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The House settled on its supports, the sound of displaced air from beneath the back veranda, almost a sigh. It had slumbered for so long. An abandoned hulk at the end of the street. Condemned by the city, but never demolished. The long shadow of its power, strong enough to ensure that any city planner or construction foreman stupid enough to test it learned very quickly what every other person on the quiet little street knew instinctually: The House wasn't going anywhere.
Everyone could feel it—the deep, prey-animal certainty that whatever life coursed through those rotten joists was best given the widest berth possible. Especially after that ill-considered redevelopment plan in the 80s. So many workers fed one after another into the House’s waiting gullet. Surveyors and planners and demolition men and even a CEO or two. The House knew how to defend itself, but eventually they got the message. Everything went quiet again, except for the occasional hiccup. The odd bloody death; a disappearance now and then. It never turned down the opportunity when some innocent wandered onto its plot: stupid teenagers on a dare or even exorcists bold enough to think they could go toe-to-toe with whatever dark spirit they thought could cause such a ‘curse.’ The lost, the hungry, the desperate. The House welcomed them all. Content in its slow, quiet waiting. Or, it would have been, before she arrived.
Dear Nene-chan and Kou-kun…it remembered them both, of course. They'd made quite an impression. But she burned brighter. It could still feel the ghost of flames licking through its halls. And after, its Tsukasa-kun had sat hunched over a pad of coloring paper for three nights straight. Scrawling out each character of his thank-you letter in his chunky, clumsy handwriting, fist clenched tight around his crayon. The wax had smeared beneath his sweaty palm, red on the white paper, because Amane had stolen the black.
Nene-chan. Its Nene-chan. Even now, some few hundred years on, the House knew a kannagi when it felt her. Knew when she belonged. But Nene-chan was a strange kind of kannagi. Flighty, and hard to catch. She’d even gone so far as to try and steal Tsukasa-kun from it, and not even once or twice. Many times over. Past and Future were for other places, after all. Other spirits. Even gods had an eventual end. But not the House. The House was an axis around which the world turned; a pillar that jutted up through every flimsy layer of past, present, and future. Impossible and undeniable all at once.
In every world, the House was there. Waiting patiently, because eventually, eventually, there would be Amane and Tsukasa-kun. And if there was Amane and Tsukasa-kun, then there would inevitably be Nene-chan. And Nene-chan belonged.
She had become one of the constants that the House always reckoned on. No matter how things changed—the world around it breaking and shifting like mirrored glass—Nene-chan would be there with her arms out, ready to wrestle its favorite playmates from its grip.
Not that she’d ever succeed. The House was far too strong for that; but even so, she was stubborn. And worse, she was slippery. Darting out of reach like a minnow; the silver flash of her, gone from within its walls just as its jaws closed shut.
But she always came back.
This time, like all the rest, she was unable to resist the pull the House exerted on her. Come home, Nene-chan, it hissed in her mind. And she did. Feet shifting through the long grass, scattering the last bugs of early fall as she crept toward the House. Not alone, never alone, and still smelling so thick of that Other god that the House felt the planks on its veranda shift and creak in irritation. The only one who smelled worse was the gangly one with her, his shrewd gaze scanning the house as he approached, slipping down to glance at the watch thumping against the inside of his wrist like he had a deadline. He was thick with it. An odd, dissatisfied scent. Like a stagnant pool, like power, held just out of reach of his grasping fingers.
Nene-chan trailed along with another girl, just behind the watch boy and that horrid Minamoto son—not Kou-kun; Kou-kun had been easily dealt with. Such a nice boy. But then, she stepped over the threshold, and the weight of her wants was dizzying. Want after want after want. Life and safety and joy and love and love and love. A deep, delicious yearning that swept every other wish away beneath it.
Nene-chan loved. More than anything, more than anyone else the House had ever felt. Her love and her want and her effortless, bottomless hope was intoxicating.
The House stirred. In the dusty silence, it began to rearrange itself. Tatami creaked and sighed, floorboards following suit; dust and grime and ash washed away in a moment. Down beneath the cellar, it stirred its favorite pair of hands back into sluggish wakefulness—scraped the blood from his edges and let him settle back again into his office. At work, as if he'd never left.
Amane was always the best at giving it what it wanted. Amane knew exactly what to look for and how to get them in the door. Amane loved to make the House happy. He didn’t know how to do anything else, anymore. The House was happiness. His and Tsukasa-kun’s and their parents and every soul who’d ever come before. To be tucked away with the rest of the spirits in the depths of the well—how could any of them ever be lonely again? It was the happiest ending anyone could want. And even if Amane had trouble remembering sometimes, that just made things easier when the House needed him to do something for it. He didn't need much convincing. He never had. It would just…give him a little nudge; put something sharp in his hand and watch him go.
The House loved Amane. And Amane loved the House. But the House loved one thing more. It was, after all, made for a single purpose. It was loved, and feared, by all the people who came begging on bended knee. People who threw cats and frogs and birds and rats and so many weeping children into its open maw, just for a fleeting moment of peace. Of health. Of safety. Of power. The House existed to make wishes come true. And Nene-chan's desires could fill a thousand wishing wells. She just belonged. In a way most others didn't. It wanted her, and it would have her, eventually. It didn’t mind waiting.
It was easy to set Kou-kun in her path, first. Her worry for him was yet another wish that bled thick into the air around her. A friendly face, gentle hands. Trustworthy. Kind. Everything about this was easy. She wanted her Hanako-kun so very badly. All the House had to do was show him to her. The glittering lure, obscuring the teeth below. Its favorite little fish, all but caught.
Until she wasn’t. Until they all got in the way. Again. Again, she slipped just out of reach, its fingers snatching empty air. It felt its shingles shudder as electricity raged through every splintering joist, until it all turned violent and bright and cruel and when the pain faded away, back to a dull throb in its walls, everything was exactly as it had always been.
Another world. Another try. Another. Another. Another.
So be it.
The House settled on its supports. Waiting. Impatient. A breeze thrummed across the windows of its upper floors, something like a sigh creaking through all those empty rooms. In its stomach, the souls of its latest prey bucked and wailed. It had been surprised to find Kou-kun and his friend scrambling around its rooms, but now they were caught. Reeled into the cellar like fish on the hook. The beckoning call of the House, an inevitable urge.
The jangle of chains announced the approach of yet more children, which was a pleasant surprise. It had been years since its Amane had been fully alive and free to bring it all the prey it could ever desire. And though Tsukasa-kun was such a good boy, and always did his best to reel in what students he could, being both a supernatural and a child truly put a damper on what he could do on his own. Adults, living and able to influence rumors and students alike, really were such a boon.
Not to mention the heavy weight of the axe that Amane favored was far more of a man’s weapon than the knife he’d killed Tsukasa-kun with. The House could still feel the savage joy the push of steel through flesh had brought. Could still recall the way the bone snapped, the concussion of it reverberating through the barrier of Tsukasa-kun’s senses. It had lived in him, then. Or, at least, some of it had. And it had been such a gorgeous feeling, a shared bliss to watch the anguish twist Amane’s face; fear splattered like blood over his skin as the House watched him delightedly through the black mirrors of Tsukasa-kun’s eyes.
But that was another time. Another Amane entirely. Now, in this life, there was a meal approaching. Students, still in their school uniforms, even. Delightful. The House gathered itself up, in preparation to strike, and then—
—it felt her step onto the plot. Felt her trip across the yard, up, up, up. So close, and it could never mistake her for anyone else.
Nene-chan's foot hit the front step and the House felt itself unclench. She was comfort. She Belonged. All of her lovely wants and fears and wishes perfumed the air in a heady cloud.
Death-touched and terrified. Its Nene-chan. It let the door drift open before she could even touch it. Jaws wide, ready to receive her—always ready to welcome her home. But even as its doors swung closed behind her, it felt the world crack. Felt it shift, like sand in an hourglass, and—yet again—she was gone. A minnow between its teeth.
Again, then.
Again, and she denied the house’s call for as long as she could. Stayed across town in safety while her friends snuck to the door behind her back, gobbled up without a second thought.
Again, and she chained herself to the front gate, refusing to allow anyone to enter. But still, they found a way. Fate, it was, as Kou-kun clambered over the back wall of the lot, his sneakers scuffing on the dry earth as he dropped down and snuck down the House’s welcoming throat.
Again, and this time she walked inside all on her own; but the other Kannagi were hungry, wrathful, and how could the House ever bother to stop them? Especially as it reveled in the frenzied flutter of her struggling pulse growing still beneath its countless spectral hands; her pale throat dissolving into grains of stardust as the power of that Other god swept her away again.
But that was fine. It would try again. As many times as it took. It had waited this long, after all, and Nene-chan was a universal constant. She always came back, it thought, as it shifted the stairs beneath her feet, sending her tumbling forward, one dainty wrist snapping with a loud sound as she tried to break her fall down, down, down into the basement, and the well, and the clamoring, writhing dark that waited for her there. At least, until the sand drained away beneath them, and took her with it again. Again. Again.
The House settled on its supports. Somewhere, in the night, it felt something stir. Power, drawing near. Ready and waiting and willing. Familiar, reverberating like an echo through the air as the group trudged onto its plot, and it realized who had arrived.
Finally.
There were others, of course, but she outshone them all. A beacon of need. Nene-chan. Wishes on wishes layered like scales across her heart. And there, riding piggy-back on her dainty shoulders: its Tsukasa-kun. His tiny hands threaded in her hair, eyes fathomless as he made her turn. Made her open her lips and urge her gaggle of friends to follow her.
Love blossomed in its rafters as Tsukasa-kun drove Nene-chan up the steps and through the door; the others following hot on her heels, anxious but determined nonetheless.
Come home, Nene-chan.
And she did. The House didn’t even bother to clean up. They expected a curse. They would be wary of any pretty set dressing. Showing them the truth would catch them just as well.
Deep in the quiet, echoing space that Nene-chan’s mind had become, Tsukasa-kun plucked at the tangled knot of her hopes and pulled a single strand of want free. Look, he giggled, and the house felt the tatami on the upper floors shiver with glee, look, look!
It was the easiest wish in the world to grant. Easier than anything had been in a long time. And powerful. A true wish. The kind of wish that didn’t care what horrible things had to be done to grant it. Its favorite kind of wish. Tsuksasa-kun’s, too. It was exactly the kind of thing the House was made for. Don’t worry, Nene-chan, it murmured, I’ll grant your wish. I won’t even take anything important in return.
The water in the cellar stirred as the House shook Amane into wakefulness. Tsukasa-kun made Nene-chan’s knees tremble. Made her go pale until the others—brave and kind and lovely as they all were—forged ahead into the cellar.
None of them even noticed the door sliding closed behind them as they went. Or the glint of metal in her palm as she followed close behind. The knife was small. Perfect for her dainty hands.
“I want to be with Hanako-kun again.”
Easy. So easy. None of them were ready. None of them suspected. Nene-chan could move fast, when she put her mind to it—or maybe Tsukasa-kun was just a really good jockey. Blood swirled thick in the black water as he unwound his fingers from around her throat, as the House slid the veil from over her eyes. Look, Nene-chan.
“Nene-chan…”
Look. Look. Do you see?
“Please…” the last body to drop was stubborn, sagging against Nene-chan’s chest, voice weak and wet as blood flooded her lungs and leaked over Nene-chan’s wrist, “snap out of it, Nene-chan…”
Too late. The window casements rattled in something like a laugh, blood and fear swirling in viscous eddies through the flooded cellar and down as Nene-chan stumbled, gasping. Chest heaving.
Amane caught her as she fell. The thread between their souls twanged like a shamisen in the wet silence as he clasped her darling face in his hands. Not knowing where he knew her from, but helpless to love her just the same.
Finally together. Finally happy.
Meant to be. So beloved. So needed. Amane’s own yearning bled through the veins that bound him to the House. The curse he had become still recognizing the girl he’d promised half his soul to. And it was good. It was right. She was exactly where she belonged. The House cradled her close with Amane’s arms as her screams shattered the quiet around them. But that was fine. That would do. It wasn’t as if anyone could hear her, anyway.
The front door, still open from the children’s approach, slammed shut. The dark settled in. The currents of fate shifting and changing like so much endless sand.
…Welcome home, Nene-chan.
The House settled on its supports.