Chapter Text
The boundary of No. 6 was a place frozen in a perpetual twilight of decay and remembrance. Water, dark and still as glass, coated the floor, reflecting a sky filled with twisted, leafless trees and the faint, glowing embers of spider lilies.
Tsuchigomori stepped onto the water, his slippers leaving ripples that broke the eerie silence. He adjusted his glasses, looking around the desolate landscape with a weary expression. Traveling to another Mystery’s boundary was always a hassle, but tonight, the air in the school had been too suffocating. He found No. 6 sitting on the roots of a massive, gnarled tree that overlooked the dark waters. The Reaper looked striking against the bleak background, his traditional haori draped loosely over his shoulders.
"You look like a painting of a tragedy, No. 6," Tsuchigomori said, his voice cutting through the damp chill.
Hakubo didn't turn his head. He kept his gaze fixed on the water below, his sharp eyes reflecting the faint, otherworldly glow of the boundary. "You are far from your library, No.5."
"The books were getting repetitive," Tsuchigomori replied easily. He walked over, the shallow water splashing softly beneath his feet, and sat down on a thick, protruding root a short distance from Hakubo. He pulled his pipe from his sleeve, lighting it with a small spark from his fingers. "your boundary is the only place quiet enough to actually get a moment of peace."
The reaper closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the rough bark. "Peace is an illusion here. The boundary only sleeps when she does."
He didn't need to ask who she was. Even now, in the deepest, most hidden corner of this boundary, the faint sound of a girl’s laughter seemed to echo from nowhere, a ghostly reminder of Sumire’s eternal, tragic cycle.
Instead of offering hollow sympathy, Tsuchigomori reached into his coat. This time, instead of sake, he pulled out a small, intricately wrapped pack of traditional sweets he had confiscated from a student earlier that day. He tossed it lightly across the gap between them.
Hakubo caught it out of reflex, blinking down at the colorful packaging.
"Amane used to like those," he told, exhaling a thin stream of smoke that drifted away into the dark trees. "I figured your boundary could use something that isn't covered in ash and regrets."
Hakubo stared at the package for a long moment. Slowly, his tense shoulders relaxed, just a fraction. He didn't open the sweets, but he didn't throw them away either. He simply set them carefully in his lap.
"The Honorable No. 7 is a fool," he murmured softly, his voice carrying a rare, grounded gentleness, "but he is fortunate to have a librarian who remembers his name."
"Don't get sentimental on me, No. 6. It doesn't suit a Reaper," the spider grumbled, though there was no real hostility in his words.
The quiet in the boundary stretched on, heavy with the weight of centuries. Tsuchigomori took another slow drag from his pipe, the glowing embers casting a faint red light over his sharp features.
"You know," he reverted his eyes, "seeing you sit under this tree always brings back bad memories. Specifically, the day we met."
Hakubo’s gaze shifted slightly, his dark eyes fixing on the spider web patterns dancing in the water. "A day I would prefer to forget. You were incredibly loud for a librarian."
"And you were trying to reap my soul before I could even hand over my introduction," Tsuchigomori countered with a dry chuckle.
eddsworld flashback sfx
The boundary had looked different back then. It was wilder, jagged, and violently unstable. A young Amane Yugi had only recently been appointed as the leader of the School Mysteries as No. 7. The delicate balance of the academy was disrupted due to recent changes, as the newly appointed No. 5 had been sent to the deepest boundary to stabilize the rumors.
He had barely stepped past the torii gate when a massive, terrifying spike of wood erupted from the ground, missing his throat by mere inches.
"State your purpose, intruder," a cold, lethal voice demanded.
Standing on a pile of broken stones was No. 6. He didn't look any different, but his eyes were completely hollow, radiating a suffocating aura of pure, unadulterated grief and murderous intent. The boundary around him was weeping; the red spider lilies were blooming and rotting in a matter of seconds. He was a Reaper who had just lost everything, trapped in a cycle he couldn't control.
Tsuchigomori didn't flinch, though his extra arms bristled beneath his coat.
"I’m No. 5," Tsuchigomori said, his voice flat but steady, "I don't care about your boundary. But if your spiritual energy keeps leaking into the human world, it messes with my library. And I hate a messy library."
The oni’s eyes narrowed, his claws sharpening. "Get out. Before I make you part of the soil."
"Look around you," he said, gesturing to the rotting flowers. "You're drowning in your own regrets, No. 6. I know the feeling. I’ve watched a kid change his own future and die right in front of me. If you want to tear yourself apart, do it quietly. But don't ruin the school just because you miss a ghost who will never come back."
The mention of a 'ghost' made the other freeze. The sheer arrogance of this new spider mystery should have infuriated him, but the raw, bitter understanding in his eyes caught him off guard. They were both supernaturals bound to dead people.
Slowly, the wooden spikes receded into the earth. Hakubo turned his back, his shoulders tense. "Leave."
"Gladly," Tsuchigomori muttered, turning around. But before he left, he dropped a small, wooden charm onto the wet ground—a ward to help stabilize leaking spiritual energy. "Fix your boundary, Reaper. We have a long eternity ahead of us."
Hakubo looked down at the pack of sweets sitting in his lap, his fingers lightly tracing the plastic wrapping. "You were incredibly rude."
"I was tired," Tsuchigomori replied, leaning back against the root. "I'm still tired. But at least you stopped trying to impale me every time I visit."
"A minor improvement," he said softly, the ghost of a faint, barely noticeable smile touching his lips before vanishing.
They lapsed back into their comfortable, unspoken understanding. They were two ancient guardians, permanently scarred by the past, but content to share the heavy silence of the present.