2.86 Masks and Memories

Kagami-no-Kami did not sit.

She remained standing beside his low table, her posture composed, her hands folded neatly within her sleeves. She placed herself just close enough that Baku could feel her attention on him without being able to escape it. Her gaze never left him as he prepared the tea. It followed every movement of his hands, every measured breath, every choice he made.

It felt like a blade held close to his skin… not touching, nor cutting, but promising that it could slice his throat at any moment.

Very well, then.

If she intended to watch, he would give her nothing worth seizing on.

He selected the leaves with care, letting his fingers linger over them as if the decision itself mattered more than it actually did. 

No powders. No infusions. No agents that dulled the senses or softened resistance.

Nothing that could be twisted into evidence of treachery. He heated the water slowly, poured it slowly and precisely, and waited the proper amount of time before decanting.

The ritual steadied his nerves as it always had. There was a measure of comfort in repetition, in tradition, in the reminder that he had existed long before this moment and would continue after it.

When he turned back toward the table, she had taken a seat after all.

Her movement wasn’t abrupt, nor any kind of a concession. It was simply as if she had decided that watching him from below would be more instructive.

She accepted the cup when he offered it, her fingers brushing the porcelain lightly, just enough to test its warmth. She did not sip.

Neither did he.

“The group that visited you, Baku,” she said at last, her voice calm and unhurried. “What became of them?”

Baku inclined his head politely, the motion smooth and deferential. “Regrettably, I could not be of service.”

Her eyes never blinked. “What did they want?”

“To train their girl,” he replied. He allowed himself a small, incredulous huff, just enough to sell disbelief without tipping into mockery. “They asked me, of all yōkai , to teach her martial-arts.”

“Preposterous,” Kagami-no-Kami agreed mildly.

“I cannot teach what I do not know,” Baku continued, spreading his hands slightly, his palms open in a gesture of reason. “And if those applying lack that knowledge as well, there is nothing I can do for them.”

“I see.” She lifted her cup at last, though she still did not drink. Her gaze flicked upward, sharp as a hook, and fixed on his face. “What did you think of that girl… Sumire.”

The name lodged itself unpleasantly in his chest.

“…She was fascinating,” he admitted after a brief pause. Answering too quickly would seem evasive. Too slow would seem rehearsed. “She seemed quite complex. Her soul had a certain familiar feel to it, almost unnerving.”

Kagami-no-Kami’s head tilted by a fraction. The movement was slight, like a lock clicking open. “Did it? What did it feel like to you?”

Baku chose his words with care, “As though there were depth beneath depth… Something layered. Something unfinished or buried in her.”

“Did it not feel like someone in particular?” she pressed.

His trunk stilled.

“I am not sure what you are getting at, Kagami-no-Kami-sama.”

“I see.”

She finally drank her tea.

The silence that followed was not empty. It pressed in from all sides feeling heavy. Baku felt as though the room itself had become a lens, drawing her attention tighter, focusing it with each breath he took. Even his wards hummed differently, strained by her presence.

At last, she set the cup down.

“Perhaps we should discard pretensions,” she said.

Baku frowned despite himself. “What?”

“What did you gain from killing those humans?”

The words were spoken plainly. It wasn’t an accusation. There was no elevation in tone, simply a statement laid bare between them, sharp as a katana.

His heart gave a short, irritated twist.

“What are you implying?” he demanded. “I love humans. I would never harm them.”

She regarded him calmly. “Is that truth?”

“It is,” he snapped, then forced himself to breathe, but too slowly. “Weren’t they defaced? You know well that I have no such abilities.”

“True,” she said. “Normally, you would not.”

The emphasis was delicate, almost surgical.

Baku felt it, an unmistakable shift in the air. The space around them tightened, as though reality itself were drawing a line and waiting to see which side he would stand on.

“You eat dreams,” Kagami-no-Kami continued. “Nightmares, to be specific. You soothe. You cleanse. You return humans to themselves. That has always been your function.”

Baku said nothing.

“But recently,” she went on, “the faces of two humans were taken. Both were slated to receive your visit. They were slain and defaced. This was not the work of a human serial killer. The effect was spiritual. They died without identity.”

She leaned forward slightly. The movement was minimal, but the pressure behind it sharpened, focusing like a blade finding its mark.

“That is not normal,” she said. “You were the last known entity to have contact with those humans.”

Baku rose from his seat.

“I would not harm humans. For you to think otherwise is a dire insult to my dedication to protecting mankind, humble as my service may be.”

He struggled to keep the edge from his voice.

“You claim that you turned Natalia and her group away because you lacked knowledge of martial arts,” Kagami-no-Kami said.

“I am not a martial artist,” Baku replied tightly. “As much as I have studied human civilization, I have no interest in conflict.”

“True. You possess no natural fighting skills of your own,” she said calmly. “What you overlooked was Sumire’s.”

Baku inhaled sharply. “What reason would they have to come to me if Sumire required no training?” His teeth clenched.

“It was clear she had no free access to those skills,” Kagami-no-Kami said. “They slumbered within her, awaiting the correct conditions.”

Her eyes fixed on Baku.

“I would have no understanding of—”

“You noticed the complexity of her soul,” she interrupted. “And it intrigued you. Did it not?”

“Of course I noticed it, as I have said,” Baku snapped. His fists clenched. “That said, I turned them away. There was nothing I could do to be of service.”

Her gaze narrowed, pinning him in place. “Natalia would not have accepted that. You know her better than I do, and she knows Sumire… whatever their relationship may be. She would have insisted.”

A quiet moment passed.

“And she did.”

“That is enough,” Baku said sharply.

Her eyes gleamed, not with anger, but with certainty.

“So it was you.”

The pressure broke and the room darkened, not as an illusion, but as a physical threat. Shadows gathered at Baku’s feet, coiling upward, brushing against his limbs as if recognizing something newly awakened in him. His face fractured, not overtly, but subtly slipping out of alignment, suddenly skewed.

“You forced my hand,” he growled.

“I gave you every opportunity to confess,” Kagami-no-Kami replied as she rose smoothly to her feet. “Instead, you stand against me.”

Her words burned.

The air screamed as Baku’s new power answered his call.

A mask emerged over his face.

A pale, featureless noh-face slid over Baku’s own like a second skin, smooth and merciless, overtaking his elephantine features and reshaping them into something else… hollow. 

She wondered whether this was his true nature, long restrained, finally surfacing. His centuries-long pursuit of a human form in order to leave the yōkai world was not unusual among yōkai of his standing.

Kagami-no-Kami perceived herself caught in that void where his mouth once was, multiplied, her presence refracted through his empty gaze. The sensation was wrong and intrusive, like standing too close to a desecrated shrine.

The temperature in the room dropped sharply, the house groaning as its wards flared, stone, wood, and seal alike protesting under the sudden release of an immense spiritual power. This was not a warning nor a threat. It was a declaration.

For the first time in his existence, Baku was prepared to fight for something.

Kagami-no-Kami did not waver as her form shimmered.

Masks bloomed around her like a crown of judgment made of wood, lacquer, porcelain, each bearing a different expression, each watching him.

“So,” she said quietly, “this is what you have become, as I suspected. You devoured her latent yōkai power.”

“I will not deny it,” Baku replied. His voice filled with resonance that was no longer entirely his own. “It was an accident. I wished only to protect them all, as ever. I devoured what I believed to be a nightmare, and it proved to be something far more troublesome than I ever imagined. And yet…”

His trunk lifted slightly.

“Having absorbed its power presents certain opportunities.”

“Such as no longer having to fear stronger yōkai ,” Kagami-no-Kami said.

“Indeed,” Baku nodded.

“But at what cost?” she pressed. “You have broken our laws, Baku. These strictures preserve balance between the human world and ours. You have violated everything that binds us. You have violated yourself. The Baku I knew would not have acted as you have. You are under a dark influence.”

“You have no right to judge me,” Baku snapped.

Her eyes hardened.

“Then let us see,” Kagami-no-Kami said, her voice carrying the full weight of her office, “whether you still belong among the yōkai we will determine now, I hereby revoke your access to the human world—for eternity.”

Baku’s laughter was low and resonant, echoing strangely against his walls.

“We’ll see about that, Kagami-no-Kami.”

The air fractured between them and her masks moved.

We drifted toward the shoe lockers by the front doors together, caught in the steady push and pull of traffic as guests and students streamed in and others filtered out like us. Rows of loaned sandals lined the entryway, pairs being exchanged. The sounds of celebration swelled here, no longer muffled by the school’s walls, mixed with the soft clattering of geta slapping against tiles and the familiar scraping and snapping of lockers opening and closing now and again. The air smelled faintly of fried festival food.

I stopped at my locker, slipping out of my indoor shoes, and stepped into my outdoor ones in one smooth motion. The locker door clicked shut, and I shifted my weight once to settle the fit. Then I was already turning back toward the others, my sleeves brushing lightly at my sides as the crowd carried us forward.

Kurosawa-sensei paused a few steps away, her brow furrowed as she looked from one row to another.

“…That’s odd,” she murmured.

Yuna tilted her head. “Sensei?”

“I know I have a locker somewhere here,” she said, glancing down at the numbers uncertainly. “Unless they moved it.”

Riko grinned instantly. “Sensei, don’t tell me you forgot which one’s yours.”

Haruka gave her a flat look. “I am not that absent-minded, Tachibana.”

A moment passed.

Then she looked up, exhaling softly, and laughed under her breath. “Ah. Of course.”

She turned and crossed the hall to a smaller set of lockers near the staff room. They were plain, unlabeled, almost invisible if you weren’t looking for them.

“Ohhh,” Riko said, delighted. “I didn’t know those belonged to the staff.”

“We need to focus on changing our shoes, wouldn’t you agree?” Haruka replied lightly, slipping her shoes on quickly.

“A sensei forgetting her workplace,” Riko sighed dramatically. “How does that happen?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.

Haruka slid her locker shut and regarded us over her shoulder. “Have you never felt disoriented for a moment?” Her eyes fastened onto Riko, in particular, as she added, “Tch. Careful, smart mouth. Don’t forget that I can still assign additional homework even outside class.”

Yuna smiled serenely. “But you won’t do that, right, sensei?”

There was a little pause.

“I won’t… for tonight…” Haruka admitted with a little smile.

We spilled back outside together wearing our proper outdoor shoes and the night opened up around us in color and louder sounds. Lanterns bobbed overhead, strung in uneven lines. The air smelled like grilled corn and sweet syrup and fried foods that made my stomach rumble.

Music rolled over us in warm waves.

Off to the side, a small stage had been set up near the courtyard—made of wooden planks, joined metal pipes, mismatched lights, and a banner painted by hand. A student band was already playing, the crowd loose and happy around them. 

Nothing polished about their performance, not perfect, just earnest and cute.

We slowed without saying it, drifting closer.

The guitarist leaned into her mic, her hair bouncing as she counted them in. The drummer snapped her sticks together, grinning. The keyboardist swayed like she was playing for herself more than anyone else.

The song kicked off bright and upbeat, then softened into something a little more wistful.

“Under paper moons and borrowed light,

We ask that this night will never end.

If tomorrow pulls us somewhere else,

Let this song remember who we were.”

Aoi stepped closer to me without thinking. I leaned into her to feel her warmth through the fabric of her yukata.

She shifted her arm around my waist, her fingers resting lightly against my side, uncaring that anyone, let alone Haruka-sensei might see us. Her thumb brushed once there, teasing, sending little shivers through me with each stroke.

I gazed into her face. She was smiling faintly, her eyes on the stage, at least pretending at innocence.

I grinned and nudged her hip with mine playfully.

She leaned in and murmured, “Careful.” She said that as though she hadn’t started our cuddling.

“Nah… that’s too boring,” I whispered back.

“Mmm,” she said. “Agreed.” Her touch lowered to my backside and the stroking of her fingers through my yukata was more than a little exciting.

DOKI-DOKI… BADUMP

Riko noticed us immediately.

“Oh my god,” she stage-whispered. “Sensei, look! They’re playing wives again, right in front of everyone!”

Haruka sighed, long-suffering. “I do see it.” She eyed Aoi’s hand on my bottom pointedly.

Aoi froze for half a second but did not remove her hand.

Then Haruka continued, her voice softer, “... For tonight… I will avert my eyes.”

DOKI-DOKI… BADUMP

“…But don’t push your luck too far, you two.”

Aoi relaxed, grinning, and tightened her grip on my bottom. I felt my face warm and didn’t bother acting like it wasn’t happening… nor that I didn’t love every moment of this.

I gasped and covered my mouth with a hand and snuggled closer to her.

The song swelled toward its end, the vocalist closing her eyes as she sang the last lines.

“If this is just a fleeting scene,

Then let me stay as I am until the lights go out.”

The crowd clapped as the song ended, some cheering outright, others smiling like they’d been handed something special they didn’t want to lose. I felt that way myself.

Riko wiped at her eyes with theatrical disgust. “Wow. I feel emotions… Gross.”

Yuna laughed. “Did you decide to become a goth when I wasn’t looking?”

“No,” Riko said, sniffing once and recovering instantly. “I’m just not usually prone to tearing up over mere music.”

That was enough to snap our moods back into motion. Whatever the song had stirred settled into a shared sense of comfort.

“Games!” I grinned, already moving. “Let’s go play some games next!”

“I could go for some takoyaki,” Riko said, immediately veering off course. “Anyone else?”

“Bring me some!” I called over my shoulder. “I’m not stopping for anything!”

Everyone pitched in and Riko wandered off.

Aoi, Yuna, and Kurosawa-sensei followed as I threaded through the booths, the lantern light flashing off polished stalls, cheerfully illuminating prize displays. I slowed when I reached the goldfish scooping game.

The water was calm, lantern reflections trembling across its surface.

I leaned forward without thinking… and froze.

For just a moment, the reflection wasn’t mine.

Short black hair, hollow eyes, a face that looked like it had either rejected the world or been rejected by it first. The expression wasn’t sadness. It was like a simmering resentment, feeling strangely intimate in a way that made my stomach twist.

I shivered, the excitement bleeding out of me all at once.

Get out of here, you crook. If I let you play, you’ll just cheat. Just steal whatever you want and get out of here, Su—

Aoi’s arm pulled me in close, drawing me away from the water and wrenching me free of the strange things I had been seeing and hearing.

Her fingers lifted my chin and turned my face toward hers before I could react. I gasped, heat rushing into my cheeks.

“Are you okay, my wife?” she asked softly, low enough that only I could hear.

I nodded quickly. “Yeah. I’m fine. I just saw—”

She tilted her head. “What did you see?” she asked softly. “You looked bothered.”

“…Something weird,” I admitted. “Something was wrong with my reflection. What I saw scared me.”

“Did you see that thing that came down on us onstage again?” she asked, tension threading her voice.

“No. This was something else.” I glanced around instinctively, then relaxed when I didn’t see anyone or anything else out of place. “... It was a man. He was very angry… his eyes were full of murder. Maybe it was just someone standing behind me.” I shivered at the thought.

Aoi studied my face for a second longer, then nodded. “Okay. Are you okay, Susu?” She repeated softly.

She leaned in and brushed her lips against mine, just for a heartbeat.

“You’ll be fine,” she murmured. “That being won’t bother you. You have a different future ahead of you. You taught me that.”

I blinked. “Won’t bother me?”

“Trust me,” she said, meeting my eyes. “You won’t forget him, not ever. But the past doesn’t get to decide what comes next.”

“Are you two going to keep blocking my booth,” a voice snapped, “or are you actually going to play the game?”

Aoi blinked, then smiled brightly and rolled up her sleeve. “Four paddles, please, senpai.”

She counted out the yen carefully and handed it over. The third-year grabbed the paddles quickly with flourish.

Aoi tried first.

Three attempts, three dissolving scoops, each one closer than the last.

Riko reappeared with our takoyaki, distributing the paper trays. Aoi ignored hers for a moment but smiled warmly at Riko, then raised a finger.

“I’ve got it now.”

Her eyes sharpened.

She moved faster than I thought possible, sliding the scoop beneath a fish, lifting in one smooth motion, flipping it lightly into the air, and catching it gently in her palm.

“Whoa—!” The senpai’s jaw dropped.

“Hey!” Riko protested. “She’s not the only one who can pull that off. One for me.”

“One sec…” the senpai said, turning toward Aoi. “I’ve got a winner to take care of first.”

Her fish was quickly bagged.

“Now,” he continued, turning back to Riko with a smirk, “for your one attempt.” He produced a paddle with his usual grandstanding flourish.

Coins exchanged hands.

“Hold onto mine too,” Riko said, shoving both trays of takoyaki she was still holding into Aoi’s free hand.

Aoi didn’t protest, she popped one of the takoyaki into her mouth, slid the toothpick free, and hummed softly as she chewed. “Mmmm. Too bad I can’t share this with you like at the ramen bar.”

She looked at me then, lazily and almost seductively, and my heart started beating a little too fast.

DOKI-DOKI

Haruka-sensei looked at her suspiciously for a moment, but smiled.

“It’s fine, I have my own.” I giggled as I bit into mine, not eating the whole thing at once. 

Sensei might punish us if she did what she did in the ramen bar again in front of her.

A warm tension crept up my neck, and I had to look away before my expression betrayed me. I focused instead on the takoyaki. Its slightly crisp, golden-brown shell gave way to a molten center, studded with octopus, the sharp bite of green onion and pickled ginger.

Riko crouched low, her tongue between her teeth, her scoop trembling as she tried to imitate Aoi’s technique. “Watch this, Sumire-chan!”

The paper of her paddle dissolved instantly.

I looked away, popping the other half of the takoyaki into my mouth.

There was a moment of silence.

“…Okay,” Riko said flatly. “No big deal.”

Yuna stepped in next, purchasing a single paddle as she had. Her movements, however, were calm and accurate, lifting a tiny goldfish with almost insulting ease. “Patience, little Riko.” She winked at Riko teasingly.

“Little Riko?!” Riko yelped. “I’ll show you how little I am!”

“What will you do to prove it?” Yuna asked sweetly.

“….”

Aoi leaned into me as we watched, her lips close to my ear, so close I could feel her breathing. “If you win one like that,” she whispered, “I’ll show you a very fun time tonight. Things that’ll make you blush for days.”

My brain short-circuited.

Heat rushed straight to my face.

DOKI-DOKI…BADUMP

“I—I need to focus,” I muttered, suddenly dizzy with all the possibilities.

“Go on,” Aoi teased softly. “Give it your best shot, Susu. If you lose… you’ll have to get creative. I’ll even let you search online for ideas.”

I nearly folded on the spot, squirming under her grin.

“Th-that’s not fair—!”

She laughed, clearly enjoying every second of it.

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