Warnings: None

Notes: Inspired by the prompt "keepsake."

RIOT CHILD

Chapter 08:

"Keepsake"

Leaning forward across the table, Kagome pinned Keiko with a stare and said: "So tell me. What's with the mask, huh?"

Keiko's hands—clad in rubber gloves—clenched around her cup of coffee. Bit too warm out for coffee, but whatever; Kagome sipped her peach smoothie and tried to withhold judgment as she looked Keiko over and waited for a response. And that response promised to be a not-so-easy one, because Keiko wore her medical mask under her chin as she drank, and that gave Kagome a pretty dang good view of the confused frown on Keiko's lips.

The frown disappeared when a server approached to check on them and Keiko pulled the mask protectively back into place. She did it before the server got within, like, ten feet of their spot on the restaurant patio, way around the back of the building. Looks like Keiko had a sixth sense for people encroaching on her personal space. She'd known exactly where they could find a private spot to get to know one another after they met one another for the first time at aikido class, after all. Apparently Keiko came here a lot because the back patio rarely got used by other patrons. Girl loved social distancing just as much as she loved masks, it seemed.

Speaking of which: Keiko had insisted they sit at separate freakin' tables during their getting-to-know-you chat. They faced each other from a frankly ridiculous distance apart across the patio, no chance of germs or pathogens spreading when you had at least three meters of space between your respective seats. That distance, the lack of a crowd and the warm, the sanitizer Keiko had doused her table in, and the outdoor breeze were probably the only things making Keiko feel bold enough to remove her mask and drink something in public. Kagome thought she'd left behind these safeguards back in the year 2020, but apparently Keiko was intent on preserving them even now.

Hell, even during aikido practice, she'd insisted on the damn mask and social distancing. It had been pretty funny to watch, admittedly. Keiko had warmed up and stretched on the opposite side of Hideki-sensei's warehouse as everyone else, and when it came time to spar, she just shadow-boxed in the corner rather than pair up with anybody. ("Weirdo sure must be happy there was an odd number of students," Kagome had muttered to herself whilst observing Keiko's masked face from afar, "but whatever floats your boat!") Eventually Hideki had said something about how Keiko wouldn't learn anything if she insisted on being a stubborn asshole of a loner, and he practically picked Keiko up and threw her bodily into the ring to face off against some big dude named… Ezakita? Eza-something. Kagome couldn't remember his name, but she'd likely never forget the way Keiko had shrieked and run for the hills when the guy tried to put her into a chokehold. Kagome had watched the skirmish (if you could even call it that) with tears in her eyes, she was laughing so hard.

Keiko had then resorted to a swift attack-and-retreat style of fighting that resembled no martial art Kagome had ever seen, wherein she kept trying to stun Eza-whatever with incredibly hard blows in incredibly soft places (cough-his crotch-cough-cough) before running like hell away to minimize physical contact. The poor thing had actually sanitized herself between rounds, too, and refused to take off her mask or her rubber gloves no matter how overheated she got or how badly they affected her ability to aim a punch. Suffice it to say, Keiko had avoided grappling at all costs.

Watching her had been funny as heck, but Kagome had to admit that the sight of the medical mask, gloves and compulsive social distancing had unsettled her a little. Practically gave her war flashbacks to COVID times. But Kagome had no reason to assume Keiko was nothing more interesting than an eccentric and doggedly determined hypochondriac, so she'd shrugged off Keiko's behavior with a laugh. No way would she be hanging out with a weirdo of that caliber, that's for sure.

But then Hideki had said Kagome's name out loud and Keiko's masked face had swung in her direction like a germ-phobic guillotine, and suddenly Keiko was Kagome's new BFF. Oops…

Not that Keiko was looking at Kagome like she'd found a new bosom-buddy. She fidgeted in her seat and fiddled with the hem over her oversized hoodie in silence, staring at Kagome without comprehension.

"What do you mean?" she asked eventually, and she gestured at the mask under her chin. "You know what COVID was like."

"But COVID isn't really a thing anymore," Kagome said. "Or it's not a thing yet." She passed a hand through her hair. "Jesus, the timelines…"

"The timelines," Keiko agreed with a nod of sympathy.

"So…" Kagome waited for Keiko to speak, but when she didn't, Kagome heaved a sigh. "You don't need the mask right now, right? So why do you wear it? And social distance? And sanitize?"

Keiko shifted in her seat. "Do you remember much from right after you were reborn?" she said, staring down at her cup of coffee.

"Yeah. I remember it all." Kagome shuddered. "Every damn diaper change. Talk about undignified."

Keiko winced. "That was bad, but…"

"But what?"

For a time, Keiko struggled in silence. Kagome let her find the words in peace. This was probably the first time Keiko had talked about this with anyone; of course words weren't gonna be easy to find. Kagome knew that all too well. She was going through the same thing, herself at that exact same moment, after all.

Jesus. Finding another Not-Quite? What were the odds of that?

Eventually Keiko took a deep breath and said in a rush: "My grandma came to help take care of me right after I was born and my mom was recovering from laboar. They'd just started up the ramen business and they had a lot to do, so they needed the help. And that meant…" Keiko paused, a look of revulsion on her face. "I got passed around. A lot. I was shoved into neighbors' arms and family's arms constantly. And kissed. And touched." She swallowed; the act looked difficult, like maybe she was holding back bile. "And I didn't know what was going on, and I couldn't tell them to stop and leave me alone, and I was confused and upset and they wouldn't stop breathing on me—"

Keiko was breathing hard by the time she stopped talking, midsentence. Kagome felt the urge to stand and go to her, offer some comfort or a hug, but the look of terror—of sheer, abject horror and cold, wide-eyed disgust—on Keiko's face told her that she'd best keep her distance. Kagome hadn't had the same experience as Keiko upon her rebirth, clearly. Only her mother and grandfather had taken care of her as a baby, isolated in the temple where they lived. Something about Keiko's experience had clearly scarred her, and deeply at that.

Keiko eventually composed herself. "Before I became Keiko, the pandemic… it really got to me," she admitted, rubber-covered fingers tapping dully against her cup of coffee. "I made a clean-room in my laundry room so I wouldn't track germs inside. Sanitized everything I brought into the house. I didn't leave my house other than to walk the dogs for a year. Masks all the time, no contact with others. And then randomly I was a baby and I was helpless and confused and they kept breathing on me." Again she shuddered at the memory. "I had no idea what had happened or if the pandemic was over, and I had no choices or options and I couldn't say 'no.' I had no context for what happened and no idea if it was safe to be with people. I thought I was gonna die, to be honest with you." Desperation made her voice quake, and her eyes sought Kagome's for validation. "Every sniffle or cough felt like a death sentence. I thought there was no way I'd survive when nobody was even trying to social distance or minimize contact with me."

"I didn't think about it that at hard at the time, to be honest," Kagome admitted (while feeling a little foolish, she had to admit). "I was just there, a baby, and so I… I let people take care of me. But you…"

"The anxiety was crushing." Keiko set her drink aside and settled her mask back atop her features. Still, Kagome could read Keiko's haunted expression in her eyes alone. "The minute I found a mask as a kid, I put it on and never took it off. I know it's irrational. But…" She shrugged in defeat. "It helps."

"Helps you feel in control, you mean?" Kagome asked.

"Yeah." Her eyes turned pensive. "I didn't realize I was in Japan at first, either. The place where I'm from was so bad at keeping safe, and I thought I was still there, so…"

"Where were you from?"

"Texas."

"Ooph. OK. Yeah." Kagome waved a hand. "A picture is starting to form."

"A picture like they take of you on a rollercoaster at Disney World, but in this souvenir photo I'm wearing a medical mask and rubber gloves." Keiko's eyes glittered above her mask. "Call it a keepsake from 2020."

"I survived a global pandemic and all I got was this stupid t-shirt," Kagome quipped. "That and crippling germophobia!"

"Ha!" Keiko's head tipped back when she laughed. "I'm just shocked you're not carrying your own scars from that hell-year."

"Oh, trust me. I am." Kagome tried not to think about them. "But I've had enough reminiscing for one day, I think."

She changed the subject, not wanting to delve into her own personal reasons for why 2020 had turned into the Worst Year Ever for her and her family. Sounded like she and Keiko came from very different backgrounds; it was a topic they'd have to broach another time, once Kagome trusted Keiko a little more. Instead they chatted for a bit about the present, turning their thoughts to their current situations instead of their pasts in 2020, and eventually toward the future that awaited them as anime fans reborn into bodies of certain anime characters.

Near the end of their chat that night, Kagome decided that she rather liked Keiko, after all. Keiko's first impression hadn't been all that impressive, to be honest, but over time Kagome was starting to see that Keiko was more than just a total weird-o-saurus-rex. Sure, Keiko was neurotic as all hell, and sure, she had a tendency to info-dump about random subjects and go off on long-winded tangents and anecdotes… but it was actually kind of charming, somehow? Keiko liked sharing information and delighted in communicating, even if her methods of doing so weren't the most typical or conducive to a true back-and-forth. The canonical Keiko, meanwhile, had been a pretty average girl with great social skills. The contrast between that Keiko and this weirdo (said with love) was…

Kagome's lips twitched. Keiko's head cocked to the side.

"Why're you smiling?" she asked.

"Just…" Kagome shrugged. "It's weird calling you 'Keiko.'"

"Why?"

"You're pretty different from her, I guess."

Keiko nodded sagely. "I was never too into Inuyasha, so I'm not a good judge of how similar you are to the canonical Kagome, but it's definitely weird calling you 'Kagome' when I know you're in my situation, too. Like…" She searched for words. "These aren't our real names, y'know?"

"Right!?" Kagome exclaimed. "But like, you gotta play the role, because who knows what's gonna happen if we bust out of this slot we've been forced into? The suspense is terrible!"

"God, do you just want a break sometimes?" Keiko sagged in her seat, exhausted. "I know we can't remember our old names, but what I wouldn't give to be called something other than a name that doesn't belong to me…"

Kagome grinned. "Maybe we should pick our own names."

But that only seemed to depress Keiko further. "I've been there," she said, eyes locked on the tabletop. "It's harder than it sounds."

Kagome had no idea what the hell that was supposed to mean, but she shrugged it aside. Clearly there was stuff Keiko wasn't saying about herself, the same way Kagome kept certain things close to her chest, and that was OK. They were each allowed their secrets. Kagome probably would talk to Keiko about her 2020 experiences someday, if the topic came up again (Keiko seemed harmless enough), but for now—this was enough.

And given how deeply 2020 had clearly impacted Keiko, she got the sense the subject would arise sooner rather than later.

But "Cheer up, Eeyore" was all she said in bright, chipper tones, trying her best to bring a smile to Keiko's mopey face. "We've got each other. We'll make it work." She chuckled a little. "I have to admit Eeyore is a cute nickname, but it doesn't suit you."

Keiko's head cocked again. "Oh?"

"You're more like a Piglet. All anxious and stuff." Kagome snickered behind a hand. "Or maybe you're an Owl for the amount of storytelling you do."

Keiko's eyes narrowed into pleased crescents. "I guess that would make you Tigger, huh?" she said with warmth in every word. "Because you're a bouncing barrel of laughs."

"You know it!" Kagome said. "And I like that. Heh. Just call me Tigger." Raising her drink toward Keiko from across the patio in a toast, Kagome proclaimed, "Members of the Hundred Acre Wood avengers, assemble!"

Two tables away, Keiko raised her mug in return.

NOTES

Regarding this project, a Tumblr user asked "Is NQK's constant mask-wearing just for comedy given the subject matter of this story, or is there another reason she insists on wearing one?" I hope this entry answered that question. Basically being reborn without warning scarred her so badly that wearing a mask became a coping mechanism for her. And also it's funny so I'm gonna use it!

Also it was fun to explore how she'd get a different nickname from Kagome in this timeline. Yay, subtle differences… Also Kagome herself is subtly different here. She's more guarded against strangers, though she's still the bubbly and happy person I love so much.

Big thanks to these fine folks for their comments: Kaiya Azure, ladyofchaos, himemiko, cezarina