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Ichika was unable to sleep that night.
The moon was obscured with clouds, faintly illuminating a dreadful color of black and grey. The chirping of insects wasn't a great help at all. They used to sound like a lullaby, yet it now felt like a chaotic buzz plaguing her ears.
Blanket tossed aside, she sat up and recalled what had transpired since then.
She and Sukehiro were able to make amends, hence she started visiting him at least once a year. That was the goal. Somehow, for the past few months of her recurring visits, they could make up for the time they lost by bonding through sparring, eating, and bickering. Those reminded her of the good ol’ days. Now that she had returned though, her living quarters felt palpably foreign to her despite being gone for only a month.
It was difficult to find sleep, especially when one dreaded it the most. Ichika hugged her knees closer and bowed her head. She tried to be fine really. She kept convincing herself that and sometimes it worked. She was able to have a good time with her brother and had a serious talk with him. However, being fine shouldn't involve suddenly zoning out in the middle of the party. Being fine shouldn't feel suffocating especially at night. Being fine shouldn't involve a bloodied katana and lifeless corpses flashing before her at unexpected times. Being fine shouldn't bring forth nightmares after another. Being fine was what she wasn't good at.
She felt as if she deserved this. Innocent people were gone because of an irrefutable mistake, a drug-induced rampage. She mourned for what future they've lost, for what they could've gained. Loneliness crept its way into her heart and she'd lost count of the times it won. Such a moment included this night, lying in a fetal position.
No one should know of this. This was her burden to bear. Hers to carry. Her brother shouldn't be held down any further just because of her. But on rare occasions like this night, she desperately wished for her dreams of the past to whither and leave her alone. Who would want to be haunted by that incident? She was nothing short of her father. She was a murderer. Would it help if she repeatedly chanted that she didn't want any of that?
She was drenched in cold sweat, her palms being a little shaky, and her throat parched. It made her recall that fight against a stupid Boogeyman. Only this time was the lesser evil and that she could move by breathing evenly.
Wanting to divert her attention, she raised her eyes to clear her blurry vision until her gaze landed on a specific item.
Ichika crawled towards it without even turning the lights on. In an attempt to see clearly, she rubbed her eyes only to find out tears soaking a part of her robe, perhaps those were the drops she felt earlier. Putting that realization aside, what she she stumbled upon was a mini komainu replica statue placed on what seemed like a wooden table. She bought it from the market. A merchant advertised it as a great gift for warding off nightmares.
Slowly, she was able to see its whole form. She was no artist so she couldn't help but critique it. It was like a dog carved on a stone. Nothing impressive, just expensive if she was to be honest.
"You're not doing your job." Her voice was hoarse as she reprimanded it for its uselessness. She shouldn't have been enticed to buy it. Looking back made the idea of having it even more absurd.
She slowly stepped back away from it but for whatever forsaken universe there was, her toe got hit against the corner of the table's feet. She hissed in pain, falling a bit and hitting her elbow next.
Everyone who knew her was aware that if there was something Ichika wasn't, it was being clumsy. She might not be as elegant as the higher authorities were, but she was surefire graceful as hell. Spending time with the Black Bulls made her careless, it seemed.
Thinking of which had her spotting a clueless-looking box at the side.
"..."
She remembered this. This was where she placed the souvenirs Sukehiro had given her. Pain forgotten, she went for it and latched it open.
Inside was a set of Speed cards,
a frozen cupcake (how the hell that didn't expire?),
a delicate newly transformed brush (she was sure it used to be a mirror before),
a small wand with a blue dragon emblem on it,
a dead stink rainbow-colored bug,
a portrait of Marie,
a miniature wine,
a green flower,
a bird feather,
a toy house shaped like a bull,
a girl version of delinquent glasses...
The list of weird stuff went on but nothing could beat the last one. Ever. It was a terrifying doll that was supposed to resemble her.
While Ichika silently concurred that she was intimidating, she couldn't bring herself to be that horrendous. The right eye looked as if it would burst any given moment soon, the lips were sewn on a thin thread line, and the hair... Oh don't even let her get started on the hair.
It was eerie looking that it would undoubtedly scare even the most heinous creatures in the underworld. It was quite amusing really. Ichika smiled at the thought. Heh, it would probably be more useful in scaring unwanted thoughts and memories away.
She took the doll referred to as tiny-friendly-Ichika-san, and placed it on her small tabletop.
There.
It sat there as if it had intentions of biting her head off should she plan to approach it. Was she like that? Okay, maybe the doll really seemed like her, not that she would openly admit it.
Granted it was dark and the moonlight was all too faintly dispersed, a few shadows emerged reminding her that light still existed albeit appearing unlikely. Funny how she managed to find deeper meaning of what supposed to be a regular occurrence. It reminded her of a certain someone, who just like her was also struggling against his demons. How was he now anyway?
A hit of nostalgia hit her.
Memories of working with the Seven Ryuzen, being useful to others, and helping bring about a change to reuniting with her brother countered her feelings of nausea and void.
Ryu-sama told her that she tend to forget what she gained and have in the midst of her silence. No one could replace her dead clan, but the people she met along the way cleared up the path for her. She wasn't a mushy person but she knew the feeling do being adored and loved by someone. She had her brother, her friends, her career. Reminiscing those moments felt like a summer's embrace. All wrapped up in a warm sensation. Her lips quivering at the thought of never meeting them had she continued to waste away, drowning in sorrow.
She wasn't alone this time.
Against the tides of horrid pasts.
Of second chances and redemption.
To slumber at ease whilst wishing for the departed to rest in bliss.
That night, it was quite symbolic that a mere peculiar doll guarded her from the onslaught of traumatic pasts. No talisman, no yoryoku, or whatsoever.
To conclude, on top of buried trash laid the komainu.