Chapter Text
Ren exhaled a small sigh as she worked the cloth around the damp glass, cleaning it carefully to ensure all the smudges met their maker. She felt more tired than usual as she did the mundane tasks that made up helping her father-of-sorts. In fact, she’d felt sort of off since she woke up this morning.
Sojiro must have noticed as well. The older man glanced up from his spot behind the counter, flipping mindlessly through a newspaper he’d already read at least twice. Ren was almost surprised he hadn’t switched to a book of puzzles Futaba had picked up last week for him, but she decided not to question her boss and father figure on it.
Though he wasn’t her father by blood, Sojiro was as close to a father as Ren thought she’d ever know. Her birth parents, if they were even worthy of being noted as the ones to bring her into this world, had left her with a family friend and his adopted daughter long ago, and Ren had stayed with them ever since. It had been so long that she had forgotten the faces of those who gave her life.
It was fine. She was happy taking up his trade as an innkeep. That was the reason her parents had left her there so long ago after all. Or so they said. Ren knew that wasn’t all there was to it. She knew the truth, or enough of it anyways. Not only did they see her as unprofitable; Ren was cursed.
Admittedly, the scruffy-haired woman didn’t really know if she was actually cursed or just the bearer of some very unfortunate luck. She supposed it didn’t really matter. So long as she avoided stepping outside on the days the fog rolled in, she could live free enough of that curse to call the life she had now a good one.
That was, of course, assuming she could avoid those foggy days altogether.
After all, there was a reason Ren’s parents thought her to be cursed, a reason she’d kept to herself for years for fear what her new family might think if she ever told them. And that reason came and went with the fog.
For years now, he had been waiting for her, his shade coming in with the setting fog and disappearing when the thick clouds faded away. She didn’t know what his name was, never cared to learn it. But she knew what he called her. Arsene .
Arsene was not her name, of course. Nor was it Ren’s middle name, or any name she’d ever gone by. Before the shade began calling her Arsene, she’d never heard the name at all. Now it was a haunting reminder that he was waiting for her.
And he was growing impatient.
As a child, the ghostly figure would gently try to beckon for her to come to him, insisting that she knew him. That he was safe. That he wasn’t a stranger.
But as the years went by and Ren grew into a fine woman, his gentle calls had turned to frustrated yells. It was her fault that he was like this , he said. Whatever this was. And he told her time and time again it was about damn time she finally faced the captain whose heart and life she stole so long ago.
It was easier to ignore him, to pretend he didn’t exist. He’d never made physical contact with her. She couldn’t even remember a time he’d reached out to touch her, not that she was even sure he could. Ghosts were transparent, after all… weren’t they?
So long as she ignored him, he never bothered her with anything more than shouting. She preferred it that way.
Maybe, if she was lucky, she could avoid him forever.
As if anything was ever that simple.
Sojiro cleared his throat from where he sat, raising his mug of coffee to his lips as he finally looked somewhere other than the paper. Ren followed his gaze to the world outside.
“The fog’s setting in.” The observation was matter-of-fact and easily confirmable.
Still, Ren’s grip began to shake around the glass she was cleaning. She put the cup and wash rag down, before following his gaze into the fog that grew thicker by the second.
“So it is,” Ren replied through grit teeth.
She had never told Sojiro about the figure waiting for her in the fog, nor had she told Futaba. She didn’t want to lose what little family she’d made for herself. But she also clearly wasn’t as guarded with her feelings as she might like to be. They may not know what haunted Ren so badly, but they knew the fog scared her. It was enough.
She heard the boss tap his fingers anxiously on the countertop. “And Futaba isn’t back yet.”
Another observation. It only served to form a pit of dread in Ren’s stomach that churned anxiously against the reality.
“It’s not safe,” she muttered under her breath.
“Ren?” Sojiro glanced her way.
Futaba may have been growing braver by the day. That much was true. Ren couldn’t possibly have been more proud of her for it either. But pride was nothing but useless bravado when it came to facing something terrifying and unknown like him . She couldn’t leave her sister to face him alone.
“I’m going to go get her.”
Sojiro’s dark brows raised high on his bald head. “Are you sure?”
No . That was the answer Ren wanted to give. She ran her fingers through her frizzy hair in hopes of easing her nerves, but found there was no comfort in the small action. She felt her hands shake as they ran through her dark locks and it only served to worsen her already shot nerves.
Ren could only imagine how much more afraid Futaba would be if he came for her, calling her Arsene. There might not have been any guarantee he would, or even evidence to suggest he might, but Ren was unwilling to take any chances. Futaba had to be safe. Ren would never forgive herself if she wasn’t.
And so, finally, she opened her mouth - and lied, to convince herself as much as it was to convince Sojiro.
“Yes. I’m sure. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Or so she hoped.
Ren knew exactly where Futaba would be in their small island town. For an avid reader like her, there were really only two places she frequented - the library and the bookstore. The library was all good and well, but Ren was fairly sure Futaba had devoured what knowledge lay between those pages during those years she hid away from the world. Only recently had she begun checking out the curiosities and eccentricities of their local bookstore, which had even begun carrying flashy comics from the larger port towns.
If Futaba was anywhere but on the way back right now, she would be at the bookstore. Of that, Ren was certain.
All she had to do was get there, get Futaba, and get back - all without getting lost. A fairly simple plan, all things considered, but simplicity was sometimes the greatest option. Details were meaningless.
She stepped out of the comfort of LeBlanc’s familiar walls and out into the fog. That was all it took to set her heart racing. Her palms grew sweaty and she wiped them on her plaid trousers, only to become damp again moments later.
Still, Futaba was out there. And Ren had to get to her before anything - or anyone - else did.