I wrote quite a lot of drabbles. Another Futakomori ficlet. Please enjoy, thank you.
Ah, the joys of technology. 8D
Kikuri is singing. The world is damned, the world is damned, going all to hell—
Hone-Onna glares and the imp stops. This is a daily, yearly, eternal routine that they have, playing Exasperated Mother and Mischievous Child. Except that there has never been a pair so odd as theirs, what with Kikuri being a little demon-girl with the Lord of Hell's spirit within her and Hone-Onna a former prostitute with her soul carried on in Ai's wake.
Ai is not paying attention to them. She is staring at the screen that's lit up, suddenly, with the little black flame insignia against a bloodred background. It flashes twice and Hone-Onna has the decency to look surprised. Two curses? In the quick succession of five seconds?
More requests, Ai! They just keep piling up nowadays. Her grandmother tuts at the filthiness of humanity.
Ai replies only out of courtesy (Yes, yes, grandmamma) as she mentally sends thanks to the inventor of e-mail. It is so much easier to open her inbox than sort through postcards and letters.
The charm on Ai's cellular phone is a black straw doll. It waves in the air, twirling to music only it can hear as the Hell Girl taps out a response.
Accepted.
-Hell Girl