Chapter Text
Once, the building had been a place of high importance. A spiritual highway, rumored to have been home to a powerful youkai, one akin to a god. But neither time nor Tanuma cared about the faded glory. Time had punished the building for even existing, the half-fallen walls, the collapsed roof, and the unsightly specks of rot that sat all across the wood were proof of that.
The walls weren't the only thing that was rotten. Everything within ten meters from the shrine was decayed. The plants were dead, the trees merely stumps of what they could have been, and an ungodly smell hung all across the forest. It wasn't a place where most humans would like to go.
But Tanuma did. To Tanuma, this was a place of security. Despite the rotten smell, the dead exterior and the all-around nastiness of the place, to Tanuma, all that mattered was the aura of peace and safety, like someone was protecting it. To him, this place was his own world, where he could go when he didn't feel like talking to other people.
He often brought his sketchbook with him, drawing the scenes that nature played out in front of him. Or he could draw his friends, without inevitably being interrupted by their cries of "That's not what I look like!" Or he could draw his father, in the middle of a ceremony. Even off just the top of his head, Tanuma could draw the serene look on his father's face without any effort.
And after he became diagnosed, Tanuma could also have drawn his father's worried eyes off the top of his head.
But he didn't. Because he came here to escape those eyes.
.o0o.
From the first time he had coughed himself unconscious, everyone knew where it was going. Because of this, the diagnosis didn't come as a surprise. Nevertheless, the news was devastating. At least to his father, who had been stubbornly clinging to the shreds of hope that it was, perhaps, nothing. Tanuma, meanwhile, had already made peace with the fact that he was going to die, and that it was going to be sooner rather than later.
Still, that didn't stop him from crying at the fallen shrine, that same day.
And that day, in that very instant, the miracle began.
After they got home from the hospital, Tanuma had run into the forest before his father had had time to stop him. His sketchbook had been with him all throughout the day; he had been planning this. He had known what the news would be, and he had known that he wouldn't be able to look his father into the eye for hours afterwards. So he ran to his secret place, gathered his sketchbook and pencils, and began to finish the drawing he had started the previous day.
But tears were falling from his eyes, and soon, he couldn't even see the drawing anymore. He didn't know why he was crying. He had expected this, he had made peace with it, and yet, droplets were falling from him and messing up his drawing.
He placed the sketchbook aside and buried his head in his arms. His shoulders shook. The sobs were the only thing that could be heard, and they echoed against the air.
When he finally stopped, it was dark, and the moon had risen. Tanuma took a deep breath, and began to gather his pencils.
His hand froze above his sketchbook. Shivers went through him as he stared at the previously empty page.
Why are you crying?
.o0o.
That night, Tanuma didn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the letters, written with an unsteady hand, as if someone had forgotten how to use a pencil. There hadn't been anyone with him, at least, not as far as he knew.
So who had written those words?
.o0o.
He didn't return to the shrine until three days later. He hadn't wanted to return in the first place. Hell, this was what happened in horror movies. An unknown entity started to communicate with an ordinary human, and they went to investigate. He and his friends had always laughed at them, saying that if they were in their place, they'd never be stupid enough to do something like that.
Now that he was doing the exact same thing, he felt like he understood those characters perfectly. He was curious. How had that message gotten in his sketchbook, and who had written it? Whoever it was didn't seem unfriendly. After all, they had asked after his wellbeing.
He arrived at the shrine and lay his pencil and sketchbook open just before the door. With a deep breath, he started screaming at the top of his lungs.
"Whoever you are!" he yelled. "Come out! I know that you are here!"
Truth be told, he didn't know. He didn't know if anyone was here, or whether he was currently screaming at air. But he felt something. He felt something that he had always felt here, and while it had never occurred to him before, he now knew that it wasn't natural. He had always felt safe here, as if someone was protecting him. And maybe, someone was.
It stayed quiet. Tanuma kept focused on the area around the sketchbook.
Minutes ticked by, but nothing moved. Minutes morphed into an hour, and still, nothing had moved. Tanuma stayed stubbornly at the shrine, and refused to take his eyes from the sketchbook.
"I know that you can hear me," he said calmly, although he, in fact, didn't know. "I'm not leaving until you answer me. Who are you?"
It stayed quiet for some time. Then, something changed.
The pencil moved.
Tanuma's mouth fell open as it began to write on its own, held by an invisible hand. He was too mystified by this new development to pay attention to what the hand was writing.
Finally, a couple of minutes after the pencil was dropped, Tanuma was able to close his mouth and look at the paper.
Why are you here?
Tanuma raised an eyebrow.
"Well, after a message suddenly appeared, you would want to know who had written it, right?"
Again, no movement for some time. Then, the pencil began moving. Tanuma observed it closely. He couldn't see any strings or any other signs of foul play.
That's dangerous. What if I was going to hurt you?
"Are you going to?"
A hesitation. Or at least, Tanuma thought it was a hesitation. It could very well be that the invisible being was just slow.
I don't want to.
"What does it matter, then?"
Nothing, I suppose, the being wrote.
"What are you, exactly?"
A few minutes passed before the being answered.
A youkai. One who lives here.
"A youkai?" he questioned aloud. He wasn't surprised. After all, what else could an invisible being living next to an abandoned shrine be?
Yes. The youkai wrote, confirming his earlier answer.
Now, it was Tanuma's turn to hesitate. What do you say to a being of myth?
"Erm... how long have you been living here?"
Long. Very long. Before the humans built this shrine.
"How long ago was that?"
I don't know.
Well, time wouldn't matter to an immortal being, he supposed.
"Have you been watching me all this time?"
He knew the answer. The youkai had just said that they had been there since before this shrine was built. Of course it had been watching him.
Nevertheless, the youkai didn't answer immediately.
Yes. I'm sorry.
"Don't mention it. You haven't hurt me or anything, so it's fine. It must have been lonely, living here all on your own."
That last sentence came out without his permission. He had never meant to say something that personal. It was rude.
The pause that followed was very long, but eventually, the youkai answered It's nothing. I'm fine. You still haven't answered my question from yesterday: why were you crying?
Tanuma fiddled with his thumbs. He didn't want to answer. He didn't want to bring that into his safe place.
"Is it okay if I don't tell you? I don't want to talk about it."
Okay.
The sun was going down. He needed to go back, so that he wouldn't worry his father.
"I need to go now. I'll come back tomorrow, okay?"
Okay. Thank you.
Tanuma found that a bit weird. Why would the youkai feel the need to thank him for something he had been doing for years?
He waved his new friend goodbye (could it even see him? Probably, if it had been able to see his sketchbook) and went on his way back home.
That night, as he lay in bed, he suddenly realized that he didn't even know the youkai's name.
.o0o.
"What is your name?" was the first thing he asked the next day.
He never got an answer. He waited for hours, but the pencil was never picked up, no message was written, and as Tanuma finally made his way back, he still had no name.
.o0o.
"I'm sorry if I offended you. Will you talk to me?"
Three days later, and not a single word from his youkai. Tanuma knew that he had fucked up, but he didn't know how. He just hoped that he could fix it.
To his relief, the pencil was picked up.
You didn't offend me. It's just; names have power. I like you, but I don't trust you that much. I'm sorry.
Tanuma didn't know why that stung so much. Of course the youkai didn't trust him that much yet; they'd had one conversation. He wouldn't trust anyone that fast, himself.
Still, he had this sting in his chest that just wouldn't go away.
"Don't apologize; I understand. Do you want my name?"
No, was the immediate answer you shouldn't trust me that much, either. I can hurt you.
Tanuma snorted.
"We've already talked about this, haven't we? You said you didn't want to hurt me. So you won't. Done. And besides, I don't think that human names hold that kind of power."
Still, the youkai insisted I'm dangerous. You shouldn't give me much to work with.
Tanuma remained unimpressed.
"If you're really that dangerous, why aren't I dead yet?"
The youkai remained silent.
"See? You won't hurt me. My name's Tanuma. Nice to meet you."
DON'T DO THAT! The youkai wrote. It pressed the pencil so hard on the paper that it tore. I'll hurt you!
"I doubt it," Tanuma smiled, and stretched out his hand, until he touched something. It felt like some sort of cloth. He moved his hand upwards, until he touched something like skin, and even further up, something wooden, and further, until he found hair. The figure seemed to stop there.
Tanuma ruffled the hair. It felt weird, feeling something, but not being able to see it. The being seemed to lean into his hand. When he finally pulled his hand back, the creature picked up the pencil.
Thank you.
.o0o.
Though the doctor had diagnosed him, he couldn't fix him. Tanuma and his dad went to three other doctors in the following weeks, hoping that one knew how to cure his illness. Sadly, no one seemed to know.
During those weeks, his father looked weaker and weaker, like all the stress was making him older. To escape his worrying eyes, Tanuma spent more and more time at the shrine. The youkai and him talked more and more, mainly about trivial matters. The youkai seemed interested in human culture.
Why do you wear those clothes instead of yukata's?
"Ah, I don't know. I suppose it just changed over the years."
What is this thing that you were talking about, 'school'?
"It's prison for kids. Just kidding. It's a place where human kids gather to learn things that will help them further in life. It can be really hard sometimes, though..."
Do you live alone?
"No, I live with my father."
Do all human kids live with their father?
"Most of them live with their father and mother, but my mother died when I was young, so it's just me and my father now."
What's this?
"It's a watch. Humans use it to watch the time."
Why would you – ah, never mind. How does it work?
"Here, let me teach you..."
And so, the days passed, woven together until weeks had flown by. And even though Tanuma's health kept declining faster than ever, he had never been so happy.
.o0o.
Say, what do humans eat?
The sun was shining. The sky was blue, without even a single cloud appearing before it. The trees were swaying softly in the summer breeze.
Tanuma had been looking up at the sky, dozing off, when the pen pricked him in his side. He looked at the sketchbook and saw the message written.
"Didn't you live at this shrine? Like... did you never see the offerings the people made here?"
The youkai hesitated before answering.
They didn't offer any foods here. At least I don't think so. What do humans eat?
"Erm... lots of things. Like, rice, sushi, red bean buns, onigiri... you know what, I'll bring you something tomorrow, okay?"
Sounds good to me.
That night, he tried to slip some food into his room. His father caught him in the act.
"Tanuma, what are you doing?" he said, sternly.
Tanuma froze. How could he explain this?
"Ah – just taking something to my room in case I get hungry later, okay?"
It was a terrible excuse. Ever since the sickness had started, he hadn't had much of an appetite. Still, it did its job. His father's face lit up and he said that that was more than okay. Most likely, he was just ignoring the flimsiness of the excuse to believe that Tanuma was getting better.
Feeling a bit guilty, he set the bowl in his room and waited for tomorrow.
The next morning, he warmed the food and brought it to the youkai.
"Here, I promised to bring you something, right? This is tonkotsu ramen. Try it; it's delicious."
Tanuma held the bowl out in front of him, blindly, to where he hoped the youkai was. The bowl was taken out of his hands and seemed to float up in the air.
As the youkai ate the ramen, Tanuma watched on and remarked, in his head, that this was probably the weirdest thing he had ever seen in his entire life. A bowl of ramen that was eaten by a legendary being, while looking like a poor circus act. Yup, definitely in the top ten weirdest moments ever.
When the ramen was finally eaten, the bowl was put on the ground and the youkai wrote its message.
You were right, it was delicious. Thank you.
"You're welcome. Do you want me to bring you some more?"
If it's not too much effort, please.
It became their little tradition. Tanuma brought food as often as he could, and the youkai thanked him afterwards. It felt nice to be useful, for once.
.o0o.
The spirit was... pretty touchy. Not in a bad way, of course; it just seemed like, every time he went by the shrine, their hands touched in some way or another.
He wasn't sure what to think of it, so he just asked the being why they did it.
I'm sorry if I disturbed you. I'll refrain from doing it again.
Tanuma frowned and waved the statement away.
"No, it's not like that. I was just curious. Are you going to answer my question?"
The pen wavered in the air for a second, before writing:
I... like having contact, I guess. It's been a long time since I've felt someone's touch.
That single sentence spoke of so much loneliness. Tanuma's heart began to ache.
"Come here," he said and spread his arms.
What? the youkai wrote.
"I'm giving you a hug. Come."
A minute or so later, he felt something in his hands. He smiled and closed his arms around it.
The thing was human-sized, so it seemed. Something hard pressed into his shoulder. It felt like a piece of wood – probably the youkai's mask.
He felt the spirit sigh and they stayed in that position for a long time, until Tanuma had to go home.
"I'll be back tomorrow, okay?" he smiled at the youkai (or at least, he smiled at where he thought they were).
Yes. Thank you so much.
"It's nothing."
As Tanuma walked back home, he couldn't help but wonder how lonesome the spirit must have been before they met him.
.o0o.
"I'm sorry, Kaname-san, I can't help you."
It was the sixth time Tanuma had heard that sentence, the sixth doctor that couldn't help him, and he'd expected it. His father had, too, and this time, he didn't even look sad. He just looked resigned.
As they walked back home, Tanuma suddenly doubled over. A furious pain bubbled up in his lungs, and he knew what was coming.
He started coughing. His father sat him down on the ground and let him lean against a building. Leaning against something sometimes made the pain lessen. It didn't, this time.
His entire body shook, and he had trouble breathing, both because of the coughs and the sheer amount of pure agony his ribcage was going through. After fifteen minutes, it finally looked like he was finished. He took his hand from his mouth and looked at it in shock.
Blood. Crimson liquid was splattered all over his hand, and slowly began to drip down on his shirt. His father saw it too, and slowly began to tear up.
Tanuma looked at him and smiled. "It's alright," he said with a pained smile. "I'm fine."
"That doesn't look fine."
From above him, a man with sunglasses and a green hat on was staring down on him. He grabbed his hand and forced it open. He stared at the blood for a while, before sighing and letting go.
Tanuma pulled his hand to his body as quickly as possible. He looked suspiciously at the man. Who the hell wore sunglasses in the middle of a cloudy day?
"I'm sorry. I forgot to introduce myself."
The man took his shades and hat off and smiled down at him. His eyes were a strange color of red, and his hear was blond-brown. The man's lips curled into a sparkling smile, but Tanuma didn't trust him. Something about him seemed... off.
"I'm Natori Shuuichi. I may be able to help with that sickness of yours."
His father shot up and demanded the man to tell him how. Tanuma also went into high alert. Someone was able to help him?
"Let's meet again in, ah, a week? I want to look around your home a bit. I would like to confirm my suspicions. If they turn out to be true, I'll gladly help you."
The smile sparkled even brighter, and felt even more fake.
But still, Tanuma and his father agreed to meet the man. He was his last hope, after all.
.o0o.
The following day, he brought some onigiri to the youkai. While they were eating, Tanuma decided that it was the right time to ask the spirit some questions that had been plaguing for some time.
"Are you the spirit that the shrine was built for?"
The youkai took a while to answer, because they needed to grab the pen and sketchbook, but soon enough, they wrote their answer.
Yes.
"So you must be pretty powerful?"
I guess.
The youkai had hesitated before answering this. Tanuma was getting pretty good at deciphering the pauses between messages. Short ones meant that nothing was wrong, long ones meant that the spirit had needed to think and ones like the one just now, meant that something was wrong.
Tanuma didn't ask, though. That would probably end in the spirit ignoring him for a few days.
Instead, he asked his next question.
"What are you the spirit of? Like, if the humans worshipped you, what did you protect?"
No answer. The onigiri was finished.
"Hello?"
The pen dropped on the sketchbook, and Tanuma felt a gust of wind flow past him. The youkai had gone, or at least, had no intention to talk to him anymore.
Sighing, he gathered his stuff. His spirit sure was touchy.
A singing pain rang through his body. Then, he collapsed.
.o0o.
His father's face was the first thing he saw when he woke up.
"Wha –" he said as he attempted to sit up. His father pushed him right back down.
"Don't move. I found you at the edge of the forest. You were gone for several hours. What happened?"
Tanuma gingerly touched his head. It was throbbing painfully, his chest was in all-consuming agony, his legs refused to move, and his arms felt heavy. He had never felt this terrible.
"I don't know," he answered his father, desperately trying to keep his vision focused. He failed.
His father's face blurred and, eventually, faded to black.
.o0o.
The next time he woke up, his sketchbook was near him. A message was written within it.
Are you okay?
Tanuma blinked twice to assure himself he wasn't hallucinating. With a broken voice, he asked: "Are you here?"
Something moved, and soon, a message appeared on the sketchbook.
Yes. Are you okay?
"Were you the one that brought me here?" Tanuma asked, careful not to strain himself while speaking. Though it was a bit better than the first time he woke up, he still felt an aching pain, like, everywhere.
I brought you to the edge of the forest, but didn't know where you lived, so I waited for your father and followed you home. Again, are you okay?
"I'm fine," Tanuma lied, but then immediately hissed in pain.
You're not. I'm sorry. I'll go now. Bye, Tanuma-san.
"No, wait – "
But there was a gust of wind, and the youkai was gone.
.o0o.
The next week was spent in pure agony, fading in and out of consciousness, until Natori finally came.
Tanuma could vaguely identify the blurry head above him, but he couldn't make out the words he and his father exchanged. Something was put on his chest, and instantly, the pain felt lighter. His vision became more focused, and he could finally make out what the men were saying.
" – sure it's that?"
"Yes, I'm almost one hundred percent sure. I'll deal with it immediately. The charm should protect Tanuma for at least a short while. Long enough until I can perform the exorcism."
'Exorcism?' he wanted to say, but instead, unintelligible sounds came out of his mouth. His father rushed to his side immediately.
"Calm, Tanuma. Natori-san's going to take care of everything. Don't worry, you're going to be fine."
Before Tanuma could ask how or what or why or any of the other questions that were plaguing him, his exhausted body fell into a tired sleep.
.o0o.
"You awake?"
Natori sat next to his bed, staring serenely at his face. Tanuma blinked. The pain was gone. Not even the lingering sickness he had constantly felt for the past year was there. It was completely, one hundred percent gone.
He turned to Natori, who was still smiling his strange smile.
"What happened?" Tanuma asked. "What did you do?"
"I rid you of the illness," Natori calmly explained. Tanuma snorted.
"Yes, I know. But how?"
"Tanuma-san, have you been to the abandoned shrine a lot?"
Tanuma froze. He couldn't get himself to answer. The words seemed stuck in his mouth.
What did that have to do with anything?
"I'll take that as a yes. Then, have you met the youkai there?"
Suddenly, a piece of memory came back to him.
"...exorcise..."
Exorcise. Natori had mentioned that he had an exorcism to perform.
The youkai at the abandoned shrine.
Suddenly, it clicked.
Tanuma flung himself at Natori, pressing him against the ground.
"What did you do?" he half-growled, half-screamed at him.
"I exorcised it," Natori said, way too calmly, with that terrible smile of his.
Tanuma's brain stopped.
This was what he had been expecting, but nevertheless, he had trouble processing it.
The youkai was... gone?
His body moved on his own. A fist raised into the air, attempting to slam itself into Natori's smug smirk. Another pair of hands caught it. Natori's.
"It was giving you the illness. The spirit, it was a god of rot and decay. It was rotting your body, your lungs specifically, from the inside."
"Bullshit," Tanuma said through gritted teeth. "The youkai would never do that. They were kind. You killed them, you killed them for no reason."
He struggled to get out of Natori's tight grip. He wanted to punch him. He wanted to punch him until his face was bleeding to the ground, and that annoying smirk was vanished from the earth.
"It wasn't doing it on purpose. But spirits like him, they give off a bad miasma. You were breathing it in for so long, that you got affected by it. It's gone now, and took the miasma and all its effects with it."
"SHUT UP!" Tanuma yelled. His struggled became wilder as his vision blurred with tears. All the while, his thoughts flew through his head in high speed.
What if I was going to hurt you?
I'm dangerous.
I can hurt you.
All the times that they had told him, that they had said that they were dangerous and Tanuma hadn't listened and brushed it off... was it because of this? Did they knew that this would happen?
"It wanted me to kill it, once it knew what it had done and that it could be solved if it disappeared."
"Liar!" Tanuma yelled. The tears were now streaming across his face.
Was it true?
"Liar! Liar liar liar liar liar liar LIAR!"
Tanuma sunk down on the ground and sobbed. It echoed throughout the room. Tanuma could see his ugly tears reflected in the window.
Natori clumsily lay his hand on his back, as if he wanted to comfort him, but wasn't sure how. Tanuma let him. He didn't have the energy to push him away.
Why?
.o0o.
He was back at the shrine. He didn't know why he had come back here. Or rather, he did, but he didn't want to acknowledge it to himself.
It had been a month since he had been released from his sickness and his friend. He knew that Natori had spoken the truth. He knew that the youkai was gone. But still, he held this crazy shred of hope close to his heart, that shred that claimed that there was still a chance. A chance that this was all, perhaps, a giant misunderstanding. A shred that spoke: 'He's still here.'
He looked over the abandoned building. It still looked the same. The half-fallen walls, the collapsed roof, the unsightly specks of rot all across the wood; they were all still there.
But the sense of security was gone. The presence that he had felt for as long as he had lived, that warm blanket – it had disappeared, as if it had never been there in the first place.
Tanuma carried on, to what was left of the front door, where he had first met his youkai.
There, carved in the wood, was a single word:
Takashi.