Chapter Text
Early morning sunlight filtered through the narrow windows and fell in thin stripes across boxes and scrolls – inventoried in theory, although in practice the ink markings on most had worn down into complete illegibility. Seiji had moved the boxes away from the window that offered the best angle on the garden grounds, careful not to break the old paper seals on any of them.
From his current vantage point, he could already see the clansmen arranging themselves in a protective circle around Shuuichi-san. The distance and angle weren’t optimal for interference, but ideally, none should prove necessary, and the building was far enough out of the way that it was unlikely anyone would stumble in and wonder why a scion of the Natori family had set up camp here.
It would have to do.
Below, Shuuichi-san stood calmly, no sign of the previous night’s concerns in his stance. At a distance, it was less difficult to believe that he had successfully fooled the clan for this long.
Seiji shivered. Preparations had started early – no one wanted to give the youkai a chance to catch them unawares – and the storehouse was drafty. Perhaps he should have brought Shuuichi-san’s jacket as well.
No matter. Minor inconveniences could be easily ignored when there were larger stakes at play.
He had confidence it would work out. Just as he had told Shuuichi-san, Seiji had a good grasp of his borrowed powers now. Good enough to gauge that they could carry a certain spell, at least.
Seiji watched one of the junior clan members offer everyone umbrellas with a distinct pattern that mimicked an eye. Another clansman had just finished renewing the wards around the clearing. Basic precautions both, but still useful. And like any ritual, it imbued people with a measure of reassurance: a conviction that they could have control over a situation provided they got each part of the ceremony right.
Gave them something to do.
Shuuichi-san accepted his umbrella with a wordless nod and opened it above his head, giving it one slow twirl. The umbrella hid his face from Seiji, but it’s not like Shuuichi-san had been able to see him before, either. Seiji had told him he would be around, close by in case there was a need for unplanned intervention, and reminded Shuuichi-san that his role was to be there and nothing else.
He hadn’t even had to lie about that .
Seiji whispered a small incantation that breathed more energy into the spells he’d set up to pass along to him any distress signals received by the house wards. Hijacking them directly hadn’t seemed worth the effort when he could get what he needed in an easier way.
An even easier option would have been to be present on the grounds, up close and personal, just like the youkai prefered it, but he couldn’t risk being seen as Shuuichi-san. The odds of being hunted down and shot by Nanase-san to protect the secrets of her clan’s head were too high to ignore.
Still, given his current location, that shouldn’t be an issue.
Below, Shuuichi-san looked upward, gazing contemplatively at the sky. The movement put his face in Seiji’s line of sight, as if he could sense his presence.
The skin on Seiji’s knuckles tightened. The temporary binding spell should not have had that side-effect; mere coincidence, then.
A high-pitched thrum against the wards brought Seiji’s focus sharply to the stage.
It was coming.
The clansmen on the ground had arranged themselves in the usual defence formation, the biggest advantage of which was a chance to confuse the youkai before it could make its first lunge.
It was always up to the clan’s head to deflect the strike. His first deliberate untruth.
The air ripped and distorted as the hideous figure manifested itself above the crowd. As always, it seemed bigger and messier than should be possible, an angry tear in a clear sky spilling curses against a thief who had run away. Younger clan members flinched at the ferocity, but stood their ground. Well-trained.
Their fear was understandable: the youkai was agitated. It could not detect its target, and the confusion fueled its rage – and as its rage grew, so did its powers. What they were witnessing was a massive temper tantrum by a spirit denied its chance to jump its prey.
Both parties knew the rules of this game. One of which was that the youkai hated it when someone broke the rules.
Well, tweaked was more like it. Seiji had no desire to break the rules of the game: the arrangement had its downsides, but none worth permanently ending it. The binding spell he had cast the previous evening made it impossible to tell who the clan head was, washing the identity completely between the two of them. The sum of the components was something different from either of them on their own.
It was a binding spell, even if he had misled Shuuichi-san about its desired effect. His second lie that evening.
The youkai thrashed and wailed in the sky, blind fury making it insensitive to the damage inflicted by the house wards every time it threw itself against them. Not enough to drive it away, but very effective at feeding its rage. The raw power of the spirit’s grudge tore at the clansmen’s robes and made the trees in the garden creak and bend.
It would return next month, even angrier and more destructive than this, Seiji knew. He was counting on it.
After all, much of life was a matter of arranging the consequences you chose to face.
Seiji told himself not to glance at Shuuichi-san’s wristwatch. By his calculations, once denied the bait, the youkai soon would leave, to nurture its grudge and lick at its wounds. Not without having thrashed against the house wards a little, but those could benefit from some additional field testing.
The mindless beast made another circle above the heads of the clansmen gathered on the ground, and gave an angry roar.
Seiji could see the confusion in several of the younger clansmen’s postures; a few umbrellas sagged uncertainly. (Unfortunately, he couldn’t see exact faces – he hoped Shuuichi-san was taking notes; slips like that were unacceptable.)
True, the current behavior was not usually demonstrated by the curse youkai. Typically, once manifested over a crowd, it would lock onto Seiji and make a lunge without prowling around. In a more predatory mood, it would seek to stalk its prey in solitude.
Still, there was no excuse for sloppy defense. This was neither the first, nor would it be the last time that something unusual happened – as the veterans in the crowd were well aware; not one of them wavered. Of the two parties involved in this equilibrium, it was not the Matobas’ role to get predictable.
Another circle above the crowd.
And another.
Seiji observed the trajectory of its flight with increasing concern; it was no longer knocking into the wards. This was not the berserker rage he had counted on: the anger now had a purpose, a focus.
It was still prowling for its prey.
The realization was chillingly unpleasant; Seiji was not in the habit of miscalculating often.
The binding spell must have blurred the spiritual lines well enough to disguise his identity; otherwise there would have been no confusion. But that no longer seemed the optimal solution, when the youkai’s hungry attention was palpable, and deliberate, and seemed willing to settle for lesser prey.
That did not bode well for anyone on the mansion grounds. There was a reason why the Matoba head always made himself the clearest target.
He was the only one who could deflect the strike, time and again.
As if satisfied that its intentions were now clear to Seiji, the youkai didn’t linger much longer.
Its lunge was sudden, and precise.
Several things happened at once:
Nanase-san angled her umbrella in time to let the claws of the youkai tear at the enchanted paper and wood instead of her face. Mangled, the umbrella was now little more than a wooden stick, pointed against an enraged spirit.
Seiji pulled tight the invisible chain he had readied as soon as he realized the youkai would attack someone. The spell’s advantages were its invisibility, independence from any material sources of power, and a relatively short casting time. Versatility, delicacy in employment, or responsiveness to further commands weren’t on the list.
To put it bluntly, it was an invisible harpoon: once thrown – and if aimed accurately – it would lodge into its target, and when pulled back, it would drag the target with it.
A suboptimal solution, given the need to keep a low profile. But Seiji was working with what he had; the spell was fast enough, and powerful enough to yank the youkai off its current trajectory.
And towards Seiji, of course.
The youkai shrieked and jerked to the side, twisting in pain. Unsurprising: though invisible, the harpoon dealt some physical damage. Seiji gave the chain another yank, which drew another wail of pain from the creature, but didn’t move it one inch.
Nanase-san, of course, didn’t waste the moment of its hesitation: she jabbed the creature with the sharp spike that used to be her wooden umbrella. The youkai roared in pain and lunged to brush away the spike, and Nanase-san with it, but nothing happened.
Because someone else had bound it, limb to the body. Someone holding the loose end of the spiritual net that now encircled the youkai.
With a growing sense of inevitability, Seiji turned his eyes off the youkai to see Shuuichi-san standing arrow-straight, his hands spread apart, fists tight around the invisible net pulling the youkai towards him. The umbrella rolled on its side several steps behind him, discarded and forgotten.
Any Matoba clan member would have known better than to stand in the line of fire of the curse without the umbrella’s protection.
Shuuichi-san was many things, but a Matoba clansman he wasn’t.
Seiji bit into his lip hard enough to draw blood.
He didn’t have many options at this point. Which really only meant that he had no time to waste on worrying about possible consequences.
Carefully, so that the invisible harpoon would stay lodged in its place, Seiji started unravelling the previous night’s binding spell. Like slowly unwrapping bandages around a wound, letting a little blood taint the waters and draw in the predator.
The youkai jerked in its chains with such force that Shuuichi-san involuntarily took a step forward. Nanase-san, ever the sensible exorcist, was gesturing the other clan members to get out of the way.
The youkai had sensed the bait. The next step was going to be trickier: while Seiji had a good guess as to what was kind of spell Shuuichi-san had employed (and gave him credit for having something other than a paper-based exorcism in his repertoire), he was not sure if in his current situation he could directly counter a spell cast with Seiji’s own powers.
The irony of the situation didn’t escape him.
Quick. Think. Did he actually have to counter that spell?
A solution came to his mind, so simple that he had to bite back a laugh.
Necessity was truly the mother of invention.
A quick spell – child’s play, really, something children in exorcist clans figured out even before they embarked on formal training – and Shuuichi-san tripped and fell. Nothing more arcane than a simple push of power, crudely used to make an unsuspecting person lose their balance.
Shuuichi-san was quick to rise to his feet, but it was already too late: his invisible net slipped from his grasp, and the youkai quickly took advantage of its partial freedom. It inflated to twice its size, roaring and flying about, anchored by nothing but Seiji’s harpoon spell.
Time to run, then.
Seiji dismissed the harpoon spell and dashed down the stairs and out the exit. He had to trust that his clan knew their roles during this event well enough – either be part of the defence formation, or stay far enough away to not become collateral damage – that his way would be clear. He could still hear the occasional roar and feel the thrumming of the wards as they once again came under attack, but couldn’t tell if it was coming this direction.
He had to trust that the youkai would follow him. Couldn’t waste time wondering what would happen if it didn’t.
At least he was fairly certain he’d removed himself from the storehouse before Nanase-san could send someone to take a look around; he knew better than to believe that she would have failed to notice the youkai being pulled in two directions – or to triangulate the source of the second – simply because it had been her own life in danger at the time.
And at least he’d had the foresight to choose one of the storehouses nearest the forest. He only had to pass through a single rock garden, which was almost as deserted as he’d hoped: all he encountered was a shiki standing guard by a stone lantern.
Seiji considered banishing it, just in case, but it did not even raise its paper head to watch his passage; it was probably safe enough to leave it alone for now.
By the time he reached the forest, quickly leaving the well-trodden paths and heading towards its thicker parts, the wards had stopped buzzing, and he could no longer hear the curse shrieking, either. Seiji paused, slowing and quieting his breath, and listened: he could still hear the faint sounds of human activity, but that was all.
And no birdsong. Something was coming.
He cast a quick glance at his surroundings. Not ideal – he really did prefer working in larger clearings than the space between a handful of tall trees – but now the forest was his only chance to face the youkai one on one.
He planted his feet, took a deep breath, and exhaled, falling easily into the focus he would need to perform the banishment.
The soundless, anticipatory pause dragged on.
And on.
Seiji’s palms, arranged and frozen in the first gesture of the banishment spell, were steady. Posed to execute the exorcism on the shortest notice, as soon as the youkai appeared. He still refused to consider the alternative. It would follow him here, as it had found and followed him before.
The bond between them – as cursed a thing as it was – transcended the body he inhabited. The one constant in his life would not fail to recognize him due simply to a change in his material body.
The youkai would not lose their game so easily.
Branches rustled nearby, and Seiji’s eyes narrowed as he turned to face the incoming threat. He drew a breath –
And he came stumbling into the clearing, eyepatch stark across his face, and for a single dizzy moment Seiji wondered if the youkai could really be that stupid –
But no. He wouldn’t put it past the youkai to attempt to mimic him, especially given such an amusing opportunity to do so, but it would not be capable of mimicking not just Seiji’s outer form, but the entirely un-Matoba-like way in which Shuuichi-san stumbled to a halt, blinking at him.
Seiji exhaled, his fingers relaxing. “What,” he began frostily, “are you doing –”
Crashing again, from the direction of the house, and –
“Above!” Shuuichi-san yelped, and Seiji had just enough time to look upward and curse his lack of umbrella – he really should have stopped to pick up a spare – when something wrapped around his waist and yanked. Hard.
(If he could get that sort of power from a simple paper chain, perhaps Seiji had been remiss in not attempting to learn more of the Natori family’s trademark spells.)
Seiji felt the youkai lunge past – almost close enough to touch – as the chain pulled him out of the way, knocking the wind out of him and crashing him into Shuuichi-san.
“Last I heard, it’s the job of the head of the clan to deal with this guy,” Shuuichi-san said, catching Seiji’s fall and helping him straighten up, while Seiji fought to catch his breath.
Another paper chain had already wrapped around the youkai, pulling it back and tying it to a tree; the one Shuuichi-san had used on Seiji loosened its grip and slithered towards the youkai, coiling even more tightly around the tree.
It was. Undeniably efficient.
“And last I heard, that’s currently –”
Seiji shook himself. Centered, breathed, formed the first sign, and spoke.
As the last syllable passed his lips, the clearing flashed with light. Not quite as bright as usual, but … sufficient. The youkai roared, the sound very familiar in the quality of its pain, and when the spots faded from Seiji’s eyes, he and Shuuichi-san were alone in the clearing once more.
“Me,” Seiji said.
Shuuichi-san opened his mouth, looking like he planned to object to this assessment, but paused when Seiji raised a hand.
Voices. Still distant, but it wouldn’t take them long to reach this clearing, and the recent light show should have been all they needed to pinpoint it.
Which meant it was time for Seiji to make himself scarce.
“Your audience awaits,” he said dryly. “... Fix your eyepatch.”
Seiji didn’t stay to watch. If he left now, he could take a moment to banish that one shiki on the way back inside. Just in case.
“That. Did not go according to plan,” Shuuichi-san said, much later, when he had escaped the ministrations of the clan to rejoin Seiji in his private room. He eyed Seiji with what was, admittedly, entirely warranted suspicion. “At least, not according to the plan I was aware of.”
Nor the one he had not been made aware of, at that.
“I made a few miscalculations,” Seiji said.
Shuuichi-san waited, still looking at him, but if he expected Seiji to provide a detailed accounting of his errors, he would have a long wait ahead of him.
Apparently, Shuuichi-san came to the same conclusion; he shook his head and sighed. “Well. It worked out in the end, I suppose.”
It had missed Seiji’s assumptions by a mile. There had nearly been a body count. It had necessitated a reckless dash to make good on an even more reckless bet.
But in a manner of speaking, it had.
“Indeed.”
Seiji walked to the stack of notes on spell reversal they had made the previous night. “We can’t afford to spend much longer researching this.”
Shuuichi-san looked towards Seiji. Not arguing, for once, just listening.
“We now have solid evidence that operating with each other’s respective spiritual powers is possible,” Seiji said, choosing his words carefully, “and can be done without inducing suspicion, as long as we stay away from our signature spells.” Seiji observed that Shuuichi-san didn’t contend this point. “Conveniently, that still leaves us plenty of overlap without having to take into account our limitations.”
Shuuichi-san rolled his eyes, but didn’t respond otherwise. He must be more affected by his brush with the curse youkai than he let on. Seiji didn’t hold that against him; it was, after all, not something he should have had to deal with.
“But the devil is in the details,” Seiji continued. There were too many unknowns. Too many scenarios where despite all his knowledge, miscalculations were too probable. “And it only takes one exorcist noticing something out of place.”
Shuuichi-san gave a slow nod. “Which, honestly, could happen anytime either of us casts a spell in public.”
“And the more time we spend researching this, the greater the risk of discovery becomes.”
“Because if the push comes to shove, and we have to react with a magical fist to someone’s face, the fist could be traced to the right person,” Shuuichi-san said with a grin.
“Crudely put, but yes.” Seiji smiled, relieved.
“Let’s do it, then,” Shuuichi-san said. Something of Seiji’s surprise must have shown on his face, as Shuuichi-san raised an eyebrow. “The sooner we change back, the sooner I don’t have to deal with your paperwork anymore.”
Shuuichi-san’s tone was light, but his eyes were sharp. Seiji thought he would think about that later. It was more important to capitalize on the principal agreement at the moment.
“Tomorrow?” Shuuichi-san asked, all business again. “You’re hosting another exorcist meeting, and I believe Noda-san can be easily persuaded to attend.”
“Ah, yes. I assume your invitation is … somewhere in your apartment?” Seiji couldn’t recall having seen it, but he hadn’t gone digging through every stack of paper.
“I might have tossed it,” Shuuichi-san said with an easy shrug. “If you can’t find it, just crash without one. It won’t be the first time I’ve done so.”
That much was certainly true. One could not accuse Shuuichi-san of being overly fond of exorcist etiquette.
“Well,” Seiji glanced at Shuuichi-san’s wristwatch, “then we have several hours to finish putting together the counterspell.”
“What about my other appointments?” Shuuichi-san asked dubiously.
Seiji couldn’t keep his smile off his face. How responsible, at the end of the day. “Nanase-san cleared your schedule for today, if you remember.”
The relief on Shuuchi-san’s face was comically palpable. “Right.”
When he’d first ascended to the position of clan head, Seiji had tried to insist that it was unnecessary. Clearing the day of all obligations was a custom that remained from the days when the clan was not yet able to narrow down the appearance of the cursed youkai to a matter of hours, and later upkept because some of his predecessors had needed the rest of the day to recover from the experience.
Seiji never had.
(Except once. And that one had taken longer than a day.)
But over time, he’d come to appreciate the day off; it gave him a chance catch up on some reading. And today, it would be particularly useful – Shuuchi-san didn’t appear in need of serious rest, either, which meant they could use the time to prepare for tomorrow without interruptions.
Seiji rifled through the stack of scrolls and handwritten notes, and handed several to Shuuichi-san. “Here. You look through those to work this into a counter-spell; I’ll put together the diagram.”
He nodded and took them without complaint, and Seiji settled in to read.
The rest of the morning and afternoon passed in comfortable quiet, interspersed with occasional discussion. They pinned several sheets of paper together, building a single chart big enough to accommodate all details of the counter-spell. The rays of the setting sun were beginning to slant their way across the floor when a gentle knock sounded at the door. Shuuichi-san’s head shot up, and he threw a glance at Seiji. “That’ll be dinner,” Seiji said. “They don’t bother to come in; just wait a few minutes and the hall will be empty.”
“Convenient,” Shuuichi-san said.
When he stood, Seiji stood too, stretching out limbs that had been in the same position for too long. “I shall take this as my cue to leave as well,” he said.
Shuuichi-san paused, hand on the door. “But –”
Seiji waited, but nothing else seemed forthcoming. “Surely you can sleep in my bed alone?”
Shuuichi-san sputtered.
“And I believe I have a party to publically crash from outside , tomorrow night.”
“You’ve made your point,” Shuuichi-san said hastily. “Go get your beauty sleep. Elsewhere.”
Seiji tried to toss his head in proper Natori fashion, and smile sparklingly. “Does this look like a face that needs beauty sleep?”
From the horror on Shuuichi-san’s face, he couldn’t tell whether he’d done terribly, or entirely too well.
“Yes. I know from experience it does.” Shuuichi-san pointed to the door. “Out.”
Seiji inclined his head slightly, suppressing his amusement. “Until tomorrow, then.”