Chapter Text
The flash of light ended and Marisa barely had time to realize Reimu had gone limp. She shifted her hand on her shoulder to catch her arm, and grabbed her by the waist with her other arm. She lowered her to the floor as gently as possible, then cast off her coat and bunched it up to place under her head. It was only as she did this that she realized the only sound she could hear was the rain falling against the window.
Where’s Izumi? Marisa thought as she looked around to find herself alone. Was she banished? Destroyed? Did the backlash kill both of them?! Marisa raced to feel in front of Reimu’s face and place her other hand on her neck. She was breathing and had a pulse, but Marisa was too panicked to stop and actually check her heart rate.
“Come on, Reimu, don’t do this to me…” Marisa muttered under her breath. She knew only a few healing spells and they were all very narrow-use, nothing for mysterious ritual-induced unconsciousness, more like hangover recovery and cramp relief. She looked up and down her body, and found she wasn’t shaking like it was a seizure (exorcisms could cause those, right?) but she could see her eyes moving beneath her closed lids. She spat out the incantation for a light spell and held the tiny pinprick of light above Reimu’s face, peeling each eye back to try and check for a concussion, but her rapid eye movement continued, not letting her test. Not that she knew what dream-like REM meant in this circumstance. Hopefully it was a good sign.
She gripped Reimu’s arm to try and move her to the recovery position, when she felt something wet on her left arm. Marisa looked to see a little blood soaking into Reimu’s white robe from the back of her left forearm. Right, she had drawn minor blood at some point during all this madness. She mental kicked herself and cursed aloud for forgetting about it. She was so flustered she could barely form the syllables for the minor calling spell to summon her bag from across the room. She distantly heard it drag across the hardwood floor, the sound scratchy and harsh with the salt still scattered about. She reached into the bag, and produced her first aid kit. The cut wasn’t serious, but it was something Marisa knew how to handle, so she focused on it. After cleaning the wound and applying the long bandage along the cut, she grabbed her wrist to try and move her arm again, but stopped once more. She felt something on her wrist.
Marisa inspected Reimu’s left wrist. There was something that looked like it could be a burn or a really bad welt, raised red skin in a very particular pattern. It was round, the size of a coin, and had a square hole directly in the center, almost like an antique yen piece. Marisa could swear she could see the kanji that would ring it if it was a coin, when she realized that the apartment was no longer silent.
“No, no, no what have you done Izumi?” It was Izumi, visible again and panicking, pacing back and forth. “You’ve killed the girl! She’s dead because of you and now no one can see you again! Not again, I can’t go through that again, not again notagainno-”
“Fukuda-san!” Marisa said, trying to get her attention. She stopped her pacing and rambling instantly. She turned and made eye contact with Marisa, and her face almost lit up.
“Oh, Marisa-chan! You can still see me!” she shouted, then rushed over to kneel down alongside Reimu with Marisa. “What happened, is she okay? Did I disappear?”
Marisa looked back down at Reimu. Her eyes had stopped moving behind her eyelids, and her breathing was steady. “She’s alive, but I don’t know enough to say more than that. You did disappear for a moment. Must have had something to do with the ritual,” Marisa explained, eyes still drawn to the mark on Reimu’s wrist.
“Oh, well then.” Izumi stumbled over her words. “I’m sorry, this is my fault.”
“No, it’s not, Fukuda-san,” Marisa said, shifting Reimu onto her side and into the recovery position. “It’s no one’s fault. Reimu can’t ever bring herself to ignore her duties as a shrine maiden, and you needed help. Sometimes, our natures just point us in bad directions.”
“But I can see it in your eyes,” Izumi muttered. “You blame me for this.”
Marisa inhaled deeply, and exhaled a very long sigh. “I was unkind to you, because all of this ghost stuff scared me. Still scares me. And I knew before I ever tried to dissuade her that she would do anything to help you, especially after she learned you’re a mother trying to find her daughter. I don’t hold it against you, Fukuda-san, but…”
“But you would prefer it if I didn’t need her help,” Izumi said, her voice laden with understanding. “I know how you feel.” She looked down at Reimu’s face, her eyes filling with what Marisa could only describe as a kind of distant parental fondness. “You really care for her, don’t you?” Marisa nodded. “How long have you two known one another?
Marisa looked down at Reimu as well, blushing a bit. “We’ve known each other for more of our lives than we haven’t. In terms of family, we’re all we have left.”
“I think she’s lucky to have you, Marisa-chan,” Izumi said.
“Thanks, and my full name’s Marisa Kirisame. Just call me Marisa, though,” Marisa said, reaching down to check Reimu’s pulse.
“Only if you call me Izumi.”
Marisa smiled. She’d never had a mother, but something about Izumi’s demeanor made her distantly imagine that this might be what having a cool stepmom was like. It…wasn’t awful. “It’s a deal then.”
Marisa had spent a good fifteen minutes looking up what to do on her phone while Izumi watched over Reimu, and she was just considering that she might have to dead-lift Reimu back to the shrine, when she finally stirred to life. She immediately rolled back onto her back, as she moaned and her eyes fluttered open.
“Oh, hey Izumi. Hey Marisa,” she said, in a strained voice. They both exclaimed and began to talk over each other, but Reimu weakly held up a hand. “I’m glad to be alive too, but please keep it down. Izumi-san, you should be able to leave the apartment now. Just don’t get too far from me.”
Izumi’s eyes widened. She hopped up from her kneeling position, and crossed the room to stand in front of the door. She tentatively stuck her hand out, then reached straight through the door. She emitted a giddy sound, then leapt through the door, then back into the apartment. She continued a kind of jubilant experimentation, sticking her arms through the wall. Marisa was slightly confused by how human her movements were. She didn’t float about or drift in the air, but walked around and sat and stood like she was still flesh and blood. If you ignored how she was translucent and if she wasn’t walking through a wall, you could almost imagine she was still human. (Marisa’s analytical side also wanted to know why she could walk through walls but stood and walked on the floor of this apartment on the third story of this building like she needed the floor, but knew this was not the time and quashed the thought.)
Marisa looked back to Reimu to find her warily staring at the mark on her wrist. Marisa needed to ask her what the hell happened, but wanted some privacy… “Izumi,” Marisa called out, and she stopped her wall-walking. “We’re going to need to get Reimu back to her shrine to rest up, but I’d prefer no awkward encounters. Could you scout the halls and stairs for us while I get her on her feet?” Izumi gave her an odd look, and Marisa had the guilty feeling that she had seen right through her request. Nevertheless, she nodded her head and stepped out through the wall.
Marisa immediately turned to Reimu, but Reimu spoke first, “I’m fine, I just overexerted myself, Marisa.”
“Don’t bullshit me, what happened?” Marisa said in a low, serious tone.
Reimu closed her eyes and sighed. “You were right, Marisa. The ritual was too much. I passed out from the strain. Moreover, the ritual failed, I constructed it incorrectly.”
Marisa's mouth hung open as she thought about what that could mean. “Then…what about Izumi? Why can she leave now?”
Reimu thought for a moment, then closed her eyes and spoke. “I had…an encounter while I was unconscious.”
“An encounter with…what?” Marisa asked.
“With…something greater than us. A guide of souls to the afterlife,” Reimu said, obviously choosing her words carefully. She must have seen the hundreds of questions forming in Marisa’s mind, because she held up a hand to stop Marisa. “It spoke to me, while I was out. Apparently, it’s been trying to help Izumi for years, but couldn’t. We…made a deal.”
Marisa sputtered, then spoke over Reimu’s protestations to not be interrupted. “You made a deal with a…with a…” she struggled to believe what she was saying. “With a…death god?”
“Something like that,” Reimu said. “It rebound Izumi to me, so she can leave the apartment. Gave me this,” Reimu held her left hand up and showed the coin-mark to Marisa. “Anyone who sees it can see and hear Izumi. It will fade once she moves on.”
Marisa looked at the mark, glad to have one question answered, but also stunned at the story. “And you got to live with this deal?”
“Apparently, I was going to live anyway. The shinigami could only contact me during my brush with death, though” Reimu attempted a joke, but Marisa could sense the bone-deep exhaustion and weariness that lay beneath the smirk. She wanted to interrogate her over every last detail, but could tell that this was as far from the right time as could be, so she set her concerns aside.
Marisa retrieved some medical gauze from her kit and wrapped it around Reimu’s wrist, hiding the mark. Didn’t need more people seeing Izumi or the brand-like symbol than necessary. “Are you ready to head home?” Marisa asked.
“No, but I’m less ready to stay here,” Reimu replied, weakly lifting her arm. Marisa clasped it and tried to lift her up onto her feet. Reimu’s legs buckled immediately. She couldn’t stand on her own, and Marisa knew she wasn’t strong enough to drag her all the way back to the shrine. She cast her eyes around, looking for something…
The chair. It would do, Marisa had just the spell for it. It was a simple wooden chair with some minor cushioning on the seat. Marisa set Reimu back on the ground, and rummaged through her bag for a focus.
“What are you doing?” Reimu asked, still laying down, shifting in place uncomfortably.
“Supporting you. Just rest, I’ve got this,” Marisa assured her. She withdrew a battered marker and a stack of post-it notes from her bag. She looked Reimu up and down, roughly estimating the measurement necessary, then she stood and walked over to the kitchen area, and tried to flip the switch. No good, so she conjured a quick light spell and flicked it into the overhead bulb, where it weakly illuminated the kitchen, enough for precision scribing.
Most magical glyphs and runes required very special ink, with exotic and strange components that served as mystic amplifiers. Vinegar fermented in a lizard’s corpse, nightshade that had been used to kill something, honey with crystal shards in it, that sort of thing. Using them on the go was a pain, but her particular blend of liquefied 'angel wing' fungus and ethanol soaked in starlight (dyed purple for visibility) worked well for most serious runes, and was usable in a marker for easy application. She tested it out one note, then began to construct the rune matrix on another note. She jotted down the characters for ‘metal’ and ‘wood’, along with those for ‘new shape’ and a small pictograph of the desired result. She capped the marker and pocketed it, along with the spare notes, then carefully folded the note so the runes combined into the glyph for the reconfigure spell. She set the folded note on the seat of the chair, nervously twisted one of her rings on her right hand for good luck and power, and whispered the incantation. The chair shuddered in place, before rearranging itself, the wooden pieces spinning and pivoting against each other, the cushioning flowing from the seat to the top of the form like water, until there was a thick wooden crutch where the chair had stood.
Marisa grabbed it before it could tip over, and then gathered the exorcism supplies and her coat, shouldered her bag and lifted Reimu up, propping her other side up with the newly transmuted crutch, Marisa propping up Reimu’s other side.
“How’s that? Will it work to the shrine?” Marisa asked.
Reimu tested some weight on it and nodded. “Not bad, Marisa. But we still need to stop by Hiroshi’s apartment.”
“Right, getting paid,” Marisa sighed. She guided Reimu over to the front door, and was about to turn the handle when Izumi leaned through the door with a hand up. Marisa suppressed a yelp.
“Just a moment, a couple’s coming home,” she said. Marisa had forgotten about the scouting mission she had sent Izumi on. Marisa listened, and heard the faint sound of muffled talking and footsteps in the hall. It moved past them, then faded after the sound of a door opening and closing.
“Thanks, Izumi,” Marisa whispered, she opened the door and helped Reimu down the stairs to unit 206. A brief knock on the door and Hiroshi appeared in pajamas, adjusting his glasses and then was startled by the state Reimu was in.
It took a little convincing, but Hiroshi eventually handed over fifty-five thousand yen, apparently double what Reimu had initially quoted him, citing her warning about additional fees if the spirit was troublesome (her obviously haggard state did a lot to sell how much trouble it was.) While her exhaustion was plain to see, Reimu avoided mentioning that she was the one being haunted now. Marisa was sorely tempted to pull the gauze off of Reimu wrist and reveal Izumi to Hiroshi, so he could understand the enormity of what Reimu had taken on for him, but she guessed that such a thing was most likely going too far. The poor man just wanted to sleep
When they eventually bade Hiroshi good night and shut the door, Reimu handed two ten-thousand yen bills to Marisa. She thought of only taking one, as she had agreed to, but Reimu did not look to be in a mood to argue, so she accepted them without comment. She helped Reimu down the stairs, Izumi still scouting ahead, occasionally asking details about the modern world she had missed in her confinement (What was inflation like now, was fifty-thousand yen good for this kind of job? Who was the PM? Who won between ‘Bebo’ and ‘MySpace’?)
It was still raining when they reached outside. Though it was awkward, Marisa managed to wedge her umbrella between their arms and shoulders, and they made it back to the shrine mostly dry. Marisa helped Reimu to her futon, and rolled the comforter up over her. Reimu was barely able to utter a small “Thanks” before she nodded off. It was then that a deep exhaustion hit Marisa as well, not just from the labor of limping Reimu back to her bed, but the emotional roller coaster she had been sent on.
Reimu would undoubtedly need some additional help tomorrow, and Marisa wasn’t feeling up to trudging back to her apartment, so she rolled out the spare futon in the front room and settled in for the night. Feeling paranoid, she slapped one of Reimu’s spare warding talismans on the front door of the shrine and locked the door.
“I know you’ll have a lot of questions for us, Izumi,” Marisa said. “But they’ll have to wait for tomorrow.”
Izumi was looking around the worn-down building with equal parts curiosity and concern. “I understand. Please get a good night’s rest, Marisa,” she said, then vanished in a swirl of mist.
Marisa smirked as she lay down on the futon. She still thought ghosts were bullshit, though in the moment before she fell asleep, the sentiment was decidedly less negative.