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shsummertimefest-blog · 7 years

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Enjoy, @binlar-lover!

I really hope you enjoy this fic, as this was my first soul mate AU to write! I may have taken liberties with the soulmate concept but if you have questions feel free to ask. I enjoy writing this and I hope you like it!

Clary knew she should probably just talk to him. Every day, she saw him walk into the studio, every day she watched as he admired the paintings on the walls, stopping to tilt his head every so often. Strands of blond hair would fall in his face, and Clary would find herself blushing at the thought of wanting to push them back, wanting to ruffle his hair and maybe explain the difference between Van Gogh and Picasso if he asked.

She knew he wouldn't ask, because she would never work up the courage to talk to him. The gallery was one of her favorite places to be, filled with her mom's work and some of Luke's attempts at pottery- multiple people had actually considered them to be "true art" (whatever that meant), but the pieces always stayed, an ugly mug next to a bright yellow canvas, a contrast of two working as one. Clary watched as the boy eyed one of the mugs curiously, tugging on the cuff of his sleeve as he bent down to get a better look.

His hair was in his face again as he worried his lower lip. He was only a few feet away, Clary figured, it should be easy to talk to him. Maybe tell him she liked the color of his sweater or that his shoe was untied. Clary stole a look at his feet- plain black sneakers, but no untied laces in sight. The boy moved around the podium, trying to get every angle of Luke's horrific mug in, as if he was trying to pan-sear it into his brain like a steak and vegetables in oil.

Gulping, Clary checked her watch. Five o' clock- the gallery would be closing. She'd have to go home.

Maybe she'd call Magnus and ask for advice. He always knew what to do when it came to crushes.

Her mother, Jocelyn, once explained soulmates to her, back when she was a little girl, still wanting to hear stories of whimsy and magic and all things unicorns. So Jocelyn would oblige, making sure to spin the most fantastical tale possible it would send Clary into fits of giggles and dreams full of dragons and rainbows and handsome princes.

"If you meet them multiple times, in the same place, then it's meant to be," Jocelyn said one night.

"But what if I don't feel it?" Clary asked, "Shouldn't I feel something?"

Jocelyn smiled, "The feeling is the best part."

At this, Clary would often tilt her head, frowning as her mother tucked her in, asking fervently, "But how will I know? Like you and Luke?"

"Trust me, darling," Jocelyn said every time, "You'll know."

Looking back on that conversation, Clary knew it probably wasn't the best explanation to give at the time. Jocelyn and Luke had just clicked, and it hadn't even occurred to Clary they were soulmates until they sat her down and explained it. The talk then was awkward, but Clary thought she now understood what her mother was trying to say. Sitting in Magnus's living room now drinking tea, he had the same message.

"When I met Alec," Magnus said, "It was like fireworks. You know the rush you get from being on a roller coaster?"

Clary grinned, "Yeah, I guess? I was never one for roller coasters." The mug was warm in her hands, steam wafting up to tickle her nose.

Magnus rolled his eyes, "You Frays were never roller coaster people, I know. But you know what I'm talking about? Meeting your soulmate is like that."

Clary set down her mug, ignoring Magnus's disdain at her not using a coaster. Really, it was his fault for having such an expensive glass coffee table; a table was used to have things on it, why would they need to protect it? They were sturdy things, and she expected every table to support her cups and plates fully. The tea swirled in her cup, the ceramic making a creak as she slid it against the glass.

"So does it feel like fireworks or a roller coaster?" Clary asked, "Because when I asked Alec he said it felt tripping over his own two feet along with wanting to puke as he fell down three flights of stairs."

Magnus scoffed, running a hand through his hair. It was a habit Clary had noticed, and whenever she third-wheeled their dates, Magnus liked to run his hands through Alec's hair too. He picked up his own mug, taking a loud sip, "Doesn't matter how it felt to me, biscuit. You'll know when the time comes."

Clary pursed her lips. She was starting to really not like that phrase. It meant waiting. And the longer she waited, the more time she had to think; the blond boy at the gallery could only occupy so much of her brain, but he really was gorgeous, with his high cheekbones and floppy hair and full lips. Was this what it was like to have a soulmate? Thinking about them nonstop? She asked Magnus, who grinned behind his mug. Her own tea was getting cold, steam no longer rising from it.

"You think you saw him?" Magnus asked.

"I think so?" Clary said, "I mean, I see him at the gallery a lot and he always looks at Luke's mugs-"

"Those should not even be considered mugs, more like ancient artifacts," Magnus muttered.

"-and I think he is my soulmate, you know?" Clary finished, "Like I feel kinda.... weird, if that's the right word? Like your roller coaster thing, y' know?"

Of course, Magnus did know. He went on to regale Clary with the story of how he met Alec, how he swept that tall black haired boy off his feet and how it felt like the fourth of July all over again.

Clary drank the rest of her tea, the mug now cool against her fingers. The bag inside was soggy.

The boy finally came up to her the next week.

Clary had been fidgeting with one of her mother's paintings, as the curator had hung it crooked in the frame. The sign said not to touch the artwork, but seeing as it was her mother's gallery, she couldn't help it, leaning over just enough to not touch the velvet ropes and being able to grip the corners with her fingers to tilt it just ever so slightly to the left.

"Do I need to call security for theft?"

Clary yelped, jumping back as a voice chuckled. Face burning, she whirled around, ready to snap at whoever it was that scared her-

Only to falter at the bright smile of the same blond boy she had seen at the gallery for the past month. He was wearing a black t-shirt, and Clary noticed ink sneaking out onto his arms. He ran a hand through his hair, his smile turning even brighter as Clary just stared, wide-eyed. She probably looked like a deer in the headlights, she stood there for so long.

"Are you okay?" the boy chuckled, "You almost took quite a nasty spill there."

Clary tugged at the ends of her hair, managing to squeak, "I-I just- it was my mother's painting and it w-was crooked-!"

He held a hand up in mock defense, "No worries, I won't report you to the authorities. I don't think they have the time to deal with red haired art thieves."

Clary grinned, her laugh sounding more like a bark- of course, she couldn't have one of those cutesy quiet laughs, no she had to sound like the horn of a freight car about to sneeze. Her face was probably as red as her hair, but here he was, right in front of her. Talking to her as if they were already acquaintances, as if they were the only people in the gallery.

(To be fair, Clary really was the only other person who came to the gallery very often.)

The boy broke through Clary's train of thought, "I've seen you around here, y' know."

Clary scoffed, "I mean, my mom owns the gallery. I'm always here."

The boy ducked his head, turning to Jocelyn's painting. The frame was now more crooked than before, the velvet rope lying on the floor from Clary's almost-fall.

"I like to think this one is about soulmates."

Clary blinked. "What?"

"The painting," the boy said, "the way the dark and light colors mix, despite the obvious clashes. It describes soulmates pretty well, wouldn't you say?"

Clary nodded, "I watched my mom paint this one. I didn't think it was much at first, and to be honest, I'm not a fan of the colors."

The boy didn't say anything, keeping his gaze thoughtfully on the piece. Stealing a glance, Clary had time to really look at him now; his cheekbones were sharp and angled, his lips a pretty pink. Streaks of brown peppered his blond hair and it took her a few seconds, but his eyes were two different colors- one blue, the other brown, with blue seeping in to meld at the pupil. She couldn't remember the term, but they were pretty.

"Like your eyes?" Clary suddenly blurted, clapping a hand over her mouth as he looked at her.

"My eyes?" he asked, "What about them?"

Crap. She was in deep shit now. Wracking her brain, Clary found herself stumbling over her words, "I-I mean, your one eye, it's blue and the other is a mix of blue and brown, and since you were talking about the painting reminding you of soulmates, and let's be real I've seen you in here everyday for the past month or so-"

Oh, Clary wished a god would smite her where she stood. Why was she still talking? She was going to embarrass herself, and he would think she was weird and creepy-

What if he already thought that?

Clary bit her lip, letting her rambling trail off. The look on the boy's face was one she couldn't decipher, although it was easy to pick confusion from the bunch.

"Despite the fact that what you just said is slightly weird," the boy chuckled, raisin an eyebrow, "What I'm about to say might be a bit weirder."

Clary tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "It can't be that bad. I just made myself look like a weird stalker like, twice now."

"What's your name?" he asked, "Just so I don't have to call you Weird Stalker Girl."

Clary giggled, "Clary Fray."

The boy grinned, "A pretty name for a pretty girl. Well, Clary, I'm Jace, and- I can't believe I'm saying this- I'm your soulmate."

Suddenly, Clary knew what Magnus was talking about. A deep feeling in her gut- almost like she was going to puke, but not really. It traveled up her body, and for a second, she thought she might actually be sick, but puke never came. She heard it. She heard what Magnus was talking about. Instead of a roller coaster, however, or fireworks popping in the night sky, she heard clear notes, cellos and violins and a piano all at once, all harmonious as the realization dawned on her.

Clary heard a symphony when she finally talked to her soulmate. And Jace gave her that symphony.

#binlar-lover #shgiftfest17 #fic

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merryfortune · 8 years

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Spirited Away

Gift Fic for: @binlar-lover as part of the Fairy Tales, Folklore, and Supernatural @hqexchange

Hello, I’m your gift ficcer and I hope I’ve impressed you with this fic~

Fandom: Haikyuu

Ship: KiyoYachi

AU: Youkai & College Student AU with a hint of Studio Ghibli’s Spirited Away

Word Count: 5959

Links: Ao3 | FF.net | Ko-Fi

Warnings: Angst, implied caracter death(s) potential body horror (skip Kei’s description if necessary), read the ending part 2 if you want that weet, sweet angst

Yachi Hitoka was not a very strong person.

No, she had many, many weaknesses. She loved stationary and couldn’t help but buy anything with big eyed kitties on it and pastels. She always wants new markers and highlighters. And those are her quirky weaknesses; she’s also terrified to death of walking alone, of subways, and a good many more things. And right now, topping the list of her many, many fears was a very, very pretty woman.

She was gorgeous. Divine. Ethereal. Her hair shimmered in the moonlight. Her glasses caught the neon lights of the fast food stalls and made her seem flushed pink but in an alluring way because her eyes glittered. She was tall and slim; her stance accentuated by the tight kimono she wore that drew her upwards and in. It was such a lovely kimono: navy blue with silver and white trims.

And this beauty among mere mortals like Hitoka was talking to her in her soothing, graceful voice with eloquent small talk. She pushed stray strands of her black hair over her ear.

It was terrible.

Hitoka watched her rouged lips open and close but she didn’t hear a coherent thought over the babble of panic and infatuation that was her internal monologue.

‘Would you be willing?’

Her voice finally cut through Hitoka’s drivel.

I would die for you, Hitoka thought but thankfully did not say.

‘Absolutely.’ Hitoka said; enchanted and bobbing her head like a chicken with her eyes open and awed.

‘Fantastic. I hope to see you there then.’ she said. ‘I’m Kiyoko, by the way. How rude of me to not tell you to begin with.’

‘Hitoka!’ she spat out. ‘Yachi Hitoka… first year… college student.’

Kiyoko blinked. ‘College student?’ But she soon composed herself. ‘Well, just like it says on the flyer: next Tuesday evening at that location. I shall see you there.’

‘Heck yeah you’ll see me there.’ Hitoka awkwardly replied.

Kiyoko giggled. ‘I have a feeling you’ll fit right in. Now, I must take my leave.’

‘Y-Yeah, okay, bye.’ Hitoka babbled.

What had she signed herself up for?

The paper was not glossy in her hands. She had expected to be squinting at a flyer that was professional but it wasn’t. It appeared to be completely inked by hand; but by an artist as it was extraordinary. It depicted an old-style bathhouse and there were crow motifs throughout. The eyes of the birds in the pictures seem to follow Hitoka; it was unnerving but another marker of how well-crafted the flyer was.

‘Welcome! Come one, come all: the Karasuno Bathhouse. Help wanted: part-timers and casuals to do cleaning.’ Hitoka read aloud. ‘Meet after hours on the second day of next week… That’s Tuesday. Interviews will take place.’

Hitoka nodded to herself as she mused over the flyer. She didn't think herself much of a cleaner but working in a bathhouse seemed like it would be a fun opportunity. There was something deeply romantic about old style bathhouses; she used to go to them with her parents so nostalgia was begging her to take the opportunity.

With a smile, Hitoka returned to her aunt and uncle's place. She was living with them until she got her feet. She still very much felt like a rural girl lost in the midst of Tokyo. She couldn't believe she used to think Torino was big.

Hitoka was an advertising student and she took great care in her studies. Call her boring but she delights in directing commercials and spam. That was totally why Hitoka pinned up the bathhouse flyer above her bed; even after putting all its dates and details into her various calendars and planners.

That night, as she tucked herself under the covers, she felt oddly giddy. Hitoka was very much looking forward to the job interview. She clutched her sheets, turned over, and whilst the prospect of earning money was very much appealing, her mind was completely on Kiyoko and the hope that they could reunite. She could barely sleep with her mind thinking about everything that could go right!

For once.

How unusual. How completely and utterly rare… and wonderful. Relaxing.

That had been Saturday and the day flew. Hitoka stuffed herself silly on Sunday and Monday with studying just so she could have all of Tuesday to prepare. It was a funny time, ten o’clock but it was the will of the manager, presumably, and therefore should not be questions.

All of Tuesday, Hitoka practised her bows and what she would say and ask. She practised the most-polite way to drink tea and her aunt and uncle, who were getting on in their years, were thrilled to bestow all their traditional knowledge upon their niece. Especially in the absence of their two sons who had gone off the be engineers abroad; they couldn’t be prouder but still, there was something important about learning that which had come before them and yet Hitoka’s cousins had never been interested.

With all this practicing and exercise, the day flew and with each passing hour, more butterflies manifested in Hitoka’s stomach until she was a rickety, fluttery mess. She had tried to ignore it but it worsened.

Hitoka’s Uncle Takeshi drove her to the location on the flyer. It was a fair bit out of the way; bordering close to the outskirts but he was sure the pay would be good. He didn’t seem to mind either. That being said, he had a hard time getting there. He felt like he couldn’t see a thing with all the thick foliage and darkness. They drove into the more spiritual grounds of Tokyo; past many shrines – little and big and into the mountains. There was an eerie vibe; especially given as it was night but then, Hitoka saw it through all the landscape was a building of men; not of the gods.

The Karasuno Bathhouse was huge. It was set upon a small island on a small lake. It was grand and elegant; at least four storeys with huge, dipping roofs with jade tiles. It was of scarlet wood and there was a beautiful, arching bride connecting it and them. With the cover of darkness, against the cobalt sky, it looked exactly like the painting on the flyer save for the grey clouds that shrouded it.

Her Uncle whistled. ‘There’s something about old bathhouses, eh.’

‘Indeed.’ Hitoka replied breathless.

‘Shame about the state it’s in.’ Uncle Takeshi lamented. ‘So old, dilapidated. They must have come into money if they’re hiring new help; maybe they’re doing it up. Bringing you in here for some cheap labour.’ He shrugged. ‘Have a good interview, maybe think twice about accepting it.’

‘Y-Yeah, it is a very long commute.’ Hitoka replied. She glanced at her uncle then at the bathhouse.

Old? Dilapidated? The only other building anything as regal as this one would be the Emperor’s estate.

‘I expect you’ll be done by eleven-thirty, I’m going to go find a ramen stand and grab some dumplings. I’m also going to go to one of the shrines so pay respect to the local gods, I don’t want to offend them with my car. Ring me if you need me, I promise to be close by.’

‘Thank you, Uncle.’ Hitoka replied.

She took her handbag and exited the car. She held firmly onto its white straps and farewelled her Uncle. He stayed put, carefully, protectively. Hitoka crossed the bridge. From the base, it seemed like an impossible walk but it was quite the opposite. Just as scary though, but quite the opposite.

One, two. Her ballet flats conformed to the wood underfoot; Hitoka never realised how thin they were until now. Three, four. Her toes dug into the grass; wood did not dig into her dainty foot. And she was there, at the end of the bridge and being looked down upon by the grandiose bathhouse.

At the bottom of the bathhouse, it felt like morning. Not a sunshiny morning but morning. Like when you wake up three am and expect it to still be yesterday. That feeling of beautiful unreality where time exists… but it doesn’t. Yet the clock still ticks on with daring flicks even though it doesn’t matter.

Hitoka approached the gaping hole with a black-green curtain slung across it with a white emblem: a simplistic bath and some steam; a staple for every bathhouse, Hitoka supposed. She pushed it aside and her heart hammered in her throat. Her ears pricked up: she caught murky halves of conversations, clinks and clunks of metal pans, gushing water, and even music. It felt very familiar and homey which was a comfort to Hitoka. She let go of a breath she didn’t realise she was holding

Nervously, Hitoka attempted to press on. She quaked inside of her ballet flats and she craned her head. The inside of the bathhouse was every bit as gorgeous as the outside. It was of gleaming, light coloured wood and there were intricate artworks and tapestries and all sorts of objects of interest scattered. People – patrons and workers – mingled in between it all.

Hitoka came through. She scanned each way, like she was at a busy road, and tried to cross. Only to be bombarded and pummelled by an unknown from the left.

There are rules, sweetheart…

I know, Grandmother.

Promise to obey them – for me?

I will, Grandmother. Pinkie-swear.

Hitoka was pushed to the ground and dog-piled by two unknown individuals. This is it, she thought to herself, squashed to death. They wriggled around on top of her; calling each other names and insulting each other for what was essentially a joint issue.

Eventually, they coordinated each other and got off of Hitoka. They both bent down and helped her up. Hitoka, with eyes spinning, accepted as many hands as she could grasp. They pulled her to her feet and as Hitoka recovered from her dizzy spell, she was greeted by a broad smile and a sullen scowl. Both just as equally terrifying as the other.

The smile belonged to a short, young man with amber eyes. He had a scruffy mess of orange hair with flicks and curls going everywhere. The scowl belonged to a young man somewhat taller than his companion and Hitoka. He had stunning blue eyes and sleek black hair.

They both wore a black kimono with orange patterns.

‘Was that a car you were just in?!’ the shorter young man asked, eyes going wide as he practically reverberated with excitement.

‘Uh… yes.’ Hitoka mumbled

Rule 1: Never tell them your real name.

‘Dumbass, there are more important things in the world than, um, vehiculars.’ his companion chastised him.

‘Now look who’s the dumbass: you can’t even say “car”!’

The two quickly dissolved in a tiff and Hitoka was powerless to do anything about it, until a frighteningly tall, blonde in a black-and-orange kimono approached. He was a chilly demeanour and Hitoka’s levels of stress continually heightened.

He sighed. ‘I thought you two were goofing off.’

‘We weren’t!’

‘We were asking her very important questions. I’ve never heard anyone using a human car. She must be a rich brat from the heavens. I don’t like her already.’

The blonde turned to Hitoka and appraised her with sharp eyes. He sneered. ‘I can’t believe it, you might be right: she does look like a rich brat.’

‘Aah! She’s wearing western clothing!’ a fourth young man pointed out. He had a lot less presence than everyone else wearing the black-and-orange kimono. He had a freckly, kind face with cute features and almost green hair. ‘I apologise for my friends, your highness, you must have come a long way. I think it is admirable of you to mix with us commoners; get a job among us. You must be used to idling your days away.’

‘No! Not at all! I’m just a normal… girl. Here to get a part time job. I have student fees to pay for. And a mouth to feed. That’s all. I don’t want to be a burden to my aunt and uncle.’ Hitoka explained.

There was a moment wherein everyone stared, baffled as they each other their own unique understanding of what was going. Each understanding a significant degree from the truth of the situation.

‘I’m Kei. Who the fuck are you? You are a new part-timer… right?’

‘Yes. I am. I’m Yachi Hitoka; here to apply for the bath scrubbing-cleaner position… thing.’ Hitoka explained hurriedly. Her cheeks flushed and her heart hammered.

Rule 1: failed.

The orange haired youth shot up in a bound. ‘Woohoo! Just like us! Just like us!’ he chanted.

‘I… am?’ Hitoka mumbled.

‘Well yeah… we were part-timers hired a while back now. I’m Tadashi; it’s great to meet you. I’m the pinch server so if there are problems in the kitchen, I step in. It’s a great job but mostly washing dishes.’

‘Good to meet you… Tadashi.’ Hitoka said, struggling to meet his chirpy eyes.

‘I’m Shouyou and this is my partner Tobio! We do the corridors and rooms; making sure all the beds are made but mostly dusting. We’re really good at getting the hard to reach places.’

‘Again, good to meet you both… Shouyou, Tobio.’

‘So, we should probably take you to see Old Man Ikkei, huh.’ Kei mused.

‘Mm, he’ll want to meet her, yeah. You know, so he can hire her.’ Tadashi agreed.

‘Thank you.’ Hitoka said.

Rule 2: Do not eat what they give you.

As a boisterous group, they navigated the bathhouse. It was like a rabbit warren. Hitoka felt in place though. Normally, she didn’t like big crowds but here, though it was noisy it was like there was no substance to it so it didn’t scare her. Also, being part of a pack of big, tough boys was a comfort because they had some sort of authority. People knew to avoid them but when they did avoid them, there was a tad of disgust upon their faces. Perhaps it is because they were the hired help. How rude.

Although Hitoka thought that, she also thought there was something off about these young men. They had good faces, good charisma, varied personalities and were over all quite nice upon getting to know them and their humour, there was something wrong about them. Beneath the surface. It was like there was a disconnection between what she was hearing and seeing, and what she was processing. It was like getting used to hearing a song mashed-up with another song and trying to listen to the original and waiting for parts that weren’t there

Tadashi tilted his head thoughtfully. ‘Hm… anyone else peckish? We’re going to pass the kitchens soon. I can pinch some fruit, if you guys like.’

‘Oooh, grab us some meat buns!’ Shouyou said.

‘Yeah, meat buns!’ Tobio agreed.

‘Ugh, fine.’ Tadashi said but mumbled under his breath about how much trouble he’ll be in with he got caught.

‘I would prefer some fruit.’ Hitoka said, disjointedly.

‘Same, actually.’ Kei piped up.

‘Okay then.’ Tadashi chirruped.

When the kitchens came up, Tadashi was in and out like a thief. He came back with a plate of fruit for Yachi and Kei and meat buns for the others. Shouyou and Tobio greedily pilfered from the plate. The fruit, of course, was left untouched by them.

‘Carnivores.’ Kei dismissed them under his breath.

‘Here you go, Hitoka-chan.’ Tadashi said.

‘Th-Thank you.’ Hitoka replied, awkwardly, wondering if it was appropriate for him to call her that so fondly. They had just met after all.

Hitoka took an apple from the plate and she bit into it. It was such a crisp colour: a beautiful crimson. And it tasted even better. Wondrously sweet and very firm with a satisfying crunch. Her eyes lit up.

Rule 2: failed.

‘They’re great, aren’t they?’ Tadashi said with a lot of pride.

Kei’s face went red and he huffed, hurried on lest Hitoka saw him. Lest any of his friends saw him actually.

‘Kei and his brother Akiteru manage the orchard.’ Tadashi boasted.

Hitoka threw an impressed look to Kei; ‘They’re really tasty!’

She blinked. Squinted. Hitoka had never worn glasses but she felt as though, she had just taken off a pair. She rubbed her eyes.

‘Is something the matter?’ Tadashi worried; Shouyou stopping in his tracks and showing concern.

‘I – I think I just got dust or something in my eyes.’ Hitoka replied.

She blinked once more; her eyelashes fluttering and she squinted. Then her eyes widened; eyelids flapping back in panic. She screamed.

Tobio had horns. Big horns that looked like drills. Not to mention teeth that were jagged and animalistic and inherently… wrong-looking; inhuman-looking. Kei only had half his face; from his cheekbones, he had bone. His flesh from his jaws down turned to a fleshless skull. His eyes didn’t seem to exist; they were just blackened sockets. His hands were a mix of flesh and bone. Then there was Tadashi. He had skinny, scaled legs and no shoes for his feet were akin to that of a chicken; not to mention his freaking wings; beautiful wings that were blue, red, yellow, and green!

The only normal one was… Shouyou and even then, it was like he was constantly shifting. This form – this human form – was not real. It was a glamour; an illusion. The only thing real about him was that metallic sheen about his eyes; a hint to his true form.

Hitoka backed away from them. She bumped into the wall and felt her skin crawl. She trembled; knees knocking.

‘What’s going on?’ Tobio asked; his fangs gnashing and grinding audibly – or was it only because Hitoka was terrified?

‘Y-Y-Y-You’re monsters!’ she screeched.

The four looked among themselves, confused.

‘You’re… not?’ Shouyou asked; deflating.

‘N-No, why would I be?!’ Yachi shrieked.

‘Because you’re here. At a bathhouse. For. Youkai?’ Tobio said.

‘A what?’ Hitoka murmured; going pale.

‘The Karasuno Bathhouse; a popular stop for youkai from all over!’ Tadashi said.

Hitoka genuinely thought her heart would stop beating there and then. That she would die from a heart attack. Instead, she was pumping blood good and new. As always.

‘What is that racket!?’ a crotchety, old man voice rang out.

‘Crap!’ Shouyou muttered. ‘Old Man Ikkei.’

The four shuddered and moved away from Hitoka. They lined themselves up along the opposite wall and waited. Soon, an old man descended on them. He scuttled along with a pounding cane. He was greying wings and a great nose. He wore the finest garments Hitoka had ever seen. He seemed older than time.

Hitoka swallowed. So, the stories were true then. They had to be. Three rules, Hitoka remember now. There were three rules that her grandmother had drilled into her when she was a child. Everyone thought that dear old Grandmother Reiko was a bit airy and fairy in her old age. Turns out… she was right.

Three rules. And Hitoka had broken two of them. She dropped her apple. It rolled towards the old man. He bent down – grunting and creaking – and picked up the apple. He inspected the bite marks.

‘A small mouth. A girl’s mouth.’ He decided.

He continued to hobble along. One pounding foot after another aided by his cane. He got to the youths and Hitoka. Everyone was terrified.

‘Lads,’ he began, ‘off ya git, you’ve been goofing off far too long. Knew I shouldn’t have put Tobio and Shouyou in charge of greeting the potential part-timers.’

He paused. They started to sneak off, hoping that was the brunt of it.

‘I SAID OFF YA GIT but I’m giving you extra chores tomorrow!’

He was a Tengu, Hitoka realised. He commanded authority. He appeared regal.

His face softened as he happened upon Hitoka.

‘What’s your name, lass?’

‘Hitoka Yachi.’

‘The girl Kiyoko recruited, correct? A… human. I can smell it on you. The filthy half-bloods over there… no wonder they didn’t realise, they thought you smelt normal because you’re like them. Are you a seer?’

‘No. My grandmother was though. I think.’ Hitoka replied.

‘Hitoka… Reiko?’ he asked.

‘Yes… how did you know?’ Hitoka asked, her eyes brimming with curiosity despite the fear.

‘You have her eyes.’ Ikkei lamented. ‘Grandmother… huh? No wonder she hasn’t visited in a while. She was the only seer ballsy enough t’ visit. She – She still hanging on?’

‘No, she passed away two years ago.’ Hitoka replied.

He turned around in a huff. ‘You’re hired. You’ll be Kiyoko’s personal assistant. Yui can get you the women’s kimono first.’

‘Really?! Just like that?!’ Hitoka said.

‘Yep.’ Ikkei said. ‘Come along now, Hitoka.’

Hitoka kept pace with Old Man Ikkei. He seemed like a tempest; powerful, raging but he was actually quite serene. He gave Hitoka the impression that he had seen many, many things in his lifetime. They did not talk. Only walked.

He dropped her off in the private quarters reserved for staff. Hitoka knocked on the door and in that moment, Old Man Ikkei had managed to disappear. It was very quiet here, until there was a hot scramble for the door.

‘In a second!’ voice rang out and then the door pulled back.

A face emerged: a grinning, cute face and Hitoka’s heart skipped a beat. A woman, tall and somewhat masculine, allowed her into the room. She wore a navy-blue kimono with white or silver patterns and trims. It really accentuated her height and figure. The room was strewn with silk and spider web. It smelt of steam and fresh linen.

‘Hello, good to meet you, part-timer. I’m Yui. What’s your name, cutie-pie?’

Yui immediately set to work on understanding Hitoka’s body type and height.

‘Yachi Hitoka.’ Hitoka said. Having remember her previous mistakes, she also added: ‘Human.’

‘Whore.’ Yui muttered, unfazed, as she had pins in her mouth and she put fabric around Hitoka, squeezing her tightly.

‘Sorry?’

‘Sorry? Wait, oh, I’m a Jorōgumo, sorry for the confusion. Human, huh, that’s rare.’

In a matter of seconds, Yui was soon finished making a kimono that was exactly perfect for Hitoka.

‘I’ll make you a back-up kimono in a moment. As well as some sleepwear.’ Yui said.

‘Will I have to be there for the fittings?’ asked Hitoka.

‘Nah, I never forget a cute girl’s measurements.’ Yui said with a wink.

‘Oh…’ Hitoka became flustered.

‘So, where do you need to go. You can get changed if you like, I’m a professional.’ Yui said.

‘Okay.’ Hitoka mumbled.

She explained herself as she got unchanged. Yui took her clothes away from safe keeping. There was a growing feeling of lucidity. It felt unlikely that Hitoka would ever see her faux office worker clothes again. There was a feeling she wasn’t going to see much ever again. It bothered her that that didn’t bother her. She felt like she was slowly forgetting something.

‘Okeydokey, all done.’ Yui said and she admired her handiwork.

Hitoka had never worn a softer or more perfect kimono. She felt like the Emperor’s daughter in this. It was lovely. Just for her. The dark colouring of the kimono was complementary against her fair skin; like the moonlight in the night.

‘You look great. I hope you enjoy working here. The Karasuno Bathhouse is like a big ol’ family. It’s great. You’ll get along so well with the First Years.’

‘The First Years?’ Hitoka echoed.

‘Oh, that’s just what us ancients call the other new part timers.’ Yui chuckled. ‘They’re good kids. You know: Shouyou, Tobio, Kei, Tadashi… just unfortunate. The Community is dying nowadays, they needed a home. One that’ll accept them. Thank goodness for the Bathhouse or they’d be on the streets.’

‘I don’t understand.’ Hitoka said.

‘You’d be on the streets too, I reckon.’ Yui lamented. ‘A human seer who’s been hidden by the monsters…’

‘Three... rules.’ Hitoka said. No wonder she felt like she was dreaming. She was trespassing upon a very thin line.

‘C’mon, I’ll get you down to Kiyoko’s bath. She’s the manager; handles the finances and stocks. She’s so smart, I wish I could be like her. I’m bit of a dunderhead but she tells me that she wishes she could sew like me. So, there’s balance. She’s teaching me complex math on her breaks though!’ Yui babbled.

‘Oi, Twins!’ she yelled. She banged on the wall.

A muffled reply came.

‘The Twins are hosts. They’re not usually busy at this hour so they’ll be right to take you to Kiyoko. They’re waitresses who work with Tadashi sometimes.’ Yui said. ‘Off you go, I’ve got guest laundry to wash.’

‘Thank you, Yui. I feel wonderful in this work kimono.’ Hitoka said as she slid the door across.

‘Don’t mention it, unless you get a rip. Just doing my job.’ Yui said as she composed piles of clothes into baskets.

Hitoka met with the Twins and they soon escorted her to Kiyoko’s bath. They were very sweet gals who curiously had no names. They were a collective: the Twins. A shame as they were fraternal rather than identical and that they had defined invidualistic personalities even as a unison.

They later told Hitoka that once, they were doll and master but deep, dark spiritual power one day corrupted them. Not that they had many memories of what it was like back then. A century or more ago now. They feared the same would happen to Hitoka. The urged her to respect the final rule.

Rule 3: Don’t fall in love.

The Twins took Hitoka through the weaving warren of intricately interconnected rooms and corridors. They were constantly pointing out things that were need-to-know. Those are guest rooms, that’s a closet, we don’t use that, when we do use that it’s a make-out spot… It went on and on and on.

Soon, Hitoka was brought to the ground floor’s furthest room. Moss and flowering vines constricted the walls. It was chilly here but she didn’t mind.

‘Kiyoko is right in there.’ The Twins said and they opened the door for Hitoka.

It scratched along the frame and Hitoka cautiously stepped in. The Twins pounded on her back, encouraging her. She licked her lips. Rule three. Rule three. She reminded herself of it as constantly as she could but it kept slipping from her grasp like wet soap.

The Twins farewelled her and shut the door behind Hitoka. Hitoka wandered into the bath. It appeared to be part of the ground rather than a room as there was no flooring; only a canopy of sorts above them. The bathhouse was becoming more and more architecturally improbable with every room Kiyoko becomes acquainted with.

It was brisk but the thick kimono kept Hitoka warm. She wondered if it really was made of Yui’s spider silk.

Hitoka soon felt lost in Kiyoko’s domain. It was like she had stumbled into a forest without trees; only a lake guarded by rocks. But this was hers to keep clean, what was she to keep clean?

‘Hitoka-chan?’ a voice lifted from nowhere; a beautiful, lilting voice.

‘Kiyoko-san?’ Hitoka replied.

Splish, splash, and soon a glorious head of wet hair emerged from the lake. Long, bare arms sopping wet anchored a body to the rocks and Kiyoko pulled herself up. She glistened in the faint starlight.

‘Where are my glasses…’ she mumbled.

Hitoka drew closer. There was a crisp crunch of grass underfoot and Hitoka’s feet grew soggy with dew.

The lake soon swallowed up Hitoka’s vision. It was as still as a mirror and coloured like the night sky. The lake was burgeoning with lily-pads with vibrant pink, yellow, and white spiky flowers reaching upwards. Bubbles bigger than the flowers gathered here and there alongside pristine, white foam. There was a sweet, mild fragrance in the air that lulled Hitoka into a state of dreaminess with its tempting presence.

Amidst it all was Kiyoko. From the waist, down she was in the tremendous, dark water. From the waist, up she was nude. Her black as ink hair slick and sliding down her bare, alabaster back and showing off the gentle curves of her pale shoulders. Her demure yet sultry eyes searching for Hitoka. Her lips, a soft peach pink, slightly apart and pert like they were about to be kissed.

‘My glasses, can you find them?’

‘Of course… Ki-Ki-Kiyoko.’ Hitoka sputtered; enamoured with the gentle, poetic beauty of Kiyoko.

Hitoka awkwardly toddled off; feeling eyes on her back. She soon found Kiyoko’s glasses on the other side of the pool. Kiyoko followed her through the water; not through the grass. She hefted herself up once more onto one of the rocks. Hitoka handed over her glasses and her eyes became more focused, bigger and Hitoka could see just how lovely a colour her pupils were: eyes as grey as the fog that spirals on a stormy beach. She was positively enchanting.

The third rule. The third rule. Stuff the third rule.

‘Thank you, Hitoka-chan.’

Hitoka swooned every time Kiyoko said her name. She spoke so elegantly and her sweet, mature voice polished every word and turned it into something precious. It rendered Hitoka breathless.

‘I heard you will be my personal cleaner as Ikkei-san hired someone else for general duties.’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘I suppose it’s less for you to clean. After all, what is one large bath compared ten-and-four small baths?’

‘See, putting it that sounds like a huge load off. Less hours too, if I can bulk up and clean quick.’

‘Indeed.’

Kiyoko swayed, she continued to hoist herself at the lake. She was graceful, effortless. She did not ask Hitoka for help and Hitoka was too spellbound to even think of asking if she ought to. Kiyoko’s lower half raised from the water; droplets rolling off of lovely grey and blue scales and fins.

A ningyō… she is a ningyō, Hitoka thought idly to herself as her eyes caught on how beautiful, how-fish like Kiyoko was.

‘Once every two weeks, I would like you to clean my bath. If that works for you.’ Kiyoko said as she sat up, twisting around so not to harm any of her raiment-like fins and attachments to her wide, beautiful tail that tapered into lovely, see-through fins that were curly and fluttery.

‘Sounds good.’ Hitoka replied.

‘I hope we get along.’ Kiyoko said with a smile as she played with her hair, placing it into a loose plait. Already she was beginning to dry.

‘Yo-You were wearing a kimono… and shoes. When we met. How?’ Hitoka asked. ‘If you don’t mind me helping.’

‘Every so often, I adopt an illusion and I transform myself. I can’t do it frequently lest it hurts me.’ Kiyoko explained.

‘Oh. How… magical.’ Hitoka replied; struggling to find a reply.

‘Ne, Hitoka-chan, would you like to sit with me?’ Kiyoko asked.

‘Sure.’ Hitoka said.

She removed her wooden clogs and socks. She sat upon a cold, damp rock next to Kiyoko and lets her toes dangle and skirt along the frigid surface of the lake.

‘Is it always this cold?’

‘Only at night. I don’t mind. It’s when it gets too hot though… yes, that can be a pain. The struggles of being cold blooded.’

Hitoka placed her hand close to Kiyoko’s. Kiyoko’s fingers wandered over Hitoka’s. Her digits were long and bony. Cold too but Hitoka didn’t mind. Soon, they were holding hands and watching as streams of silvery moonlight beamed down from high in the starry heavens and unto the lake.

‘I like to believe I am quite blessed here.’ Kiyoko mused, her voice soft, husky, alluring.

This couldn’t be more removed from what Hitoka knew. She found herself thinking about the summer when she was eight. It had been windy and rainy and awful most of it. But the day she went to visit her grandmother, it had been perfect. The skies were clear; not a cloud in sight yet petrichor permeated the plants and earth; encasing Hitoka with its pleasantries. She sat in her grandmother’s lap; watermelon juice dripping over her face as she attempted to eat a slice bigger and thicker than her hand.

“There are rules, sweetheart…”

“I know, Grandmother.”

“Promise to obey them – for me?”

“I will, Grandmother. Pinkie-swear.”

I swear I will, Grandmother or else I shall swallow a thousand needles, Hitoka thought to herself but she could feel her memories growing weak, twisting into dreams.

‘Ne, Hitoka-chan.’ Kiyoko piped up, breaking Hitoka’s reverie.

‘Yes?!’ Hitoka squeaked.

‘Promise me that you’ll stay with me for as long as you can?’ Kiyoko asked, gently.

‘I promise.’ Hitoka replied.

Memories turned to dreams: foggy, uncertain… gone. And to seal the spell with the strongest bind, Kiyoko leaned in.

Rule 3: failed.

Hitoka mimicked. She leaned in. Her skin prickled. Her heart raced.

Their lips connected slowly. Hitoka was embraced by the smell of fresh water and lilies; delicate, light. She was enchanting. Kiyoko’s lips were soft but she was firm, guiding, knew what she was doing and Hitoka allowed her to lead as she was graceful.

It was a relatively long kiss and it made Hitoka’s spirits soar. Truly, the spell had now been wound tightly around her and her heart. She felt unbreakable. She felt like she had forgotten something. Kiyoko’s hand tightened over Hitoka’s. yes, she had forgotten something in the thrill of the kiss.

Yachi Hitoka was not a very strong person.

No, she had many, many weaknesses. She loved stationary and couldn’t help but coddle the big-eyed kitties that wandered around the bathhouse. She loved pastels; always gawking at sunset and sunrise. She always to filch peaches and lychees from the harvest. And those are her quirky weaknesses; she’s also terrified to death of walking alone, of gross looking mess, and a good many more things.

However, right now, topping the list of her many, many fears was not a very, very pretty woman but leaving her. That being said… why would Hitoka ever leave her?

She fears she has forgotten and it is a far more harrowing fear than anything else she has ever encountered.

[The ending part 2: read if you want Extra Angst(tm)]

Yachi Hitoka was not a rule breaker. She was neither a promise breaker, and yet…

Missing College Student’s Remains Found After Sixty years

Harakawa Ayumu [journalist; JNN]

After nearly sixty years, Yachi Hitoka (19) has been returned. Her family can finally have closure.

Yachi Hitoka was a university student belonging to University of Tokyo. She was studying advertisement. She was a bright, young woman beloved by friends and family alike. She was described as well organised and cheerful. People often said her greatest flaw was how easily stressed and anxious she became.

Due to these characteristics, her family immediately found it unusual when she did not return phone calls from them regarding her whereabouts.

Yachi Hitoka was last seen by her Uncle: Katsuragi Takeshi. She had been attending a job interview at a “Karasuno Bathhouse”.

Yachi Hitoka’s remains were found in the area of her job interview but no sight – or superficial record – of a Karasuno Bathhouse has been found. There have been scattered reports of one existing but due to the untrustworthy verdicts of witnesses having found a Karasuno Bathhouse, it is uncertain as to if Yachi Hitoka had even attended an interview or if she had been scanned. It is to our understanding that a mysterious woman gave Yachi a flyer alerting her to the possible job position at the bathhouse. This woman, or her employer, never came forward.

Yachi’s remains were found wearing a navy blue and white kimono made of an unusual substance. Analysis says the fabric is spider silk. She was also aged considerably and showing odd signs of compositions. Foul play is suspected.

Rest in peace, Yachi Hitoka.

#merry writes stuff #hq fantasy exchange #hq ffs 2017 #hq ffs #hq fantasy exchange 2017 #kiyoyachi #yachikiyo #yachi hitoka #kiyoko shimizu #hqexchange #eh i'll add links later #i hope binlar-lover likes it #i spent a lot of time *coughs* one day bc procrastination *coughs* on this #i'm so sorry #i had a shitty week and did a lot of procrastination but i whacked out 4500 words today (probably mre) and edited so i'm p proud

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