Chapter Thirty-One
They slammed into a wall of water. Rain streamed through cracks in the open windows. Great gusts of wind knocked the bus violently to the right as they emerged from the tunnel.
The driver turned the wipers on.
A collective groan issued forth from them all. Ikko, too, found himself swept up in the disappointment.
"You're kidding!' cried Kia, pressing her face up against the window, her breath misting the glass, "Where's my beach? Where's my sun?"
She rounded on Ikko. "You!"
"M-me?"
"Yes, you! You're the nerdy one! Did you wish for this?"
"You're kidding, right?" He frowned. "What would I gain from it?"
"Now you get to stay indoors all day!"
"Kia," Ruby swept over, crooning, "It's no-one's fault. We could well be on the tail end of the storm."
"My beach," she whinged, weak, "My beautiful, beautiful beach..."
The weather made it impossible to see how they were progressing towards their destination, and even when they trundled to a stop they couldn't see what they were heading towards. The doors hissed open. "Human world, beachfront inn! Off you get!"
Everyone dared everyone else to go first. Lingling broke the stalemate by hopping down the bus, nonchalantly stating that since she was already dead, it wouldn't matter whether the storm claimed her. Her boldness didn't encourage the rest, and their stalemate only ended when Tsukune stood, grabbed his suitcase, and called from the doorway, "Let's not keep Marin waiting!"
Put to shame by his resolve, the rest scrambled to join him. Ikko was the last, put off by the shrieking and cursing of those who dove headfirst into the rain. "IKKO!" He heard Kia shout from somewhere beyond the waterfall. "GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!"
He gripped his suitcase, cursing beneath his breath. His shoe touched the bottom step of the bus, the first thing to get splashed by the rain.
"Best of luck out there, son," sneered the driver at his back, "You're going to need it."
He sighed. "No kidding."
Ikko broke into a run, suitcase rocking behind him. It twisted onto one wheel, jerking him away from the straight line he'd tried to commit to. Streets and cars roared behind him. His feet hit something soft, giving under his stamping feet.
Someone called his name again. He locked on as best he could, hurrying towards them. He scrunched his eyes, for they served him absolutely no purpose, and as a result very nearly crashed headfirst into a wall.
An arm stopped him, grabbing him by the shoulder. A jovial growl of a voice barked hilarity. "Whoa there! You're already drowning. Don't add a concussion to that."
Ikko blew mops of soaking hair out from his face, feeling like he'd surfaced from a long swim. He abandoned his case to push his hair out of his eyes, blinking rapidly, for all the good that it did.
Through the curtain of water, he made out a man in a Hawaiian shirt, strands of black hair pushed back by a headband. He grinned, baring teeth. "Welcome to the Kawamoto Inn. Get'cherself inside and towelled off with the rest of them."
"Buh." Ikko managed. He looked down, seeing himself in the puddle forming at his feet. "'Kay."
He struggled inside, his t-shirt and jeans clinging to every inch that dared move, quickly cooling from the tropical deluge. The sound of the storm barely dropped when the door closed behind him. He looked out onto a sea—quite literally, perhaps, given the content of water they'd collectively brought inside—of people wringing their hands, towelling off, and discarding what little outerwear they wore in summer. They crammed into the lobby of the inn, poorly-suited for this number of people at once. Hanging over the reception desk was a sign, painted in bright rainbow lettering.
WELCOME, YOKAI ACADEMY
"What a sight," sighed the man behind him, "I should pray for storms more often."
A wet jacket, balled tight, collided with his face. A voice Ikko recognised as Kurumu's shrieked from the opposite corner. "It's been five minutes, Gin! Five!"
"Ahh…" Though the jacket slid free from his face, Gin's lecherous smirk did not. "I'm home. Oh, here."
A warm towel landed in Ikko's arms. "There's gonna be a bloodbath to claim the showers," he explained, "Spare yourself the pain and use that."
Ikko murmured what he hoped was an agreement, even as he felt rain burble and muffle the movement of his lips. He pressed the towel into his face, wobbling further into the inn.
"We're just waiting—" Mizore's voice echoed out, "Oh, there he is. Ikko, over here."
He headed for the front desk. An older woman, blonde-haired and swirling a can of beer in one hand, greeted him. "He's the last. Ikko, meet Marin Kawamoto. She's the owner."
"Nice to meet you, Ikko. Sign in here?"
She pushed a booking form across the counter, then turned back. "San! Get the key for 203, would you?"
Ikko scribbled his details on the form, trying not to ruin it with what remained of the storm draining off him. "Had to close up today for the storm, so you kids have the run of the house," she explained, "Don't go too wild, you hear? I've got enough to worry about."
"Yes, ma'am," Ikko said, signing the bottom of the paper and passing it back, "Not that I've got any say in it."
"Sure you do," Mizore offered, "That's why you're getting a key."
"Huh?"
On cue, a smaller woman in a summer dress, her employment marked by how conscpicuously dry she was next to everyone else, pressed a key and a note into his hand. "Your room," it read.
"Why me?" he asked. Looking up revealed the answer, scribbled onto a notepad and held out for him to read.
"Ruby said you're the responsible one."
"Fair warning," Mizore said, "203's one of two rooms with a proper shower."
"Oh, great," he complained, pocketing the key, "Well… where do we start, then? Who has the other keys?"
Ruby proved to be the answer to that question, having the key to 201 and holding the keys to 202 and 204 for Tsukune and Moka, respectively. Together, sidling through the crowds and nudging them one at a time, they began the arduous process of getting everyone upstairs and showered. For his part—for the men were sorely outnumbered—Ikko offered to help Gin and a man wearing a karate gi with the luggage, to be divided later. As they happily shouldered two, or even three fully-packed cases, he wrestled with one. "How's Yokai treatin' you?" barked Gin.
"Not—" he puffed, "Not bad. Busy. Bloody."
"Hasn't changed, in short," Gin chortled.
"Never has, never will," concurred his companion, "They even got another human! How're you coping?"
"I'm—coping." Ikko heaved the suitcase to the top step, groaning. "Sorry. Didn't catch your name."
"I'm Haiji." Karate-man clapped Ikko on the shoulder, a move which he thought might knock him through the floor. "This idiot's Ginei."
"I put that together," he groaned, "Nice to meet you both."
"Watch out!" Kia pushed past, squealing delight. "I'm going first!"
She tumbled into 201, locked the door behind her, seconds later the hiss of warm water and the hum of the boiler filled the air, reminding Ikko of how very uncomfortable he was. "I'm gonna get changed before I do anything else," he announced.
"Surprised that wasn't what you were doing." Gin laughed, clapping Ikko on the shoulder. He shook the hand that did to free it of the rain it soaked up. "Go get yours. We'll handle these."
He made the round trip to collect his suitcase. More people passed him by as he wrestled upstairs, backing into the room—he couldn't remember to whom he'd given the key. The intermittent splash of hot water on the shower floor told him that a body moved and washed. Dumping his suitcase, Ikko stripped and dumped his clothes in a cold heap on the floor. He dried off as best he could with his towel, long damp thanks to its place on his shoulders. Scrubbing his hair left it in a tangled, unruly mop that fell past his eyes at the front, and the nape of his neck at the back. He pinched one of the longer strands between two fingers and held it out, trying to gauge the length.
Maybe Mizore had a point about the mullet. Ikko mused on it as he rummaged in his suitcase, trying to find something that wasn't damp from the storm soaking through. He hadn't touched his hair since arriving at Yokai, letting it grow and grow—and for what?
A vague recollection of his mother's words broke the surface of his mind, chilling him. He couldn't pick out her voice, just the words.
"Make sure you sort that out. How do you expect to see anything?"
He looked down at his shirt, half-on. The memory coiled like ivy around his limbs, holding him in place. No, not the memory, he realised, but the revelation attached to it.
When was the last time he'd spoken to his parents? Had they even bothered to reach out? Had they called? Surely they must have. Or perhaps they'd written, and he'd simply forgotten.
Maybe an email…?
His fingers curled in dry polyester, clenching tight. His head shook. His breath quivered. No. An overreaction, that's all it was. They still sent him money every month, proof that they hadn't forgotten about him.
The water stopped. Ikko rushed through the last of his clothes, pulling on whatever he could find, and fled from under the cloud that swelled overhead to busy himself with helping.
Lunch was well into its preparations by the time they had recovered, and still the storm raged about the inn, battering the windows and howling through the old wood walls. One of the last to shower, Ikko descended on a sight of tables being pushed together and seats being rearranged, as the party prepped the room to host such a full group.
"There he is!" called Tsukune, "Help out in the kitchen, would you?"
Ikko jogged the last few steps and hurried out back. Su, Ruby, and Etsuko bustled about with Marin and San, their flurry of activity making it unclear where he could help. Still, he announced himself.
"Perfect timing," said Marin, "Can you take some of these trays out, Ikko? We need to make some space."
"Uh—sure." He reached for one of them.
"Wait!" Marin snapped, "What's that?"
"What's what?" he looked over his shoulder. Marin strode up to him, frowning. She stood just a little taller than him, but her managerial airs made that difference much more apparent. She pointed at his fringe.
"No loose hair in the kitchen. Tie it back."
"With—" Ruby presented a pink hairtie as she passed. "Right."
He fumbled his way around gathering his hair into a ponytail. Marin nodded approvingly. "Better. Wash your hands and take some of those out. Anywhere in the centre is fine."
Ikko nodded, and set about working. How quickly this group organised, he thought, and how quickly they found a place for him and his friends. He wove around Su and Etsuko, both of whom took time from their appointed tasks to grin and say hi. Moving back out into the lobby he saw Kia in urgent discussion with Kurumu, trying to decide on the best place to set the table Gin and Haiji held.
They may as well have been there for years already, he mused, and his heart leapt at the thought. If this went well, maybe they could be.
He owed it to them to at least try.
It didn't take long to get everything situated. Marin and San had prepared a full spread of delightful food, more than enough for the travellers who had missed breakfast: Sandwiches, skewers, sushi, sweets, a soaring mountain of soda, and plenty else that Ikko could barely reach. They arranged themselves in groups, tables pressed as close as they could manage.
Ikko sat in between Tsukune and Mizore at the latter's request, his mind just now beginning to settle from the absolute chaos of the morning. His stomach growled, raging against the prospect of being kept from its meal a second longer.
He leaned across to Mizore. "So do we just help ourselves, or...?"
"Hang on," she shushed him, "Tsukune's gotta do a thing first."
"A thing?"
"I do?" Tsukune overheard, blinking. "Oh, right. Right."
His chair scraped as he stood. "Newspaper Club!"
All conversation trailed off, spare Su, who raised her hand. "And Writing Club!"
"And Writing Club!" Tsukune pointed to her. "I was getting to that."
A smattering of laughter rippled through those gathered. "We're back together for another year," Tsukune continued, "I can't begin to tell you how happy I am to see you all, and doing so well, to boot. We've a couple of additions to our little family, so let's try not to cause them too much trouble whilst we're here, eh?"
Ikko realised what was happening at just about the same time Tsukune looked down to him, and why Mizore had requested he sit here. A cold sweat broke from his hands. "Some of you have probably heard the news by now, but this is Ikko, Yokai Academy's very first human ambassador. He's agreed to help with this little project of ours, so you'll be seeing more and more from him and his—our—friends for the foreseeable future."
So used as he was to the hushed whispering of the word 'human' when it came out, that Ikko visibly jumped when Tsukune connected the word to him. He stared at his feet, ashen-faced. "Ikko," Tsukune said in a lower voice, "You wanna say a few words?"
"I—" he stammered. All of a sudden, it was his first day of Yokai again, and he was standing at the front of the class with barely a word that didn't falter beneath his nerves. What would he say now? What could he say now?
His mind latched onto the feeling he'd carried since arriving. The warmth of everyone's welcome. The belonging.
He stood, arms pinned to his side, eyes refusing to settle in any one place for long. "Uh… hi, everyone. I'm Ikko. Aono's covered the gist of what's happened. I—uh…"
Scratching the back of his neck, Ikko scrunched his eyes. Think. Think. "I'm… I'm still learning a lot about what this means. To be human in a world of monsters. But I'm sure you, all of you, have had to put up with it for so much longer. Monsters living in a world of humans. All you've ever known is secrecy and shadows, and Yokai's founding goal was to help you learn to take those first steps into our world.
"The headmaster trusted me with this. He said that good friends of his had died believing that a world where co-existence was the norm, that he didn't want them to die in vain. And neither do I. I don't want anyone to die. Anyone to suffer. I don't want some… some kid to awaken to their nature one morning, and have to face a frenzied mob in the afternoon. So—so whatever I can do to help, I will."
He bowed, exhaling. "I hope you'll be patient with me. And that you'll teach me well. I'm ready to learn."
He returned to his seat in silence, eyes glued to the floor, cheeks burning. The next few seconds passed by in a year.
Gin spoke first, shattering the pall Ikko thought he'd cast over the group. "Not that we can't get behind such a sincere speech 'n' all, but can we eat? I can hear Kurumu's stomach from over here."
"Hey!"
Laughter erupted once more, readily bursting through the calm of the gathered at a moment's notice. Ikko chuckled to himself, relieved that they could move on so quickly from his awkward display. "Alright, alright," Tsukune shouted, but people were already reaching for plates and taking to their own conversations. He bowed to Marin. "Mrs. Kawamoto, thank you for your hospitality."
"Don't mention it," she flapped a hand, snapping open a can of beer, "We would have been as still as the grave if you hadn't booked in. I'm always glad to have you."
Ikko reached for the food as Tsukune sat down, filling his plate with whatever was in reach. The first bites of food landed in a hollow stomach, heralding an exultant exhalation of relief.
"Good?" Mizore asked, leaning forward to claim her share.
"Mm," Ikko mumbled through a mouthful, "Shoh goohd."
"Did you prep that speech beforehand?"
He swallowed. "No-one told me I was gonna need one!"
Tsukune apologised, twisting his chair to join the conversation. "I thought it'd be good to get you introduced properly. I wanted to grab you beforehand, but you were too busy."
Ikko shrugged. "Still, you did good," Mizore insisted, "I could almost believe the headmaster was right when he called you uniquely qualified for the role."
"Is that how he got you on board?" Tsukune gawped.
"What do you mean?"
"That's how he gets everyone," he explained, "That's how he got me after I graduated. Not that I wasn't happy to help, but we needed to formalise it."
Ikko started to think that they—himself included—were just gullible enough to be convinced that was true, rather than it speaking to any observational skill on the headmaster's part. "I don't feel qualified."
"No-one does." Mizore shook her head. "You just figure it out as you go."
"She's right," he agreed. Ikko helped himself to another bite as he continued, "My first year or so at Yokai was a mess. I didn't have any clue what I was getting into. Still don't, in some respects—but we learn, we help each other, we get better. Things get better, bit by bit."
"When do we start?" Ikko asked.
"Not for a little while," Tsukune replied, "Let's get you settled and introduced first. Whilst the storm's still strong, we've got plenty of time for everyone to get to know each other."
"Provided there isn't a murder first," Mizore said, "No-one came to the beach to get locked up."
"There is that," he sighed, head slumping, "Well, let's just try to get along."
"I'll do my best," Ikko affirmed, "It's the least I can do."
"Ikko!" called Kia, waving from the opposite end of the room. Kurumu sat next to her, similarly inviting. Side-by-side, they could well have been sisters. "Get over here!"
"I guess that's my cue," he sighed, scooping up his plate, "Wish me luck."
"Try not to suffocate," Mizore intoned.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Ikko frowned, clearly missing the joke that made Tsukune chuckle. He braced himself for his greatest challenge yet.
Mingling.