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The faint hum of the streetlight outside flickered against the windowpane, casting jagged shadows across the cluttered room. Okarun lay on his futon, his breath even, his body still. The day’s exhaustion had overtaken him quickly, leaving him vulnerable to the creeping silence of the night.
The apartment was quiet, save for the faint rustle of fabric that didn’t belong to him. The scent of cherry blossoms bloomed in the air, sweet and cloying, seeping into the room like a miasma. A figure materialized at the foot of the futon—silent, graceful, otherworldly. She stood in the moonlight, her crimson kimono glowing faintly, her long black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of ink.
Hinoenma tilted her head, studying the sleeping boy before her. A smirk danced across her blood-red lips. “Such a fragile soul,” she murmured, her voice dripping with mockery. She crouched down beside him, her fingers brushing lightly over his cheek.
Okarun stirred but didn’t wake. Not yet.
“You work so hard to pretend you’re strong,” she whispered, her voice slipping into his subconscious. “But I see you for what you really are.”
His brow furrowed as her words wormed their way into his mind. Hinoenma smiled, her crimson eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. “Let’s see what you’re hiding, little one.”
Okarun found himself standing in an empty street. The world was bathed in a dim, gray light, the air heavy and cold. He didn’t remember how he got there, but the oppressive silence made his skin crawl.
“Hello?” he called out, his voice echoing unnaturally in the empty space.
There was no response. Only the faint rustling of fabric behind him.
He turned sharply, but the street was empty. His heart began to race as he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Something was watching him.
“Lost, are we?” a voice purred from the shadows.
Okarun spun around again, his breath catching in his throat. Hinoenma stepped into view, her crimson kimono shimmering like embers. Her glowing eyes locked onto his, and he felt a strange pull, like gravity had shifted around her.
“You’re dreaming,” she said, her voice soft and melodic. “But that doesn’t mean this isn’t real.”
“Who… what are you?” he stammered, taking a step back.
Hinoenma laughed, a haunting sound that echoed through the empty street. “I’m the answer to every question you’ve been too afraid to ask,” she said, her smile widening. “And tonight, you belong to me.”
Okarun tried to move, but his legs felt heavy, like they were rooted to the ground. “Stay away from me,” he said, his voice trembling.
Hinoenma tilted her head, amused. “Oh, but you don’t really want me to leave, do you?” she said, taking a step closer. “I can feel it—the doubt, the fear. You don’t want to fight it. You want someone to take it all away.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Okarun snapped, but his voice lacked conviction.
“Don’t you?” she said, her tone shifting to something gentler, almost pitying. “Poor little boy, always chasing after a strength that isn’t yours. Always wondering if you’re enough. Always knowing you’re not.”
Her words hit him like a blow, and his chest tightened. “That’s not true,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Hinoenma smiled. “Isn’t it? Let me show you.”
The world around them began to shift and distort, the empty street dissolving into a series of vivid, painful memories. Okarun saw himself stumbling in battle, Momo rushing in to save him. He saw the way she fought with such confidence, her spiritual energy glowing bright as she took down yokai after yokai.
And then there was him—hesitant, clumsy, always a step behind.
“You don’t belong at her side,” Hinoenma said, her voice weaving through his thoughts. “You know it. She knows it. But she keeps you around because she feels sorry for you.”
“That’s not true,” Okarun said, shaking his head. But the memories kept coming, each one sharper than the last. The times he’d hesitated, the times he’d failed, the times he’d nearly gotten himself—and Momo—killed.
“She’s carrying you,” Hinoenma continued, her voice softening. “Every battle, every step. She’s the one who saves the day. And you… you’re just in the way.”
Okarun fell to his knees, his hands clutching his head. “Stop it,” he whispered. “Just stop.”
But her voice didn’t stop. It grew louder, filling his mind with every insecurity he’d tried to bury. What are you doing here? You’ll never measure up. You’re just a burden.
“You’ve thought it before,” Hinoenma said, crouching down beside him. Her hand rested lightly on his shoulder, her touch sending a cold shiver through his body. “I’m just saying what you already know.”
Okarun felt the world tilt beneath him, the ground slipping away as he sank deeper into the nightmare. His breathing grew ragged, his vision blurring. He wanted to fight back, to tell her she was wrong, but the weight of her words was too much.
“She doesn’t need you,” Hinoenma said, her voice a soothing whisper. “She’s strong, fearless, invincible. What are you compared to that?”
“I…” Okarun tried to speak, but his throat felt tight, the words choking him.
“You’re tired,” she said, her crimson eyes locking onto his. “So tired of trying to keep up. Let me take it all away. Let me give you peace.”
Her hand slid from his shoulder to his chest, and he felt his energy drain, his body growing weaker. The faint warmth of her touch was strangely comforting, lulling him into surrender.
“Just let go,” she whispered. “Stop fighting. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
For a moment, he wanted to. The thought of letting go, of escaping the constant pressure and doubt, was so tempting. His hands fell to his sides, and he closed his eyes, letting the darkness take hold.
Hinoenma’s smile widened as she felt his resistance fade. “That’s it,” she murmured. “You’re mine now.”
Okarun’s breathing slowed, his body limp as the last shreds of his resolve crumbled. The memories she’d shown him replayed in his mind, each one confirming what he’d always feared: that he wasn’t enough. That Momo didn’t need him. That he was only holding her back.
“She’s better off without me,” he muttered, his voice hollow.
Hinoenma laughed softly, a triumphant sound. “Exactly,” she said. “Now, let me—”
But then, something shifted. A faint, flickering light pierced the darkness, and Okarun’s mind latched onto it. A voice, faint at first but growing stronger, cut through the fog.
“You’re not weak, Okarun. You’re you. And that’s enough.”
The light grew brighter, illuminating the nightmare world Hinoenma had created. Okarun’s chest heaved as the weight on him lifted, his body trembling with newfound strength.
“You don’t get to decide that,” he said, his voice cracking but steady. “Momo’s stronger than me, yeah. But she chooses to fight with me. And I won’t let you take that away.”
Hinoenma hissed, her crimson eyes narrowing. “You’re pathetic,” she spat, her voice losing its seductive edge. “You’ll always be a shadow. A failure.”
“Maybe,” Okarun said, standing shakily. “But I’m not yours.”
The world around them shattered, the dream dissolving into blinding light. Hinoenma screamed as her form flickered, the darkness receding as Okarun’s resolve broke her hold.
Okarun jolted awake, his chest heaving, his body drenched in sweat. The scent of cherry blossoms lingered in the air, but the room was empty. He sat up, his hands trembling as he clutched the blanket around him.
Her words still echoed in his mind, sharp and cutting. You’re just a burden. She doesn’t need you.
His phone buzzed on the bedside table, and he grabbed it with shaking hands. Without thinking, he opened his messages and typed:
“Momo, can you come over? Please.”
The reply was instant.
“On my way. Are you okay?”
Okarun stared at the screen, his vision blurring as tears welled up. He didn’t know how to answer. All he knew was that he wasn’t okay.
The knock on the door was sharp, breaking the silence of the room and pulling Okarun out of his spiraling thoughts. His legs felt like jelly as he forced himself to stand, the echoes of Hinoenma’s words still clawing at the edges of his mind.
When he opened the door, Momo stood there, illuminated by the dim hallway light. She was wearing casual clothes—an oversized hoodie and sweatpants—but her expression was anything but casual. Concern etched her features, softening her usual sharp, no-nonsense demeanor.
“Okarun,” she said, her voice low but steady. “What happened?”
For a moment, he couldn’t speak. The lump in his throat swelled as he tried to meet her gaze, but the weight of what had just happened threatened to overwhelm him. His hands trembled, and his shoulders sagged.
Momo stepped forward, closing the door behind her. Her eyes searched his face, catching the faint sheen of sweat on his brow and the glassiness in his eyes. Her own softened further, and she spoke again, quieter this time. “Hey. You’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I… I almost let her win,” he whispered, his voice breaking.
Momo frowned, stepping closer. “Her?”
“Hinoenma,” he choked out, his hands clutching the edges of his hoodie. “She was here. She got into my head, Momo. She made me—” His voice cracked, and he looked away, shame radiating from him. “She made me think I didn’t matter. That I wasn’t… wasn’t good enough.”
Momo’s breath hitched, and her brow furrowed as anger flashed across her face—not at him, but at the invisible force that had done this. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace.
Okarun froze, the warmth of her arms catching him off guard. It wasn’t the first time she’d hugged him, but this was different—gentler, more deliberate, as if she were trying to hold him together. He felt the lump in his throat swell, but this time, it broke, and the tears he’d been holding back spilled over.
“I almost gave in,” he whispered, his voice muffled against her shoulder. “She was right, Momo. She was right about everything. I’m just a burden. You don’t need me—”
“Stop,” Momo said firmly, pulling back just enough to cup his face in her hands. Her thumbs brushed away his tears as her eyes locked onto his, full of warmth and a fierceness that made his breath hitch. “Don’t you dare say that.”
He tried to look away, but she didn’t let him. “Okarun, listen to me,” she said, her voice softer now but no less determined. “You’re not a burden. You’ve never been a burden. You’re my partner. My friend. My—” She paused, her cheeks coloring faintly before she pushed on. “My Okarun. You matter. To me. To everyone. Always.”
Okarun’s heart stuttered in his chest, her words sinking in slowly. He opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, Momo leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. “M-Momo?”
She pulled back slightly, her cheeks dusted with pink but her expression steady. “I’m serious,” she said. “You’re important to me. And I’m not letting some creepy yokai make you think otherwise.”
Okarun stared at her, his mind racing. The warmth of her kiss lingered on his skin, mixing with the comforting weight of her presence. For a moment, he forgot the echoes of Hinoenma’s voice, the doubts she’d planted. All he could focus on was Momo—her warmth, her steadiness, the way her words seemed to fill the cracks Hinoenma had left behind.
“I‘m staying,” she declared, breaking the silence.
Okarun blinked. “W-what?”
“You’re not staying here alone tonight,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “You’re a magnet for yokai even on a good day. After what just happened? No way.”
“I—I can handle it,” he stammered, though his voice wavered. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Momo interrupted, her voice soft but firm. “Let me take care of you, okay?”
Okarun didn’t protest further. He couldn’t, not when her words carried so much sincerity. He nodded, his shoulders sagging with relief as she led him back to the futon.
“You need to rest,” she said, sitting beside him as he sank back down. “You’ve been through hell tonight.”
“I don’t think I can sleep,” he admitted, his voice small.
Momo’s expression softened further. “Then I’ll stay awake with you,” she said simply, reaching over to pull the blanket over his shoulders. “You’re not alone, Okarun. Not tonight. Not ever.”
Her words wrapped around him like a second blanket, warmer than anything physical could ever be. He looked up at her, his eyes glistening. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Momo smiled, and without hesitation, she lay down beside him, curling close. Her arms wrapped around him, holding him firmly yet gently. Okarun stiffened at first, the proximity overwhelming, but her warmth quickly melted away his tension. He let himself relax against her, his breathing slowing as the scent of her shampoo—faintly citrusy—calmed his racing thoughts.
“Get some sleep,” she murmured, her voice soft and close to his ear. “I’ve got you.”
For the first time since the nightmare began, Okarun felt safe. He closed his eyes, the sound of her steady breathing lulling him into a fragile but much-needed slumber.
When Okarun woke, the first thing he noticed was the warmth. Momo was still beside him, her arm draped over his waist, her face peaceful in sleep. The events of the night before came rushing back, and for a moment, his chest tightened with the weight of what he’d almost lost—his sense of self, his belief in his own worth.
But then he looked at her, her presence anchoring him to the present. She’d stayed. She’d been there when he needed her most.
Okarun’s eyes welled with gratitude as he whispered, “Thank you, Momo.”
She stirred at the sound of his voice, her eyes fluttering open. When her gaze met his, she gave him a small, sleepy smile. “Morning, Okarun,” she said, her voice soft and a little raspy. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice thick. “Because of you.”
She smiled wider, her arm tightening around him briefly before she sat up, stretching. “Good. Because if Hinoenma ever shows her creepy face again, I’ll knock her teeth in.”
Okarun chuckled, the sound shaky but genuine. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he could face whatever came next.
And it was because of her.