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“Come on, don’t play coy. I can’t remember a single girl who wasn’t crazy about you back then. Especially the maids!”
“That is simply not true.” Kanako’s fingers twitch.
“Yes, yes it is!” Yuiman puffs her cheeks out. They’re bright from the alcohol. “Lady Moreya, you believe me, don’t you?”
Suwako doesn’t flinch under all the attention, sipping the dregs of her sake. Her lips curl up in a grin. “If Yuiman says so, I trust her.”
Kanako looks at her in disbelief. The bottles almost topple over when Yuiman raises her arms triumphantly.
Five gods are seated around the table of the Moriya shrine’s living room, just like every other week. Their little get-togethers had started after Ariya had suggested Yuiman she shares some of the game hunted on Youkai Mountain with its protectors; it was only fair, really. What she hadn’t planned was that Yuiman would drag her along and that nostalgia and the need for normalcy after everything would make it their new habit.
It was quite pleasant, though.
“Even on the day we got that portrait done,” Yuiman adds, reaching for a drink Sanae pours her instead, “the painter spent hours on you. I could literally see the hearts in her eyes.”
“How do you remember this stuff? I‘d completely forgotten until now.”
“My sensory memory is superior to yours, that’s why.” Yuiman thumps a proud fist on her chest, drawing a fond sneer and a humble right it is out of her political-marriage-ex-wife-turned-best-friend.
On the opposite side of the table, Sanae tilts the bottle towards Ariya, to which she answers with an apologetic hand; her cup is still half-full. Sanae flushes at the mistake. “Um… What kind of portrait are you talking about?”
“It was a custom in Yuimankoku,” Kanako explains, snatching the bottle from her to fill Ariya’s cup anyway. “Royalty and their spouses received a painting of them together as a wedding gift. The kind you have to stand all day long for. Couldn’t feel my legs by the end of it. ” She squints at Yuiman. “No, you got to sit down, didn’t you? Lucky devil.”
“Of course. I’m the princess.” It wasn’t much more comfortable after a while, Yuiman recalls, but her hunting gear had been confiscated and she had no one to coax into helping her sneak out. Even if Ariya had been by her side then, this is a line she wouldn’t have crossed. She points at Kanako like a sullen child. “And yet who was drawn best on that portrait? Hm? Not me.”
“It was delusional. Didn’t even look like me anymore.”
“Too bad I missed it,” Suwako chuckles into her drink, her imagination visibly filling in the blanks. Yuiman swears she sees pink dust Kanako’s cheeks.
Ever ready to pull her god out of a pinch, Sanae diverts the conversation to their guests. “Did you also get your portrait done together?”
They stare at each other. Yuiman’s gaze lingers in Ariya’s, asking for silent confirmation that her brain isn’t trying to deceive her; when Ariya’s face doesn’t light up she knows she’s right to shake her head. “I’d already left home then.”
“Oh… That’s a shame.”
Would Ariya have wanted them to do something like this? Yuiman had never—she thinks that she had never even asked. Her memories of Yatsugatake and their enshrinement are still full of holes, and experience has shown her that stretching them too thin to make sense of what her past self did tends to yield poor results, so she can only guess the why. It’s too late to doubt a choice from several millennia ago. She spins the cup in her hand slowly, angling it to reflect Ariya in the top layer of her too-sweet liquor; her eyes are distant.
“You could probably find someone to help you with it.” Kanako tries her best to look detached, but she’s so, so bad at it. “Wasn’t there a goddess who kept boasting about her artistic skills at Reimu’s party? The one last spring.”
“Haniyasushin. Her main thing is sculpting though. And I think you have to pass through Hell to meet her,” Suwako points out, popping a slice of pickled daikon into her mouth.
“Hm. Sounds like a bit of a walk.”
“That can be arranged.”
The two of them fall into some kind of disagreement, Sanae occasionally chiming in with stories of onis and beast spirits and a neighbor monkey, but Yuiman doesn’t listen. From the corner of her vision she watches Ariya instead, how her back straigthens and her jaw tenses.
Hell, huh. Yuiman can’t say it’s a place she’s familiar with. Not that sort of hell at least.
“I could always find a way to make her come here. Wait, aren’t you two related, actually?”
Ariya grimaces. “Only… distantly.”
So that’s why. Family is never not a sensitive topic for Ariya.
“Might convince her to move. And if not, some nice rocks should do the trick,” Kanako adds before bringing her cup to a satisfied smirk.
Yuiman rolls her eyes and sets her heart on fish skewers to Ariya’s left as an excuse to scoot closer to her. Their thighs brush together. It feels like home. The grilled skin is crispy under her teeth.
In front of her, Sanae diligently keeps track of what’s on the table, filling empty plates and empty glasses one after the other. A spark tickles Yuiman’s chest, one whose origin she can’t name—a kinship felt only by those who stand between human and divine, or the nostalgia of a priestess hard at work, or maybe it’s Kanako’s poorly hidden affection rubbing off on her already—she smiles regardless when an idea flashes across Sanae’s face, mouth drawn into a small o.
“It’s not a painting, but… I could take a picture of you two, if you want?” She pulls something rectangular out of her skirt’s pocket. “With my phone.”
The light glints on its smooth surface, catching Yuiman’s attention like a cat’s. She paws at Ariya’s arm.
“I’ve heard about those! They can do anything!”
Sanae giggles. “Not exactly anything, but mine can take photos at least. And then you can print them out at the tengus’ or the kappas’ or transfer them to another drive and… Well, keep copies of them pretty much forever, if you do it right.”
Yuiman feels the rustle of Ariya’s skeletal tail at the same time the word sinks in.
Forever.
There’s such a lovely ring to it; not the forever of purified kegare her snake fabricates, not the forever that goes against the natural order of life she cherishes, but the forever of a simple promise, unambiguous and comforting.
“Hold on, Sanae. Someone here might be a little too drunk to get their picture taken,” Kanako teases, even though the twinkle in Yuiman’s eyes didn’t pass unnoticed. Yuiman hisses.
“I’m not drunk.” She can barely repress the urge to stick her tongue out. Okay. Maybe a bit tipsy. She chooses to ignore whatever nonsense Kanako claims next and turns to Ariya. “What do you think? Of Sanae’s idea.”
It takes a moment for Ariya to react; she looks… gone, isolated from everyone else here by the inner wall of her thoughts as she considers the pros and the cons, her impulse to reject it all pulling her one way and her own desires the other. Yuiman still hasn’t recovered the intuition which allowed her to intimately understand Ariya, but she has rebuilt the ability to deduce this much at least. Her voice softens just for her.
“It doesn’t have to be now if you…”
Ariya shakes her head and smiles. Genuinely.
“Should we do something special?”
“Just be yourself!” Sanae replies as she tinkers with her old phone to center them on the screen. Both of her gods look over her shoulders, Suwako letting out exaggerated hmms and suggesting she moves millimeters left, then down, down, left again, until Sanae whines and Kanako nudges her playfully.
Ariya’s wing folds behind her back. “That’s… easier said than done.”
“Right? Now imagine staying like this for hours.”
The plate of fried eggplants calls to Yuiman a hundred times more after it was pushed out of the way for the photo. Her stomach growls.
“You don’t mind waiting hours for a deer though.”
Yuiman hums and focuses on the point Sanae asked them to stare at.
“I guess I don’t.” Her hand crawls under the table to seize Ariya’s. It’s warm and solid; her anchor, always. “Especially when you’re with me.”
Ariya glances at her. Yuiman doesn’t need to return the gesture to know her ears are reddening.
“Okay, ready? Say cheese!”
For an instant everything stands still, breaths held, suspended in the air as if Ariya herself had cast a spell on the room—everything except her fingers clutching Yuiman’s.
A loud click resonates between the walls.
“I think it turned out pretty good,” Sanae exclaims after a few silent beats. She lowers the phone to show it to Suwako who nods in approval.
Next to her, Kanako rubs her chin. “… Don’t they look a little stiff?”
“Lady Kanako! Um… Here.” The device slides across the table carefully, two faces spread out on its glass screen. A colorful menu pops up when Sanae taps it. “You can change stuff like lighting or hues if you want, and you can add filters if you touch this icon. Ah, and it won’t delete the original, so don’t worry about that!”
Yuiman is ecstatic. She jumps onto the phone and starts fiddling with it, swiping left and right, instinctively digging out knowledge that was forced into her head to find her way through the various settings. Her movements are smooth. Too smooth. A thorn of guilt pricks Ariya’s heart. She smiles at Sanae anyway.
“It’s a nice picture. Thank you.”
“Ariya, I don’t know which colors I should choose…” Yuiman tugs on her sleeve, eyes big and shiny. “Help me?”
“Of course, but… Let’s give the phone back once you’re done. We can’t—”
“It’s okay!” Sanae waves it off with a timid blush; her reaction makes Ariya even more conscious of how tight Yuiman is pressed against her. “I’ve got things to do in the kitchen. Please take your time.”
She scurries out of the room, Suwako in tow. Barely ten seconds later Kanako’s assistance is required to select another bottle of sake, leaving the two of them alone. It is the most painfully obvious setup Ariya has ever been the target of. She feels both grateful and mortified.
The loud song of clinking glasses and laughter is replaced by the rhythm of Yuiman’s fingers on the screen.
“How about this one?”
Her cheekbones are tinted blue by the light emanating from it. Ariya is reminded of early winter mornings.
“It’s lovely.”
Yuiman hesitates, and then she switches to a soft yellow filter. Her hair turns a bewitching gold. It almost sparkles. “Or maybe… that one?”
“I like it too,” Ariya whispers.
“Ariya,” she sighs, affection undeniable behind it, “you’re not even looking at the phone.”
Their hands are still joined under the table; Ariya strokes Yuiman’s with a gentle thumb, cooing a small sorry for form’s sake, and after she takes a peek at the door to the kitchen Yuiman leans on her shoulder. None of the shrine’s residents would be surprised if she did it in their presence, but she wants Ariya to know this is just for her. Not for anyone else.
“I didn’t think you’d agree. To the picture, I mean.”
I didn’t either, Ariya’s mind replies. It takes everything she has to stop herself from pulling Yuiman into the circle of her arms then and there. Later, though…
“Oh. So cute!”
The phone is suddenly brought up to her nose, displaying the same image of them—except now there’s a pair of cartoonish dog ears on top of Ariya’s head and cat ones on Yuiman, the contrast too harsh between those and the realism of the photo. She wouldn’t exactly call it ‘cute.’ The choice of animals is rather fitting, all things considered, but Ariya burries her face in Yuiman’s hair with a flustered grunt.
Yuiman laughs, red, slightly staggering after too many drinks, worries and nightmares and missing memories all forgotten for a moment.
Well.
Maybe there’s some good to her knowing so much about technology.