Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Momo Ayase had three observations as she slowly regained consciousness. 

One- she had the beginnings of a migraine, which only happened when she overextended her psychic powers. 

Two- her mouth tasted like battery acid and carrots, which was weird because she hadn’t eaten any carrots that day. Or battery acid. 

Three- someone a little ways away from her was gagging, and it sounded both disgusting and painful. And oddly familiar. In fact, if she didn’t know better she could’ve sworn it sounded like it was coming from-

Her eyes flew open.

“Okarun!”

She snapped upright from where she lay on cold, rocky ground, immediately regretting it as her head swam and stomach churned. Still, she shook it off as best she could as she looked from side to side for her friend. She found him almost immediately- he was on his knees about three meters away, hunched over and digging his fingers into the ground as he dry-heaved. 

“Okarun!” she cried out again, scrambling over to him as quickly as she could. She dropped next to him, putting a comforting hand on his back. “Dude, are you okay?!”

The boy glanced up from behind his round glasses, his brow sweaty and eyes bleary and something vaguely green streaked on his lips and chin. And somehow in spite of all that he was still able to level a perfectly flat look at her.

“... Sorry, standard question,” she apologized, rubbing his back soothingly. “Seriously though, are you okay? You got knocked around pretty good back there and now I find you like this? Did that...”

She paused, then snarled as the events of the last hour (was it an hour? How long had they been out?) came flooding back to her. 

“... That pasty-ass, snaggle-toothed BITCH!” Momo hollered, jumping to her feet in righteous fury. “Where is she?! When I get my ghost hands on her I am so gonna- oooh geez.”

Her righteous fury faded as her head pounded and another wave of nausea ran through her. She fell to her knees, pressing her hand to her mouth as she tried not to lose her lunch- which she was no longer certain had no carrots or battery acid. 

“M-Miss Ayase!” Okarun said, reaching toward her in concern. “Are you- hrrk!”

Her friend immediately hunched back over as he once again gagged. This time and much to her horror, Momo watched as he vomited thick, green glowing goo from his mouth. The goo joined a small puddle of the stuff already on the ground (which she only now noticed consisted of vivid purple rock, what the hell), which he probably spewed earlier just before she woke up. 

It was almost enough to make her sympathy puke, but she managed to choke it back in the likely scenario she also hurled green glowing goo.

Okarun coughed a couple more times before he seemed to settle. He breathed heavily, then wiped his mouth on his uniform sleeve as he gave Momo an apologetic look. “I-I’m sorry. That was gross.”

“A little,” Momo agreed with a shaky smile. “What, did you eat the inside of a glow stick?”

“Of c-course not,” he replied with a weak chuckle. “Who does that?”

“Jiji- if ya dared him, anyway.”

“T-That’s so mean, M-Miss Ayase. You’re mean.”

“But not wrong.” 

They both laughed, but any levity vanished when Okarun started coughing again. Momo put her arm around his shoulders, slowly bringing him to her side in comfort as he rode out the fit. It spoke to both their exhaustion that neither one of them could bother to feel flustered at the close proximity. 

“... I don’t k-know what’s wrong with me, “ Okarun rasped into her shoulder once he settled again, voice rough. “I felt off earlier after the yokai hit me with that weird a-attack, but when I woke up it was a h-hundred times worse. I t-think it’s this place...”

“This place?” Momo echoed.

Okarun gave her an adorably confused look. “Y-You... you didn’t notice? When you w-woke up?”

No, because when she woke up all that mattered to her was finding her best friend and making sure he was in one piece- relatively speaking. But instead of saying that out loud (and potentially humiliating herself), she waspishly responded with, “Notice what?” 

Okarun simply glanced up. Momo followed his gaze and-

Oh. 

Notice that.

All around them, as far as the eye could see, was an expansive green void, light both swirling with and breaking through a strange darkness like a monochromatic nebula. If she squinted, she could occasionally make out stair-like structures in the distance at various points, reminding her of an Escher drawing Okarun showed her once. More clearly, however, she could see purple doors of various styles and sizes hanging in the air with nothing to hold them up, as well as the occasional tiny island made of dark purple rock. It took her a moment to realize she and Okarun were sitting on a larger one.

It was also then she noticed other things- like the way the air smelled of ozone, and how it was thick and cool when she breathed in as though she was standing in fog despite the fact there wasn’t any. Or how the rock beneath them looked moist, but when she ran pebbles through her fingers they felt dry and almost static-y. 

It was wrong. It was all wrong.

“... W-What is this place?” she muttered. She turned back to Okarun, who again looked at her in concern. “Are we in an Empty Space? It couldn’t be, right? The yokai-!”

The yokai. 

That was where all this had started, hadn’t it?

The yokai who had attacked the exhibition. The yokai who had been such a pain in the ass to fight because so many of their attacks had no effect on her. The yokai who tried made a break for it with poor Haruna and when Momo tried to stop her-!

“... Dammit.” 

Momo took a deep breath. Took another.

Then promptly lost her shit.

“WHERE THE FUCKING HELL DID THAT CHALK-FACED SKANK DROP US?!”

Chapter Text

Six Hours Earlier

In retrospect, it hadn’t actually started with the yokai.

It started with the stupid-ass field trip their school decided to cobble together at the last minute. 

Apparently for the last two months a traveling historical exhibition had been making its way across Japan, never stopping in any city longer than a couple days. Going off her history teacher’s gushing, it was a “famous” and “critically acclaimed” collection of rare artifacts from 17th century Edo-period Japan. And despite the fact it was supposed to be on its way to Tokyo, the school administration learned just that week that it would be stopping for a few days in Kamigoe City for a special presentation for students. They somehow managed to snatch up a visitation slot for Kami High’s entire second year class and the rest, they say, is history. 

(Momo’s history teacher was so proud of himself for that joke. No one laughed.) 

Momo thought it sounded entirely lame. School was boring, sure, but was an afternoon crammed into a crowded bus and sniffing around dusty old junk really a better use of their time? That was time she could spend passing notes with Miko and Muko, discussing occult stuff with Okarun, or looking for the boy-in-question’s missing testicle. Not to mention it was inconvenient- the short notice meant many kids scrambled to get permission slips signed, and anyone who failed would have to stay at school for remedial history classes with the teacher who couldn’t tell jokes. 

School was boring, but extra school was extra boring so Momo chose the lesser of two evils. She got her grandma to sign her slip and the following Monday after a hearty early lunch of rice balls and miso soup (which no, did not have carrots or battery acid), Momo allowed herself to be crammed onto a bus and it was off to the exhibition. 

From there things picked up immensely, because some teacher had the brilliant idea to mix and match students from different classes to “better facilitate the flow and exchange of ideas” or some crap. Every student got a “study buddy,” and Momo was overjoyed when Okarun sat next to her on the bus (while a certain dum-dum seethed in the back with Jiji, who took the whole thing in stride as per usual).

She expressed her dismay about the trip, only for her friend to emphatically disagree.

“I don’t think you’ll find it boring at all, Miss Ayase!” Okarun said, examining the pamphlet for the exhibition while she leaned on the bus window. “I did some research on the library computers yesterday and they said-”

“You ain’t about to tell me all the Daimyo back then were secretly alien overlords, are ya?” Momo joked before pausing. “... Are ya?”

“I’m not. They weren’t- as far as I can tell, anyway,” he replied, adjusting his glasses. “According to the exhibition’s official website, the centerpiece of the exhibit is a perfectly preserved 17th century ukiyo-e screen depicting a yokai!”

That piqued her interest. She leaned in close (missing the way his cheeks flushed) to get a better look at the pamphlet. “A yokai? Now you’re talkin’! Did it say what kind?”

Okarun cleared his throat before speaking. “U-Uh, the website didn’t specify. I think they didn’t want to spoil any potential visitors who may want to see it themselves.” 

“Ugh, weak. Guess we’ll see it when we get there, then.” Momo leaned back against her seat, arms behind her head. “Glad to know this trip won’t be a whole drag.” 

“You’re more interested in an old screen than the hauntings?” a drawling voice called over. “Seriously girl, when’d you get so dull?”

Okarun and Momo looked up to see Muko, who peered over the seat in front of them with a grinning Miko. (The two of them managed to be paired up despite the teachers’ plan. Go figure.) It took a second for what she said to register but when it did she immediately had the paranormal pair’s full attention. 

“What do you mean, ‘hauntings?’” Momo asked. 

“You really need to get a new phone, babes,” Miko said, holding up her own smartphone with a message board pulled up on the screen. “Folks are talkin’ all about it online. Lights flickerin’, mysterious scratches on visitors, cold spots- the whole ensem’. They say the exhibition is totes haunted and that’s why it keeps skippin’ town after just two days. Most of the time it advertises it’ll be there for a couple weeks.”

Momo blinked, then leveled a look at Okarun. “... And none of that came up in your research yesterday?” 

Okarun scratched his cheek sheepishly. “... I only really studied the official website, and the supplementary sites it recommended. Besides, the school computers block message boards.”

“Dude, you gotta buy your own PC already.”

“But I told you, they’re so expensive!”

“Then get back on your paper route and start savin’ up!” She pumped her fist in the air. “We can fight for a future where you have a laptop, I have a phone, and I can send you memes as is my God-given right!”

Before the spectacled boy could reply to that impassioned speech, Muko interrupted with a snicker and said, “Yeah, Okarun, don’t you wanna work as hard as Momo? You’ve seen her work, remember?”

“Welcome home, ya bastard.” 

Momo and Okarun’s faces both erupted in flames (thankfully not literally in the latter’s case) and while he struggled to stammer out a response, Momo barked out, “Put a sock in it, you two! And I still haven't forgiven you for that stunt, y’know!”

The two other gyaru simply laughed in the face of the psychic’s wrath and returned to their seats while Okarun finally stopped trying to untangle his tongue to instead hide his still-red face behind his pamphlet. Momo just sighed, slumping in her seat as she turned to look out the bus window and watch Kamigoe’s streets fly by. 

Her friends’ conspiring aside, what they revealed wasn’t lost on her. 

A “famous” and “critically acclaimed” exhibition with a yokai ukiyo-e centerpiece, Momo thought to herself. And it also just so happens to be super haunted? 

In spite of herself, she smiled. 

Now that sounds like a coinky-dink, and like Turbo Granny says, ain’t no such thing when we’re around. 

Okarun was right- maybe this trip wouldn’t be so boring after all. 

It turned out that the exhibition was being held at a small convention center on the outskirts of Kamigoe City. Momo recognized it when they arrived because the city sometimes used the surrounding empty land for outdoor concerts or traveling carnivals and festivals. Except now that empty land was filled with either buses carting students to the center, or opportunists hoping to take advantage of the atmosphere by setting up booths to sell classic-style art, retro clothes, or other antiques. (Some of which actually looked pretty cool, even from the bus- she would have to check it out later with Okarun, Miko, and Muko if there was time.)

“Alright, everyone!” one of the teachers in charge of the trip shouted through a bullhorn once everyone filed out of their respective vehicles. “Ground rules- stay with your buddy, don’t leave the property, and be back at the buses by four! Me and my fellow teachers will be milling around keeping an eye on you all. Otherwise, you have free range to explore the exhibition to your heart’s content!”

Enthusiastic cheers sounded off from the crowd of second-year students.

“And don’t forget to fill out your worksheets!” she added, holding one up. “This is still a learning experience, not just a free break from classes!”

Significantly less enthusiastic cheers sounded off from the crowd of second-year students. (Why was there always a shitty worksheet?)

“Glad to hear it. Now, go have fun and learn something while you're at it!”

With that, the crowd broke apart as their classmates either went straight for the convention center or decided to check out all the booths outside of it. Okarun turned to Momo, two worksheets in hand and an eager smile on his face.

She refused to acknowledge how cute he looked.

“Shall we get started?” the boy prompted.

The brunette chuckled and gestured towards the front doors. “Lead on.” 

And lead he did, excitedly guiding her right through the center’s front doors and into the big open space the exhibition was set up in. 

For the most part, the exhibition was pretty much what Momo expected. The showroom floor had dozens of display cases and stands set up along certain areas in an almost maze-like path, each showcasing non-yokai related ukiyo-e, pieces of armor, old weapons, preserved silk kimonos, and a lot of pottery. She was willing to admit it was impressive how everything was still in great condition, and some of the kimonos on display were really beautiful, but overall she didn’t find it to be anything special. She mostly let Okarun usher her along and ramble out facts he learned in preparation for the trip- even finding moments to throw in alien-related anecdotes- while she dutifully filled out the worksheet on what they saw. 

She (and Okarun) also made sure to keep an eye out for anything of the occult/haunted variety, but so far that was turning out to be a disappointment too. No lights flickered, the room was perfectly air-conditioned, and the only scratch they saw someone get was from walking into a doorframe while trying to flirt with a classmate. Over an hour later it got to be so boring she almost wished a yokai or alien would show up just to break up the monotony (almost- she didn’t relish fighting for her life again, but at least they’d be doing something besides staring at yet another janky relic and writing a paragraph about it). 

And it must have shown on her face because Okarun stopped mid-lecture about a wood print of an autumn forest to frown and wring his hands anxiously. “Miss Ayase? I’m sorry if I’m boring you- I guess I kind of went overboard with my research the other day.”

“No, no, don’t be like that. It ain’t you. Your nerd-age has been the best part of this trip,” she quickly assured him (causing him to look away bashfully). She groaned. “I was promised a haunting and a yokai ukiyo-e. Instead, either this stupid exhibit has five of the exact same vase, or that’s the fifth time we’ve passed that one vase!”

“... I think there are actually five vases,” he observed, tone incredulous. “So much for ‘rare’ artifacts.”

Momo groaned even louder.

Okarun stared at her for a moment with what she mentally called the “sad, wet puppy look." She sighed and was about to apologize for raining on his parade when he shook his head, seemed to silently come to some sort of conclusion, then- to her complete and utter surprise- stuck out his hand for her to take. 

It was an uncharacteristically bold action from the usually shy boy, and it was totally subverted by the fact he refused to meet her gaze. 

“C-Come on!” he stuttered nervously. “Let’s go f-find that yokai ukiyo-e and m-make this field trip worth it.” 

Momo looked between his hand and his turned-away face in shock for a moment, before it melted away into a mischievousness. 

“Best idea I’ve heard all day,” she said with a sly smirk. “Though if you’re gonna boss me around, you should at least look me in the eye.” 

“Miss Ayase! What did I say about teasing? You know I’m an aw-!”

“DON’T SAY IT. Just take me to the ukiyo-e, alright?” 

With a faint blush on her cheeks, Momo took his hand and let him drag her along (though the whole time he faced ahead and refused to look at her). Luckily they were able to find a rough map of the showroom floor posted on a wall, so they followed it to the area where the yokai ukiyo-e was held at the very back of the building. Soon enough, the pair arrived at a more empty space (lowercase) in the showroom with a small metal stage set up against the back wall, a handful of other patrons wandering around, a large, flat glass display case set off to the side and sectioned off with red rope...

... and Aira and Jiji. 

“Yooooooo, Momooooo, Okaruuuuun!” Jiji hollered, waving at them as though they weren't only five meters away. “We beat you here! Claim your silver medal!”

“Momo Ayase, what are you doing to Takakura?!” Aira yelled, waving a fist. “Let go of him this instant!”

Momo scoffed as she and Okarun approached, only letting go of her friend’s hand to poke the other girl on the forehead. “Jokes on you, Okarun offered me his hand. Don’t be jelly, skank.”

Aira smacked away her hand. “Who are you calling a skank, pig?!”

“Who are you callin’ a pig, fugly?!”

“Fugly?!”

“Soooo, Jiji, Miss Shiratori!” Okarun said loudly, getting between the girls before an argument broke out. “Did you guys know about the yokai ukiyo-e too?”

The pink-haired girl sniffed, but took the cue to back down. She gave the object of her affection a simpering smile. “Of course, Takakura! I did my research before the trip, and learned not only of the yokai ukiyo-e, but all the rumors of the exhibit being haunted! Clearly this ukiyo-e is a cursed object that has attracted demons from hell to Earth so they may rain misfortune on an unsuspecting populace!”

Don’t her knees hurt from all the conclusions she jumps to? Momo thought. She rolled her eyes. “And what gave you that idea?”

Aira smiled smugly. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”

“You cotton candy-headed little-!”

“I dunno if it’s cursed or whatevs, but Aira figured it and hauntings were connected, and I figured you two would want to give it a look-see-over,” Jiji interrupted chipperly. He threw out his arms in a ‘ta-da’ motion toward the display case. “I may not be able to help much with fighting, but I got investigating in the bag! So here we are, and now we can see what all the hype’s about!”

“Excellent idea, Jiji! Thank you for your effort!” Okarun declared, also motioning at the display case though his movements were more robotic. "Let's do that and not fight, please! We can all enjoy the exhibit together!”

Momo exhaled loudly through her nose. She didn’t want Aira to have the last word, but she disliked how tense Okarun was more- the guy had put so much effort into making the trip fun, and she didn’t want to be the one to ruin it with pointless bickering. So she took the ‘L’ and stepped back over to her ‘study buddy.’ “Fine, fine, I’m over it already. Jiji’s right, let’s see what the hype around this ukiyo-e is about.” 

Aira mumbled something about not taking orders but complied. With that settled, all four teens approached the display case to finally see what made this ukiyo-e so special. 

It was certainly an ornate piece- its details were all still incredibly vibrant and defined in spite of how old it was. In the corner of the ukiyo-e was a red circle, perhaps the sun, shining down on a battle taking place in an old Japanese clan compound- an army of samurai wearing colorful hitatare and wielding katana were swarming from all four corners of the screen towards the center. Those closest to the center were being very artistically disemboweled by either the hoard of oni and demons fighting against them, or the creature residing dead center of the screen and clearly leading the horde.

The yokai. 

The disturbed spirit took the form of a woman wearing a bloodstained white burial kimono- a shiro-shōzoku. She had flowing, unkempt black hair that reached her feet and long-fingered, clawed hands, one of which was holding a bloody katana with a black blade. Oddly enough, her face was almost entirely hidden by her hair save for the barest glimpse of her mouth, which was open in an endless scream. Waves of light (or perhaps power, it was up to interpretation) radiated off her form, and her sword was stabbed into the chest of a man dressed as a lord. Her arms were outstretched, as though beckoning her enemies to come at her. 

Momo could respect that. 

“Wow! It’s certainly... graphic!” Aira noted with false cheer. “I like all the... guts. Very realistic.” 

“Whoaaaa, that is one spook-ay lady,” Jiji said, his tone awed. He leaned in close, nearly pulling down the red rope in front of the display. “She looks like that ghost girl sealed in a well in those old horror movies. You know, the one who killed people through a VHS tape?” 

“Sadako?” 

“Yeah, that’s it!”

Okarun rubbed his chin in thought as he peered intently at the yokai's image. “I wonder why her face is covered. It's usually a significant detail in art depicting spirits and demons.”

“Maybe she doesn’t have a face- yokai are weird,” Momo guessed. She grinned and wiggled her finger spookily. “Oooh, maybe that’s her thing! She goes around stealin’ pretty faces to replace the one she lost, and grows stronger with every one she takes!”

“Aiiieee!” Aira shrieked. She covered her face with her hands. “She can’t steal my cute face, it’s too powerful!” 

“Crap, all four of us are gorgeous!” Jiji panicked, also covering his face. “If she came after us she’d be unstoppable!”

Okarun gave an embarrassed squeak at the inadvertent (or totally advertent- it was Jiji after all) compliment while Momo almost made a jibe about the yokai ignoring Aira if she collected pretty faces. But she promised not to fight so she let it go (for now) while the shorter boy managed to collect himself and speak up before the parade of idiocy could continue. 

“I-It’s certainly a good theory, but wouldn’t they show that in the ukiyo-e?” he pointed out. “I don’t think we need to worry about losing our faces.” 

Aira and Jiji both sighed in relief while Okarun cleared his throat and turned to Momo. “Are you sure you don’t recognize what kind of yokai it is, Miss Ayase? She may not steal our faces but I’d like to know what we’re up against if this does turn out to be a haunted object.”

The brunette hummed, rocking her head from side to side. It definitely looked familiar but then again, a lot of spirits wore burial clothes. Grandma had shown her hundreds of illustrations of yokai over the years- she couldn’t be expected to remember all of them. That being said, Jiji’s comments about those old horror movies did nip at something in her mind, she just couldn’t bring it forward.

“Maybe? Jiji’s well-girl sounds familiar,” Momo admitted. She crossed her arms behind her head. “Grandma might've told me ‘bout this one, but I’m blankin’. Sorry.” 

“That’s alright. If there’s a connection with those old movies, we can research them later for details,” Okarun assured her before Aira could snark about Momo being useless (the desire to was written all over her face). “In the meantime, can you at least sense if it’s cursed, or has a yokai aura for you to see?”

“I'll give it a shot if nothing else. One sec.” 

Momo narrowed her eyes and reached out her senses, trying to feel for the dark, twisted aura she usually picked up in yokai. She could see Okarun’s soft blue aura swirling with Turbo Granny’s pulsing red, as well as Aira’s pale pink aura with the Acrobatic Silky’s deep magenta. Jiji’s own aura intermingled with the Evil Eye's violent purple one- sensing that always made it feel like someone was squeezing her sinuses, but at this point she was used to it. 

But there was nothing coming from the ukiyo-e itself- only the inert aura she saw in most everyday non-living objects. Either a weak yokai was hiding in it like Turbo Granny had in Okarun after they kicked her ass... or it was just an ordinary, if extremely creepy, Edo-period screen. 

Ugh, this totally blows, she thought with a scowl. I didn’t really wanna fight a spirit today, but I also feel I got my hopes up for nothin’ after all that haunted talk. There’s gotta be somethin’ here for us...

She closed her eyes, reaching out her senses further. She could feel the weak auras of all the artifacts and the exhibition’s patrons. There was a stronger pair making their way into the room from the entrance that felt vaguely familiar, but were still too far away to get an accurate read on. And coming up behind her...

Huh. Odd. 

Momo’s face skewed in both concentration and confusion. There was an aura approaching from behind her with an odd appearance (don’t ask how she could see it when it was behind her and her eyes were closed- spirit powers were weird and she’d stopped questioning it). It was mostly a soft amber color, but at the very center of it was a sparking ember of toxic green that veined out into the rest of the amber. She had never seen an aura that color before, and looking at it made her feel a little nauseous. 

But it didn’t feel like a yokai, or really like anything she’d felt before. She didn’t even know how to describe it exactly. The closest she could get was the aura-equivalent of your foot waking up after falling asleep, only all over her body. It gave her a pins-and-needles sensation down to her core that wasn’t entirely pleasant, but still nothing like the crushing rage or sorrow she got from other yokai in the past. 

It didn’t seem like a threat- she didn’t think it even had any spiritual power, it still felt too close to a normal human- but it was probably still something to make note of to the oth-

“Do you all like the onryō ukiyo-e?” 

“AH!” Momo yelped.

“AHH!” the Yokai Trio also yelped.

“Oh! I-I’m sorry!”

Momo spun around, ready to lash out at the apparent danger- only to immediately freeze as she faced a mousey, secretary-looking and totally human woman, who took a few steps back when she saw the school girl’s fierce expression. 

“I-I’m so sorry!” the woman- or rather girl, she wasn’t that old on a second glance- stuttered. She bowed deeply at the waist. “My deepest apologies! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you all! Please forgive me!”

... Us all? Momo thought. Oh yeah, the other three yelped after she did.

She glanced at her friends- Okarun, Aira, and Jiji appeared to have been leaning in anticipation for her report, and were either equally surprised when this random secretary snuck up on them, or just surprised by her own surprise. Either way, it went to show how jumpy their recent lifestyle made them because they had all struck battle stances- Okarun had started to crouch, Aira lifted a leg in ballet-esque pose and Jiji had a thankfully still-unopened water bottle positioned over his head. However, once they saw the ‘enemy’ was just a feeble and overly apologetic girl, they sheepishly shifted into more natural positions. Doofuses. 

(Not that she was one to talk- she had been two seconds from whipping out her ghost hands and psychically bitch-slapping the chick into a wall. That would have been hard to explain to the cops...)

The secretary exited her bow, standing up straight and giving Momo her first real look at her. The psychic quickly amended her assessment of her possible career and decided she probably wasn’t a secretary- she was only like a year or two older than her and her friends- but she certainly dressed like one. She wore her pretty dark brown hair in a too-tight bun, and thick coke-bottle glasses that put Okarun’s to shame. She wore a slate-grey blazer over a white buttoned-up shirt (even the top button- you never buttoned the top button!), a knee-length matching skirt, boring nude stockings, and practical loafers. 

The only remotely cute or fashionable thing she wore was a silver brooch on her lapel in the shape of a fairy and studded with brilliant blue stones (and holy crap, were those real sapphires?). Otherwise, the Not-Secretary was the epitome of a neat, proper Japanese woman- literally everything Momo stood against as a gyaru...

“I’m sorry! I truly didn’t mean it!”

... and Momo couldn’t even hold that, or the fact she just scared the living daylights out of all of them, against her. Not with the way her lip wobbled, or how her posture hunched in on itself in a distinctly Okarun-after-Momo-yelled-at-him-that-first-day-like manner. The girl looked as though she fully expected to get yelled at, and it made something ugly curl in her stomach.

Damn it all. When did she get so soft for these types of people?

“... Um, it’s okay! Don’t even worry about it!” Momo said awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck and plastering on what she hoped was a comforting smile. “I’m sorry we gave you a scare! We’re just... so into history that we get pretty wound up if we discover anythin’ really cool! I once broke a guy’s leg after he snuck up on me reading about the Sengoku Period! You got off easy!” 

“Uhhhhhhhh yeah!” Jiji suddenly agreed, playing along. He held up one leg, hopping a bit on the other. “In fact, it was my leg she broke! I didn’t heal for like, two years! But it was the price of knowledge, so I happily paid it for my best girl here!” 

Meanwhile, Aira and Okarun gave Jiji and Momo identical unimpressed side-stares, as if to say You really expect her to buy that?

Not-Secretary sniffled, then gave a wobbly smile. “Oh! Oh, that’s fine, I understand completely. I always found this piece to be especially evocative myself. You’re totally valid in your focus!”

Aira and Okarun face-faulted with clear expressions of She actually bought that?!

Momo shot her naysayers a triumphant grin before turning back to the girl. “I’m glad! Again, sorry for all the trouble! I can’t speak for these three, but I really like the ukiyo-e, it’s very detailed!”

“Almost too detailed,” Aira mumbled, making a face at all the gutted samurai on the screen. She quickly switched to her trademark aren’t-I-too-sweet-and-angelic face. “It’s so scary though! I know it’s part of our history, but is it really alright to have this on display?”

Not-Secretary chuckled weakly, picking at imaginary lint on her sleeve. “Yes, I suppose it is a bit gory, isn’t it. But you can’t deny it makes a statement!”

“... S-Speaking of statements,” Okarun piped up, fiddling with his glasses as he regained his composure. “You called it something different before when you approached us?”

“Yeah, yeah!” Jiji added. He tapped his forehead in thought. “Something like... the ‘Oreo’ ukiyo-e?”

Not-Secretary chuckled again, though this time it was more genuine- even this timid thing wasn’t immune to the athlete’s charms. “I called it the onryō ukiyo-e. That’s the type of yokai depicted in the center of the screen- an onryō.”

Okarun darted his gaze to meet Momo’s, silently asking her if she recognized the term. Momo just shrugged in response. She really needed to take a refresher yokai course with her grandma- the name rang a bell, sure, but no concrete details came to mind. 

But none needed to, as the older girl stepped up to the display and lifted her hand toward it like a tour guide. “In Japanese myth, onryō are said to be spirits of people- usually women but sometimes men- who were wronged in life by another, leading to their untimely death. The hatred and anger they felt then caused them to rise again as yokai. They seek vengeance on the ones who wronged them, and will do anything to satisfy their grudge. They can harm and influence the living, and some even think they have the power to cause natural disasters! Onryō are also popularized in modern horror media with characters like Sadako in The Ring books and film series.”

Jiji beamed at his friends, ecstatic to have been- on some level- correct. Momo rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to their impromptu lecturer. 

“They are truly fearsome spirits,” Not-Secretary continued, facing the display fully now. Her voice softened as her face took on a partly mystified, partly sad mien. She reached out her hand to the image of the onryō, stopping just short of touching the glass. “Can you even imagine that kind of rage? Hating someone so deeply it keeps you alive after death?”

“Yes,” Aira, Momo, and Okarun replied bluntly with a sharp nod in unison, pointedly not looking at Jiji.

Jiji stuck his tongue out at them.

Not-Secretary swiftly retracted her hand, coming back from whatever spell (real or otherwise) the ukiyo-e put her under. She turned away from the display and coughed into her fist as she tried to brush off the strange moment. “Ahem. Oh. Again, completely valid. I’m sorry.”

“Do they steal faces?!” Aira asked suddenly. “Is that why the one in the screen’s covered?!”

“You’re still on that?” Momo groaned, exasperated.

The older girl perked up- most likely glad she hadn’t scared off her audience. “Oh. Uh, maybe? If it satisfies their grudge then they might. But that’s not why her face is covered- when the ukiyo-e was created, the lord who commissioned it believed revealing her face would invite an onryō into his home, so he requested that it be covered by her hair. Onryō seem to be generally depicted this way anyway, especially in our contemporary horror movies and games.” 

Momo stepped toward the screen, studying the image of the spirit stabbing a lord with her sword. It was visceral in a way that a simple creative liberty wouldn’t have. She couldn’t help but ask, “... Did this lord dude have reason to think one would come after him?”

“I... Ahem. I beg your pardon?” the spectacled girl squeaked nervously. 

Bingo. 

“I’m just sayin’, all of this-” Momo jerked her thumb at the ukiyo-e. “- seems kinda personal to me. And you just said he wanted to keep an onryō away. I’m curious- what did this guy do to piss off someone so badly that he thought her coming back as a ghost hellbent on revenge was possible?”

And why is a thing depicting that exact scenario hanging up in a potentially haunted exhibition? she didn’t ask. 

She wasn’t naive. As much as the older girl gave off a strong air of “long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs” and made Momo want to sit her down with a hot tea and blanket, she obviously knew more than she let on. Not to mention there was still the issue of her odd-feeling and oddly-colored aura- Momo wasn’t much of a betting girl, but she’d put money on it being related to the weird happenings at the exhibition. While she largely thought the onryō otaku was harmless, she had to at least try and get answers out of her. 

Onryō Otaku (that was a much better nickname than Not-Secretary) squirmed, now visibly uncomfortable- which did not help her case in the slightest. After a long moment, she adjusted her glasses and put on an uneasy customer-service smile. “... I-It’s a long story, and just that- a story. You don’t need to worry about an angry spirit coming after anyone, I promise. Ghosts aren’t even real!” 

I’ve heard that one before, Momo thought to herself. The older girl was closing off, and the school girl needed to pull back before she lost any chance for more info. She smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “Well, thanks anyway! You had a lot of good info on spirits and the exhibit- how do you know so much about this, anyway?”

Onryō Otaku frowned, confused. “You don’t know... oh! Did I not introduce myself? It completely slipped my mind, my apologies! I’m-”

“You’re a member of the Ooko Family, aren’t you?”

Momo, Okarun, Jiji, and the otaku all turned to Aira, who had an expression of superior satisfaction on her face. 

“The Ooko Family?” Momo repeated. 

“Yes, the Ooko Family- they’re the ones running this exhibition? The collection belongs to them,” the pink-haired girl explained as though it were obvious. At Momo’s blank stare she asked in disbelief, “You’ve seriously never heard of them? They’re one of the richest families in Japan, and they’re famous for their philanthropic work. They must operate over a dozen charities!”

More blank staring.

She threw her hands up in the air. “For the love of- it was on the exhibition website!”

“It was on the website,” Okarun confirmed, the traitor. 

“See?!” Aira tossed her hair. “This is why you’re not the leader, Momo Ayase- you can’t even do basic research!”

“Woo, shots fired!” Jiji whooped.

“Would you shove it with all that leader talk?” Momo shook her head and turned back to the spectacled girl. “Is she right? Are you one of these rich Ooko bastards?”

“I never said they were bastards! They run charities! Their reputation is stellar!”

The older girl nodded, a little kerfuffled by their antics. “U-Um, yes, I am. My name is Haruna Ooko. My father set up this exhibition so we could share our family’s treasured collection with all of Japan.” She bowed politely at Aira. “And thank you for the recognition. My family is very, very, VERY proud of our Good Reputation.”

The paranormal group all sweatdropped- each ‘very’ sounded more strained than the last and contrasted heavily against her earlier nervousness. It didn’t take a genius- a real genius, not whatever the hell Jiji was- to see that her family’s ‘Good Reputation’ was a bit of a touchy subject. Momo could practically hear the use of capital letters.

Haruna stood back up, facing the gyaru again. “Excuse me, but did this young lady call you ‘Ayase’ just now? Are you named ‘Ayase?’” 

Momo eyed her warily. “Yeaaaaah. What of-?”

“Oh thank God! I am so grateful you were able to make it!”

“Huh?!”

Haruna reached out and took Momo’s hands into her own, making the Yokai Trio’s mouths gape in shock. The girl radiated relief and gratitude so brightly Momo almost averted her eyes just so she wouldn’t go blind. 

“My apologies for not introducing myself sooner, or recognizing you!” the (apparently) rich girl babbled excitedly. “Oh, I must have sounded so silly, talking about onryō like you aren't an expert.”

“... You say ‘oh,' a lot,” Momo commented dumbly. She pulled her hands free. “Look, could you please explain to me what the hell you’re talkin’ about-”

“Though I must say, I wasn’t expecting you to be so young?” the otaku continued as though she hadn’t heard, tone befuddled. Realizing what she just said, she instantly went into panic mode. “N-Not to say age has any bearing on your skill! If you can do the job, that’s all that matters! I just never thought a spirit medium of your reputation would be a girl my age!”

A spirit medium of- okay, now Momo could see where the poor rich girl’s confusion lay. 

“... Right. Haruna, I think you have me mistaken for someone else,” she explained. “I’m Momo Ayase. You’re lookin’ for Seiko Ayase.”

“You rang?”

Momo nearly jumped out of her slouchy socks. “Fuck!”

(What was this? Scare the Shit Out of Momo Day?)

The students (and Haruna) all whirled to the side, and sure enough, there stood the one and only Seiko Ayase- Momo’s spirit medium grandmother who did not look nearly old enough to hold either title. She wasn’t wearing her usual revealing clothing, but rather the black blazer, pencil skirt, boots, and white buttoned-up shirt (with the top button unbuttoned, as was proper) she threw on whenever she wanted to pretend she was a mature adult. However, her hair was done in its usual vertical style, she smoked her ever-present cigarette, and she carried both a large knapsack and her favorite steel bat, ‘Nessie.’

Momo darted her gaze between the cigarette and the bat. How did she get let in here with either of those?

“Oi, Momo. Watch your language, we’re in polite society,” the old (in theory) woman said in her usual half-firm-half-bored tone, balancing Nessie across her shoulders. She bowed her head toward Haruna. “I apologize for my rude grandchild, Lady Ooko. I did my best but she’s hopeless.”

“Hey!” Momo protested.

“It’s alright,” Haruna assured her, also bowing her head. “She doesn't have to censor herself, I’m not insulted- did you just say she was your grandchild?”

Seiko ignored the non-sequitur, raising her head. “At any rate, I’m Seiko Ayase, or Santa Dodoria. I’m the one you exchanged emails with about your ‘problem.’”

Haruna flushed and started frantically bowing. “Oh, I am so sorry! I don’t know how I could have made such a foolish mistake! I swear, I honestly had no idea-!”

“It’s fine, stop apologizing,” Seiko waved off, her words halting the ever-apologetic girl’s spiel. “It’s not like I told you another Ayase was gonna be here. And knowing these three wombats and their genius friend, they didn’t bother to introduce themselves either.” She side-eyed the teens sharply, making them all wince. “So if you all don’t mind?”

“Who are you calling a wombat?!” Momo huffed grumpily. “Whatever. Like I said, I’m Momo Ayase. Nice to meet ya, Haruna.” 

“Aira Shiratori,” Aira greeted with a curtsy of all things. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ooko.”

“Jin Enjoji!” Jiji spun around in place to shoot Haruna the finger guns. “But a ky-uuuuuuuutie like you can just call me Jiji!”

Haruna blushed again and shyly tucked a loose hair behind her ear. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Ooko,” Okarun greeted with a short bow. “My name is Ken Taka-UMPH!”

The boy’s introduction was cut short as Momo slapped her hand over his mouth and shouted, “CALL HIM OKARUN. O-KA-RUN.” 

“Momo Ayase, get off him!” Aira demanded.

Haruna turned to the elder spirit medium, puzzled. 

Seiko waved it off again. “You don’t wanna know. Just call the wonder nerd ‘Okarun.’”

“Okaaay...” Haruna drew out. She bowed to them all again. “Then it is a pleasure to meet you, Ayase, Shiratori, Jiji, and Okarun. As I said before, I’m Haruna Ooko.” 

“Charmed. Now that that’s outta the way,” Momo let go of Okarun and walked up to her grandmother. “What are you even doin’ here, Grandma? Is this about all the rumors the exhibition is haunted?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Haruna flinch.

“Got it in one. As you might’ve guessed, the rumors aren’t just rumors,” Seiko explained. She pointed at the onryō otaku. “A couple weeks ago, this one emailed me askin’ if I was willing to help. I told her my power doesn’t extend out of Kamigoe City, so she arranged for the exhibition to come to me.”

“It took a few days, but I convinced my father it was good optics,” Haruna explained, tiredly massaging her temple. “Give students a free visit, encourage education and historical appreciation in a small town, et cetera.” 

“Kamigoe’s not that small,” Jiji defended their home. 

“By his standards? It is.” 

Seiko did a short twirl, taking in the showroom. “It’s a pretty impressive collection, you four should be grateful you get to see it at all.” She pointed her thumb at the onryō ukiyo-e. “I especially like this piece. Kinda wish I’d known about it beforehand, Lady Ooko.”

The spirit medium’s tone got noticeably sharper with those last few words, and Haruna responded with a shamed wince. Seiko shook her head and continued, “I also told her to make sure Kami High’s second year class got a visitation slot. That way I could have you lot here with me if things got hairy and you wouldn’t miss any school.” 

“That was the easier part!” Haruna added, sounding proud of herself (if not still a little remorseful)- though if she wondered what four high schoolers had to do with a spirit medium’s job, she didn’t voice it. “All I had to do was reach out to your principal and he immediately accepted when I offered the slot!”

So that’s how the administration set up this stupid-ass field trip, Momo thought with a grimace. And why Grandma was so quick to sign my permission slip! 

“So hauntings are problematic enough that you called in Auntie. In that case, why let the public in at all?” Aira asked suspiciously. “It seems kind of dangerous to have civilians present if there are evil demons prowling around. Why not set up a private viewing for just her and her family and friends? She’s a TV personality, so there was still optic-potential.”

The spectacled girl shook her head. “My father would have never gone for that. It’s bad enough we have to keep moving the exhibition prematurely due to the hauntings- he wants as many people as possible to experience it. Tokyo was both our premier next stop and a chance to make up for the losses to both our funds and our ‘Good Reputation.’” She actually threw in air quotes at that part. “My father cares a great deal about how our family is viewed, and I had a hard enough time convincing him to come to Kamigoe for a free student presentation. I would have never been able to talk him into coming here for just one TV personality. Especially not this TV personality.”

Momo squinted her eyes at Haruna, leaning in with her hands on her hips as she immediately rose to her grandma’s defense. “And just what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean no offense!” she rushed out, putting her hands up in a placating manner. “I have nothing but respect for Santa Dodoria! It’s just- well...”

Seiko exhaled a cloud of smoke. “He still has no idea I’m here, does he?” 

Haruna just hung in her head in defeat. “He doesn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Seriously, stop apologizing- for this, at least. You’re not responsible for other people’s stupidity. Just your own.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry-”

“What did I just say? You shouldn’t apologize so much anyway- show some backbone.” 

“I’m sorry-!”

“Don’t be.”

“Miss Ooko, if I may ask- does your father have something against Ms. Seiko personally?” Okarun interrupted the back and forth, but not unkindly as he approached Haruna. “Pardon me for being blunt, but if the hauntings are so bad you have to pack up and leave town every couple days, then wouldn’t he want someone here to help exorcise any spirits?”

“He doesn’t have anything against Santa Dodoria personally, he wouldn’t want any spirit medium near our problem because that would be admitting we have one but it keeps getting worse so I had to contact her in secret because he’s being such a stubborn-” Haruna heaved a heavy sigh and slumped over where she stood. She took off her glasses to squeeze the bridge of her nose tiredly, revealing heavy bags under her eyes. “... It’s a long story, and... yes, I haven't told you all of it yet, Santa Dodoria. I’m sorry. I didn't think you would come if you knew and that was wrong of me, but I was desperate. I’m so sorry.”

“... Like Grandma said- don’t be,” Momo said, also not unkindly as she lowered her hands from her hips. Now that her glasses weren’t hiding fifty percent of her face, she could see just how exhausted the older girl was. She couldn’t help but sympathize with her- all the alien and yokai shit got to her too sometimes, but she at least had the support of Okarun and her grandma. It sounded like Haruna only had her dad, and he was not helping the situation.

Momo wasn’t the best student, but even she could pick up context clues. Mr. Ooko sounded like the sort of guy to put on a good act for the cameras, but it was all in the name of popularity and building a good rep- kind of like Aira, but without the redeeming qualities she'd never admit out loud to the other girl having. He would put on student presentations and run dozens of charities, but only in the name of doing anything to build and maintain his reputation, even at the expense of his own daughter. 

Mr. Ooko sounded like a grade-A sea slug, and Momo would never say no to knocking one those down a peg in the name of someone suffering. 

So the brunette flashed a brilliant smile at her fellow brunette. “I don't know what's going on yet either, but if your old man is bein’ a turd about this, then count on us to both set him straight and put the kibosh on any more hauntings.” She made a peace sign. “I guarantee it, not only because the four of us have your back, but also because my grandma is an honest-to-God spirit medium!”

Seiko didn’t say anything in response to the praise, but she did lift her hand to her cigarette to not-so-secretly hide the smile that emerged at her granddaughter’s words. The Yokai Trio also smiled, silently agreeing to the psychic's vow- even Aira, who normally would claim Momo didn't speak for her. 

Haruna didn’t say anything for a long moment, letting Momo’s promise sink in. Finally, she chuckled half-heartedly and wiped at her eyes, opening them to reveal they were a lovely amber color- the same as her aura. 

“... I guess I’ll put my trust in your grandmother, Ayase. And in all of you,” she agreed. She slipped her glasses back on and straightened her posture. “Now then. I’ll need to read you all in on the situation properly. I wasn’t lying before that this is a long story and- shoot, it’s going to have to wait. Look.” 

Haruna pointed toward the stage. Over the course of their conversation more people had entered the space, not just their fellow students and teachers, but a camera crew and a squad of reporters. A middle-aged man in a smart business suit now stood on the stage at a podium, shuffling a set of flashcards. He was tall, with slicked-back salt and pepper hair and a pencil mustache. He would have been almost handsome if not for the way his facial features were all scrunched up, as though he spent a good amount of his time looking down his nose at people. 

Momo guessed this was the grade-A sea slug in question, Mr. Ooko.

“My father said he had a big announcement to make today, and he wanted me with him on stage,” Haruna explained morosely. She bowed. “I need to get going, but I’ll tell you everything you need to know when it's over. I promise.”

Seiko nodded. “Get going then, we’ll meet you back here by the ukiyo-e.” 

Haruna bowed one more time, then turned on her heel to start walking toward the stage. However, before she could get too far Momo stepped forward and called out to her. 

“Hey, Haruna! Wait a sec!”

She stopped, looking over shoulder at the school girl. 

Momo grinned and pointed at her own sternum, right where a lapel would be if she wore a blazer. “I like your brooch, by the way! It’s totally cute!”

Haruna merely stared back for a moment before she broke into the first real, truly happy grin she’d made since they met her. She waved back, calling out, “Thank you! It means a lot to me!”

With that, she turned back around and walked over the stage, climbing onto it and joining her father behind the podium- and Momo couldn’t help but notice her stance go pigeon-toed the second he turned to her with a stern glare. 

The sneering scumbag would have to wait though because, as she noted before, she could read context clues and picked on a few major ones when her grandmother showed up. Momo lowered her hand and placed them both back on her hips as she whirled to face Seiko. 

“I'm gonna take a wild guess and say Haruna didn’t tell you about the hater spirit potentially coming to destroy us all, did she?” she snarked with a smirk. It felt nice not to be the one out of the loop for once. 

“Nnnnope,” Seiko replied plainly. “I did know there was ukiyo-e depicting a yokai after she emailed me and I checked the exhibition website-”

“HA!” Aira crowed.

“Shuddup, you’re not special!” Momo barked back.

“- but neither she nor any of the message boards I checked afterwards bothered to mention it depicted a fucking onryō,” the spirit medium continued as though neither girl had just spoke. She sighed tiredly and massaged her temple just like Haruna did before. “If I’d known that I would have never asked her to arrange for you four to be here.”

Momo stilled, any good humor gone. That last time Seiko had said she wished hadn't sent them somewhere, it had been against the Evil Eye. And Jiji seemed to be thinking the same thing because he spoke up next. 

“Are onryō really that bad, Auntie?” Jiji asked. “I mean, we’re no strangers to rage spirits- we took care of the Evil Eye after all!”

“After how many missteps, Momo Ayase being choked out, and her house being utterly destroyed?” Aira reminded him sourly. 

Jiji wilted at the reminder. Momo and Seiko gave him ‘there, there’ pats on either shoulder.  

“... To be fair, I did a lot of the destroying myself,” Okarun said, rubbing the back of neck awkwardly. 

“You had good reason to, Takakura!” the pink-haired girl cooed. 

“Sheesh, you’re equatin’ the Evil Eye to a genuine onryō?” a raspy voice scoffed from within Seiko’s knapsack. “If I didn’t know you four were turdbrained before, now I’m convinced.”

Momo watched as Seiko’s bag wriggled until the head of a maneki-neko popped out of the opening. (That explained the two familiar auras she sensed earlier.) The porcelain cat yawned, giving a bored look around the showroom.

“Turbo Granny?!” Okarun exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you here to help Auntie Seiko with the hauntings?” Jiji asked, brightening up.

“Get your heads outta your asses, I ain’t here to help anyone,” Turbo Granny growled. “I was bored and there wasn’t anythin’ on TV, so I tagged along when Seiko said she was headin’ out. Only now that I know an onryō might lurkin’ about, I wished I’d stayed. I want nuthin’ to do with those bitches.” 

“You don’t like them that much?” Momo asked, leaning toward the depowered yokai. “I’m a little surprised. It sounds right up your alley- girls who faced horrible deaths, unable to find peace. You never tried to comfort one?”

The cat made another, a more disgusted-sounding scoff as she climbed out of the bag and onto Seiko’s shoulder. “Girlie, you don’t comfort an onryō. They don’t wanna be comforted. They wanna be angry, and for their enemies to hurt. And the worst part? That anger’s entirely their own. Evil Eye’s strong because he’s the culmination of 200 years worth of murdered victims. Onryō are just as strong, if not stronger, purely on their own individual hate.”

Momo’s mouth clicked shut- she wasn’t aware her jaw had even dropped. Around her, her friends had similar expressions of awe and horror. She turned to Seiko, silently begging her to deny or argue against Turbo Granny’s claim. 

Seiko did not deny or argue against it. “You can’t help someone who doesn’t wanna be helped. A lot of yokai fall under that category, and the best I can do for them is exorcise them. However, onryō are especially stubborn- and deadly. I wouldn’t send anyone but the most experienced spirit medium against one, and even that's a long shot. Hell, I have half a mind to send you guys home. But if it is an onryō we’re dealing with, I’m gonna need all the help I can get.” Her face softened. “All I ask is that you four be careful. And if I tell you to run, you run.”

Seiko was the toughest woman Momo knew, and seeing her act scared was enough to make her scared too. That being said, she had no intention of running and leaving her grandma to the non-existent mercy of some horror movie bitch with split-ends, and going off the determined expressions they had on, her friends didn’t either. 

Still, for Seiko’s peace of mind she said aloud, “We’ll be careful, and run if we have to. I promise.”

“Yeah!/Of course!/We promise!” Aira, Okarun, and Jiji all agreed at the same time. 

Seiko raised an eyebrow. “You were all just thinkin’, ‘ain’t no way you’re leavin’ me to the onryo’s non-existent mercy,’ weren’t you?”

Momo stumbled in unison with the Yokai Trio.  “How did you-?!”

“Your poker faces are shit,” Seiko criticized, stubbing out her cigarette in her pocket ashtray. “But ya wouldn’t be you if ya didn’t dry out my skin with your recklessness. I guess we’ll play it by ear.” 

“T-There’s no reason to be like that, Auntie!” Aira said. Her eyes widened, and Momo could almost see the lightbulb going off over her head. She gestured dramatically to the ukiyo-e. “What if we just destroyed this cursed object? It’s what’s drawing in the demons haunting this place, right? If we get rid of it, then problem solved!”

Okarun gently pushed her away from it. “I think Haruna and her dad would have a problem with that.” 

“It’d be for their own good!”

“It’d be for nothing.” The old woman brazenly knocked her knuckles on the glass covering the ukiyo-e. “This piece of crap isn’t cursed, it’s just ugly art.” 

Aira visibly shrunk in on herself. “It... it’s not? Not even a little bit?”

“Kid, not everything with yokai on it is gonna have a yokai. That’d be ridiculous.”

Aira fell to her knees, a cloud of depression hanging over her head. Momo couldn’t help but snicker- yeah, she’d pretty much had the same theory, but she wasn’t the one being called ridiculous, now was she? 

“So we don’t have to worry about a super angry ghost lady climbing out a well and stealing our faces?” Jiji asked hopefully. “Phew! You and Turbo Granny had me going for a sec there.”

“Sadako is the only one climbing outta wells. And for cryin’ out loud, give the face thing a rest!” Momo groaned. She pointed a finger at her grandmother. “And you! After all that build-up, now you’re saying there’s no onryō?”

“Oh no, I’m at least 85% certain there’s an onryō we need to look out for.” Seiko shrugged. “The screen’s just not cursed.”

“Damn it.”

“It was also a good theory!” Okarun attempted to comfort Aira.

The other girl just moaned in despair, sinking lower on the ground.

“Hmph. If anythin’s cursed, I’d look at Lady Four Eyes,” Turbo Granny said, pulling a meat bun out of nowhere and chomping down on it. “Dat gurl ‘as ‘ay off.” 

“Lady Four- do you mean Haruna?” Momo asked incredulously. “I’ve seen chihuahuas less shaky than her. Yeah, she keeps secrets and dresses like a librarian, but she’s nice.”

The cat swallowed. “Don’t mean she ain’t cursed, kid. You tellin’ me with all your power you didn’t sense how wrong she felt?”

“Wrong?” Momo scratched her cheek. “Well... I did see her aura before and it looked kinda weird, but I wouldn’t say it felt like a threat or anything. Grandma?”

Seiko put her hand to her chin in thought. “I can’t perceive auras quite like you can, but I did get a funky vibe off her when I first arrived- it didn’t feel evil though. What do you mean it looked weird?”

“It was two different colors, and not in a ‘she’s being possessed’ way. Started out amber, but turned this really bright toxic green at the center.”

Seiko’s eyes widened minutely, then she gave her granddaughter a probing stare. “Toxic green?”

“Yeah, it was super vivid. I almost got sick lookin’ at it.” Momo crossed her arms. “Why? Does that mean something to you?”

Seiko was silent for a few seconds, expression pensive. Finally, she shook her head again and pulled out a fresh cigarette. “... Nah, it’s nothin’. I don’t know enough about aura colors to really weigh in. Lady Ooko has no spiritual power, I can tell you that much.” She lit her smoke and took a drag. “If her aura feels weird it may hafta do with whatever’s haunting the exhibition. but until I can do a closer examination there ain’t nothin’ we can do about it.” 

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Turbo Granny snapped. “I’m tellin’ ya, she doesn't feel weird- she feels wrong. I don’t know what it is, but there’s somethin’ dwelling inside that girl that’s settin’ my fur on edge. And look, those three agree with me!”

Momo and Seiko turned to her friends. Aira was back on her feet, and all three were exuding various levels of discomfort.

Momo focused on her best friend. “Okarun, is that true? You guys usually can’t sense stuff like I can.”

“... If I don’t know if ‘wrong’ is the word I’d use,” Okarun said, fiddling with his glasses again. “But I did feel something unnerving when Miss Ooko first approached. It was like for a moment my nerves were hot and cold at the same time, and that feeling began to eat away at something within me. And in that moment, all I wanted to do was go All Out and run in the opposite direction.”

Momo’s jaw dropped again. 

“That’s why I reacted like I did when she surprised me. The feeling faded almost instantly though!” he insisted. “Afterwards I just got an odd vibe off her, but nothing like before. And you didn’t seem to have a problem with her beyond what you said about her secrets, and she turned out to be really nice. I thought I imagined all of it, or it was the work of whatever was haunting the exhibit, so I decided not to say anything until we had a chance to compare notes.”

“... Yeah, that accurately sums it up,” Aira mumbled into her fist. “As the leader, I will trust my subordinate’s judgement- even if it's Momo Ayase. We will help Miss Ooko regardless of weird vibes.”

“She seriously gave me the heebie-jeebies,” Jiji admitted with a moan, wobbling listlessly from side to side. “Which sucks, because Haruna’s really sweet. Heck, for a second there Evil Eye felt like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to kill her immediately or annihilate her completely!”

Aira raised an eyebrow at him and asked curiously, “Is there a practical difference?”

“Evil Eye likes to fight- annihilate completely means he wants to drag it out. If he wants to kill her immediately, it means he thinks she’s a threat and needs to be taken down yesterday.” 

“... What I felt was nothin’ like that,” Momo argued, a little bewildered. “Are you sure we all felt the same thing?”

“Most likely,” Seiko guessed. She exhaled some smoke then gestured her cig at the Yokai Trio. “While Four Eyes, Aira, and Jiji have their own spiritual power, most of it is rooted in their yokai abilities- and yokai exist primarily in the realm of death. They and Turbo Granny are gonna be more sensitive to forces of a similar nature than we are.”

“So, what? Are you sayin’ Haruna is possessed or cursed by a ghost after all? By an onryō? Or is it ghost-adjacent? You said ‘similar,’ so is it a ghost thing or not?”

“It might or might not be, is what I’m sayin’. But like I said before, until I can get a better look at her and this whole situation there ain’t much we can do about it. For now though, we need to focus on whatever’s haunting the exhibition, onryō or not. I’ll keep an eye on Lady Ooko and if what’s goin’ on with her is connected, I’ll deal with it then but not before. You all understand?”

“Yes, Grandma/Auntie/Ms. Seiko,” all four teens chorused together. 

“Hmph,” Turbo Granny grumped. 

Seiko nodded firmly. “Good.”

Momo knew her grandmother was right to some extent, but that didn’t mean she liked it. So much was uncertain between Haruna’s aura and the possibility of what was apparently an Ultimate Hate Spirit attacking, and while she liked and sympathized with Haruna she’d like it more if she knew whether or not she needed to psychically bitch-slap the older girl into a wall after all. The fact Okarun and others got such gnarly vibes off her did not help in slightest. 

... But the school girl trusted her gut, and her gut insisted Haruna wasn’t the bad guy here. It helped that Seiko seemed to agree Haruna wasn’t evil, or a threat beyond whatever was lurking in her aura that made Okarun and Turbo Granny so freaked out. Not to mention Momo just couldn't get Haruna's exhausted face out of her mind, or how she said she’d place her trust in them, or the way she’d looked so damn happy when she’d complimented her fairy brooch. 

“Alright, enough chit-chatting,” Seiko said, brandishing Nessie. “We ready to get started?”

Momo glanced once more at the onryō on the ukiyo-e, then looked back toward the stage, where a blank-faced Haruna stood two feet behind her father with her hands clasped in front of her. In time it took her group to talk with her grandmother, a proper crowd had gathered in front of the stage. Mr. Ooko now stood directly at the podium, tapping at the mike to get everyone’s attention. It appeared the sea slug was ready to make his ‘big announcement,’ if all that and the way the camera crew had their equipment trained on him was anything to go by.

“... Yeah,” Momo agreed. “Let’s go help Haruna.”

Okarun gave her radiant smile and a thumbs up (dork). Aira crossed her arms nodded firmly. Jiji pumped his fist in the air excitedly, revved up as usual. 

The old woman nodded one last time before snapping her fingers and pointing to the stage. “Come on then. Let's see what all the hullabaloo is about.” 

They’d promised to meet Haruna by the ukiyo-e so the group didn’t delve too far into the crowd, but they still made an effort to get closer to the stage. Momo caught Haruna’s eye as they approached, offering the older girl an encouraging wave. She didn’t wave back, but she did give her a brief smile of acknowledgement before replacing her unfazed expression.

Meanwhile, Mr. Ooko adjusted his tie, cleared his throat, then spread his lips in what he probably assumed was a charming smile. (Momo thought it made him look like he just stepped on Lego and was trying to hide it.)

“Welcome dearest patrons, students, and members of the press!” he announced, voice booming across the room. “As I’m sure many of you are already aware, I am Aogan Ooko- current CEO of Ooko Conglomerate, current executive director of the Ooko Foundation and all its connected charities, and curator of this fine traveling Ooko Family Edo Historical Exhibition!”

Polite clapping ensured from the crowd, though the way Ooko waved and ate it up, it might as well have been uproarious applause. 

“Thank you, thank you, you are all too kind!” Ooko placed his hand over his heart. “I sincerely hope you are enjoying the exhibit. This has been a labor of love- not just for my family and our extensive, prestigious history, but for the people of Japan! One year ago I decided that rather than leave them to gather dust in our private galleries, these precious treasures needed to be shared with the people for their education and appreciation! And that is also why we have invited students from all over the city here today to experience the exhibition free of charge- with how fast the world moves for young people, it is all too easy to move forward and forget our history. My hope with this exhibition is that these potential scholars will stop not only to consider where they are going as they step into the future, but where they’ve been as a society!”

Momo scowled. That was a funny way of saying my daughter told me it would be good optics and I went along with it because I care waaaay too much how people see me. She'd had him pegged before- the words sounded pretty good, but the man could not keep the greedy glint out of his eye, or the over-sweet honey out of his voice. Every word made her want to take a shower, and judging by the grimaces the Yokai Trio, her grandma, and even Turbo Granny had, they all felt the same way. 

The wildly insincere man wiped a tear from his eye (or rather pretended to, they were completely dry). “And while we have had our tribulations these last two months with the limited permits, criminal vandalism, and having to keep exhibition on the move because of both-”

“That’s the excuse he used?” Momo whispered out of the corner of her mouth to Okarun. “I know he can’t say ‘we’re haunted’ without sounding like a kook, but come on.”

“What does he mean by ‘vandalism?’” Okarun whispered back. 

“If you’d done research, Momo Ayase, you’d know some artifacts got smashed over the last couple months,” Aira explained sotte voce- never mind the fact Okarun was the one to ask. “The Ookos claimed every time it was history-hating punks who broke in at night, but since it kept happening no matter where they went, folks got suspicious. More likely...”

Ghosts, right- Momo figured as much. (If whatever was haunting the place was anything like her, they probably saw the fifth identical vase and decided to cry anarchy.) The gyaru shot the other girl a rude gesture and turned her attention back to the self-important sea slug. 

“-the last two months have equally been a wonderful, enriching, and rewarding experience for my family as we’ve shared not only the wealth of our clan inheritance, but the wealth of our family legacy in the form of these precious artifacts and their history,” the CEO continued, oozing emotional sap like Death Worm slime. “But to truly understand the value of both, you first need to understand the Ooko Family’s personal history. We are a legacy of triumph and overcoming adversity, of standing stalwart even in the face of betrayal and conspiracy-”

“-of listening to himself talk,” Momo joked.

Aira shushed her. Okarun and Jiji both bit back giggles while Seiko openly snorted. 

“- and of honoring the actions of the revered ancestors who came before us! That is the history I will share with you today, as today is the 366th anniversary of my family’s greatest victory!” Ooko announced.

More polite clapping from the audience, and more Ooko eating up the perceived adulation with a Lego-pain smile. 

Momo, on the other hand, scoffed under her breath. “Who the hell celebrates a 366th anniversary of anything? It’s such a random number. This is just him feedin’ his own ego.”

“Maybe he has his reasons?” the spectacled boy suggested quietly. “Though I think Miss Ooko agrees with you.”

Momo glanced up at the spectacled girl. She was clapping and holding a straight face, but the psychic was able to catch the tail-end of an eye roll and the signature lip curl of somebody thinking Ugh, THIS again.

Something told Momo that whatever story her dad was about to tell, Haruna had heard it many times before. At the same time though, Haruna also had her shoulders set very stiffly and her hands clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. It was almost as if she dreaded something beyond hearing her old man ramble. 

What is goin’ through her head right now? Momo wondered. 

Instead of rambling right away, Ooko gestured off stage. “And to commemorate this milestone anniversary, you all will be the first to see the latest addition to the traveling exhibition. Bring it in, please.”

Two burly men in dark suits- security guards or something- came in from a side door, carrying a large box-shaped thing covered in a blue silk sheet. Ooko’s grin stretched at the sight of it, while Haruna looked... confused? She gave her father a questioning look but the middle-aged prick ignored her, instead beckoning the guards to place the mystery item in the center of the stage. 

Haruna said her dad had a big announcement, but did she not know he was gonna do this? Momo thought. It’s a lot of pomp for more pottery, so what could it be?

Ooko took a mic from a stage tech and moved to stand next to the covered item, placing his free hand on a corner. “While we have heralded the illustrious onryō ukiyo-e as the exhibition’s centerpiece artifact, I now present to you an item even more rare and beautiful. Feast your eyes on the Ooko Family’s most prized possession- the Shiratamashii!”

With that one word, Haruna’s poker face shattered as her eyes nearly bugged out from behind her glasses while she shouted, “WHAT?!”

Momo was startled by the otaku’s reaction, but didn’t have a moment to consider it as Ooko ignored his daughter’s shout and whipped the sheet away to reveal a katanakake stand holding a katana and its sheath. 

This garnered more excited applause from the audience and flashes from the press’ cameras. While there were other swords displayed in the exhibition, they couldn’t hold a candle to this one. The polished sheath was glistening white, with shimmering silver veins sewn through the wood and a blue sageo rope looped around the top. The wrap on the hilt was a matching shade of blue, and the hilt itself was made of pale wood that complimented it nicely. The guard gleamed silver and was forged to resemble two elegant cranes chasing each other. The blade itself had an uneven temper pattern with a metal that nearly glowed in the showroom’s lighting. 

It was truly a beautiful blade and, Momo had to admit, worth all the pomp Ooko gave it. But whether it was because the slimy Ooko was the one giving it the pomp or Haruna’s bizarre outburst sticking with her, looking at the new addition to the exhibition made Momo’s stomach sink right to the floor.

“Stay sharp.”

Momo looked up at her grandmother and Turbo Granny, who both stared at the sword like it had done something to offend them.

“Grandma?” Momo prompted. “Granny?”

“Remember how hag said the ukiyo-e ain’t cursed?” Turbo Granny asked. 

“Yeah?”

“It still ain’t,” Seiko whispered. She pointed at the sword. “But that? That might be cursed.” 

"Shit."

"Definitely."

Back on the stage, Ooko stood behind the sword and began to explain, still ignoring the way his daughter looked like she wanted to bolt. “Three hundred and sixty-six years ago, a minor samurai clan whose name is lost to time reached out to my ancestor, Lord Daichi Ooko. The clan wished to join their families and assets, sending the offer with both the Shiratamashii- a magnificent blade forged by the region’s most skilled swordsmith- and their only daughter.”

The CEO began to pace the stage. “According to the tale, the daughter- known to us only as the hime- was renowned for her grace and beauty, so naturally they allowed her and her attendants to present her clan’s case to Lord Ooko’s youngest son. What she actually did was seduce him with her wiles, convincing him that this was not only a fortuitous match for both their families, but for themselves as she loved him and only him. Unfortunately, the younger son believed her, and that was his undoing.” 

He swept his arm out toward the katana. “For you see, it was all a lie. The clan had no desire to join with the Ooko Family. Rather they wished to wipe them out, and claim all their lands and riches for themselves. So on her wedding night, the hime drugged the compound’s guards and let assassins from her clan in through the front gates, intending to slaughter the Ooko Family while they slept. The hime’s slumbering husband was the first to be killed, but thankfully, the only one.”

Ooko faced the audience, arms akimbo as his grin grew more fanatical. “That now nameless clan had underestimated the fortitude and skill of the Ooko family! Lord Daichi caught the assassin in the act of slaying his son, and while he fought off the rest he raised the alarm throughout the compound. Lord Ooko’s brethren took up their blades, and through valiant and honorable battle, soundly defeated every last intruder without losing any of their own men!”

Oohs and aahs sounded form the audience, and for some reason every single sound made Haruna more and more jittery. She even started chewing on her nails. 

“Any other lord would have had every last member of that minor clan killed for their treachery, but not Lord Ooko. He allowed the clan head and his family to commit honorable seppuku instead of receiving public execution.” A hush came over the audience, and Ooko shook his head somberly. “I know, it is not an option we consider in these modern times, but you must remember that society operated very differently back then. Honor meant everything- it's harsh, but seppuku was seen as the more merciful option. That being said, it was not a mercy they extended to the hime.”

The CEO returned to the sword, holding his free hand over it as though he intended to pick it up. “Due to the hime’s role in these events- her offering, her seduction, letting in the assassins, allowing her husband to be butchered- she was sentenced to a public execution. They brought her before the people of the Ooko’s village, and with the Shiratamashii she had originally offered as a wedding gift, Lord Ooko lopped off her head.”

Momo blanched. That gorgeous, elegant blade was an execution weapon?!

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” Seiko tutted. 

“How can he think something like this is appropriate for a student presentation?" Okarun asked, bewildered. 

Turbo Granny scoffed. “Bold of you to assume he’s thinkin’, Four Eyes. That fool has no idea what he's messin’ with.”

“It’s so stupid. Of course they singled out the woman in the plot,” Aira added, shaking her head in disapproval. “Never mind the fact it was a group effort, and she was acting on her entire clan’s orders. Typical.”

“That’s what you’re focusing on?” Momo asked the pink-haired girl. She had a point, but still- Momo was focused more on how the lord getting stabbed on the ukiyo-e suddenly made a lot more sense.

Ooko faced the audience one more time, smile so wide it barely fit on his face. “For centuries my family has kept and maintained this blade, not only to memorialize our victory over our would-be assassins, but also to serve as a reminder that no matter whatever hardship is thrown our way, the Ooko Family will stand tall and protect what we hold dear with integrity and honor! This is the legacy we have carved out for ourselves, and the values that have kept us strong for over three hundred years!”

The greedy glint in his eyes twinkled brighter. “And these are the lasting values I not only embody with my whole heart, but will bring to all of Japan when I run for the position of Prime Minister!” 

Haruna facepalmed. 

A cacophony erupted from the reporters, each one clambering up to the stage and hurling questions while Ooko motioned for them to calm down and wait, at the same time obviously adoring the attention.

None of them would be excited if they felt what Momo felt at that exact moment. 

Any other time, Momo would have viciously derided the man for using a publicity student event of all things as a platform for a freaking campaign announcement. Yet she didn’t, because the moment Ooko dropped his big news, the school girl felt a cold weight fill the air. It was like someone dropped ice blocks on her shoulders, and she nearly collapsed under the weight. It was a chill that reached her very core, giving her a pins-and-needles sensation ten times worse than what she felt from Haruna before. She felt if she moved, the pins and needles would pierce through her ice cold skin and she would bleed out then and there. 

This was the feeling of pure, unadulterated malice.

“M-Miss Ayase,” Okarun gasped out, grabbing her hand and bringing her back to reality. Momo turned to respond to him, and froze (and dammit she did not just think that pun at a time like this).

He had gone sheet white, sweat drenching his face (was he not cold?), eyes distant, and free hand pressed to his mouth like he was trying not to throw up. After a quick glance to the side, Aira and Jiji were as just pale and looked just as nauseous. Even Turbo Granny had buried her face into Seiko’s neck, shaking from exertion as she tried not to fall off her shoulder. Seiko, meanwhile, had gone rigid and gritted her teeth so hard she had bitten clean through her cigarette.

It was like Seiko said before- whatever it was they felt, the yokai were feeling it far more strongly than her or Momo. 

“Grandma?” Momo whispered pleadingly. 

“I feel it,” she ground out, not bothering to whisper. “Everyone on stage. Now!”

When Seiko Ayase told you ‘now,’ she meant now, and the authority in her voice was enough to get everyone moving. Jiji and Aira fought through their sickened states and started shoving through the crowd to get to the stage, following after Seiko as she took the lead. Momo joined them, dragging Okarun behind her as they fought through the icy hatred still weighing them down.

Not that the idiotic scumbag on stage appreciated it. Ooko kept up his delusional euphoria, finally picking up the katana and brandishing it like some kind of self-perceived war hero. (Haruna looked about ready to faint when he did.)

“As Prime Minister, I will serve and protect the people of this great country with that honor and integrity!” he declared, raising the sword high. “Just as Lord Daichi Ooko did against the now nameless clan, and that dishonorable, traitorous, seductress WENCH!”

SHING! Fffshhh-SHATTER!

The lights above exploded, raining glass down over the crowd. Okarun threw himself on top of Momo, protecting her from any shards. 

Screams. Darkness. 

Or not quite. The lights exploded and windows went black, but the room maintained a sort of green lowlight glow. Momo almost thought for a moment they had entered an Empty Space, if not for the fact that everyone in the audience was still in the room with them and collectively wigging out.

“What’s going on?!”

“What happened to the lights?!”

“I’m bleeding!”

“Okarun!” Momo sat up, gently pushing her friend off of her. She began to examine him for injuries. “Are you okay? What were you thinking, that was dangerous-!”

“Miss A-Ayase?”

Momo stopped. Okarun wasn’t hurt despite the glass sticking to his uniform, but he wasn’t looking at her either. He raised a shaking finger, pointing to the side of the showroom. 

“O-Over there.”

Despite all her instincts telling her not to, she followed his finger and then instantly wished she’d listened to her instincts. 

In the air above the ukiyo-e, an enormous black katana blade flickering with green flames floated in the air without anything holding it up. Even worse, it slowly sliced down, leaving a trail of those flames behind it that did not fade.

The audience fell totally silent. From up on stage, Momo heard Haruna whimper, “She’s here.” 

The blade vanished, and for one moment, nothing happened. 

The next moment, a pale, spindly hand with unnaturally long, clawed fingers burst from the line of green flames. Another hand quickly joined it, and both hands grabbed either side of the flames and yanked them apart, creating an opening in air over three meters tall. And that was when Momo, her friends, her grandmother, and the entire audience saw what those creepy hands were attached to. 

And there was no doubt about it- every single person in the room, not only the spiritually powered, could see exactly what was happening, and Momo couldn’t even properly freak out about it because she had bigger concerns- literally! 

The spirit was taller than the portal- she had to duck her head as she climbed out of it. She was unhealthily skinny and barefoot, her feet and toes almost as long and crooked as her hands. She wore her flaming katana at her hip and a snow-white burial kimono that was a little too short on her form, with the visible skin on her legs and arms being the exact same stark color. She had flowing, void-black that reached her feet, which covered her face while leaving her neck exposed. 

The psychic gulped. The spirit was nearly identical to the image of the onryō in the ukiyo-e, with two minor differences. First, a pair of large, white pointed ears stuck out of her hair on either side of her head. Second, with her neck exposed Momo could make out tiny, thin glowing green lines marking the circumference of it. 

Stitches.

“.. Fuuuuuuuuck,” Momo cursed under her breath. "So much for 'only a story.'"

The onryō (as if she could be anything or anyone else) stepped fully out of the portal and it closed behind her, leaving no trace that it had been there besides the monstrosity that climbed through it. She floated calmly in the air without saying anything, though Momo got the sensation she was scanning the room. Her skin, clothes, and even her black hair had a pale luminance to them, making her a glowing white beacon in the dark, still green-lit room. 

Finally, she raised one spider-like hand and pointed a single, crooked finger at the rich fucking moron on stage who started all this. He stared up in terror, arm and sword dangling limply at his side, while his far smarter daughter hid behind him.

“OoKo.”

Momo’s heart skipped a beat. One word, and it felt like someone had poured pure liquid nitrogen into her veins. Once again she was frozen; everyone was frozen. Her friends, the audience, the Ookos- everyone. Even her usually calm, collected, on-the-ball grandmother could only stare up at the creature with a thoroughly perturbed expression on her face. 

“AlWaYs ThE pRoUd WoRdS, aLwAyS tHe SiLvEr ToNgUe,” she continued, cadence never changing. “AnD yEt YoU nEvEr LeArN.” 

She began to float slowly forward, moving closer and closer to the rich family. She drew her sword. 

“YoU wErE wArNeD. YoU fAiLeD tO LIsTeN. NoW yOu. WiLl...”

Two things happened. First- the onryō threw back her head, her hair flying backward to reveal her face. It was long and thin just like the rest of her, almost disproportionate to her bulging eyes with burning red irises and icy blue pupils and sclera. The lines of her mouth stretched across her cheeks to her ears, and she had what could only be old, dried blood smeared on her narrow, stretched-out lips. When she opened her mouth, her head nearly fell in half to reveal sharp, pointed black teeth. 

And second-

“... PaAaAaAaAaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

- she wailed. 

There was no better word to describe it. It sounded like hundreds of damned, anguished voices were wailing all at the exact same time, moaning and crying and sending anyone who heard it falling to their knees in a desperate plea to make it stop. Momo had already been on her knees, so she instead fell on her side and clapped her hands over her ears in a futile attempt to drown out the haunted noise. She might have been screaming too. She couldn’t tell. 

The wail was so loud and powerful Momo could actually see blue energy waves of sound spread across the room. Windows shattered, walls cracked, and exhibition displays and even a few people went flying from the sheer force of it. Haruna and her Dad had managed to brace themselves on the stage, but who knew how long they would hold out. 

And to add insult to injury, debris started to crumble down from the ceiling. If this went on, the whole convention center would undoubtedly collapse. 

The gyaru ground her teeth and with maximum effort, conjured her ghost hands to join her normal hands over her ears. It reduced the effect the onryo’s wail had on her just enough that she was able to get shakily on her feet and turn to her friends. 

“GUYS! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!” she hollered over the noise. “WE NEED TO-!”

“AUGGGGGGGGGGGH!”

“STOP IT, MAKE IT STOP, PLEASE!”

“KILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITKILLIT-!”

Okarun, Aira, and Jiji all lay on the floor, writhing in agony with their hands pressed painfully tight over their ears and partially transformed. 

Okarun's eyes flared red, glowing lines the same color creeping down his face as his hair started to ripple white. His back arched and his legs jackknifed as he screeched in pain. 

Aira’s eyes were shut but lined with dark pink eyeshadow, and her short, pale pink hair was now deep magenta and reached her waist. She was curled into a ball and rocked back and forth, crying for the wailing to stop.

Perhaps most terrifying, Jiji was on his knees with his forehead pressed so hard on the ground the floor tiles had started to crack. His shoulders shook as his hair and skin started to turn white. She couldn’t see his face, but she could see a purple glow emanating from underneath it as he chanted ‘kill it’ over and over again.

Off to the side she saw Seiko- on her knees and covering her ears but appearing more angry than pained- looking down at Turbo Granny, who had fallen off the other woman’s shoulder at some point and now flailed on the ground with her paws covering her ceramic ears and cursing up a storm. Once again, the yokai and yokai-powered were more affected than the humans- what the hell was happening?!

“MOMO!” Seiko yelled as loudly as possible. “I NEED YOU TO-!”

CRRRRCK!

And of course, that was the exact moment the ceiling gave away.

It’s official, Momo thought as she stared at the enormous chunk of ceiling hurtling down from above.

Worst. Field trip. EVER.