New chapterrrrr! This was fun to write, so I hope you all enjoy! I'm excited to hear some of these theories y'all have on how Yomi will get entangled in the exorcist world, and I'm definitely looking forward to seeing who gets it right once the reveal happens :3c


Chapter Seven

"This…" Yomi looks her mother up and down a few times. "This is a surprise."

Homura giggles and picks up her handbag from the table. "Isn't it? I can't remember how long it's been since I went out and had some fun."

She's not wrong. Yomi definitely wasn't expecting Homura to be invited out tonight, but the real surprise had been Homura agreeing to the invitation. If she's honest, she wasn't even aware that Homura still had friends that enjoyed her company.

Yet here she stands, clad in a simple black cocktail dress and beaming from ear to ear. Homura hasn't dressed like this since the divorce, Yomi thinks. It's both odd and reassuring to see after years of depression and obsession. A peacefulness she's missed.

"How long are you gonna be out?" she asks. Homura rummages through her handbag to make sure she has everything.

"Maybe the whole night," she mutters, most of her attention on the bag. "I hope I don't have to get a taxi home. We're drinking, apparently."

Yomi hums. "See if one of them can drive you home instead."

"I will, I will." Homura pulls her purse out with a victorious smile. She pops it open and whisks out a small stack of notes, sliding them across the table to Yomi. She stares at the money blankly as Homura adds, "Treat yourself while I'm out. I wanna make up for snapping at you the other day."

A few seconds of silence pass by. Yomi just stares up at her mother, gobsmacked, as the pseudo-apology registers with her. "You're serious?"

A nervous laugh from the woman. "I know I can get intense," she admits sheepishly. "I was out of line when I changed our diets. Should've asked you first."

Yomi still doesn't take the money. "What brought this one?" she asks slowly.

Homura shrugs. "I just had to remind myself that you're almost an adult. That you're not a baby anymore."

It sounds out of character for Homura—she never considers that Yomi is her own person—and for a second Yomi thinks that Dr. Ono really has had a talk with her since their last appointment. Homura just looks helplessly at her daughter. She picks up her car keys and sighs. "I'll be home before midnight, I hope."

"Drive safe," Yomi mumbles.

She waits five minutes for the car to leave the driveway, and then five more after the lights disappear down the street. There's no way Homura will come back in the early hours of the morning or get drunk. As strangely and out of character she's been acting tonight, Yomi knows the constant panic attack within will take her composed nature by the throat and make demands by ten o'clock. Maybe even nine.

Yomi fiddles with the house phone for a second as she contemplates using the yen left behind. There's every chance that Homura will still get angry about ordering pizza. There's still every chance that the calm Homura will be gone by the time she gets home.

But the small hope in her mind that begs for what she's just witnessed to be true convinces her to take the leap. She dials the number of a nearby pizzeria and counts the yen on the table as the phone rings. Yomi gawks at the one thousand total that sits in front of her so innocently. She almost doesn't hear the worker from the pizzeria pick up the phone and ask her what she wants to order.

After a good half an hour of waiting and setting up a movie to watch, Yomi finally feels safe enough to say that Homura is going to be out for the whole night. Yomi is completely at ease for the first time in… Well, a long time. Even when the doorbell rings she still feels relaxed; she doesn't even care that the delivery guy gives her chubby arms and legs a once-over, instead politely telling him to drive safe and to keep the change.

Yomi isn't the biggest fan of eating junk food, but after the week she's had she likes to think that two large pizzas and enough soda to send her into a sugar rush is more than deserved. Yomi digs into the margherita pizza first, taking a large bite out of her first slice and groaning happily. She can't remember the last time she was able to enjoy something like this in her own home, in her own living room, watching her own movies. Whoever these friends of Homura's are, they're a godsend.

Her night is going infinitely better than she'd expected it to. Yomi's been wanting to watch this movie for some time now, practically drooling over each promotional poster of the lead actors she'd seen on the streets. She'd been lucky enough to sneak it past Homura after blowing half of her pay on it a few weeks ago, and now that there's no one home to tell her how horrendous and cheesy the acting is, she's ready to relish it all.

Great dinner and a better show.

She's halfway through the margherita when she decides to take a peek of her second pizza. If she received the right order, it should be the crème de la crème of her order. It should be the icing on the cake, the cherry on top. Yomi holds her breath and pops open the lid, and then she's letting out a relieved sigh as the smell of garlic tickles her nose.

The garlic prawn pizza. Her absolute favourite.

She picks up a slice and prepares to bite into it, gleefully anticipating the flavours that are about to hit her tongue. Yomi's teeth are just about to tear off the end of the slice when she pauses. She can hear some kind of scritching sound coming from nearby—like a dog clawing at a door, but she doesn't have a dog.

With a groan, Yomi tucks the pizza back into its box and pauses her movie. The scritching is easier to hear without the background noise of her romcom drowning it out. She tiptoes towards the hall, pausing in the doorway to listen more carefully. Left, she thinks. The front door.

Yomi frowns as she stares at the white door. It's too late at night for someone to be walking their dog, and it's not exactly common for strays to be found around her neighbourhood. Maybe a rabbit or a mouse? She shakes her head as the handle slowly enters her reach. A mouse would find another way in, and rabbits aren't exactly the most trusting creatures. A cat, then?

The scritching intensifies as she takes a steeling breath. Fingers wrap around the cold handle of the door and slowly twist it. Her heart pounds in her chest—thump, thump, thump—as she swings the door open, almost slamming her hand into the wall when her fingers slip off of the handle. At first Yomi doesn't notice the small thing that stumbles inside her house, tackling one of her legs. She's too busy hissing over her sore knuckles and staring out into the empty street.

But once she feels large hands grip her leg and hears the animalistic grunting coming from below, she panics. Whatever it is, it's not a normal animal. Stumpy little legs dangle about as oversized sausages for fingers try to scale the rest of her. Large teeth that bring a familiar pain to her arm are bared at her, glowing yellow eyes glaring daggers at her.

Yomi shrieks. She swings her leg around and launches the little thing down the hall, sending it rolling like a bowling ball into the kitchen. It squeals back at her, clearly having not expected her to just throw it.

She sprints into the living room for her phone—call Mom call Mom call Mom call Mom—and winds up crashing into the thing as it scuttles inside after her. Yomi topples to the floor (God, why is this familiar?) and kicks out at it as best she can. Once her phone is in her hand, slipping off of the couch along with one of the pizza boxes, she rolls along the floor in a desperate retreat to the door. She's crawling out on all fours as the sound of grunting and slurping echoes through the living room. That thing has probably discovered her pizza, and it's definitely proving to be more interesting than Yomi.

There has to be a way to throw it outside without touching it, she thinks. Yomi's breath hitches in her throat over and over as she scuttles for the laundry. It's the size of a child, she thinks; maybe she can trap it in a laundry basket and slide it out the door or something? Yomi whines as she shoves the laundry door open. What if it doesn't work? What if this thing attacks her? Mauls her? She doesn't want to get another rabies shot. Hell, she doesn't want to set foot in another hospital after her last accident!

A large belch sounds out through the hall. Yomi gags. She grabs the laundry basket and tries her damndest to steady her shaking hands. Just as she's about to leave the room and stumble into danger again, she catches sight of what could be possibly her saviour in this scenario. Homura's never been bothered to get rid of the cat carrier in their laundry after Eisuke took Smokey in the custody battle. She's always talked about wanting to get another cat, but those aspirations never amounted to anything.

Yomi breathes out a shaky breath. This stunt had better work, or else Homura might just come home to a horror show.

She sneaks the carrier over to the living room door, keeping it out of sight while she peeks around the frame. The creature is busily shoving its face into her garlic prawn pizza, aioli smeared all over its face with every bite it takes. Yomi pouts—there goes her fun night of her favourite pizza. She bends down and pops open the lid of the carrier, her hands shaking again and her lungs feeling shallow. Thank God Smokey was a big cat, she thinks as she peeks around the corner again. This thing probably wouldn't fit if Smokey was smaller.

It's almost finished with her pizza when she musters up the courage to call out to it. Her voice comes out a lot more shakily than she'd hoped, the fear obvious in her tone, but it looks up angrily at her nonetheless. It no longer cares about her pizza. The creature braces its large hands against the floor and leans back on its stumpy legs. With a speed Yomi hadn't anticipated, it lunges for her.

Yomi almost doesn't pull the carrier up in time. Half of it goes it when it collides, slamming back against Yomi's stomach and throwing her into the hall. The other half dangles out precariously, trying to backtrack once it realises just what kind of pickle it's gotten itself into. It struggles enough to get one arm free, causing Yomi to panic. She dives over the carrier and slams the door repeatedly against its hand. It screeches. It whimpers. It snarls. Finally, it forces itself further into the carrier and lets Yomi lock it in.

She practically collapses to the floor once that door is shut. The rush of the chase makes her fingers shake, her legs basically jelly as she tries to convince herself to stand back up. This is not what she wanted to do tonight. This is far from what she wanted to do tonight.

It continues to growl at her, even as she manages to drag herself into the living room to assess the damage. There's pizza all over the floor—a giant miss she'll have to clean up soon—and one of the cushions looks like its been put through a horrendous paint job. Yomi groans and presses her face to the floor. This night is a disaster.

A good five minutes passes before she musters up the energy to close the front door. No one seems to have heard the commotion somehow, too focused on their own lives to care about howling from a strange animal next door. Yomi holds a hand over her heart once the lock slides in place. She isn't going to open the door again tonight, and Homura can just use her key to get in. She slumps against the door, slides down until she's sitting on the floor. The creature in the carrier is looking right at her as it gnaws at the thin bars of the door, its howls now lowered to soft growls.

Yomi's hands shake as she clutches her phone to her chest. She really wants to call Homura for help. She really wants her mother to be there for her in a time of genuine distress. Her finger even hovers over her contact image—the angry cartoon red panda—as she chews her lip. She should call. She should call.

The creature growls a little louder. It pokes its large fingers through the tiny holes in an attempt to reach for her. Yomi shakes her head and exits out of her contacts. Don't call. Homura will make it worse. Homura always makes it worse. Don't call.

For a fleeting second she thinks to call a friend for help. There's friendships that go so far to even cover up murders—who's to say someone she knows won't help her figure out what this creature is and release is to its natural habitat? Miyazaki would know what kind of animal it is. Tanaka has a vespa that could transport the animal. Hell, maybe even Rin might—

Yomi frowns at the thought. What would Rin do? What would he do if something like this attacked him? She frowns even further. Why does it matter what he'd do? Why should Yomi be thinking of what he'd do over her own options? He's not here, and if Yomi's careful enough he won't know this even happened. No one will. As far as everyone else knows, Yomi was given some bad pizza and had a bad reaction.

Instead of calling anyone, Yomi opens her web browser. The internet is crazy enough to convince her that someone else might have experienced this. Maybe she's not the only one who's caught one of these things.

She looks over at the carrier and tries to take in as much detail as possible.

Round green horned animal

The first results are pictures of deer, antelopes, moose. A definition of what "greenhorn" is. Lists of horned mammals by rank. Yomi hurriedly adds more to her search, hoping to narrow the results even just a little.

Round green animal with big hands

A Goddamn green tree frog. Some star-nosed moles. A weird tiny monkey with big eyes. Yomi scowls this time. She dares a look back at the animal, only to find it scowling at her through the carrier door.

Ugly animal with big hands and horns

Every result that pops up afterwards has key words missing from each result. Yomi's heart sinks. She can't be vaguer than she already has been—it'd just give her tree frogs and moose again—and she definitely can't just scream, "What the hell is this thing?" into her microphone.

It makes something other than a growling sound. Yomi squeaks in surprise, immediately comparing it to a small bear's cries, as she drops her phone. It's finally calming down a little, though the panting between cries has her worried. Is it panicking? Is it thirsty? Yomi chews at her lip, feeling it become raw with how much her teeth have been digging into it tonight. Maybe it won't hurt her if she tries to give it some water. Maybe it's just scared and lashed out like most feral animals do.

She wobbles on her feet as she stands up. Balance is hard to maintain, but she manages after a calming few seconds. The cat carrier is heavy enough for her to pick it up with two hands; she almost can't heave it up onto the table once she reaches the kitchen, the animal moving around too much for her to keep her grip. She eventually slides it over the tabletop, though, and quickly makes her way for the nearest cupboard.

At first she grabs a small bowl, but then she starts to have second thoughts. What if it does attack her again once she opens the door? It's an animal—a wild animal, at that, which means she can't predict how it'll react. Yomi hesitantly puts the bowl back in the cupboard and starts searching the other shelves, digging around for something easier to use. After what feels like an eternity of listening to it cry out and gnaw at the cage between pants, she finally pulls out a small water bottle. She unscrews the lid and fills it with water from the sink, giving it a test sip once the lid is back on. There's a bit of resistance with how much water comes out through the nozzle, but water comes out nonetheless.

She holds it by the end as she feeds the nozzle through the carrier's bars. Water drips out slowly, startling the animal. But it doesn't take long for it to latch onto the nozzle and start drinking. Yomi breathes out a sigh of relief. She pulls out a chair and flops onto it, making sure to keep the bottle within the animal's reach.

"This is weird," she sighs. The animal pauses to growl at her, then resumes drinking. "I just wanted a night to myself with zero stress. Who did I piss off on a cosmic level to deserve all this?"

Well, she thinks as the animal lets out a belch, at least now she has a reason to order two new garlic prawn pizzas—at the cost of now being aware of how hard the very same delivery guy will probably judge her for it.

Yomi dials the number on her phone. She looks up at the clock on the wall, lamenting at how few hours she'll have left to herself, before looking back at the animal. It's done drinking, licking its lips with a satisfied look on its face. She glares right at its glowing eyes.

"I hope you like horrendous romcoms," she growls, "because that's all we're watching until I can take you to the pound."