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typewriterghcst · 4 years

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Title: A Very Small Wish Fandom: The Cat Returns Characters: Baron, Muta, Toto, Haru, plus some OCs Rating: PGish maybe?? Summary: A pleading request from a parent whose daughter has been cursed by a resentful witch is nothing truly out of the ordinary for the Cat Bureau— in fact, it might be so common so as to be routine— so why does something feel inherently off about this particular one? Notes: Fourth chapter of seven of a Secret Santa gift for @deedee-sunflowers. As mentioned on ao3, I split up the fourth chapter, so consider this something of an intermission! And I’m sorry it took me all the way until the fourth chapter to finally get to the ‘witch’ part of the prompt rip I also had neglected to apologize before now for the lack of romance. I hope that’s not a deal breaker orz I tend to gravitate toward gen, and that held true for this story, unfortunately, aha

Ch. 4: Grandmother

By the time the errant inhabitants of the Sown Forest are put back where they belong, a few mishaps aside, and the Bureau and Haru make their way back to Vanya’s spot, any disquiet he’d been on the verge of verbalizing is long gone. He greets them with an expected cheeriness, almost shyly giving Baron’s hat back to him.

...Were he not seemingly incapable of such an emotion, that is. In truth, he is dangerously close to instead offering the Creation a remarkably potent example of ‘bedroom eyes’ as he hands the accessory over.

Perhaps in a polite attempt to distract from such a reaction, Baron asks, “Which direction is the— ah, what did you call them? The Top-Top? Will it take us long to reach our destination?”

“If we go, we will reach it,” Vanya responds nonchalantly.

Well, it doesn’t take long at all for that answer to rankle Muta’s nerves enough for him to protest.

“...Yanno, you’re pretty mouthy for something that’s about a foot tall.”

“Let’s not idle,” Baron cuts in as politely as he’s able, giving Muta a discerning look where Vanya can not see. “Time is against us, and, as previously detailed, we ought to shave off as much unnecessary labor as we possibly can in our endeavors. Mr. Vanya,” he starts, turning to the fox, “This is your home, and you know the ins and outs of the environment much more thoroughly than we do. We will follow your direction.”

“I’m still gonna complain when it doesn’t make sense, though,” Muta grumbles from the side.

“With your comprehension skills? That’s going to be a lot of complaining,” Toto is swift to remark.

“At least I’m not a birdbrain!”

“That is Oostal, though!” Vanya chirps, having clapped his paws together a few times in delight while listening to the two bicker. Then, thoughtfully, “There is a caravan that accepts passengers. It will take us to the Top-Top.”

“It’s too far to walk?”

“No,” Vanya chirrups again, scampering away and waving for the four of them to follow him shortly after. They share a dubious look with each other before complying, leaving the tidy border of the Sown Forest behind them.

When Haru turns to look just moments later out of nothing more than muted curiosity, she finds that the orderly line of white trees which made up the framework of the forest are no more than faint outlines, like a particularly abstract watercolor painting or a distant cityscape through rain-dotted glass. Seeing also that she’s let a fairly substantial gap form between her and the others even as Muta pauses to let her catch up (having noticed her absence), she jogs forward to continue beside him, putting the oddity out of her mind.

&&&

The roving carriage that Vanya leads them to is, like many things in Oostal, not so terribly outlandish so as to be wholly alien, but still just enough to feel… unfamiliar.

It’s at once delicate and rusted, another relic of Oostal’s ostensible fading vitality, or perhaps of its apparent age, two rows of seating enveloped in a velvety but threadbare and stained layer of scarlet cloth. What had likely once been quite a pretty canopy stretched over the back of it now lies in ragged gauze hanging from bent and dainty posts. The creaking of its wearied joints and wheels echo throughout the air as it rolls stubbornly over the landscape.

There are no horses. Nor is there an apparent driver. More than that, there’s no apparent motor attached to it (and had there been, it would have been the most traditionally technologically advanced object in Oostal the Bureau had yet seen). Yet Vanya is forced to break into a modest jog to catch up to the thing, and it still doesn’t stop in its implacable journey even when he manages to gallop alongside it and clear its side.

“It’s easy!” He calls to them once he’s settled in the back of the wagon.

Amusingly, simply gaining a passenger, even one so minuscule as Vanya, seems to slow the carriage, enough so that it’s little more than a meager sprint the Bureau must employ to catch up. And the addition of four more passengers results in it coming to a momentary stop; then, with all the weary resignation of a browbeaten beast of burden, it circles back around in the direction it had just come, and they are again on their way. At least, Haru assumes they are.

She notices Baron open his mouth and almost immediately close it again, looking faintly discomfited with something, and to herself she hazards a very plausible guess that it was most likely to ask how long the journey might take them.

They’ve all gathered by now that Vanya’s grasp of the passage of time is… tenuous, to say the least. It’s not an entirely comfortable handicap, considering.

So, as a rather roundabout way to procure an answer, Toto instead asks, “Would you advise getting comfortable, Vanya?”

Vanya wastes no time in flopping down into a sitting position at the edge of the base, tail twitching contentedly. “It won’t hurt!”

“So, when were you gonna tell us about that whole ‘spend too long in the forest and you can’t leave’ bit?” Muta asks sourly in the proceeding silence.

“We weren’t going to be there that long,” Vanya sniffs.

Muta appears unsurprisingly unsatisfied with this answer, and he stares the fox down for a good minute before the lack of reaction from Vanya leads to him giving up the ghost for the time being and figuratively throwing his paws in the air.

“Whatever. I deserve a nap. Don’t talk to me until we get there.”

Vanya surreptitiously turns up his nose, but otherwise doesn’t respond, and Muta wanders a short distance away to the driver’s seat, where he quickly plonks into a sleeping position with his back turned to the rest of them. Baron, having watched this show of exasperation with a small measure of knowing affection, then turns that same half-crooked smile to Vanya, this time with a faint edge of sympathy.

“...Well, if there’s room for rest—”

“A short rest,” Vanya clarifies, back to his earlier agreeable tone.

“A short rest, then— I believe I’ll take advantage of it, as well. Don’t hesitate to let us know when we’ve arrived.”

“It’ll be obvious.”

Baron nods once in acknowledgement before moving to join Muta in the front seat. The indistinct, murmuring conversation they begin shortly after is quick to fade into the ambient noise of the laboring of their current mode of transport.

Toto seems content to remain where he is, perched upon one of the velvety seats lined along the side. Haru sits across from him on the opposite row of seats.

“Not to sound skeptical or ungrateful, Vanya, but it’s awfully convenient that this carriage is so willing to take us to our next destination. Does Oostal have a lot of secrets like this?” Toto starts.

“Yes,” Vanya doesn’t hesitate to answer. Then, more thoughtfully, “...or, maybe no.”

He leans back a little and stretches, and when he continues, there’s a certain impassively dazed quality in his voice, “...The Muta Cat complains a lot about Oostal. He wants Oostal to make sense, but Oostal wasn’t made that way. It is what it is.”

“Don’t fret too much about Muta,” Toto says with a dismissive wave of his wing. “He’s just grumpy because we didn’t bring enough snacks.”

Vanya gives an amused-sounding hum.

“...also, out of curiosity, why are we using it anyhow?” The crow pats one of the cushions under him with a talon. “At least, since it’s not too far to walk.”

“Hmm, because it makes it easier.”

“Oh? How’s that?”

“Because sitting down is easier than walking,” Vanya replies with a glib obliviousness, the sincerity of which Haru finds she can’t quite discern one way or the other.

Toto, at least, only laughs. “I guess you have me there.”

“It seemed like it was already on its way somewhere, though,” Haru then begins, and the oddness inherent in this ostensibly sentient carriage is not at all lost on her, though she neglects to address it specifically. “Where was it going before we, er… commandeered it..?”

“Nobody knows,” Vanya explains blithely. “Always on a journey Somewhere, though. We just let it roam, because it never stops.”

He pats the faded wooden base under him, almost affectionately.

“Maybe it will finally sit down and sleep when it gets There. In the meantime, it takes you anywhere you wish.”

For a fleeting moment, Haru thinks to ask how the wagon knows the way to all these locations, but she’s by now gathered that, however it works, locations in Oostal do not exist in the same way they do on Earth (or, indeed, in her general understanding of how such things exist). She has often liked to think of herself as being a natural with directions, and yet has consistently felt lost in Oostal (the inherent disorientation seemingly built into the Sown Forest notwithstanding).

She watches Vanya kick his dangling feet for a few minutes, and then moves from her seat to sit beside him.

“I haven’t asked yet, but I’m curious, Vanya—” She eventually starts. “What is the witch like? Does she have a name?”

Vanya seems happy enough to answer, long tail thumping once against the worn base of the carriage and one tiny paw going to his chin in thought. “We call her Grandmother.”

“Grandmother?” Toto sounds profoundly amused, and Haru can’t blame him.

“She’s given us no other name. We came up with our own, and I think she likes it. It is a very affectionate name.”

“Yeah, it is. From her antics, I would have expected her to have a more… um, nefarious name. Definitely not something so casual.” Then, after a moment of further deliberation, “Is she really a grandmother?”

Vanya emits his pealing laugh again, flapping one of his paws. “She is a witch! She has no family. She has lived almost as long as Oostal itself!”

“Th-That long? How old is Oostal..?”

“Old,” Vanya responds unhelpfully, as per usual. Haru is abruptly reminded of Muta’s earlier assertion of the same, back when they’d been searching through the Sown Forest.

“...I see.” Haru glances out at the rolling scenery— a golden sky streaked with teal blue, long, pearlescent grasses that wave in the breeze, and dark water in the distance. It’s beautiful, scenery unlike anything she’s seen before, and so blissfully dreamlike. Then, seemingly just as soon as she’d expressed her appreciation, it all shifts in an instant. It’s seamless, but… indescribably disorienting, how the colors and shapes of their surroundings suddenly melt away into something new.

The sky now is dark, clear of clouds or gold or teal-colored streaks. The gentle hills and their shimmering grasses vanish; all around them the landscape has flattened. Like the Sown Forest, the horizon stretches on so far so as to be near unfathomable. And despite the fact they had previously been traveling uphill and are now incomprehensibly rolling across a flat surface without reaching the top of the hill, there had been no crash downwards, the transition from hills to plains as unremarkable as the one from their surroundings.

If Haru spends too long questioning it, her head will start hurting, she knows it.

“I’m no expert on witches,” Toto starts behind them, “But I’ve always heard many of them have an unassuming object which serves as a source of power for them, nefarious or not. In fact, I recall one which had hidden her soul inside a flower. Does Grandmother have one..? It isn’t often I hear of mischievous witches who also happen to be very graceful losers, after all.”

“Mm, a source of her power, maybe not, but Grandmother is the sole proprietor of a very curious book,” Vanya answers. “It’s the only one of its kind, and no one quite knows just how she came to be the owner of it.”

“Oh? And what sort of book is this mysterious tome..?” Toto asks.

Vanya gives a questioning, thoughtful noise, twisting a little to look at the crow as he does. “It is like an address book. Every creature that now lives in Oostal, or once has— its name is written in that book. Its real name, that is.”

It’s here Toto tilts his head, and his eyes, to Haru, sharpen just so, not so abruptly so as to cause alarm or suspicion, but noticeably for someone who has become more accustomed to his mannerisms. When he speaks, it’s with a marked delicateness.

“...I imagine such a book would be quite coveted.”

“Oh, yes.”

It’s when they pass through a broken iron gate that Vanya suddenly stands, dusting off his hands and sides excitedly before pointing out in the distance behind the two of them (Haru has to crane her neck to see what’s got his attention; as she does, she sees that Toto is following suit, as well).

“There it is! The ruined workshop of the Top-Top. Once home to the finest crafters of decorative eggs in all of Oostal.”

Haru, again feeling the faintest veneer of old destruction and deterioration lingering over yet another Oostal location, gazes up at the looming structure, overgrown with red ivy and moss, and the deteriorating gate they’d just rolled through, and then asks, “...What happened to the Top-Top?”

“Nobody is quite sure,” Vanya answers blithely; his own eyes never leave the dilapidated factory, and Haru gets quite the impression that where she sees the echoes of a lamentable catastrophe, he sees something quite different. “It happened overnight, and by the time there were explorers doughty enough to traverse the city, there were no remains to tell the story.”

“That’s a sad story,” Haru says.

“Mm! Sad! It’s an enduring mystery, all right. Virtuous Siree is obsessed with it. Oh! There— on the side, there’s an entrance. That was for their clients.” Vanya hops over the side of the carriage with such speed, he’s little more than a wispy, white blur. Haru slides off the back end to follow him, sharing a — look with Toto before she sees that Vanya has been joined a short ways away by Baron and Muta.

“There will be many eggs inside,” Vanya is explaining.

“So, what, we just go in and grab one that looks good..?” Muta asks with a shrug.

“Were you paying attention to the original riddle at all?” Toto replies.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“It means not just any egg will do, Hairball Brain. From the sounds of it, we’re looking for one that never had the chance to be decorated. Isn’t that right, Vanya?”

Something in Vanya’s expression appears lightly annoyed, as if he feels Toto had rather upstaged him and his no doubt theatrical reveal of the answer to this particular stanza of the witch’s riddle.

“That’s right,” he answers, but his clipped tone at least doesn’t last. He laughs again, though, clapping his paws together once. “A bird should know his eggs, shouldn’t he? Here, follow me.”

&&&

If the outside of the old factory had looked desolate and crumbling, then the inside only furthers the aesthetic— peeling wallpaper, overturned furniture, thick, dusty cobwebs. The air is stale, cold. And unlike the Sown Forest, there is no persistent ambient noise to temper the silence. There are, however, hundreds (if not thousands) of tiny eggs scattered across every surface. They litter the floor. Some of them appear to have been dropped and now lie in shattered slivers across the stone flooring.

...Not one of them, from what they can see by the door, has been decorated.

“Wa— hold on, how are we supposed to tell which one is the right one..?”

“We take them all!” Vanya responds brightly.

“You can’t be serious,” Haru starts.

“I’m not.” He scampers to a nearby cluster of eggs and swipes one, holding it out to the rest of them so that they can more easily discern the thin seam along the middle. Then, when he’s certain they’ve all four seen it, Vanya takes both paws and… gently pries it open much like a jewelry box.

“Oh!” Haru responds with breathy awe. “It’s beautiful!”

In contrast to its plain, unadorned outside, the inside of the egg boasts a vibrant green coating, whitish gold lining an overlapping shell pattern in dainty filaments. The same gleaming platinum is present just below the egg’s seam, forming a tiny floor, upon which rests a minuscule, lace-clad mouse carved from something that resembles ivory.

“It reminds me of a music box,” Haru continues softly.

“Mm! ...But not every egg here is like this. One of them must be unlovely both inside and out.”

“It’s just a little plain, that’s all,” Haru feels oddly compelled to counter.

Muta, on the other hand, appears to have singled out a different issue in the present discussion.

“...so, the plan is to just… open every single egg here and hope one doesn’t have some glitzy trinket in it? How are we supposed to do that in just— how long do we have left..?”

“Somewhere around 28 hours,” Baron says.

“In just 25 hours! Look at all these things— there’s gotta be an easier way..!”

“There is, but…” Vanya appears rather uncharacteristically abashed, paws linked behind his back and stance nearly cringing inward.

“But..?” Muta prompts warily.

“You can not be upset with me! It had to be done!”

“Mr. Vanya,” Baron starts with measured patience. “Please, we are here to assist you and your daughter— there is no need to keep secrets. What is the faster method you know of?”

Appeased, the fox clasps his paws together and then opens them again, revealing a modest handful of the scarlet-colored berries from the Sown Forest.

It doesn’t take long for the pieces to fall into place.

“It was you! You’re the reason those things all turned on us!”

“I was promised there would be no upset!” Vanya cries, apparently deeming Baron the least likely to condemn him, as he quite swiftly scurries behind the Creation, only peeking out to yelp his defense. “Pretty Vanya happened across a berry bush while running to meet the others! It couldn’t hurt to have extras! What if something happened to the one the Helpful Bureau was given?”

“Cut the crap, twerp, you picked them up because you knew we’d need them to make this egg hunt easier,” Muta argues. “Why else would you have worried we’d get mad at you, like it was your fault?!”

Vanya doesn’t respond, but the way his eyes widen in apparent consternation, and the vulnerable, searching look he directs to the four of them says that he hadn’t expected to get caught in one of his own fibs. Even Baron, ever the charitable gentleman, displays some misgiving as he stares at the fox cowering behind him.

“...There do appear to be a number of details you’ve neglected to advise us of, Mr. Vanya,” he eventually agrees softly.

Feeling evidently betrayed by this quiet admonishment from Even Baron, Vanya backs away from the four of them, glancing rapidly between them all again and giving the impression he’s quite frantically running through all his options in his mind. Perhaps predictably, he settles on… well, what they’ve all come to expect as the usual.

“It has been a long time!” He cries, hiding his face in his scarf. “Little Virtuous Siree has spent so long being the way she is now! I wanted a surefire way to gain Helpful Bureau’s assistance, and fast! A time limit, I thought, was the easiest way to do it. The Pretty Vanya Creature is not so devious!”

“Th… that’s it?” Haru pauses. “I guess that explains the time measurements always being off.”

“And the speed of the riddle being solved,” Toto adds. “You must have been working on this for a while, Vanya.”

Muta seems unconvinced, but reluctantly so. “Are you really telling me that a witch not only gave you no restrictions about getting outside help but also didn’t slap down a time limit on you? Eh, look, I’m not trying to be that guy, but that just seems real careless to me, specially for a witch.”

Vanya only cries more loudly.

“Now, now,” Baron starts, offering his own handkerchief to the fox. “It is understandable why you’d feel the need to fabricate this, er, half-truth, but I do promise you, it’s not necessary. We of the Cat Bureau are quite happy to offer our assistance to you in a timely fashion, Mr. Vanya, legitimate time limit or not. And I do hope you will, here on out, feel comfortable placing your complete trust in us.”

Vanya’s black eyes, always rather stark against the pale ivory of his fur, shine now as if they’ve been dusted with glitter as he regards Baron with his paws clasped.

“Yes, yes! The Prettiest Vanya Creature promises— from here, no more fibs.”

“Good.” Baron responds with an obliging nod.

“Alright,” Toto agrees, as well, before continuing, “These berries you picked up at our last location, though— they’re going to help us find the right egg in a quicker fashion? How’s that?”

“We eat them,” Vanya answers bluntly, miming the motion of popping one of the little berries in his mouth.

A reluctant uneasiness settles over the group, then. Their eccentric client has just promised to abandon his exaggerations and falsehoods, and Haru, personally, thinks to herself she’s never been the type to rebuff a genuine apology, but… So, too, does she think this feels like an awfully monumental amount of trust to place in someone so fickle so soon.

“Eat them…” Toto echoes pensively, softly.

“...They don’t taste gross, do they?” Muta asks, unimpressed.

“Hmm, I don’t know. There are no records kept in Oostal about the taste of the Sown Forest berries. So few people have had them!”

“Well,” Baron starts, again the voice of optimism, “If, even though there have been but a handful of pioneers who have tried this particular curiosity, it hasn’t yet gained a reputation as an anathema, then I believe it should be taken as a sign of favorable fortune. No news is good news, as some might say.”

“Bet they said the same thing about enemas,” Muta grumbles under his breath.

Vanya holds his own little red berry above his head, as if attempting to see the light pass through the opaque sphere, and smiles at it in the same way a mother might her stumbling toddler. “They are very special, like most sacred things. And because of that, they allow those who have been gifted with them a most impressive temporary ability.”

“Oh, yeah? And what ability is that..?”

Vanya smiles at Muta, distracted from the fruit. “To see to the heart of anything.”

“Ah,” Baron says with an acknowledging nod, “Like the Lubov, I assume.”

“Yes.”

“Well…” Muta sighs, interrupting the silence that settles seconds after. “Bottoms up, I guess.”

Finally, with one last tentative look between the four of them, they all take the proverbial plunge.

#the cat returns #secret santa #three fics in two days???? is this madness???#fjfjkd;a

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