Just a place for me to store my drabbles. Updates will likely be sporadic. I own nothing.
Spoilers up to chapter 3 of the manga.
False Impressions
She's a weak ayakashi who can, nonetheless, trick sensitive humans into believing she has a human form, and rarely does she have anyone to talk to, for the other ayakashi all want to eat her, and adult humans who can see her can sense the wrongness about her form. Any human who can tell that she's "off", not quite on the same frequency as them, fear her the way she fears other ayakashi.
There's no way to tell how long this has been the state of affairs for her; she can have been alone for eons or merely weeks. For one whose lifespan far outstretches those of mortals, time means little to her, and she's watched a child grow from afar only to come back one day and notice, astonished that that child is now a stooped old man, all the hair gone from his head.
There's no one to talk to, and she whiles her days out in silence, having only birdsong and the idle prattle of humans to listen to. It's a miracle she doesn't lose her voice, so long it's been since she's had occasion to speak. And oh, if she just had someone to talk to!
Wait. One of the human families has just acquired a little boy. She hadn't thought much of him at first—one human child is much like another—but he had chance to flee when he caught sight of her in her natural form.
He can see me! her heart exclaims, as she watches him run.
She lingers under the open windowsill while the boy is at school and listens to the grown humans talk. His name is Natsume Takashi—she wonders if he has any relation to the legendary Natsume Reiko, a human woman who once upon a time terrorized ayakashi somewhere to the south—and he apparently unnerves every human who has had the care of him by his ability to see ayakashi.
"Weirdo."
"Liar."
"I haven't got the money to feed him. Take him next month, will you?"
The boy hears these words as well as she does—nothing misses his sharp little ears. He spends more time away from the little house on the street than he does in it, returning only to sleep and get something to eat. Oftentimes he can be found hiding in an alleyway, or under a tree or a bush on the outskirts of town.
Surely such a young boy wouldn't be able to pick up the inherent wrongness of her human disguise. And surely he'd like someone to talk to.
She's been so hungry, for so long. For a moment, she considers lulling the boy into a sense of security so she can devour him and glut her horrific hunger. But consideration and loneliness stays her from this path. If she eats him, she'll just be alone again—better to let him live and have him to talk with forever, if need be. And he's such a pretty child. It would be a shame to eat such a lovely human child.
There he is again, crying, huddled up against an abandoned crate. The winter sun shines off of his bright silver hair, rippling like sunlight off of clear water.
"I've seen you around."
She can feel the brittle weight lift from her bones to have someone to talk to, even if she can't unlock the doors of her heart to be honest. Natsume, on the other hand, has no trouble pouring his heart out to her, crying, smiling, laughing at a pitiful joke she made that nonetheless seems to his childish ear quite witty. He's dazzling in sunlight and the ayakashi's poor heart is warmed to see him smile.
My raw heart feels as though there is some kindness again. Ah, if only this could be truth.
And if only it could go on.
But he won't talk to her anymore.
He's figured out that she's not what she appears to be, and he closes his eyes and his heart against her. All her treaties—"I just wanted to talk to you", "I just wanted to talk to you, Natsume", "Won't you talk to me?"—fall on deaf ears, and his little face screws up as though he will wail, but he gives no sound.
Just as soon as she had found someone to talk to again, he's gone, and no matter how she pleads, he will not respond. She simply wilts, withers away to nothing until the sunlight shines straight through her skin, and eventually, he goes away, never to be seen again.
If only she'd been able to make him understand that she had just wanted to talk to him.