A/N: Part II is here, and it's posted, and I'm tired, and…yeah. Enjoy, everyone, and thank you for your support! Feedback is always appreciated!
Disclaimer: I should only have to do one of these, right? Oh well. I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago, its characters, or its elements. I only tamper with them in this story, which is mine.
Revised on July 2, 2013.
Empty.
You don't know why you're here again. Perhaps you're feeling strangely nostalgic, perhaps you're simply passing the time. Or perhaps you're looking for something.
If you are, it's not here. The apartment is bare, completely devoid of the personal touches that marked a person's living here. Not that there were many personal touches to begin with.
Regardless, there's nothing, no trace of the onmyouji girl with the dark, vapid eyes. Even her scent, the one thing that should still be present, is almost nonexistent.
Like she was never here.
But then, she would try to erase herself, you joke, a smirk marking your lips as you roam the small space, bare feet curling against the tatami mats where she sprawled two nights before, doing her utmost to ignore your intrusion. As an onmyouji, she would ensure that no one would be able to track her, follow her aura or her scent to the train station, and from there to Kyoto.
Maybe that's why you're here, to review her handiwork and take the same precautions. Just because she isn't in your territory anymore doesn't mean she's exempt from your vigilance.
At the very least, that frame of reasoning keeps you from looking too much like a sap.
You may miss the little tsun-tsun weirdo, odd as that is, but you don't have to go out of your way to show it.
One week after your reconnaissance, you meet with your tight-knit group at a small local spot known for its good street food. As you all come together, discussing jobs and college prospects, the change is almost palpable. Kiyotsugu's youkai ramblings are slightly less enthused, and the rest of you provide even less than the joking, half-hearted replies you usually use to appease him.
At one point, Kana pipes up with a small half-smile, "It's…weird, isn't it?" That breaks the collective thoughts swirling between you, and you all lean back in your seats, nodding in agreement.
There is someone missing, each of you wants to say. Someone gone who should be here, sitting among you, sharing in this.
"Seriously, this isn't working," Kiyotsugu pipes up, upending the two front legs of his chair. "Yura-kun was the only one who shared my passion for youkai. Who do I learn awesome onmyou techniques from now?!"
"They weren't techniques, Kiyotsugu, they were charms to ward off evil spirits. She gave 'em to all of us." Maki shakes her wrist in emphasis, the bracelet circling it tinkling with her movements.
"You think she'll visit?" Torii pops into the conversation before Kiyotsugu can argue, her brows knit together in concern. "With all the stuff she has to do before she becomes the new head of her family, I wonder if she'll have the time."
"Probably not." Shima sucks at his straw. "Even after she becomes leader, won't she have a bunch of…I don't know, 'leader' stuff to do?" He looks to you, asking for confirmation.
You nod. "I would think so. Being head has its own set of responsibilities that often take priority over most else." You sigh. You know that only too well. "Chances are Keikain-san won't have time to travel miles away from Kyoto just to visit friends."
They may not be clan leaders, but you know the others are in similar positions. Your earlier topics of entrance exams and money-earnings prove the fact that your visiting Yura would be equally unlikely.
They seem to reach the same conclusion, and you all slump further in your seats, faces mirroring the same glumness.
"Being an adult sucks," Shima mutters, and you all grunt in agreement.
"Well I'm sick of sitting here." Everyone jumps when Maki's hand loudly slaps the plastic table as she rises from her seat. "I don't know about you guys, but this lunch just got way too depressing for me. Let's go to the arcade and lighten up a bit, eh?"
You all laugh gratefully at her remedy for the sullen mood, but it fails to erase it completely. Underneath the humor, there's an underlying question of uncertainty.
How long until your gatherings feel normal again? How long until another one of you has to go, leaving another empty space behind?
How long do you have until your lives call you in separate directions and you're forced to part?
As the sun lowers over the horizon, you part ways with Kana at the crosswalk, having already split from the others at their given sections of town. Against the spring breeze, she clasps her hands at her back and kicks at a stray rock. You get her attention. "You alright, Kana-chan?" She looks up at you, nodding vigorously.
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just…" she smiles a little. "Today was weird, wasn't it?"
You run a hand through your hair. "Yeah, it was."
"I mean…sometimes I forget that Yura-chan wasn't always around, y'know? The rest of us have known each other since we were toddlers; it's strange to think that we only met her in middle school."
Her words surprise you. She's right. You yourself had forgotten that particular detail.
It feels like Keikain-san's always been here.
Your brow furrows in thought, and you don't reply out loud until Kana pokes you in the forehead. "Are you listening to me?" She giggles, and you grin sheepishly.
"Yeah. I'm just thinking that you're right. I think everyone forgot that Keikain-san hadn't always been with us."
Kana nods, rocking slightly on her feet and tucking a brown lock of hair behind her ear. She looks at you, wide eyes thoughtful, before smiling. "I miss her."
You place a hand on her shoulder in comfort and understanding, remembering the emptiness of that apartment. "Me, too."
That night, you sit in your tree, watching the moon through the fragrant branches.
This is sad. Without your realizing, that onmyouji girl somehow wriggled her way under your skin and made a place for herself there. And now that place is like an itch, a tiny prickle that makes itself known just when you think it's finally passed.
You remind yourself that she's been gone before. Seven months passed after the war with Hagoromo-Gitsune before you saw one another again, and one more year went by after Seimei's defeat.
Everything was fine during those periods. Her absence was felt, yes, but you were sure the distance would be temporary. There was never a doubt that you'd cross paths again, sooner or later.
Somehow, this time feels differently. This time, she has an entire new set of responsibilities that will take precedence over everything else. This time, there is no crisis to bring her back, no common enemy to push you together. And that bothers you.
The night before she left, you visited her apartment. She seemed nonchalant as usual, almost vehement in her desire to get rid of you. The exchange was beyond normal. Too normal, you suspected. Sometimes, it seemed like she was using your usual game of cats and dogs to hide herself.
She had said goodbye to your human self easily enough, had had little trouble returning your embrace, however stiff she was before she finally relaxed. And you had to wonder if she would finally offer the same genuine compassion to the other you, the one she was always so quick to dismiss.
It gladdened you, more than you care to think about, when she finally broke down and accepted your being there, and even went so far as to openly admit that yes, she did care, in her own subtle, reluctant language. It made you think that maybe she felt the encroaching distance as keenly as you did, that perhaps she, too, wanted her remaining time to last a little longer.
You offered what you could, something separate from the embrace that had felt too final. "Until next time," you said, with all the confidence of a commander, with all the self-assuredness of a master of spirits who could warp the world at his whim. And you believed yourself. You knew that, behind the rough hands and the pursed lips and the heated glares, she wanted to believe you, wanted to maintain the bridges connecting you.
And now here you are, two weeks into her absence, and neither of you has done anything.
You smile to yourself, reaching into your kimono to pull out your old man's favorite pipe. With a light and a puff, smoke drifts into the sky, curling around the branches overhead to reach the stars.
Tsun-tsun weirdo, you think, your next challenge set as you lean back to comfortably stretch your limbs. But then, I'm not much better, am I?
On the morning of an April Saturday, three weeks after her departure, you decide to take the initiative and reach out. Opening the shoji to greet the day, you grab your phone, dial a number, and listen to the ring as it connects you to Kyoto.
"Keikain residence."
"Uh, hello," you begin, clearing your throat when it scratches with sleep. "If it's possible, I'd like to speak to Keikain Yura."
"Who, may I ask, is calling?"
"Nura Rikuo. I'm a friend."
"One moment. I'll see if she's available."
"Thank you." As you wait, the morning sunshine intensifies, and you shake your head amusedly as the manor creaks with the echoing groans of youkai fraught with hunger and hangover. Against the backdrop of birdsong, Tsurara hums to herself as she hangs laundry on the clotheslines.
"Nura-san?"
You jump to attention. "Yes?"
"I'll be connecting you to the Main House's personal line. If you wait a moment, Keikain-sama should answer."
Your smile widens at the man's address. Guess they've already gotten used to the idea of having her in charge. "Alright. Thank you."
"Have a good day."
"You, t-"
Before you can finish, the line dies and the dial tone returns, and you wait, unexpectedly anxious for a voice you haven't heard in weeks. For a silly moment, you wonder if she'll sound differently, if you'll recognize her when she answers.
"Keikain Yura speaking."
That's all it takes. Immediately, your apprehension diminishes like fog at noon, and you're left feeling like nothing has truly changed, not your school days, not her place of residence, not the distance that's now between you. "Keikain-san."
There's a pause, then, "Nura-kun?"
Your grin is wide and bright, and a laugh almost escapes your lips as you listen to her light splutter.
"How did you get this number?"
"Hidemoto-san left it with Grandpa."
"What?! When?!"
You allow a small chuckle to escape. "A few weeks before you left, I think. He didn't tell you?"
Over the line, you hear a long-suffering sigh. "He doesn't tell me anything, too busy going off and doing whatever he wants. Half the time I don't even know where he is until he's already passed through like a frickin' typhoon."
You grin, grateful for the man's intervention on your behalf. "I'm sure he thought he was doing you a favor."
"Maybe," she says unconvincingly; you hear the annoyance and smile at the familiarity of it. "It is nice to hear from you, though."
"You thought I'd forget you just because you weren't here anymore?"
"Ah-" There's a pause, and you smile warmly when she finally answers. "No, I didn't. I'm just...surprised, I guess."
"Everyone misses you. We met up a couple weeks ago, and it felt weird, you know? 'Cause you weren't there."
"Really?" You hear the disbelief in her tone and chuckle.
"Of course. Our resident onmyouji's gone missing. It's bound to be noticed." Don't think you're so forgettable.
"Yeah..." She trails off, leaving the topic open-ended. "So, how is everything?"
You blink at her obvious avoidance but decide to go along with her. "Uh, great. Everyone's doing really well. What about you? How's your training coming along?"
"There's not much to say. It's going." A gust of air sounds through the line, and you imagine her blowing her bangs out of her eyes. "Ryuuji-nii-chan is insisting I memorize every scroll we have in our storerooms by the end of the month, and Akifusa-nii-chan is trying to convince him to give me a break. In a nutshell, it's the same crap that's been going on since you saw them last. Anything new going on there?"
You go through a quick rundown of recent events, falling back on your unmade futon. "It's pretty quiet overall. Since school ended, it's been meetings and patrols and not much else." You stop in pondering. "Though…" You consider revealing your recent predicament, believing that she'll be able to empathize and perhaps offer some insight. "I have been thinking about college."
"Really? That's great."
You blink at her quick response. "You think so?" So far, only your mother and Tsurara know of your desire to attend a university, as you're reluctant to speak of it with your grandfather and the council. In such a potentially sticky situation, it's encouraging, having another's support.
"Sure. But would you have the time?"
"I would probably go part-time so I could still handle my duties to the clan without too much interference between the two. But I'm still not sure if it'll happen."
"You should do it." Her inflection leaves little room for argument, and you smile somewhat teasingly, waving as Kejourou blows you a kiss as she passes by your room.
"College applications are better than youkai, right?"
A small scoff. "It's not that. I just think you would fit in pretty well at a university."
Your cheeks warm slightly at the compliment. "So would you. Have you considered college?"
"No. Any education past grade school is useless here. From now on, my classroom is in our archives, and my ancestors are the professors."
"You could take classes in mythology and folklore." In your mind's eye, you can see her rolling her eyes at your insistence. But you feel the desire to put the idea in her head, at least as food for thought. Neither of us should have to give up everything for our clans' sakes. We're not just leaders, after all.
After a moment, she answers. "I'll consider it," she allows, and you nod to the empty air, satisfied.
"Good. In the meantime, I'll walk the campus for both of us." She doesn't get the chance to respond to your half-joke; in the background, there's a sudden commotion as another voice comes across the line, distant and muffled. Yura's tone quickly loses its pleasantness, and you blink as she argues with her unknown assailant before coming back to the phone. "Sorry, Nura-kun. I have to go."
"Oh." You deflate slightly, trying to hide your disappointment. "Okay."
"A family across town needs an exorcism, and I still have to get ready."
You shake your head. "It's alright." You should have known the risk of calling so unexpectedly, without a set plan or any kind of warning, just an impulse. "Mornings there sound pretty busy."
"Everyone runs around at daybreak preparing for cases, but it usually quiets down by the afternoon."
"Ah. It's the opposite here. Everyone-"
"Suffers through their morning hangovers before starting the party again at noon?"
You can't help but laugh at the sureness in her tone. "I forgot how much time you spent here."
There's a smirk in her voice. "Even if I hadn't, it's not exactly hard to guess." She pauses, then continues. "Thanks for letting me know. About the others, I mean. It was nice hearing about them."
Warmth travels through your chest at the slight embarrassment in her voice. "You're welcome. Anytime you want to talk, we're here."
"Yeah." Another few seconds pass in silence, and you open your mouth to speak when she beats you to it. "You'll keep me updated on your plans, right? For school."
Her request surprises you, but you readily agree, happy with her interest. "Of course." She seems satisfied with your agreement and sounds a goodbye, and you wish her well. When the line goes dead, you slowly place the phone back on the floor next to your pillow and ponder the words exchanged. Eventually, when the brightening day can no longer be ignored, you rise from your futon, stretching your limbs before tackling the sheets, a smile on your lips and certainty in your movements.
You reached out. On a morning whim, you took a step forward and trusted her to do the same. And she did.
Your smile widens.
Two weeks later, you follow up on your first contact and call again, just as the sun lowers over the horizon. As the dial tone sounds, your hair lengthens, your skin pales, and a smirk envelops your lips as the line connects to the Keikain main house.
"Keikain residence, Yura speaking."
"Yo, Yura."
Click.
The line goes dead. Bewildered, you take the phone from your ear and eye its earpiece before hanging up and redialing. Eyes narrowing, you open your mouth to tell the girl off when her voice fills your ear.
"What took you?" Her tone is smug and self-satisfied. You don't openly admit it, but hidden beneath the displeasure at her treatment is a keen delight, and you can't stop it from creeping into your voice as you answer.
"Well done, Yura-chan."
Your opponent is back; she's just landed the first blow.
And so it begins anew.
Every couple of weeks, sometimes sooner, sometimes later, you pick up the phone to exchange the carryings-on of your life with the girl from Kyoto. You always transfer her side of the conversation to the others, who eventually grow tired of your position as intermediary and demand the number to the Main House. From that point on, you sometimes find yourself fielding calls and sharing phone time with any combination of your friends, leading to a number of comical interactions.
However, as the weeks and months pass, you gradually become Yura's main connection to the activities of Ukiyoe Town. Slowly, each of your former club mates receives his or her acceptance letter or phone call to a new job, and the time they have to talk slowly dwindles to a trickle. They all feel guilty at the intrusion of their adult lives, but Yura never places any blame on them; if anything, she encourages their growth, and makes sure to keep their stock of exorcist charms plentiful as they disperse to the parts of Japan neither you nor she have much control over.
"I'm proud of them," she says to you one night, her words warm. "It's great that they can lead normal lives, with everything they've had to go through."
"What do you mean?" You ask the question, but you know exactly what she speaks of.
"I was worried that we might've messed them up somehow, with the dangers they were caught up in. They shouldn't have had to deal with youkai, onmyouji, and the crap that comes with us." You hear her sigh over the line, and the noise makes you realize that she's doing her best to explain herself. "I guess I'm just relieved. It's not like we put them in danger on purpose, but it's still good to know we didn't mess them up or anything."
You chuckle. It's strange to hear your exact same thoughts and fears outlined to you through another. You had often been plagued with the same worries, that maybe you should have tried harder to keep your secret under wraps, to prevent your personal wars from spilling onto the city streets and endangering those you hold closest.
"Then again…" Yura continues, and you put your thoughts on hold. "With the way Kiyotsugu-kun kept throwing everyone into those damn missions, maybe it was a good thing we were there to watch out for everyone. I don't want to think what would have happened if he had been their sole protector."
You snort out a laugh. "He could always repeat that stunt he pulled during middle school elections."
"Please, I'm still trying to piece all of that together." She sounds exasperated, but you hear the humor in her words, softening her voice into something fonder.
When you eye the location of the moon, you smirk. "What do you know, Yura; it seems we've talked the night away."
"No kidding? Good thing I'm just in the archives tomorrow."
"Oh? No house calls?"
"Not yet. I'm sure something will come up; if not, Nii-chan will probably take me on another 'training mission'." Her tone abruptly shifts into dark territory, and you laugh aloud, imagining her knitted brow.
"Sounds like hell."
"Believe me, it is." With that, she hangs up, leaving you to smile and tuck the phone against your side on your branch. It's only when you've poured a cup of sake and downed the first half that you realize it.
She confided in you. It doesn't happen often; you need less than a hand to count the number of times it's taken place, and you don't need anything at all for the times it's occurred while the sky was dark.
You stare into the depths of your sakazuki, its liquid surface a rippling mirror of your curving lips and glowing eyes, before you tip your head back to drink the rest.
Ironic, you think, that the event marks the last time you spoke face-to-face, one year almost to the day.
I'll be damned if she starts showing her 'dere' side now.
"Rikuo!"
A shout, and you gaze from your perch among the cherry blossoms to see your grandfather standing below, a smirk framing his face and an envelope clutched in his hand. Hopping down, you frown as he steals his precious pipe from your fingers in exchange for the mail, and you study it with curiosity, raising an eyebrow when the old man doesn't elaborate.
"What's this?"
"An invitation." He grins. "You should be honored."
Interest piqued, you tear into the quality parchment and unfold the letter within. As you scan the contents, your breath catches in surprise, and you lift your head to lock eyes with your grandfather, who nods in confirmation.
"She did it."
What feeling consumes you then, as you read the invitation to Yura's succession, as you recall the two years' worth of words you shared with her, the exhaustion that would sometimes seize hold of her voice as she gave you a summary of the day?
When you again meet your grandfather's gaze, you know what that emotion is. It's reflected in his eyes, too.
Pride.
She did it.
Against the early evening sky, the compound is pristine, its walls washed and polished, the lawns green and manicured. From a bird's eye view, it's majestic, but as you place one foot inside the towering gate to the Keikain estate, you're also struck by its mysticism, so different from the cloak of magic that covers your own territory.
"It seems they've put themselves back together nicely," your grandfather hums, eyes keen as you both scan the large area. The last time you were here, these buildings were crumbling, the people inside them spread thin and growing thinner as their numbers dwindled. But you don't see any of that here in the stillness. There's an aura of something, but it's not at all the acute disquiet that you remember sensing the last time you were here, so similar to the airs that shadowed your home when the clan's future seemed so uncertain.
The old man is right. This is a place of power.
"Nura-san!" An onmyouji approaches, and you wait as he catches his breath before pointing to a building some yards away. "The proceedings will take place there. Your seats are already designated."
You nod in thanks and set off, a strong anticipation bubbling in your gut.
What will you be witness to tonight, as your friend takes her place among the stars?
The room is enormous, its entire length covered with the linear paths of cushions and their honored occupants. Towards the center are two cushions clearly vacant, and you and the old man seat yourselves, taking note of those around you. The murmurs resounding off the far walls rise in volume, and you feel the eyes of so many on your person, wary of your presence here.
Allies to the clan were welcome at their ceremonies, but no one ever believed a youkai would fall into that privileged circle.
You like it.
Soon the room quiets, and everyone turns their attention to the front, where a small procession has emerged from the shadows. They seat themselves to either side of the center dais, and you recognize the faces of Yura's brothers and Hidemoto, who spares you a small clever smile and a nod as you catch eyes.
Finally, she appears against the backdrop of evening light, solid and sure-footed, and you're stunned to see a girl so different from the one in your memories. The pure white robes she wears do not engulf her figure as so many clothes used to, and the black cascade of hair down her back is reminiscent of the form she took in battle so long ago. The remembrance no longer does it, or her, justice.
This woman is strangely unfamiliar, and you're uncertain for how to react.
In your periphery, the old man smirks.
As a priest appears to stand before her, Yura bows her head and allows his wrinkled hand to rest on her purified brow; soon, the room echoes with his wizened prayers as he sanctifies her as the 28th head. As he sprinkles cleansing water onto her forehead, you scan the faces of the others, and you're surprised to see approval on even Ryuuji's face as he watches from the front.
Ah, you realize, watching the proceedings with unblinking eyes, that's where it's coming from. The electrified air that encased your steps as you entered the massive gates; it all comes to a focal point that's centered at Yura's kneeling figure. It's their faith in her that fills this place with power.
As the invocations fade, the priest is handed the designated headdress of the onmyouji, identical to Hidemoto's, and he raises it above him, his billowing sleeves shielding most from sight.
"May the gods grant you the power to protect, the wisdom to lead, and the courage to be true not only to your clan, but to yourself."
With reverence, he places the tall headdress on the crown of Yura's bowed head and steps away to reveal her to the crowd.
"I present to you the 28th head of the Keikain family, Keikain Yura!"
In perfect unison, the crowd bows, their heads brushing the polished wood of the floor in veneration and their mouths moving in silent, private prayers. Yura rises to her feet and faces the mass, her head high and her bearing confident. When she subtly sweeps the many persons present, her gaze finally meets yours.
You offer a respectful nod and a roguish wink for her benefit, and amidst the solemn formality of the event, her dark eyes spark in confrontation before breaking contact.
You smirk. So, the girl you know is still there, poised amid the fancy tassels and title. Like the hands of time spinning backward, you're both back, as if those two-year-old goodbyes were never spoken.
Until next time, you said. And you meant it.
As attendees file out into the night, you nonchalantly round the corner to a pavilion located closer to the edge of the grounds. There, you see the preparations already nearing their conclusion, and grin as Aotabo passes by, large crates of sake balanced in his massive arms.
"Rikuo-sama!" Kubinashi approaches from the crowd, his face lined with apprehension. "Are you sure about this? I doubt they'll receive us well, despite your good intentions."
Your grin widens. "Faith, Kubinashi. When everything's in place, I'm sure they'll calm down enough to enjoy themselves, especially if they know it's for their new leader."
The string master sighs in resignation, accepting your reassurance with slight trepidation. "If you're certain…" With that, he turns to shout a command. "Aotabo, set those crates up against the wall near the tables! We need to start laying the food out!"
Before your eyes, the large gardens of the Keikain estate are transformed. Braziers line the walkways, dotting the landscape with light, and against the sounds of preparation, you can hear the tuning of instruments, smell the roasting of foodstuffs and the pouring of quality sake, straight from your own stock supply.
Weeks of careful planning, all to pay off at the strike of a chord.
The commotion begins drawing attention, and your grandfather laughs when onmyouji begin pouring from the various buildings, looks of confusion and irritation morphing into those of shock. You try to ignore them, intent on ensuring your success, but eventually, you're forced to acknowledge the ever-growing crowd, the shouts of alarm that rise like a tide and crash on your preparations.
"What is the Nura Clan doing here?"
"How did they make it inside without our noticing?"
"Where'd all this stuff come from?!"
You drown out their inquiries, listening intently for one voice amongst the rest.
"What the hell's going on here?" You mentally shrug.
Not quite the one I was expecting, but it'll do.
Ryuuji charges through the ranks of gathered onmyouji, his formal robes billowing in his haste, and he stops only feet away to survey the scene with a nasty scowl. Mamiru, blank-faced as always, appears at his side, silently sizing up the youkai present.
Now things are interesting. The grin stays on your face.
"Ryuuji. A pleasure as always."
The older man faces you, eyebrows furrowed in irritation. "Nura. I should have known you had something to do with this. Two years and you're still an annoying brat."
You give him a self-righteous smirk. "Guilty."
"What's all this shit you're bringing in here?"
"It's a celebration," you reply, and he narrows his eyes in question before frowning deeply.
"I told Yura it was okay for her to invite you here, however stupid the request was. But I didn't say anything about a horde of youkai tramping in here and stinking up these grounds." His brow furrows. "What did the letter that dumbass sent you say?"
Same Ryuuji. Yura was right on that count; her brother had the same stick up his ass he always did. Luckily, you're saved from explanation when one more figure cuts through the crowd. You smile widely.
"Yo, Yura."
Her eyes are large with surprise at the scene before her, and she takes a moment to absorb everything before bringing her focus to you.
"Nura-ku-"
"Yura, what kind of shitty invitation did you send this guy?" Ryuuji cuts in before she can speak, and she shifts her attention to him.
"What are you talking about?"
"The letter you sent him." His tone is patronizing, as if he's speaking to a child. Yura thins her lips in annoyance. "What did it say?"
"Nothing! It was an invitation. What do you expect it to say?"
You shrug and turn to the older man. "It requested my presence to celebrate her succession." You smirk as Yura nods her head in determined agreement.
"That's right, that's exactly what it sai-" She stops abruptly, and you watch her brow furrow before she rounds on you. "What?! That's not what I wrote!"
Your eyebrow lifts. "Yes, it is."
"I invited you to attend the ceremony. I didn't say anything about a celebration!"
You look to the side, silently surveying the party preparations and mentally nodding to yourself at the quick progression. You turn back to the group. "Isn't it implied?"
"No!"
Ryuuji lets out a noisy breath. "Should've known you would screw up such a simple task, Yura. What little brain you have always seems lost on this guy." Yura sputters at the accusation, but he ignores her in favor of giving you a hostile glance. "I don't have the patience to deal with you right now. Just know that any damage you do goes on your tab. And you can bet your ass I'll make you pay." You answer his threat with a cocky grin and a two-fingered salute, and he snorts before briefly acknowledging his sister's angry face. "Any of our food your 'guests' eat gets taken from your meals, Yura."
"What?!" Yura yells after his retreating figure.
"Ryuuji." Mamiru calls after him. "Do I destroy the youkai?" You lift your brow higher.
"Leave them, Mamiru. Your job is watch the dumbass. Just because she's the new head doesn't mean she's smart enough not to make a fool of herself."
The blatant insult doesn't surprise you. Forget about things being the same. I feel like I'm thirteen again. It doesn't help that Yura's face is locked in the same raging scowl she used to whip out to deflect her brother's abuse. It de-ages her as well, makes the years seem nonexistent, even with her extravagant new title and the clean-cut robes designating her raised status.
You speak to regain her attention. "So when do we start the party?"
She looks at you in disbelief. "There is no party."
"Then what's all this?" You jerk a thumb over your shoulder and signal approval when a herd of your youkai passes through your line of sight, carrying various plates of foods.
"Idiot! You tell me!" In a frustrated huff, she crosses her arms under her chest and glares up at you; you tilt your head in response, feigning ignorance, and she narrows her eyes.
"There's no party."
"Yura-"
"No," she says, cutting you off, and you blink at her serious tone. "There's no party. You did all this without my permission, Nura-kun, and it's not okay. Tell them to pack up their stuff."
A frown creases your face, though part of you is intrigued. "You're sending me away? That's a first."
She returns your look. "I've sent you away before."
You shrug. "But you've never meant it."
"Yes, I have! You were just too dense to realize it!" The tap of her agitated foot sounds on the cobblestones. "I mean it, Nura-kun. The ceremony's over and there's no reason for you to stay."
Your mouth opens to retort when another figure makes itself known. "Well done, Yura-chan!"
You both turn toward the familiar voice, finally taking notice of the small crowd that has formed around you as the minutes passed and the argument escalated. Almost in unison, they too turn to the voice, and a path opens as Hidemoto walks through, your old man at his side. "That commanding tone is exactly what you need to get people listening." The old onmyouji places a hand on Yura's head and pats it affectionately, and Yura's cheeks puff out in annoyance. "Wasn't that a brilliant performance, Rikuo-chan?"
You give the man a grin and nod. "I almost took her seriously."
"I was serious!" Yura whirls on Hidemoto, ignoring the smile he gives her. "Help me out, Hidemoto. Tell Nura-kun he can't throw a party here."
Her mentor blinks down at her, and your smirk grows. "Why shouldn't he be able to? It's for you, isn't it?" At his casual reply, Yura's eye twitches.
"That's not the point! This was a formal event. A party is against protocol!"
Your grandfather cuts in. "With your new position, Yura, it's only against protocol if you say it is."
"Ah-" Whatever she plans to retaliate with, it's interrupted as Yura pauses thoughtfully, her eyes lowering to the ground in contemplation.
"Have a heart, Yura-chan. It's been ages since I attended a Nura Clan celebration." Hidemoto pleads with her, his gaze turning to you. "Are your revelries as festive as your grandfather's, Rikuo-chan?"
You grin proudly. "Of course. It's a family tradition." Your old man lets out a bellow of laughter.
"We'll see how good he does! My gatherings were of national merit, even before I became the Lord of Pandemonium. Isn't that right, Karasu-Tengu?!"
The old crow hears his call over the roar of activity as he checks over a list. "Yes, Soutaichou's get-togethers were legendary!" He flies over to land on his shoulder. "In inheriting his position as commander, Rikuo-sama, you have also inherited his reputation as a first-rate host. May your celebration tonight do the clan proud!"
You release a small sigh. "We won't know until someone makes a decision." You bring your attention back to the still-thinking woman, and rap a gentle knuckle against her forehead. "Oi, you done yet?"
"Ow! Don't touch me!" She smacks your hand away with ease and crosses her arms.
"What do you wish us to do, Keikain-sama?" One onmyouji asks the overall question, and Yura brings her gaze to you; you receive her with a determined grin. Seeming to search your eyes for a moment, she finally lets out a heavy, resigned breath.
"…leave them be."
That's all you need to hear. With a wink, you lift your hand, give a resounding snap of your fingers, and-
BOOOOOM!
The grounds explode.
Music blasts from the direction of the band's set-up area, and you laugh as the onmyouji cover their ears in shouts of panic at the same moment your youkai let out a cheer. The old man guffaws, and Hidemoto claps his hands in excitement.
"What the hell?!" Somehow, you hear Yura's yell over the music and lean closer to listen.
"What's wrong?!" Even inches apart, you still have to speak loudly.
"Why is it so damn loud?!" Her hands are still clapped over her ears, and you chuckle and pull them away.
"What did you expect?" You grin widely. "Having fun?"
She turns a scathing glare at you. "How the hell are bleeding eardrums supposed to be fun?!" You grin at the exaggeration.
"You'll get used to it." A raucous shout of your name has you looking over to a group of youkai calling you over to the festivities, and you acknowledge them before turning back to the woman next to you. "It's your party, Yura! Just relax!" With that, you saunter off, leaving her sputtering behind you.
"Wait! Where are you going?!" You look over your shoulder questioningly, and smile to yourself when you see her caught in a torrent of shock, anger, and helplessness. A twinge of sympathy enters you, and you make your way back to her, leaning down to see into her eyes.
"You want me to stay with you?" Your lips stretch in a cocky grin, and you laugh when she immediately flushes red with ire and forcefully pushes you away.
"I'm fine! Have fun destroying my house!" You watch, amused, as she stalks away with stomping steps, her shoulders hunched in irritation, her back rigid.
Just as tsun-tsun as the night we met. It's not a complaint. A piece of you questioned if you would be reuniting with a different person today, a stranger unrecognizable from both the classmate and the voice you heard over the phone. The fact that you both fell so easily into the patterns of the past is a reassurance you didn't know you were looking for.
Still, you think, there is a difference. You see it as you watch her walk away, her vexed steps failing to mask the features you first noticed during the ceremony.
You don't know what you were expecting. Apparently, over the two years of phone calls, you kept the image of the high school girl you saw last: short, thin, and athletic. And while all of those qualities still hold true (you smirk at the memory of leaning down to properly see her face), there is also a tweak to her form, a subtle reminder that she isn't quite the skinny girl you remember.
It's something to think about as you turn and join in the celebrations around you.
The festivities are well under way. For the last hour, the Keikain estate has been a bedlam of music and merriment, punctuated by a mixed chatter even you did not anticipate to this extent.
Having heard Yura's approval of the circumstances, the onmyouji have cautiously intermingled themselves in your group of merry-making youkai.
"Nothing like a draught of good sake to tear down barriers and warm iced hearts," your grandfather once recited to you, and only now do you understand what he meant. With their stomachs heated by the alcohol, even the onmyouji had begun to relax and somewhat enjoy themselves.
A great feat for you, if only for the one remaining heart that refused to melt.
Tossing back a cup of sake, you once again rest your gaze on the lone figure sitting in the shade of one of the garden trees, her arms stiff under her chest, her expression still registering a semblance of shell shock underneath the obvious irritation. She hasn't moved an inch since she found the spot an hour ago.
Perhaps, in your extended time apart, you forgot how downright pigheaded the girl could be. Some stupid part of you thought she would eventually loosen enough to at least attempt to have a good time.
You were painfully mistaken.
With a determined breath, you set your drink aside and rise to your feet, the cushion beneath breathing with your movements. Those you sit with, Kurotabo, Aotabo, Kubinashi, the old man and Hidemoto, among others, all look to you expectantly, and Akifusa offers you an encouraging smile. How he blended with the crowd to end up here, you don't know.
"Yura's just overwhelmed in all the excitement, Rikuo. I'm sure if you try hard enough, she'll come around."
Easier said than done. You still nod and cross the gardens, dodging energetic feet and food-filled hands to reach your destination. Yura sits a few yards away, still statuesque. Despite her lack of acknowledgement, it's clear she senses you, and you lazily plop onto the empty spot next to her, crossing your legs and leaning back on your hands.
"What's wrong, Yura?"
She barely spares you a glance out of the corner of her narrowed eyes. "Leave. Me. Alone."
You smirk and look ahead to the moving crowd. "Your exorcists are having a good time. Why can't you?"
She doesn't bother to answer, so you continue unhindered, remembering a detail that might interest her. "You know, this wasn't just my idea. Kana-chan and the others helped with the initial setup."
You see her react out of the corner of your eye and smile victoriously when she reluctantly glances at you again. "…really?" At her skepticism, you nod in confirmation.
"We got together at my place and spent three hours building a plan." You look to her. "They felt bad about not being able to make it here."
For the first time that evening (and really, the first time in two years), you see her lips quirk in a small smile. "I heard. Ienaga-san called a while ago and apologized about her schedule. I can't remember how many times I had to tell her that it was okay. Over the next week, the others called too, apologizing for the same thing." Her smile widens. "It was nice to hear from them."
You nod in agreement. "They're rooting for you. They told me to tell you that."
"Thanks." She lets out a small sigh and finally looks at you directly. "You guys really planned this thing together?"
For once, you leave the tease out and look at her openly. "Yeah, we did. And they made me promise to make sure you had a good time."
She snorts. "Our definitions of a 'good time' are obviously different."
"Can't hurt too much to try my version out, can it?" You wink at her and rise to your feet, straightening your hakama before extending your hand. "How about a dance?" you suggest, your face carefully neutral as she blinks up at you in disbelief.
"What?"
"You're not deaf and the music isn't that loud. You heard me." You waggle your fingers in emphasis.
She frowns at your change of face, wary and unsure how to respond. Her expression shifts between emotions before settling on one, and with a look of resignation, she places her small, calloused palm in yours.
"I'd rather get some food."
Of course you would. You smile and pull her to her feet, linking her arm with yours. "The night is young. There's time."
Your path to the buffet table is littered with passerby, both youkai and onmyouji, who offer their congratulations. Yura accepts them all with surprising grace, a smile softening her features into something that sends warmth to your gut, strangely similar to the effect of sake in your veins.
You lose track of time after that, and only find it again when the moon reaches its peak. You've spent the last few hours trying to convince the girl on your arm to step onto the dance floor, and she's continuously found ways to dodge your advances. On one occasion, she shoves a piece of food into your mouth, effectively cutting your words short, and you counter by pushing her into the midst of the dancing throng, where she's taken into the tight confines of the fast-paced music. You grin triumphantly as she struggles to simultaneously keep pace and level you with a sizzling glare, and when an opening appears, you jump into the fold, wrapping your hands around her waist and moving yourself to the sway and bounce of the crowd. Yura shouts when the throng presses you against her back, and you mockingly place a hand to your ear to indicate your inability to hear her. She shoots off into a rapid movement of lips, and you snigger, imagining the acidic words tumbling from her mouth, turning the air electric with swears.
Through the constant shifting of the crowd, you eventually meet with Tsurara, who's doing a fast, fumbling dance with a (bouncy) Kejoro and Mezumaru. Her cheeks are a pretty pink that suggests her own alcohol intake, and you grin amusedly when she turns to Yura. "Ah, onmyouji girl! I suppose I'll let you have Rikuo-sama for tonight, since it's your special day. But don't get comfortable!" She pauses, lazily placing a finger to her chin and thinking. "Oh, yeah, and congratulations."
As you chuckle at her half-lidded eyes and affectionately pat her warm cheek, Yura snorts with a humored smile. "Thanks, Oikawa-san, but don't worry." She jerks a thumb at you, and you lift an eyebrow. "He's yours. I don't want him."
For that, you push her back into the rowdier parts of the dance floor.
Eventually, Zen appears among the dancers, grinning as you spin a struggling Yura under your arm, and indicates that the two of you follow him to the line of cherry trees, where your grandfather stands with a mixed group of youkai and onmyouji. Hidemoto chortles at the slight dishevelment of your appearances, and Yura sends him a hard look and snatches her hand out of yours to straighten her clothing. You smirk as Ryuuji comes into your line of sight, trademark scowl on his face, nursing a small saucer of sake next to a conversing Akifusa and Kurotabo. You don't know when (or why) he chose to return to the festivities, and Yura seems just as surprised. Before she can speak to him, though, the old man stands, favorite pipe balanced between his fingers with his own cup of sake. When he calls for attention, the music quiets and the crowd hushes, anticipatory.
"I want to remind everyone why we're really gathered here tonight. Yura…" He motions for her to step forward and places a familiar hand on her head. "When I met you, you told me you wanted to defeat Nurarihyon. At the time, you were young, impulsive, and exceptionally talented. Just like my idiot grandson," he gives you a grin, and you roll your eyes, "there existed something in you that was very special, and in the years since we met, you've grown to accomplish far more than even you might have planned. Let me say that I'm glad Rikuo was wise enough to gain you as a friend and ally. I'm proud that you have grown into the fine leader you are today. And I hope these onmyouji realize what a jewel they have in you, beautiful and strong and invaluable."
Remaining close while listening to your grandfather's words, you notice when Yura briefly stiffens in front of you, her eyes wide and bright and her features taut. The old man notices too, and his gaze turns sympathetic. He ruffles the hair under his palm. "Know, Yura, that should you ever need assistance, the Nura Clan is here. You are always welcome among us." He raises his saucer, eyeing her with a rare tenderness. "To Yura!"
"To Yura!" The crowd shatters into deafening applause, high-pitched whistles and cheers. Yura bows deeply in gratitude, her movements formal and curiously shaky, and you watch as the old man shakes his head with a grin and pulls her up and into his arms. After an initial bout of surprise, she returns his hold, her arms tight, and he chuckles with a tender pat to her head.
You know the old man shares a close tie with Yura, a certain affection that stands separate from your own friendship with her. And you wonder if that fondness, that pride in his voice, reminds Yura of her own grandfather.
You weren't there on the day of his death. You wish you could have been, to offer something in the way of comfort. You know what it's like to lose someone right before your eyes, so unexpectedly and unfairly. And you hope that the old man, in his own way, is helping to heal that hole in Yura's heart, like he helped to heal yours all those years ago.
The rest of the evening is less eventful. After your grandfather's speech, Hidemoto takes Yura into his arms, mashes her body to his and rubs his cheek against hers, stroking her hair like a cat, and she rolls her eyes and pushes him off, insisting that she's fine. You all know better, proven by the shrewd looks exchanged between her brothers, and you lean over her shoulder, patting her head much like the old man did earlier.
"Stop trying so hard to keep yourself in check. It's no big deal if you get a little teary-eyed." You smirk at her look of confusion. "You could afford to soften up a little."
She glares at you. "I'm fine."
"And that's why your nose is snotting up like a toddler's." Ryuuji speaks to her from his place on the grass, a condescending smile on his face. You see his true motives, and Yura bristles expectedly, no doubt preparing to unleash a mouthful, when the old man interrupts.
"Yura, would you mind joining me for a dance?" He grins, pushing his cup into your hand and taking hers. Yura looks from him to her brother, brow furrowed in bemusement.
"Uh, sure." She shoots a last glare at Ryuuji before following the old man onto the dance floor. As they trot away, he shoots you a mischievous grin, and you roll your eyes and take his place by Hidemoto and the others, downing the remaining sake inside his abandoned cup.
Ryuuji rises from his seat, brushing pollen from his haori. "Dummy. Her lies are almost as pathetic as her cluelessness." He regards you with an upturned chin, and you lift an eyebrow. "Make sure this crap is cleaned up before you leave. And stay the hell out of our kitchen."
"I'm sure they plan to pick up after themselves, Ryuuji." Akifusa stands up next to him with a smile. "You have our thanks, Rikuo. This evening has been quite the success, and Yura seems to have had a genuinely good time."
You grin. "Thanks for going along with everything. I appreciate it."
"Don't expect it again." You smirk at Ryuuji's back as he walks away, Akifusa following after a friendly farewell. Mamiru appears, seemingly out of nowhere, to join them, and minutely nods to you. You return his acknowledgement with an amused smile.
"They're a strange bunch, aren't they?" Zen moves to your side and refills your cup, his thick eyebrow arched at their retreating backs.
"No stranger than we are." You turn to him, blinking. "What're you doing here, by the way? You know your lungs are about to collapse. You shouldn't be exerting yourself."
Your brother laughs, downing his drink before he can fall into a coughing fit. "It's worth the risk to see this. Youkai and onmyouji celebrating together: a fool's fantasy come true." He leans closer, smile turned teasing. "I doubt it would be possible if it were anybody but you and the onmyouji girl."
"Hm," you reply, catching a glimpse of Yura and the old man as they dance a simple two-step.
"Speaking of onmyouji girls," Zen begins, and you lift an eyebrow at his suggestive tone. "Is it just me, or did it seem like you two got a bit rowdy out there in the crowd? When you pushed her into the dancers, I thought she was gonna wring your neck!"
You snort. "She tried to."
"Matter of fact, if I didn't know better..." Zen smirks, voice lowered in mock secret, "I'd say you seemed a bit too comfortable putting your hands on each other."
His statement is deceptively nonchalant, but the knowing smirk on his lips as you lock eyes is more than telling. Silently, you turn back to the dance floor, where a large group of your smaller followers has joined Yura and the old man. They make a rough circle around the pair, and you see Natto-Kozo climb Yura's robes to bounce on her shoulder, his shrill voice piercing the night as he laughs. Yura seems to return the happy sound, her hands clasped in the old man's, her previous disquiet practically nonexistent as she lightly sways her hips to the melody, her lips animated as the two carry on a conversation.
You felt those hips under your hands as the partying crowd pushed you against her back, her wiry frame pressed into yours in a way that was only hinted at through sight alone. Two years ago, on graduation day, you also held her, but you were too preoccupied by her leaving, and the heavy despondence you felt at her leaving, to notice such things.
But you noticed them tonight, the night marking your official reunion. And the changes she has made (and the ways she has stayed the same) intrigue you, the same way they did when she spoke to you so sternly, the same way they did the night she confided to your night form for the first time.
When you turn back to Zen, his smile is wider, the awareness in his gaze ten-fold.
You merely smirk, raising the sake to your lips. "Ridiculous."
As dawn closes in, the festivities finally dwindle down, and your clan begins packing away for the trip home. The onmyouji assist them with haste, eager for the heat of a bath, the coolness of a futon, and the silence of a youkai-free house.
They're amateurs, really, the way they sway on their feet, half-dead with exhaustion.
Hidemoto stands off to the side with the old man, sharing a final word; nearby, you stand with Yura and watch as the stars gradually dissolve into the eastern sky.
"Thank you."
You lower your chin to regard the young woman next to you and find her eyes on the same sight, features softened to a smile. When she meets your gaze, the softness persists, emphasized by the black hair framing her pale face, and you note the rarity of such a sight, seen only on a handful of occasions.
You raise an eyebrow, amused. "You're grateful now?"
Unexpectedly, she nods in honesty. "Mm. I appreciate it as something you and the others put together for me. Even with you in charge." She shrugs.
"Careful," you caution, surprised at the roundabout praise, "You might find yourself wanting to do it again."
She chuckles. "Not likely, but I'll keep it in mind."
"Fair enough." You straighten your haori and tap your zori back into place on your feet. "Well, we're off."
"Have a safe trip."
"Of course." Nodding to your grandfather's signal to leave, you lower yourself to Yura's height and tilt closer until your lips nearly brush the shell of her ear.
"Happy Birthday, Keikain-sama." You smirk as she pushes you away for the twentieth time that night, her hand rubbing at her ear in annoyance.
"Do you have no concept of personal space? Jeez." You merely wink and turn away, your hands tucked casually into your sleeves, her sharp complaint bringing Zen's commentary to mind.
You smirk to yourself.
"Until next time, Yura," you call back, catching eyes, and she perceives your purposeful choice of words with surprise; eventually, however, she replies with a small, accepting smile and a nod.
For now, at least, it's enough.