed off, and it’s kinda hard to imagine anyone stronger than me…” Momoyo scratches her chin, her other hand still buried in the rice. “Maybe an oni? I bet an oni could kick your ass.”
Megumu decides not to respond to that.
“… We were talkin’ about magma, weren't we?”
“Yes, we were,” Megumu patiently says. The wind is beginning to pick up again; it won’t be long before the sun reaches the horizon and Momoyo finishes off the rest of the rice. If she’s lucky, she might be able to convince Momoyo to fight her outside instead of being dragged off into the caves. She stretches out a wing to shelter Momoyo from the stirring wind. “It doesn’t matter how strong you are. You’d burn to nothing if you tried to swim in magma.”
“I wouldn’t try to swim in it! Just drink it, maybe.”
“You can’t do that either.”
Momoyo’s hand sifts in the rice. Then, at last, it emerges, covered in sticky grains adhered to skin by grime and sweat. She straightens up and lifts her arm to Megumu: an offer.
Megumu politely declines with a shake of her head. Momoyo grabs her face.
“So you’d be upset if I died— probably. And I’d be upset if someone else killed you,” Momoyo says, while Megumu struggles to pry her off. Her wings furiously beat against Momoyo, but she may as well be trying to move the entire mountain. Momoyo only laughs. “How about a promise, then? I won’t go to Hell, and you’re not allowed to die by anyone else’s hands but my own. That sounds fair enough, don’t’cha think?”
Her wings go still. Momoyo loosens her grip, barely, just enough to allow enough room for Megumu to breathe and gather her thoughts. How did they even reach such a ridiculous point in their conversation? To make a promise between youkai— such things shouldn’t be taken lightly, especially with the tengu involved. Momoyo knows that.
But Momoyo also doesn’t give a shit about the way things are supposed to be done.
“You're still thinking about eating me?” Megumu cautiously asks.
Momoyo grins. “Someday, yeah!”
Megumu stares at her from between those rice-laden fingers gripping her face, searching for any of the ulterior trickery she had learned to find in other youkai. But insects are bad at lying. They have no reason for deception, not like all the other gods and youkai of the mountain. Once, she had envied that simplicity, but the envy became admiration and appreciation.
The ability to say whatever sprouts into one’s head without hesitation is a rare privilege, Megumu thinks.
Her teeth find grip in the side of Momoyo’s palm. So the Ōmukade wants to make a promise? Wonderful! The curse from breaking a vow as wretched as theirs would destroy the entire mountain. It'd be an utter catastrophe.
… Or so she’d like to believe. She can't quite tell what Momoyo is thinking, but she's willing to bet that neither of them would entertain the notion of breaking their promise.
“You’re bitin’ me!” Momoyo chirps in delight.
“It is a promise, isn’t it?” Megumu responds.
“Yeah. Yeah! Good. I’m the only one who’s allowed to eat ya, so don’t forget! And that means I won't leave your side to go dig into Hell.”
"Haha, splendid."
Twilight encroaches upon the mountain, spreading the final vestiges of daylight before the sky turns dark. Night has come at last; other youkai begin to stir, emerging from their dens and burrows. Somewhere, a wolf howls, and is met by the baying of wolf tengu in reply. Their voices are carried by the wind, agitating those who listen. The time is ripe for a quarrel.
Tonight, however, the Great Tengu and Giant Centipede sit together in peace upon one of the mountain’s tallest trees, far above the rabble. Nobody else notices. They huddle together for warmth and eat cold rice, allowing the gravity of their vow to sink into their skin like teeth.