2.87: Hidden Beds

I forced myself to breathe, slowly and quietly, the way Aoi had taught me to do when my thoughts started tripping over each other instead of lining up properly while fighting. Her teasing still lingered in my ears, warm and distracting, but I latched onto the practical parts of it, the part that mattered if I was actually going to win.

She leaned close again, her voice low enough that it felt like it belonged just to me, “Did you watch me closely when I caught my fish?”

I nodded. “Yes… but maybe not as closely as I should have. I noticed how you slid the paddle under the fish, and even though you applied some force, the paper didn’t break.”

Aoi smiled, pleased, and tilted her head. “What if you treated it like tamagoyaki? I’d like your tamagoyaki tomorrow, so we’re going to stop for some eggs at the store.” She punctuated it with a wink that absolutely did not help my concentration.

“Tamagoyaki is more about carefully rolling and layering the egg in the pan as you cook it,” I said, frowning as I replayed the motions in my head, going slowly and carefully.

“That’s one way to do it,” Yuna added calmly, holding up her bagged goldfish. “You cook it carefully. That’s how I pulled it off.”

“You intend to eat your goldfish?” Aoi stared at Yuna in shock.

Yuna shook her head negatively, giggling. “No. I don’t even really want a fish for a pet either anyway. I’ll probably put it in a park pond stocked with koi.”

I glanced at her fish, then back to the tank. “You were very gentle, Yuna-chan. …And the paper paddle didn’t break right away despite that. I thought you kept the paddle in the water too long, but it still had enough strength to lift the fish.”

Riko clicked her tongue, her arms crossed. “I’m still annoyed that I couldn't get one. I’d rather spend my money on food than these scammy games anyway.”

The senpai running the booth snapped his attention toward her, bristling. “I’ll have you know these paddles aren’t rigged! We order them in bulk online. Other festivals use the same ones.”

“What if they’re all rigged?” Riko shot back.

“Tch. Poor loser kouhai,” he said flatly, shooing her with a flick of his hand. “If you’re not playing, step off. Two girls already caught fish if you hadn’t noticed.”

Riko scowled. “It’s totally rigged! I swear I’ll expose your scam!”

“How?” he challenged.

“…I don’t have any ideas right now. But I’ll report it someday,” she muttered, retreating.

Yuna followed her with an amused glance over her shoulder. “Good luck, Sumire-chan.”

I swallowed, suddenly aware of what was riding on this. It wasn’t just about getting another fish. Heat crept into my cheeks as my thoughts betrayed me, drifting toward all the things Aoi clearly had planned for later.

I knew I’d like whatever she planned… probably too much.

“Fwehh…” I wiped at my forehead.

“Four more paddles,” Aoi said smoothly.

The senpai nodded and exchanged them for coins, handing them over.

Aoi turned to me with a teasing smirk. “Do your best, Susu. But honestly? You’re a winner either way.”

My face turned a new deeper shade of red.

Kurosawa-sensei had been watching quietly, her arms folded, her expression fond and openly entertained. “It’s much better seeing you two like this,” she said. “That breakup of yours had me worried. You two were always so cute, subtly flirting right there in class.”

The senpai gaped. “That’s not how a teacher should talk!”

She laughed lightly. “True, I suppose. But I don’t step on my students’ romances unless they’re harmful. And frankly, yuri is the least harmful kind unless you have multiple partners. There’s no long-term consequences.” She wagged a finger at him.

He flushed, then sighed. “You win… even if I don’t like it. It feels like every hot girl is that way these days. I confessed to a girl last year, you know.”

“I’m sorry… I can’t return your feelings,” Kurosawa-sensei supplied gently.

“No. She said she liked cuter people. I didn’t understand what that meant until I caught them dating in Shibuya. She was with another girl and they were…” His mouth tightened.

“Sometimes it isn’t meant to be,” Kurosawa-sensei said softly. “You’ll find someone who sees you properly. Even if it’s later in college, or after you start working.”

He nodded, then gestured toward the tank. “Anyway… if you wouldn’t mind using your paddles. Others are waiting.”

I took a steady breath of air as I knelt beside the tank, my paddle poised. “I guess I’m ready.”

The fish I was watching moved in quick, erratic paths, hovering just out of reach. I waited. Watched, letting the teasing fade into the background. When it rose briefly to the surface to gasp, I flicked the paddle beneath it and turned my wrist smoothly.

For a split second, orange flashed in the lantern light.

I caught it in my hand, holding it for a firm second or two, but then it wriggled free, plopping back into the water.

I groaned softly. “They’re too slippery.”

“They’re very energetic little ones,” Aoi agreed.

I pouted without thinking. “Can I have that one? I obviously caught it.”

The senpai stared at me.

I tilted my head, clutching the melting paddle lightly against my chest. “Pretty please?” My voice dipped, softer and rounder than before. “Ne, I really need that fish, senpai.”

His ears burned. He looked away, then back again. “…Fine. You did catch it.”

“Yay!” I hopped up and down repeatedly in excitement—

—and realized his eyes had drifted somewhere they shouldn’t.

Oh no.

I clutched my chest protectively and froze. He snapped out of it, flustered. “Anyway, I can’t grab a specific fish from the tank, but I guess I owe you one.”

“Sumire can,” Aoi said without hesitation.

“Eh?” He blinked.

“I’ve seen videos of people catching fish with their bare hands,” Kurosawa-sensei mused.

I hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll try. Any fish is fine with me, really.”

I rolled my sleeve back, focused on the water. I let out my breath and slid my hand in slowly, focusing on not creating any more ripples than necessary in a clean motion and closed my hand.

SPLASH

The fish thrashed wildly in my palm, but I cupped it securely between my two hands, my heart racing.

“Good job, Sumire-chan!” Aoi hugged me from behind, pressing close. I felt the squishing of her breasts on my back and nearly dropped my fish again, but held firm.

The senpai hurried to bag the fish, his eyes wide. “If you weren’t flirting right in front of me, I’d confess right now.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, blushing fiercely as I transferred the fish. “I’m my wife’s wife.”

“That’s my little wifey wife,” Aoi murmured, kissing my ear.

Kurosawa-sensei giggled softly behind her hand. It was a side of her I’d never seen before, a fleeting lightness that made her seem younger than she usually allowed herself to act.

Is this our sensei’s real personality? Or is it something else?

For a moment her dark hair seemed golden in the lantern light.

The senpai tied the bag neatly and handed it over, smiling despite himself.

Pon-chan darted around and between people’s feet.

There were all kinds of shoes, heels, sandals, geta and more. 

Shadows slid and collided across the pavement. There were interesting smells everywhere, oil, sugar, smoke, meat and unfamiliar hands reaching for him now and again. Noise pressed in from all sides, a constant thrum that made his tail puff and his body stay low as he weaved between legs with quick, zigzag bursts.

A hand pointed.

“Hey—look, it’s a ferret!”

“Whose pet is that?”

“Is it wild?!”

“He’s fast!”

Pon-chan skittered away before anyone could crouch and catch him. He slipped under a bench, sprang over a dropped paper bag, then paused just long enough to scent the air again. 

A familiar scent. 

That special one. 

That smell cut cleanly through all the noise.

He bolted for it.

Through the crowd, past hanging lanterns and fluttering paper signs, until the space opened into clustered food stalls. Steam rose and metal clanged against grills and pans. Voices called out orders.

Pon-chan launched himself upward.

His claws dug into a soft fabric, that familiar scent filling his nose.

He scrambled up the folds of a yukata with animal ease and instincts, his claws catching just enough to carry him higher, his tail flaring as he climbed. He popped up onto a shoulder and froze there, puffed up and alert.

“—Pon-chan?” Sumire gasped. “What’s going on?”

She instinctively lifted a hand to steady him as he perched there, warm and bristled against her neck.

Riko blinked. “Is that—wait… what’s he doing out here?”

Yuna leaned towards Riko, amused. “Why are you so surprised when it's Pon-chan?” She then turned towards me. “It looks like he found you again, Sumire-chan.”

Aoi’s eyes softened immediately. “You little escape artist.”

Kurosawa-sensei crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. “I’m going to need to start putting padlocks on his cage.”

Pon-chan flicked his tail once and stayed right where he was, clinging to Sumire’s shoulder as the smells of yakisoba and bread drifted past him.

The masks moved with purpose now, their slow orbit shifting into a more deliberate rotation.

Each mask broke away from Kagami-no-Kami’s formation and took a different path through the chamber. One skimmed low, passing so close to the stone floor that frost bloomed behind it, whitening the surface and splitting the first layer of rock. Another rose into the air and angled its face, bending the foxfire’s glow across the far corners of the chamber. A third slid into position before her face, its blank surface drinking in the light until her features disappeared behind a hollow silhouette.

Baku felt the threat immediately.

The hearth answered him without being asked.

Foxfire snapped up from the stone ring and coiled around his arm. He stepped forward and whipped it across the chamber.

Kagami-no-Kami moved under the first lash. The fire tore through the space above her head and carved a burning groove across the wall. Fire caught the edge of her sleeve. The cloth smoked, but she kept moving. 

Baku drew his arm back and cut the second lash downward.

A mask slid above her shoulder and took the hit. It cracked from brow to chin. The break bought her one step. She planted her left foot between broken floor tiles, raised her right hand, and two mirror masks snapped open beside Baku’s face.

His reflection flashed at him from both sides.

He drove his fist through the nearer mask before the reflected angle could fix on him. Porcelain burst against his knuckles. Shards cut the back of his hand. Kagami-no-Kami came in behind the break and struck him in the ribs with the heel of her palm. The blow landed cleanly.

Baku’s breath caught, his side crumpled around the impact. He answered by catching her wrist.

His fingers closed hard enough to bruise her wrist. Kagami-no-Kami turned her forearm with the grip instead of trying to tear free. Her elbow folded in. Her shoulder rotated, and the mask in front of her face tilted enough to flash light across his eyes.

Baku blinked once.

That was enough.

She stepped across his lead foot and drove her knee into his thigh. The strike bit into the muscle. His leg dipped. He dragged her toward him before she could move away and slammed his forehead into the mask over her face.

The mask shattered.

Kagami-no-Kami’s head snapped back. Splinters of white lacquer spun through the air. Behind the broken mask, her real face remained calm, but blood marked one side of her lip where the impact had got through.

Baku lunged after her.

She gave ground for the first time, not cleanly, but with tight steps over the rubble while his hand clawed for her throat. His fingers caught the edge of her collar. He yanked her in and drove his shoulder into her chest.

Stone cracked beneath her heel.

The hit threw her backward into a shelf. Wood burst around her back. Scroll cases and carved boxes fell against her shoulders and scattered across the floor. Baku followed, his Noh face rippling as shadows poured from his jaw and down both arms.

Kagami-no-Kami’s masks closed around him before he could finish the next blow.

One clamped over his right forearm. Another struck the side of his knee. A third hit his shoulder from behind and wrenched his upper body half a turn off course. Baku’s punch still came through. It missed her head by less than a handspan and smashed into the shelf beside her, blasting wood splinters across her cheek.

She struck his exposed elbow, not with power, but with good timing.

Her knuckles hit the joint as his arm overextended. Baku’s hand jerked open. Kagami-no-Kami slipped out from beneath his collar grip and chopped two fingers into the hollow beneath his jaw.

His chin lifted.

A mirror mask drove into his stomach like a battering ram.

Baku folded over it, then seized the mask with both hands and crushed it against his abdomen. Silver dust burst between his fingers. He spat dark foxfire into Kagami-no-Kami’s face from point-blank range.

Three masks threw themselves between them.

The first burned through. The second blackened and split. The third held long enough for Kagami-no-Kami to turn aside, but the flame still caught her shoulder. Heat bit into her skin. Her hand twitched once before she closed it again.

Baku saw it.

He drove in hard, no longer hiding behind fire and shadow. His fist struck her guard. The impact knocked her arm into her own chest. His second punch hit her ribs. Her breath left her in a sharp sound. He stepped between her and her next mask before it could shield her and hooked his hand around the back of her neck.

Then he slammed her face-first into the stone floor.

The chamber shook.

Her masks scattered out of formation for the first time. Several struck the walls, spinning wide. Baku lifted her by the back of her robe and drove his knee toward her stomach.

Kagami-no-Kami crossed both forearms and took the knee on bone.

The hit shoved her backward across the floor anyway. Her sandals scraped through dust and broken tile. She let the motion carry her far enough to regain space, then one of her masks snapped beneath her foot. It gave her one step where the floor had broken away.

She used that step to come back in.

Baku swung low for her body. She parried with her forearm and let the blow glance across her sleeve rather than stop it outright. His knuckles tore fabric and skin. Her other hand struck his wrist. A mask clipped the back of his hand at the same time.

Her palm hit his sternum.

Baku’s back struck the cracked wall behind him.

Before he could breathe, Kagami-no-Kami followed and struck again. Ribs. Shoulder. Throat. Each hit was short, precise, and fierce. Baku caught the fourth strike on his forearm and rammed his knee into her hip in retaliation. She staggered and he turned with it, smashing his elbow across her temple.

Her head snapped to the side.

One mask dropped from the air and broke against the floor.

Baku grabbed her hair before she could fully recover and hurled her across the study. She struck the edge of the ruined hearth shoulder-first. The stone split under her. Foxfire burst up around her body.

She rolled through it.

Her hand slapped the floor. Three masks answered, slamming down in a row between her and the flames. They became stepping stones for a single breath. She crossed them, each mask cracking underfoot, and reached Baku before he could bring the hearth fully under control again.

He met her with a kick to the stomach.

Kagami-no-Kami absorbed it badly. Her body folded around his foot, but her hands caught his ankle before he could retract. She twisted.

Baku dropped with the turn instead of letting her break his balance. His free foot hit the floor, and shadow surged up around both of them. It wrapped Kagami-no-Kami’s arms from wrist to elbow and cinched tight.

He drove his fist into her face.

A mask slid between them too late.

The punch broke through it and still hit her cheek. Her head turned. Blood scattered across the nearest shard.

Baku stepped in for another.

Kagami-no-Kami dropped under the strike. The shadow binding her arms stretched, then cracked as two mirror masks appeared behind Baku and reflected the binding back into itself. The darkness tore apart around her wrists. She came up inside his reach and struck his injured ribs with the same palm heel as before.

This time something gave.

Baku grunted and drove both hands down onto her shoulders, trying to crush her. She sank one knee, braced, and shoved forward from beneath his arms. Her shoulder hit his chest. Her mask struck the back of his knee at that moment and his leg buckled.

He caught himself before he fell and slammed his hand into the side of her head.

Kagami-no-Kami stumbled sideways into a broken table. Baku seized the opening. Foxfire gathered along his arm, wrapped tight from shoulder to fist. He swung at her skull.

She ducked.

His fist punched through the stone pillar behind her.

The pillar burst. The ceiling sagged above them. Dust and broken rock rained down. Kagami-no-Kami rose under his trapped arm, planted her foot against his knee, and drove her elbow into his throat.

Baku coughed.

She caught his wrist before he could withdraw from the pillar and twisted it outward. A mask struck his elbow from below. Another struck his shoulder from above. His arm wrenched between the two impacts.

He roared and tore free by ripping the entire section of pillar loose with him.

A length of the stone came with his hand and he swung it like a club.

Kagami-no-Kami crossed her arms and three masks layered in front of her. The stone smashed through the first two and struck the third hard enough to drive it against her guard. Her heels slid back. Her arms trembled once. Then she angled the mask and let the broken pillar skid aside into the floor.

Baku was already moving.

He barreled through the destruction, shadows and flame trailing behind him. His shoulder caught Kagami-no-Kami squarely, the impact detonating what remained of his study. Shockwaves rippled outward, stone turning to dust, sigils breaking, furniture shattering. Everything was torn free and hurled outward as the two powers collided.

Kagami-no-Kami turned with the blow, allowing the impact to carry her rather than resisting it. She slid back several paces, her feet skimming the debris-strewn floor, then planted herself.

Her palm met Baku’s chest with absolute precision, and the space around them shattered.

The impact ripped him free of his collapsing lair and hurled him through the outer walls in a thunderous cascade. Stone folded and tore as he passed through it, the walls that he encountered rupturing one after another before giving way entirely. He burst free into open air and crashed into the lake beyond, his body slamming into the water hard enough to send a towering plume skyward.

The lake boiled.

Dark energy bled from him into the water, staining it with rippling shadows that spread outward in concentric waves. Steam hissed where foxfire met the surface, the water churning violently as Baku thrashed beneath it.

Kagami-no-Kami followed him calmly, floating through the path of wreckage.

She drifted through the ruin where the walls had been, her gaze briefly flicking inward as she passed a hidden chamber revealed by the destruction. Rows of beds lined the space, many of them occupied.

Sumire. Ume. Rui. Natalia. Akuchi.

All of them lay motionless, breathing slow and even, wrapped in carefully maintained dreams.

Her eyes narrowed by a fraction.

She moved on without a word, stepping through the breach and out into the night.

The lake erupted again as Baku rose from it.

Water cascaded from his form as he hovered above the surface, shadows writhing violently around him. The Noh face had lost its smooth perfection, cracks spiderwebbing across its surface as dark energy poured through it unchecked. His laughter echoed across the water, fractured and unstable, bleeding into snarls and half-formed words.

Kagami-no-Kami settled onto the air opposite him, her masks rotating once more as she regarded him.

“You are unraveling,” she observed calmly.

Baku’s trunk lashed, water and shadow flinging outward as he answered with a roar. The lake surged upward at his command, darkened waves twisting into jagged spears that launched toward her in rapid succession.

She met them head-on.

Her masks streaked forward, intercepting the water constructs mid-flight, shattering them into harmless spray. When one spear slipped past, she caught it with a bare hand and crushed it into mist.

The night sky fractured with their next clash, foxfire and judgment colliding in blinding flashes as the battle spilled fully into the open. Neither yielded ground. Neither gained advantage.

And far below, the lake continued to churn, reflecting their war in a broken distorted manner.

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