Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Since discovering the secret behind Okarun’s consistent disappearing acts, she and him had fallen into a steady pattern.

They’d be minding their own business at school or out on a perfectly normal, completely non-romantic excursion (like the movies, a casual walk through the park, or even ice skating, normal friend activities )when, inevitably, one of two things would happen.

Either they’d get yoinked into empty space and attacked for their organs, or they’d be ambushed right out in the open by some crazed yokai after Okarun’s balls.

As one does.

And every time, they’d kick ass, look incredibly cool, and walk away victorious.

…Well. She would look cool, at least.

Try as she might, she just couldn’t erase the mental image of Okarun’s cursed form blubbering and clinging to her, waiting for her to reassure him that she thought he was cool, too.

Sorry, Okarun.

But, despite their best efforts, he still took the brunt of the damage in fights. Either from getting hit himself or because they had to resort to using his all-outs to end things before they spiraled out of control. She was at least getting better at not putting him situations where he had to break something to save her though! It only happened like… once every 5 fights. If that.

Once the dust settled, she’d always wait carefully for the signal on what their next move was.

If he gave a thumbs up, she’d sigh in relief and cheerily suggest they all head to her place for an extravagant post-battle meal (courtesy of Granny).

If it was a thumbs down, he’d cling to his cursed form (usually with whatever nonsense he was doing with his glasses activated to hide his eyes), while she made excuses to whoever had been unfortunate enough to get caught up in the chaos that day. Then, they’d swiftly get the hell out of there and head to his apartment.

And if he was a quivering heap on the ground?

Well. Then she’d also take him to his apartment… but only after scooping him up with her powers like a poor stray kitten she’d scraped off the middle of the road.

But there was a problem.

Why did it always have to be his apartment?!

For some reason, even if it was just the two of them in a fight, Okarun refused to go anywhere but his own apartment to recover.

At first, she thought it was to save face in front of her Granny. But no! He flat-out admitted that her Granny probably already knew about his recurring post-battle… issues.

(And what the hell, hag?! Why hadn’t she told her?!)

When she pressed him for details on exactly when Granny found out, he just shrugged and refused to answer. Jerk.

Then, she figured it must have been because of the added distance.

She wasn’t entirely sure how he managed to keep moving after breaking something (and honestly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know) but she realized it probably wasn’t good for him. So, she offered to carry him back to her home, safely cushioned with her powers, so that it wouldn’t be a problem.

He still refused.

That was… rare. Not quite defiance, exactly, but it wasn’t like him to push back against her suggestions—especially in his cursed form, when he was usually extra clingy and… pathetically devoted? Was simpy a word?

And look, she’d admit it. She probably pushed too hard.

But of all the hills to die on, this was the one he picked? Insisting on dragging himself back to his tiny, drafty apartment?

She had even pointed out, very reasonably, that her home was properly warded against both evil spirits and aliens. That way, they wouldn’t run the risk of being attacked immediately after a fight.

His response?

“Oh, that already happened, Momo-chan,” he said casually, like he was talking about homework. “A Serpoian busted down my door while I had a broken arm, yo.”

She just stared at him.

“…And?!”

He shrugged, completely unfazed. “Dunno. We kinda just stared at each other for a sec, and then it turned around and left. Even fixed my door on the way out.”

…What?

She had no idea where to even start with that. How bad did he have to look for one of those literally unfeeling Serpoian bastards to take pity on him?!

She wanted to argue, wanted to tell him this only proved her point, but somehow… she had the sinking feeling this argument had already been lost.

Damn.

That might have been where they had gone too far.

They had been at his place, following their usual routine, him lying on her, slumped over like dead weight. The drafty room had made her cold, the ratty couch had been uncomfortable, and she could barely read the subtitles on his fuzzy TV.

There had also been this… weird, gloomy feeling she always got when she was at his place. Some strange malaise she could never quite shake.

And maybe (maybe) she had been in a lousy mood because this time, it had been her fault he got hurt. Again.

And maybe (just maybe) he had been in a lousy mood too, because when she had groaned and asked, “Tell me again why we’re at your place instead of my nice, warm bedroom?”

He had snapped.

It hadn’t been loud. It hadn’t been dramatic. But the moment she had said it, she had felt him stiffen. His shoulders had tensed beneath her hands. She couldn’t see his eyes anymore (he had been doing the glasses thing again) but she had seen the way his shoulders had shaken, just slightly.

And, perhaps most shockingly of all, he had lifted his head off her lap.

“…Sorry, Momo-chan.” His voice had been unsteady, quiet. Tired in a way that had made her stomach twist. “I just… find it more comforting to be here. You don’t have to stay.”

And sure, she had told herself that the reaction was probably just from the pain of his very much broken shin. Because he had, like an idiot, jumped in feet first to block a punch from a yokai that she would have totally had time to dodge (a lie).

But there had also been an itty-bitty chance that she had finally pushed him too far about his barely habitable apartment, and now he was on the verge of bursting into tears.

And, man, if that was true?

That did not feel good.

…Probably the pain, though. Probably.

She swallowed her pride, apologized, and gently guided his head back onto her lap.

But for the rest of the night, he had been quieter than usual. Even after he had transformed back into his human.

And when she had left, he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

Hadn’t even tried to force a smile. Just stood at the door with that blank, reflective stare. Thanked her for staying. Told her goodnight.

Hadn’t even offered to run her home, like he usually would.

After that, she had finally (begrudgingly) dropped the issue.

Of course, just because she had dropped the issue didn’t mean she wasn’t going to do anything about it.

She started by throwing out that disgusting, sodden mess he called a pillow.

When she had casually informed him of this, he had looked genuinely distraught. Like, wide-eyed, slack-jawed, visibly in mourning kind of distraught. He had only looked marginally less devastated when she pulled out two brand-new replacements.

That… might have been his emotional support pillow.

Whoops.

And he had looked so much like a kicked puppy that, against her better judgment, she had actually gone and dug it out of the trash later that night.

Her spiritual hands had at least saved her from physically sifting through garbage, but she could still feel everything she was touching.

It had been gross.

She had endured it, though, and when she had handed the pillow back to him (freshly washed!) he had looked like he was going to burst into tears again.

And then the jerk had the nerve to tell her it was pretty gross and weird that she had rummaged through his trash!

The hypocrite!

And he’d grinned as he said it, too. Little shit.

On top of that, she had brought over some spare blankets. Ones they totally didn’t use at her house anymore. And an old spare set of sheets for his bed. That they just happened to have lying around.

And maybe she had convinced her Granny that they desperately needed a new portable heater at home, and hey, Okarun, would you like the old one?

She had also tried bringing over some medical supplies and food, but, oddly enough, she had found him already pretty well stocked up on both.

The food wasn’t even stuff she thought he would buy for himself. Some of it was old-fashioned—dried squid, rice crackers, pickled plums. Stuff only old folks really ate anymore.

Hmm.

She thought she knew where it had come from.

Her suspicions were only confirmed the next day when he had quietly told her it wasn’t necessary but that he appreciated the restock anyway.

She had accepted the thanks. If the old hag wanted to be thanked, maybe she should stop skulking around and just admit she cared.

Still, even with all her attempts to add some creature comforts, that weird gloomy feeling in his apartment hadn’t gone away.

There were also rumors at school about ghostly wailing coming from a certain run-down apartment block.

Okarun did spend a lot of time in his cursed form healing these days while at his place…

There was a very real chance he was inadvertently haunting his own home.

All this was to say, they had fallen into a comfortable rhythm together.

It wasn’t great that Okarun still managed to break himself in a decent chunk of battles. But she didn’t dislike the time they spent alone together in the aftermath.

With the TV droning in the background, she would press ice packs against his latest bruises, run gentle fingers along the edge of his massive jaw, and tease out the tangles in his ethereal hair. All the while, she would quietly tell him the old stories Granny used to share, tales of spirits, yokai, and exorcisms, the kind that had fascinated and terrified her as a child.

And after a while, once the painkillers had kicked in or he had healed enough, he would tell her stories too.

Despite the usual laconic, deadpan yokai tone, she could still hear the undercurrent of pure fascination in his voice as he lay in her lap, staring up at her, explaining his favorite theories. He would call her Momo-chan like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Even if she hated seeing him in pain, she enjoyed those moments.

Just like she secretly enjoyed that he was only a smarmy little shit around her, she also enjoyed that he only really allowed himself to be this vulnerable around her.

(And maybe the hags. But mostly her.)

Suck it, Aira.

And they kept it up.

Even as their little group of supernatural conspirators grew.

Even as the foes they faced grew stronger and stronger.

Even after she spent a few terrifying days seeing firsthand what happened when he was forced to heal outside of his cursed form as they faced the threat of alien invasion…

And then—finally—

They got his second family jewel back.

It had been a mess.

They had finally—finally—found a solid lead, only for it to turn into a wild goose chase that left her trapped in a goddamn board game for literal days!

And they had been separated. But he had come for her.

And, somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, he had confessed to her.

And then, somehow, despite everything, he had still managed to pull through and save her.

Even though he had been forced to use a third all-out in the process.

Even though he had ended up completely incapacitated afterward (though, at the very least, he had managed to hold onto his transformation, thank goodness).

So, once the dust had settled and everyone else was busy celebrating Zuma’s return, she had snuck away—Okarun barely clinging to consciousness, cushioned safely by her powers, which had finally returned after she had escaped that nightmare of a game.

For whatever reason, holding onto his family jewel seemed to help him hold on. A little.

Still, it had taken him much longer to heal this time.

A lot longer.

She had forced herself to stay awake into the wee hours of the morning, unwilling to risk him falling asleep and slipping out of his cursed form too soon.

And neither of them had made a move to bring up… that.

The confession.

They could wait.

Wait until he had healed.

Wait until everything had calmed down.

And here they were, a day later, ready to celebrate their victory with a meal, everyone present, and finally return Okarun’s second ball.

And with that, his deal with Turbo Granny would be complete.

It was odd, though.

Momo had expected Turbo Granny to be ecstatic about getting her powers back. She had braced herself for smug superiority, for obnoxious gloating, for some dramatic declaration about how she was going to murder them all, but they weren’t even worth the effort anymore.

But instead…

She seemed almost reluctant.

She had made a huge deal about letting Okarun keep her powers long enough to heal after the battle yesterday. But now that he was healed? She was weirdly quiet.

Didn’t even try to steal food off people’s plates during dinner.

That was suspicious.

Then came the ball game ritual—something Granny insisted was absolutely necessary (for some reason), even though it made zero sense.

Turbo Granny had talked a big game about her pitch, hyping it up as impossible to hit.

But to Momo’s eye?

It looked like an easy shot.

And Granny had hit it. Easily.

What the hell?! Did they want Okarun to get his ball back or not?

She had thought she had heard every possible variation of his screams by now, but as they watched one of his testicles (he had refused to tell her whether it was the left or right when she asked), go soaring into the distance, she was treated to a brand new shriek of true horror.

Turns out he was a little shriller when screaming in human form. Go figure.

But, thanks to all of them working together, they managed to recover his ball (for the fourth time!) pretty quickly.

And again, Momo could have sworn Turbo Granny looked almost disappointed as they made their way back—golden ball clutched tightly in Okarun’s hand.

But soon enough, he was made whole again, dropping to his hands and knees to thank everyone for their help.

Then, he turned to Turbo Granny

And flashed that stupid (cute), earnest smile of his.

“Turbo Granny,” he said, voice warm with gratitude, “thank you for letting me use your power all this time. It really saved us.”

Turbo Granny just hmphed, but Momo just barely caught the muttered, “Don’t thank me yet, brat.”

…What did she mean by that?

She didn’t get a chance to ask.

Because Granny was already approaching with the basin of water, her expression unreadable.

The room quieted.

Okarun settled into place, barefoot, feet in the tub, holding Turbo Granny carefully in his lap.

The atmosphere felt… wrong.

Their friends were watching with mild curiosity, Okarun sat with determined focus—but Granny and Turbo Granny?

They were wearing matching expressions of grim resignation.

Granny didn’t even say one of her usual dumb lines.

She just sighed, reared back, and struck Okarun with the fan—

And the entire room held its breath.

At first, nothing seemed to happen.

Okarun flinched at the impact, slumped forward, and—

Wait.

Was that her imagination, or had the little maneki-neko grimaced before hopping off his lap?

Momo barely had time to process it before the air around them thickened, humming with power.

In the background, she could hear the others freaking out as Turbo Granny’s true form unfurled, spiraling above them in an oppressive haze of spiritual energy.

But her gaze was locked solely on Okarun.

He hadn’t reacted since being hit. He was still slumped forward, curls falling over his face, hiding his eyes.

A sick feeling curled in her gut.

“Okarun?” she called hesitantly.

No answer.

His body tilted to the side, and she had to scramble to catch him before he collapsed entirely. In her rush, she kicked the basin of water aside, sending it clattering across the floor.

That finally got a reaction. Sort of.

For a split second, it looked like he was about to say something. His mouth opened, lips parting ever so slightly. But instead of words, a wet, gurgling noise slipped out—followed by blood, bubbling up at his lips and trailing in a thin line down his chin.

Her stomach dropped.

“Okarun?” she tried again, her voice coming out more nervous than she intended. “Stop being dramatic.”

He still didn’t answer.

For a brief, desperate moment, she thought (hoped) he was crying.

But no.

The dark red liquid welling at the corners of his eyes wasn’t tears.

Her fingers tightened around his shoulders.

She didn’t know what was wrong with him. She didn’t know what to do. But she had seen him come back from worse than… a little internal bleeding.

He would be fine.

…Right?

Except he didn’t have Turbo Granny’s powers to heal him anymore.

“Okarun…” she whispered, panic creeping into her voice now. “You’re starting to scare me.”

He still didn’t respond.

Behind her, Turbo Granny made a noise of irritation. “The balls weren’t enough, huh?”

She tore her gaze away from him, snapping her head toward Turbo Granny.

“What are you talking about?” she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.

Then, more desperately, more frantic now—

“What’s wrong with him?”

Turbo Granny tilted her head, expression unreadable.

“Can’t you tell? He’s dead.”

What?

No. That was—she was just messing with her. Right?

Right?

With shaking hands, she pressed two fingers to his neck.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

Somewhere, far away, voices rose in panic. But they were distant, muffled. Just a dull hum beneath the deafening silence roaring in her head.

Chapter Text

She didn’t want to believe it.

Mechanically, as if on autopilot, she reached for her powers. If she could just get his heart going again, he would be fine, right?

Right?

She pressed a shaking hand against his chest, fingers sparking with spiritual energy as she prepared to start massaging his heart.

“That didn’t work last time,” Turbo Granny’s voice cut in, flat and unimpressed. “Not on its own.”

Her head snapped up, anger flashing across her face. “Then do something!” she snapped.

“Cheh.”

Fury filled her at the dismissive reply, but before she could retaliate, she felt it, Turbo Granny’s spiritual power flaring in the air.

For one brief, horrifying moment, She thought she was about to be attacked. Instinctively, she threw up an arm as if that would somehow block the oncoming attack.

But instead, the power rushed… past her.

The now-empty doll tipped forward and clattered lifelessly to the ground.

The energy was gone. From the doll. From the room.

She didn’t even need to check with her spiritual sense to know where it had gone.

Into Okarun.

A fresh wave of rage burned through her, white-hot and all-consuming. Before she could even think, her powers surged in her hands, ready to rip the stupid hag out of him and exorcise her for good this time.

But before she could act, a steady hand landed on her shoulder.

She stiffened. Slowly, she looked up, tear-streaked eyes meeting her Granny’s.

Granny gave her a small shake of the head.

Her breath hitched.

What was she doing? Was she just supposed to sit here and watch? Watch while Turbo Granny desecrated whatever was left of Okarun?

Her hands trembled at her sides, clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms. She watched, waiting for the inevitable.

Waiting for the possessed form of Okarun to leap up and attack her.

But… that didn’t happen.

Instead, she blinked in confusion as his body creaked and shifted, stretching into that now all-too-familiar cursed form.

Her confusion deepened as, just as suddenly as she had taken him, Turbo Granny poured back out of him.

Her spiritual energy rushed back into the doll again but… it felt weaker this time. Lesser.

The little cat spirit shook out her limbs before turning to Momo with a huff. “The hell are you waiting for?! Get his heart going again!”

She startled, snapping back into motion.

She pressed both hands against Okarun’s chest, focusing every ounce of her power on massaging his heart back into beating, forcing air into his lungs.

He was cold.

He was always cold in his turbo form, though. That was normal.

That was normal.

She could still fix this though.

Even though reality was starting to set in.

This asshole. He wasn’t allowed to die. It was his turn to buy lunch next!

And not even in a cool battle or anything! He didn’t even have the decency to go out in some epic last stand, taking down a horde of aliens and yokai with him—no, he just keeled over while sitting on a goddamn chair like an idiot, leaving her to deal with the fallout.

Unacceptable.

She continued to try and aggressively revive him as her mind ran circles around her.

If he dared to die on her, she was going to march straight into whatever afterlife he ended up in to drag him back kicking and screaming, whether as a ghost, a yokai, or whatever.

Although… if she did, would it even still be Okarun?

How would that even work? Would he just linger around, haunting her forever? Most people wouldn’t be able to see him, which would make things complicated. He wouldn’t be able to get a job, for one. Or like, exist legally in the eyes of the law.

…Could you even have kids with a ghost or yokai?

Luckily, she didn’t have to dwell on the moral or logistical nightmare of keeping her boyfriend best friend around as a yokai or ghost, because her continued efforts to revive him finally paid off.

His eyes flew open, his chest heaving as he sputtered for breath. Under her phantom touch, his heart gave a sluggish, uneven beat. Then another.

She let out a slow breath of relief and mentally scrapped her elaborate future plans to bury his body in the woods, hide his death from the authorities, and eventually find a legal loophole to marry him without him being physically present.

For now.

Okarun stared up at her from his position cradled in her arms, those big, watery red eyes of his wide with shock.

His jaw clacked open and shut a few times.

She leaned in, heart pounding, ready to hear whatever touching and profound thing he was about to say.

Was he going to thank her for saving him?

Repeat his earlier confession?

Maybe, just maybe, he was even going to ask her to lean down for a kiss?!

Instead, he tilted his head to the side—

— and vomited blood all over her lap.

A beat of silence.

Then he started screaming.

She had never been so happy to hear him scream in her life.

He screamed for… a while.

Long enough for Momo to get bored and start looking around the room. It was just the two of them and the two hags now. At some point, Granny must have herded the rest of the crew out.

He was still screaming.

With the patience of someone who had seen and heard too much, she reached out and gently, so very gently, took his gaping jaw and closed it manually.

The screaming continued, but now it was muffled, which was at least an improvement.

She sighed and idly ran her fingers through his wispy hair, a familiar routine meant to soothe him, or maybe just to pass the time until he calmed down.

Eventually, the muffled wailing petered out. Whether because he felt better or because he’d straight-up worn his throat out was anyone’s guess.

“You done?” she asked dryly.

“…For now,” he croaked.

Granny groaned from the side. “You better be done, Four-Eyes. My ears are still ringing.”

“Dramatic little punk,” Turbo Granny sneered.

He withered under their combined glares and promptly turned to cling to Momo’s midsection, attempting (and failing, thanks to his massive jaw) to hide his face in her lap.

“What happened?” he groaned. “I feel like my insides melted or something.”

She had the same question, honestly.

And… looking at the amount of blood he had vomited on her (and the floor), she wasn’t sure that his guess was that far off the mark.

“What happened, you shithead,” Turbo Granny snapped, hopping onto his leg and immediately smacking him with a porcelain paw, “is that you went and got yourself dependent on my spiritual powers! The second they left your body, your sissy ass straight up died!”

“Oh,” he said, blinking thoughtfully.

Then his expression crumpled into distress, and he looked up at her, tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

“Momo-chan, I kind of want to start screaming again, but my throat hurts.”

She gave his head a conciliatory pat. “How about you don’t think about it and just sit in my lap instead?”

“…Okay.” he whimpered pathetically, leaning into her touch.

She got maybe… five minutes of peace. Five minutes of pretending he hadn’t just died in her arms before he opened his mouth again.

“Sorry, Momo-chan. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

She sighed. “Yeah, figures.”

He hesitated, then asked, “So, am I, like… dead now, yo?” He sounded like he was only half joking.

“You’re not dead, idiot.” She shot back.

Then, turning away from him, she cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered to the hags, “He’s not dead, right?”

He tried to sit up—only to immediately collapse back down with a groan. “Momo-chan, I can still hear you?!”

“Cheh.” Turbo Granny waved a porcelain paw dismissively. “I didn’t want his corpse stinking up the place, so I threw him a few scraps of power to keep him alive. Three percent… maybe five. Basically nothing.”

Momo narrowed her eyes.

Hmm.

She closed them for a second, scanning the auras in the room. As usual, Turbo Granny’s consciousness flickered dimly within the maneki-neko doll. But now, it was accompanied by a roaring inferno of black and red.

And then there was Okarun. His own tiny, flickering, barely-there blue aura (don’t think about it don’t think about it Momo) was now surrounded by an equally large, flaring aura of red and black.

Five percent, her ass.

“So I’m not dead, yo?” he clarified.

“No, you’re not.” Turbo Granny said as she jabbed him in the ribs, punctuating each word with another prod that only made him groan louder. “Because I saved you. But you’re gonna wish you were, you little twerp.”

An unpleasant sneer spread across her face. Momo had a feeling she was using her newly re-acquired spiritual powers to make her expression even creepier.

“’Cause you know what this means?” she continued, her voice taking on a triumphant lilt. “You owe me a life debt, you little punk.”

Her sneer sharpened.

“I’m your master now.”

And, as if that wasn’t enough, Turbo Granny chose that moment to hop onto his chest. “And as my first order as your new lord and master…” She managed to look down on him imperiously despite standing at a proud one foot tall. “I command you to stay like that, transformed, until you heal enough you can move without screaming.

She sniffed. “You’re useless to me broken.”

She then casually hopped back down and strolled out the room, her own Granny getting up to join her.

They both watched them go, both too stunned to say anything.

Okarun finally let out a quiet, confused sound—somewhere between a sigh and a whimper.

“…What the hell,” Momo muttered.

Okarun only whimpered again when her shifting accidentally jostled him

Left alone, they did what they always did when Okarun was injured. She let him use her as a pillow, pet his hair, and tried to distract him with TV.

Despite the change in scenery, it was almost comforting, slipping back into routine. And this time, she even had access to her Ken Takakura movie collection! It was almost enough to make her forget why Okarun was "injured" this time.

Almost.

He looked pretty off-kilter still. And while she was getting the cute purring after a bit, it was a bit quieter than usual.

Instead, every so often, he’d suddenly lurch upright to spew out more blood. At least he’d stopped aiming for her lap.

It was… a lot of blood. Like, way too much. She was pretty sure normal humans couldn’t lose that much and still be classified as “alive.”

Then again, she wasn’t sure if Okarun qualified as alive right now. Not when the only thing keeping him upright was Turbo Granny’s spiritual power.

Don’t think about it, Momo.

She gave up on telling him to wash all the blood off each time it happened and just let his head back on her lap. Granny was freakishly good at getting blood out of clothes at this point anyway.

They stayed like that for a few hours, barely talking, until Okarun stopped making those pained little noises and lurching up every so often.

She poked him. He didn’t start screaming again, so that was probably a good sign.

“You healed, dude?” she asked.

“Probably,” he said, voice slow and lazy.

“Gonna turn back?” The chill from him was starting to seep into her lap.

“…Don’t really wanna,” he admitted after a pause.

She nodded. “Understandable.”

“In case I die again,” he needlessly clarified.

“Yeah, I got that part.”

He groaned. “Momo-chan, I really wanna go home.”

She pulled out her phone to check the time. It was already dark, and getting to his place would be a hassle this late. Unless she wanted to stumble back after midnight, she’d probably have to stay the night.

Then she looked down at his miserable face.

Right. He’d literally died today. And he had mentioned before that his place was comforting (for some godforsaken reason). She could deal with being slightly cold for one night.

“C’mon then,” she said, shoving his head off her lap. She really hoped he wasn’t lying about being healed. “Let’s go.”

He blinked up at her from the floor, like he needed a second to process what just happened.

“It’s late,” he pointed out. Unnecessarily.

“Yep,” she said, popping the P.

“You don’t have to come too, Momo-chan.”

She stared at him like he was an idiot. Because he was.

“I’m not leaving you alone right now, dude.”

He had insisted on at least running them both to his apartment. She really hoped he was telling the truth about being healed, but considering he wasn’t shy about complaining these days (and the distinct lack of moans and groans) he was probably fine now.

Probably.

After a brief hesitation, he also insisted on checking with Turbo Granny before they left. On account of him apparently being her personal servant now.

He didn’t… actually believe that, did he?

She shoved that thought aside. Along with another, far worse one. What exactly was Turbo Granny doing in her grandmother’s bedroom all night, and in the form of an old woman, no less, from the glimpse she caught as they opened the door.

Granny didn’t have a TV in there. Or books. Or… anything that would entertain a pair of old hags for hours.

And they had been awfully quick to shoo him away after he had knocked on her granny’s bedroom door to beg for permission to leave…

Don’t think about it, Momo.

As she clung to Okarun’s back while he jogged at an easy pace into town, she let her mind wander.

So like. He totally confessed to her.

And they had kind of… unanimously agreed (without actually saying anything) to address it after he was healed and everything calmed down.

Well. He was healed now. And it was certainly… calmer than it was earlier.

Also, she might have been a tiny bit spooked by him dying in her arms earlier. Just a little.

And, okay, she was a little worried she’d wake up tomorrow and he’d just be… dead. Again. And then she’d have to start thinking up ways to hide a body again.

So yeah. Now seemed as good a time as any.

“Sooo,” she started, drawing out the word. “You love me, huh?”

Okarun stumbled. Nearly face-planted.

He barely managed to keep them from eating dirt, but she see his ears starting to turn pink from where she was pressed against his back.

“We, uh. We’re doing this now, Momo-chan?” he asked, voice slightly strangled in a way she was pretty sure had nothing to do with being out of breath.

“Don’t see why not,” she said, injecting more bravado than she actually felt.

He hesitated. “…I just… is it okay? After what happened?”

What did he mean by that?

She hit his back with an angry fist. “If anything, it’s more okay!” she exclaimed.

He lapsed into silence, turning gloomy, clearly struggling to find the right words.

“It’s just… if Turbo Granny takes her power back… I might not—”

She yanked his hair before he could finish.

“That’s not gonna happen, because if she even thinks about it, I’ll exorcise her ass and shove her power back into your lifeless body myself.” she growled through grit teeth.

“But Momo-chan—”

She could feel her irritation spike. “Listen here, you bastard. If you even think about pulling that stunt again, I will march down to hell and drag you back myself, you got it?”

“Yes!” he whimpered.

“What was that?” she snapped, yanking his hair again for good measure.

“Yes, Momo-chan!”

“And I love you too, and we’re dating now. You got it?” she practically screamed.

“Yes, Momo-chan!” he also screamed, just as loud.

They both went silent, slightly out of breath from their impromptu shouting match.

She finally let go of his hair, satisfied, only for the full weight of what she’d just said to hit her.

She went scarlet. Because. Oh.

She just screamed a confession at him. And he just… agreed to date her.

The awkward silence stretched between them as they ran, until Okarun finally spoke again—his tone confused. And maybe, just maybe, a little bit insulted.

“…Momo-chan. Why did you say you’d march down to hell to get me?”

“Shut it!” she barked instead of answering, yanking on his hair one last time for good measure.

When they got to the apartment, it was late, and without a word, they silently agreed to head to bed.

Though how exactly that was going to shake out was still up for debate. Okarun immediately offered her his bed, saying he’d take the couch.

Which. No. Absolutely not.

The guy didn’t even fit on the couch normally. He had to weirdly curl up like some kind of sad housecat when he used her as a pillow. There was no way that was good for him to actually sleep on it.

And c’mon. She wasn’t about to take his bed after he’d literally died earlier.

He argued piteously for a while, even dispelling his jaw to attempt a pout, but she stood her ground.

Which left him staring between her and the couch she knew wasn’t comfortable and would probably wreck her back if she slept on it either.

He bit his lip with his fangs, which she didn’t usually get to see in his cursed form on account of the mask , clearly deep in thought.

“I guess… I have a futon I could use,” he finally said.

She let out a slow exhale of (fond) exasperation.

“Why didn’t you say so?” she said, throwing her hands out. “I’ll just take that, and you can have the bed.”

“Momo-chan, you’re taking the bed,” he told her flatly, adding a stern little glare for emphasis.

Oh. Scary yokai Okarun was peeking through again.

For about two seconds, right up until he seemed to take her silence as refusal and added a rather plaintive please that was entirely at odds with his previous tone.

She sighed and agreed, more interested in actually getting into bed than fighting about it.

She watched in mild curiosity as he unlocked a previously locked cupboard, one she’d assumed was a utility closet or something.

Inside was… stuff. A lot of stuff. Packed away neatly in boxes.

Okarun suddenly turned a little gloomier as he carefully moved some of them aside. The weird, heavy feeling she sometimes got in the apartment grew a little stronger.

He knelt down and started moving boxes out the way. One of the boxes was filled with old newspapers. Another, tucked in the back, held women’s clothing and shoes, all carefully packed away.

They were dusty. Really dusty.

Momo suddenly felt like she shouldn’t be looking. She quietly slipped back into the main room.

A few minutes later, Okarun followed her, a futon clutched to his chest.

It didn’t look like it was a guest futon. It was a double. And it looked well-worn.

He had brought back the mask like jaw.

Even with his expression mostly hidden behind his glasses and it, he looked… uncomfortable.

“Hey,” she said, hesitating for a second before forcing the words out. “Maybe… we could just share your bed?”

He immediately relaxed, tension draining from his shoulders.

And just like that, she knew she’d made the right call—even if the prospect of sharing his tiny bed was currently sending her stomach into a full-blown butterfly breeding frenzy.

Of course, now that he wasn’t a sad little bundle of gloom and nerves anymore, his asshole side made a grand return.

He dispelled the jaw again and pouted. Actually pouted.

“But Momo-chan, you kick and snore in your sleep.”

“You asshole!” she squawked. “I’m trying to be sensitive here!”

He let out a dramatic wheeze as she started smacking him, but she could see the softened look in his eyes, despite his complaints.

“I know,” he said, rubbing the spot where she hit him. “Thanks, Momo-chan. Sharing sounds… good.”

She waited until he left to stash the futon away before heading back into his tiny bedroom.

With a flick of her powers, she launched his chewed-up old pillow across the room, then carefully flipped over the one it had been sitting on.

Just another thing to not think about tonight, Momo

Okarun returned a minute later, tossing her some comfy sweats to change into before grabbing something at seemingly random for himself and heading off to change in private.

When he came back, Oh.

The soft blue pants and button up top he had grabbed for sleepwear probably just about fit him in his human form.

But in his slightly lankier cursed form?

It was comically undersized. It was also a lot less intimidating than his usual uniform as it curled into black and red at the edges.

Momo clamped a hand over her mouth, snorting before she could stop herself.

He scowled.

And, okay, yeah, maybe it was rude to laugh at someone who had literally died earlier that day, but—

Gods, what was her life.

Despite his apparent anger at her, he climbed into bed, immediately turning toward the wall and pressing himself against it as much as possible. Like the gentleman he was.

She ignored the fact that he was absolutely freezing, ignored the increasingly acrobatic stunts the butterflies in her stomach were pulling.

And wrapped her arms around him anyway, closing her eyes and hoping she got to sleep quickly.

When she woke up, it was to a thankfully human (and very much alive) Okarun snuggled into her side.

And to an ancient alarm clock on the bedside table cheerfully informing her that school had started ten minutes ago.

For a solid second, she just stared at it.

Then panic hit.

They both scrambled to throw their uniforms on, tripping over themselves in their haste. They barely managed to make themselves look somewhat presentable (they really didn’t need any more rumors starting about them if they both arrived to school late looking rumpled).

Okarun had just stepped outside when she practically leapt onto his back, screaming, “Go, go, go!” before he even had a chance to transform.

To add to their humiliation it was pouring out, and they got drenched.

They rushed through the school gates a shameful thirty minutes late and trudged into the reception office, heads bowed as they quietly explained their tardiness and gave their names.

Only for the kindly office staff to blink at them in confusion.

“Ayase-san and Takakura-san?” the receptionist said, glancing down at a notepad. “Your grandmothers called this morning. They said you both experienced a bereavement in the family last night and wouldn’t be attending school today?”

Then, as if that wasn’t enough to send them straight into the abyss, he added, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

They both froze.

Offered a stiff, robotic bow.

And then very, very carefully turned around and walked out the door as casually as possible.

The second they cleared the office—

They bolted.

Momo didn’t stop until she was slumped against the wall outside the school gates, still reeling. And maybe teetering on the edge of hysteria.

Because the next thing she knew, she was bursting into laughter.

Through her wheezing, tear-streaked giggles, she somehow managed to choke out, “...Thanks for the day off school, I guess, Okarun.”

“Anytime, Ayase-san,” he replied automatically—

Then his brain caught up.

“Wait, no. Not anytime.”

“Only when there’s a math test,” she agreed with a solemn nod.

He squawked in alarm. “No!?”

With nothing else to do, they headed back to her place.

She tried to argue that since he was already soaked through, running again wouldn’t make it any worse… but he refused to give her another ride.

She was like… 80% it was because she laughed at his clothes the night before.

When she threw open the door to her home, she was greeted by the sight of both Granny and Turbo Granny just… chilling in the sitting room.

Halfway through a game of shogi.

Well. At least they weren’t snogging.

She ignored the fact that Turbo Granny, in her usual horrible old lady yokai form, was just hanging out in her house like this was normal.

Instead, she turned to her traitorous grandmother.

“Stupid old hag!” she said, raising an angry fist. “You should’ve told us you called the school for us!”

“Oi, oi. Who are you calling stupid?” Granny shot back, waving a hand dismissively. “Check your damn messages before throwin’ stones outta your glass house, Momo.”

She scowled—then checked her phone. Just in case.

There it was. A text. Sent over an hour before school even started.

Hag: I called the school for you two idiots. You’re welcome. Don’t expect it to happen again.

Shit.

She looked like an idiot now.

She hesitantly glanced at Okarun.

He was still in his yokai form. And squinting at her.

Shit.

She tried to stash her phone in her pocket, but his reflexes were too fast, and his arms were too damn long.

He snatched it from her, holding it in front of his face and peering like an old man before shifting back to human form and adjusting his glasses.

“Ayase-san!” he exclaimed, giving her a deeply sullen look. “You made me run to school in the rain for nothing!”

She panicked. She had to lie.

“I-I don’t get signal in your place!” she yelled, lunging for her phone.

He immediately held it out of reach.

“That’s a lie and you know it!”

They scuffled, at first just for fun, until he bit her.

She knew it. Knew he was a feral little shit but nobody believed her!

They scuffled a bit more, this time more seriously, her phone laying forgotten on the floor. But with him in his human form she was the one with longer arms. And she had the advantage of two additional psychic arms as well.

She grinned down at his stupid little cute face as she pinned him to the floor, triumphant.

And then—

“Oi! If you two are gonna do that kinda shit, get a damn room!”

Both old hags yelled it in unison.

And just like that, the moment was ruined.

Despite everything, things somehow… went back to normal after that.

Or, well, mostly normal.

Okarun could still use his powers. He even rather naïvely remarked on how impressive Turbo Granny must be if he was still just as strong as before with only 5% of her power.

Oh, Okarun. Sweet, stupid Okarun…

But he still took the brunt of attacks, still got hurt, and (thankfully) still healed up.

And Momo could almost pretend nothing had changed, aside from the small, insignificant detail that she and Okarun were now dating.

…Except for the very glaring fact that Turbo Granny was still hanging around.

Sometimes as a cat.

More often than not as a creepy old lady.

And sometimes—as creepy old lady with sharp teeth, cat ears, and a tail.

Momo wasn’t sure if Turbo Granny was aware about that last one.

And then there was the other issue.

The two old hags, the human one and the yokai one, were spending a lot of time alone together.

Either locked away in her granny’s room or heading out together.

She aggressively shut the line of thoughts her mind was taken down.

Don’t think about it, Momo.

She didn’t actually get to see what Turbo Granny’s being Okarun’s “master” entailed until a few days later, when she was heading to Okarun’s place to meet up before their date.

An actual date this time. Not just two totally platonic friends doing an activity that absolutely looked like a date to any sane observer, but totally wasn’t.

It was a little weird, though. He had never invited her over unless he was in still in his cursed form and it was after a fight. Outside of that, he got way too skittish about letting her into his space.

So yeah. The fact that he’d told her to meet him at his place?

Definitely suspicious.

Not this shit again.

As Momo let herself into Okarun’s apartment using her powers (he had offered to give her a key, but she had to admit, breaking and entering was kind of fun), she was immediately assaulted by the smell of cooking.

She wandered through to the his small ‘kitchen’, mildly surprised to see him hunched over a chopping board, a pot of curry sauce bubbling already on hob.

“What’s all this?” she asked, amused.

He startled at the sound of her voice, almost dropping the knife he was (rather clumsily) holding.

“Turbo Granny’s making me cook her curry,” Okarun said, sounding more than a little miserable.

Said Turbo Granny was currently perched on his shoulder, offering what could generously be called constructive criticism on his knife skills.

Momo snorted. “You know you don’t have to listen to her, right?”

Okarun shot her a panicked look, glancing at Turbo Granny out of the corner of his eye. “But she says she’ll take back her power if I don’t!”

“That’s right!” Turbo Granny sneered. “And you know what’ll happen if I do, punk. So keep it up!”

Funny thing was, Momo knew for a fact that Turbo Granny didn’t even like curry that much. If given the choice, she almost always preferred egg or fish-based meals.

She had a funny feeling the curry wasn’t actaully for her.

That suspicion was confirmed when, after Okarun finished cooking, Turbo Granny sniffed the air, made a show of gagging, and declared his attempt below her standards.

Then, in an eerily silent, slow stare-down, she wordlessly glared at Okarun until he started portioning out the curry into generous meal-sized containers, tucking them neatly into the fridge and freezer. He had to remove a few ice packs to make space.

She watched in continued amusement from her perch on the couch, before rising as he stashed the last of it away.

“If he’s done ‘cooking for you’,” Momo said, making sure to add the appropriate air quotes, “can I borrow him? We’re gonna go see a movie.”

Turbo Granny waved a porcelain paw lazily. “I guess. Was getting sick of him today anyway.”

Okarun exhaled in relief—only to jolt in surprise as Turbo Granny slid down from his shoulder, shoved a thick wad of something into his hands, and promptly toddled off to the couch, flipping the TV on.

They both stared at the small pile of yen bills in his palms.

Okarun’s eye twitched. “Turbo Granny… where did you get this money?”

“Don’t worry about it.” she said dismissively.

“That just makes me more worried.” Okarun frowned, flipping through the suspiciously crisp bills. “And why are you even giving this to me?”

“Don’t ask questions, servant!” Turbo Granny screeched. “Now get out of here! I’m sick of looking at you!”

He blinked. “…Servant?”

Then, after a beat—

“…And this is my home?!”

Before Turbo Granny could start screeching again, Momo grabbed Okarun’s arm and yanked him toward the door.

When they finally got their actual date going at the cinema, the idiot tried using the money to buy snacks—for her and her alone.

She refused outright.

She wasn’t about to risk incurring Turbo Granny’s wrath.

Chapter Text

Things were looking up for Turbo Granny.

She had her powers back (finally!). Well, most of them. Not that it mattered, she only needed a fraction of her full strength to handle any of the nobodies lurking around Kamigoe City.

And better yet, she had a servant now. Now that was a real mark of status.

For a while, she’d figured she’d ditch the crop of losers she’d been bunking with the moment she got her powers back. But… maybe she’d been too hasty. She had a pretty good things going on after all.

Cushy digs, with access to those newfangled things called “TV” and “internet.” A sorceress who regularly gave her offerings in the form of food and money (or “dinner” and her “allowance,” as Seiko insisted on calling them). And free, constant entertainment in the form of the brats getting attacked by some nobody yokai or alien every other week.

And, well, her new servant was still lugging around that human body of his. Convenient for running errands, less so for keeping him around long-term. If she packed up and moved them to one of her usual abandoned haunts, he’d probably start whining about stupid things like “being cold” and “needing food.”

So yeah, she supposed she’d grace the idiots with her presence a little longer. At least for now.

Her first order of business as new master was making sure her idiot servant actually ate properly.

What was the point of giving him power if he was just going to drop dead from malnutrition or some similarly stupid shit? He’d be far more useful to her if he was actually healthy.

She had (obviously) already snooped through everything in his apartment. Well, almost everything—there was that one locked cupboard. Not that she couldn’t bust it open in seconds, but she had a feeling there wasn’t anything particularly interesting in there anyway. She had already seen his freezer before, At the time, it contained nothing but a sad, lonely bag of frozen peas.

His fridge and cupboards weren’t much better. Practically bare, aside from a few snacks she’d stolen from Seiko’s place earlier. But rice crackers weren’t enough to sustain a teenage boy.

So she ordered him to tell her what exactly he did eat when he wasn’t at Seiko’s.

He had reluctantly answered (and only after she reminded him who held all the power in their arrangement) that he usually just picked up whatever was left on clearance at the convenience store down the road.

She’d poked her head into that store before. She had left wondering if a porcelain cat could catch diseases.

Almost afraid of the answer, she asked what he did if there was nothing reduced. Or if the shop was closed.

Wordlessly, glasses obscuring his expression, he reached over, pulled open a cupboard she somehow hadn’t noticed before, and gestured to its contents.

Cup noodles.

With reduced price stickers still stuck on them.

Expired cup noodles.

Honestly, it was a miracle he was still standing. No wonder his bones kept breaking—hell, had he even heard of calcium before Seiko came along?

She prodded him further, demanding to know why he was so cheap about his meals. Was he really that short on money?

Again, reluctantly (and only under threat of death through rescinding of her powers), he mumbled out that he saved most of his food budget for lunches at school. Something about trying to fit in better with his peers.

If he had been in his transformed state (and thus, just a little more beholden to emotions, as all yokai were), she was pretty sure he would have been blubbering as he answered.

Even she was starting to feel a little bad for this kid. Maybe she shouldn’t have stolen half of his school lunch all those times she tagged along with him to school.

It was also a bit of a non-answer on the money front. She’d have to investigate that one later.

But the most important thing, the true tragedy in all of this, was that she had somehow managed to snag a servant who couldn’t cook.

What the hell was the point of him, then?!

She had to fix this. Immediately. But first, he needed some actual food in his home.

Her next official declaration as master was that he would be going grocery shopping and learning how to prepare meals to her standards.

When she broke the news, he stammered something about not having much spare money for groceries, looking like a cornered animal as he fidgeted with his glasses. She just stared, unimpressed, until he finally relented and mumbled that he’d "figure it out."

Tch. That wasn’t going to be a problem. She was not such a lousy master that she couldn’t provide for her servants after all. If she was forcing him to cook, then obviously she would be the one paying for the food. That was just common sense.

If he hadn’t realized that, well. That was on him.

Conveniently, when Seiko had given her weekly monetary offering earlier, it had been substantially larger than usual. She had assumed, naturally, that it was because she had reclaimed her power and was now worthier of a greater tribute.

Seiko, however, had insisted it was because she had “another mouth to feed now.”

…Whatever the hell that meant.

She perched on his shoulder in her cat vessel as she forced him out to the nearest actual supermarket. Sure, she could’ve walked there herself now. But why bother when she had a perfectly good servant to do the walking for her?

She probably should’ve expected that a kid who lived off expired cup noodles had no clue how to actually grocery shop. The moment she started barking out items, he automatically reached for the cheapest option every time, until she smacked his hand away and redirected him toward things that were actually good. Or at least had some nutritional value. She was the best at picking cuts of meat, after all. He should listen to the masters.

As the total on their haul climbed, she let him freak out for a bit (mostly for her own amusement) before she got bored (or maybe started feeling a little bad, whatever). Finally, she informed him that she would be paying.

He calmed down immediately. Even looked happy, the little punk.

Then he had the audacity to start asking questions, why she was picking certain things, what she planned on making him cook, all with this stupid grin on his face the whole time.

Well. At least he was willing to learn.

She also made him grab some multivitamins. Who knew how many deficiencies he had at this point. Probably all of them.

Before he headed to checkout, she shoved a wad of bills into his hand. No one would ever say she didn’t take care of what was hers.

And then—then!—the brat had the nerve to try and give her back the change.

How dare he insult her like that?! Suggesting she needed such pitiful pocket change?!

She made damn sure to educate him on exactly how offensive that was. And warned him, in no uncertain terms, to never try it again—unless he wanted her to rip his power right back out of him.

As soon as they returned, she immediately set him to work. Nothing too complicated, she wasn’t about to give him that much credit. Just a simple stewed beef dish to start.

At the very least, he was a good listener, following her instructions exactly. As he should. His life was on the line, after all.

He was clumsy, though. Absolute shit with a knife. Then again, that could’ve been due to the sorry state of the singular, dirt-cheap knife he had in his kitchen.

She tested the waters with a small portion, just to see if he had any potential whatsoever. It only took a few bites to confirm that, unsurprisingly, the result was below her standards. But… it wasn’t completely terrible. There was something to work with.

She instructed him to eat the rest of the meal—no point in letting it go to waste.

When he started whining about having plans with Momo later, she completely ignored him and ordered him to start on a curry next. The leftovers would keep well in the freezer for him.

Not that he deserved such foresight, but someone had to make sure this idiot didn’t starve.

The next time she came to check on him (and by that, she meant ensuring her servant was still alive and kicking), she was greeted by the sight of an entirely new dish waiting for her.

Omurice. One of her favorites.

She hadn’t taught him how to make it.

It tasted almost exactly like how Seiko made it.

Which meant it was… acceptable.

Of course, she still forced him to make a second one and eat the first himself—just in case he’d screwed it up so badly it would poison her. Couldn’t be too careful.

She really needed to do something about him wasting all his money on school lunches, though. He wouldn’t be ridiculed for bringing a bento box, would he? Momo got them from Seiko often enough. If anything, she could probably convince that old hag to make some for the kid too…

But, and this was the problem, Seiko was a bitch who would definitely hold it over her that she was feeding her servant (even more than she already was).

Gods above. She was going to have to do everything for this stupid kid.

It was freezing outside, a winter storm raging.

She had stopped by for one of her regular check-ins, to make sure the brat hadn’t managed to trip and die (and maybe do something about the drafty-ass windows in his home), but he wasn’t there. Even though school had ended a while ago.

She was about to head out and find him herself when the sound of keys being clumsily shoved into the lock echoed through the apartment.

She felt herself relax. It would be a pain to find another kid to serve her.

Though that relaxation promptly vanished the moment she saw him.

He stood in the doorway, barely holding himself together, wearing nothing but a thin ratty raincoat over his usual school uniform, with a scarf and gloves that looked like they had seen better decades. His entire face was pale, he was visibly shivering, and his movements were sluggish—too sluggish.

The brat was trying to get himself killed!

“Oh… Turbo Granny,” he mumbled, voice slightly slurred. “I’m home.”

She ignored his useless platitudes, immediately launching into a rant.

“What, are you stupid? Going out in that weather without a goddamn proper jacket?!”

He tried to look defensive, but that was hard to do when his face was practically frozen stiff. “I—I don’t have one right now.”

Liar. And she knew it.

“Yes, you do! I know you’ve got one of those big puffy jackets in your wardrobe, jackass.”

He furrowed his brows, rubbing his hands together in a poor attempt to warm them. “How did you…” He trailed off, then sighed. “It… doesn’t fit anymore. It was already kinda small last year, and since I started working out, I can’t get it over my shoulders anymore,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

Useless brat.

“Then buy a new one instead of freezing to death!” she growled.

“I can’t,” he said flatly. “I don’t have the money right now. The electricity bill was already a lot higher this month.”

There was no accusation in his voice, but she still felt an annoying twinge of guilt.

She had been forcing him to use his kitchen a lot more. And, well, she did tend to leave the TV and heating on while she was there.

Tch.

Masters gave their servants stipends or something, right? He wasn’t a slave. And she was a magnanimous master, after all.

She’d have to consider that later. Because clearly, this brat couldn’t take care of himself.

But first, he was going to catch a damn cold if she didn’t do something. And hell, people were going to start judging her if her servant was wandering around in rags in this weather.

He was still looking at her, slight trepidation in his eyes. She dismissed him with a careless wave.

If she was gonna stop the brat from freezing to death, she needed more money.

And she sure as hell wasn’t about to go groveling to Seiko for it. Bad taste to demand higher offerings, after all.

Fortunately, now that she had her powers back, it was an easy problem to solve. All she had to do was hang around a seedy bar, pick a nice dark alley, and wait.

Sooner or later, a few drunkards, especially the kind who were eyeing up women with lecherous intentions, would stumble by.

And then she’d scare them shitless.

For a yokai of her caliber, making herself visible to the ignorant masses briefly was trivial. And, funnily enough, once faced with the very real threat of her gobbling their dongs, they were more than happy to surrender their wallets.

She even let them go afterward. It’d be a pain if Seiko got on her ass about a bunch of cursed idiots running around. And, well… she might have been a bit more hesitant about cursing people after last time.

Whatever.

With wads of yen bills in hand, she moved on to the next step of her plan.

Jacket shopping.

Aw, fuckity fuck.

She had no clue what kind of jacket a teenage boy would actually like. Or what size he even was.

Not that she cared if he liked it, of course. But she wasn’t about to let people laugh at her brat for looking like some unfashionable loser. That would reflect badly on her.

After only a few minutes of aimless wandering, she gave up and made herself visible as an old woman to bother a shop attendant. The brat better appreciate the effort she was putting into this.

The terrified sales assistant scrambled to help, leading her to a selection of winter coats. Most of them looked awful, but at least one caught her eye—decent enough.

Long. Padded enough to be warm without looking stupid. Had a hood she could comfortably ride along in.

The color even reminded her of Momo’s stupid powers. Brat would like that.

Even better—it had Turbo written on it. Perfect. Now people would know he belonged to her.

Since she’d spent enough time riding on his shoulders, she had a rough guess of his size. Just to be safe, she went one size up—he was a growing boy, after all.

After the purchase, she still had a decent amount of cash left over.

She wondered what else the kid needed so he didn’t embarrass her.

The kid did actually burst into tears when she shoved the jacket into his arms later that night. He wasn’t even using her powers.

Pathetic.

She clicked her tongue, ready to call him out on it—until he suddenly latched onto her in a hug.

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged her like that.

She had been wondering what else to throw her leftover cash at when the answer handily presented itself.

A letter arrived through the brat’s door—an official notice informing him that he was overdue for his next eye appointment.

By four years.

What the fuck?!

Could the kid even see? Was that why he kept throwing himself headfirst at enemies?

She wasn’t about to let her goddamn servant walk around blind as a bat, crashing into lampposts like some kind of embarrassment. This had to be rectified immediately.

She set everything up for him in advance, knowing full well he’d try to weasel out of it with some bullshit about being “fine” or “wanting to save money.”

Or rather… Seiko set it up.

She had no clue how modern eye care worked. But she paid for it! And that was what mattered. He was her responsibility, after all.

The next time she saw him, she threw the letter in his face, watching with satisfaction as his expression shifted from confusion to guilt.

Ah. So he knew he was overdue. And he’d just been ignoring it.

Stupid brat.

“The hell is that, punk?” she asked him, arms crossed.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” he hedged, already looking for an escape. “My current glasses are fine. It’s nothing to worry about—”

“Like hell they are.” She sneered. “You’ve got an appointment tomorrow at 4 PM. Go to it or you’re dead, kid.”

And with that, she turned and left, leaving him standing there, clutching the letter, looking equal parts resigned and confused.

She tagged along in his bag to the appointment. Just to make sure he actually went.

And also because she was curious.

Things sure were fancy these days. All sorts of weird-looking machines whirred and beeped, doing who knew what. She didn’t understand a damn thing, but she could at least pick up on the tone of severe admonishment he got at the end, the optometrist practically scolding him as he hung his head.

Apparently, his prescription was severely out of date.

The brat had been walking around blind!

And then the fancy eye doctor hit him with another blow—he needed new glasses. That got him shrinking into himself even more, his voice barely above a mumble as he asked if he could just get new lenses put into his current frames.

No dice.

His current frames were so old they barely fit him anymore and wouldn’t survive the lenses being swapped out. For some reason, that fact seemed to really deflate him.

He was led out to the main area, where rows and rows of glasses lined the walls, and told to pick a pair.

Glancing around and seeing they were momentarily alone, she climbed out of his bag, hopping up into his jacket hood.

“C’mon, kid, pick your damn glasses so we can get outta this place,” she grumbled, yanking lightly on his hair to snap him out of his gloomy sulking.

“I guess…” he muttered, scanning the displays.

Then, suddenly, he perked up. Eyes locking onto something, he practically beelined for a random display, grabbing a pair of glasses off the rack with actual enthusiasm.

To her eyes, they looked exactly like his current pair.

Except they were bright green.

“Turbo Granny, look!” he said, weirdly excited. “It has a little UFO etched into the leg!”

She peered at them. Huh. Sure enough, there was a tiny, barely noticeable UFO logo on the side.

He turned back to the display, still holding the frames, but the moment he caught sight of the price tag, his excitement immediately vanished. His shoulders sank. His fingers tightened around the glasses for half a second before he sighed, carefully setting them back down.

Looked like that stupid little logo belonged to some fancy-ass designer brand, with a price tag to match.

Without another word, he trudged over to the display clearly marked Budget Options.

The selection was… grim. Mostly chunky, black plastic frames in varying sizes of boring rectangles. He didn’t spend long looking, just grabbed the cheapest pair with the largest lenses and handed them off to the assistant without a second glance.

She didn’t miss the longing look he cast at the gaudy green ones, though.

She let him pay for his glasses. She wasn’t gonna do everything for him, after all.

Though she had already paid up front for the appointment, much to his confusion. She grinned as he tried to argue with the assistant that there must have been a mistake, only to be told his guardian had already handled it.

He blinked at that, looking utterly baffled as he left the store.

As they left together she plucked the little piece of paper with his prescription details right out of his hands.

“I’m supposed to keep that safe,” he said with a frown. “In case I need another pair…”

“They said your guardian should keep it safe,” she countered smugly. “And as your master, I’m your guardian now.”

He frowned harder. “…I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

He looked like he was about to argue further, then just sighed and shrugged. “I’ll just make a note of the prescription myself, I guess.”

She may (or may not) have made another trip to the optician’s.

She just happened to be in the area, is all.

The brat’s cheap glasses would probably break in a matter of weeks. And what was she supposed to do with a blind servant? He’d be useless to her.

So, as a good master, she’d make sure he had a backup.

She walked in, grabbed the first pair that caught her eye, just happened to be a gaudy shade of lime green, and nodded along as the sales assistant added all sorts of fancy extras.

She could almost guarantee the brat hadn’t gotten any of that on the ones he bought, and she still had plenty of cash left over from the drunkards she’d traumatized.

Might as well put it to use.

After picking them up a few days later, she waited for the right moment to give them to him.

She’d seen on TV that when training dogs, it was sometimes better to reward good behavior than punish the bad. Teenagers probably worked the same way, right?

Her opportunity came the next time she dropped in for one of her regular check-ins on the weekend. He seemed to be ready for her, somehow. He already had lunch ready for her. Tamagoyaki this time, another of her favorites.

She noticed it immediately, he didn’t look right with his new glasses. He kept wrinkling his nose, adjusting them more than usual. The square frames didn’t suit him nearly as well as the big round ones that made his already-too-big eyes look even bigger.

It pissed her off.

He presented the food with the usual ceremony, standing back and waiting for her reaction. She finished the meal, careful not to look too pleased, then cast a dismissive glance in his direction.

“That was decent, Four-Eyes,” she admitted. Then, in a rare moment of generosity, added, “You’re improving.”

He exhaled in relief. “So, uh… I’m doing an okay job as a servant?” he asked hopefully. “You’ll keep me around?”

“For now,” she allowed. “In fact, you’ve been decent enough this week to earn a reward.”

Before she could change her mind, she reached into her pocket, pulled out the glasses case, and tossed it toward him. She nodded in approval as he caught it easily. His reflexes were definitely improving.

“What?” he asked, baffled, before his eyes caught the logo on the case. A slow grin spread across his face. He opened the clip with shaking hands, crowing in delight when he saw what was inside.

He practically threw his current pair off his face in his rush to jam the new ones on, then bolted to the bathroom to check himself out in the mirror.

She was glad she ate lunch before handing them over. His joyful wailing would’ve ruined her appetite.

Little shit even snuck in another hug before she left.

The kid and his girlfriend had an argument.

That was new. Usually, they were disgustingly sweet on each other.

Seiko really needed to teach her idiot granddaughter some tact. Or at least how to properly sense the spiritual. Anyone with an ounce of awareness could tell the brat was overtly attached to his hole. He probably didn’t even realize it, but his spiritual presence was all over the place. It was practically his territory.

She’d make a proper yokai out of him yet. Maybe.

But Momo, either blind or just plain stupid, still tried convincing him to move in with her and Seiko—or at least rest there while he recovered from any injuries.

What started as an offhand remark about his trouble sleeping due to the nightly ruckus outside quickly spiraled into a full-blown argument. Momo was hotheaded, of course, just like her grandmother. But the brat was worked up too. She even caught flickers of his spiritual power creeping out at the edges.

Still, her brat was obviously the more emotionally mature of the two. Before his emotions could get the best of him (a pity) he stepped back, ended the night early, told Momo it wasn’t up for discussion, and headed home.

She followed him home after the brat’s little tiff. No way in hell was she going to stick around to hear Momo’s brooding. Seiko could deal with that alone.

The damn kid was walking like he’d been sentenced to the gallows, dragging his feet so much he nearly tripped over nothing multiple times. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so pathetic.

No servant of hers should have such shitty spatial awareness. She was gonna have to fix that.

He was so out of it that sneaking into his apartment as he fumbled with his keys took barely any effort. Not that it would have been hard otherwise, the idiot had to try three separate times before he managed to get the key in the lock properly.

By the time he finally got the door open, she was already inside, standing in main room with her paws crossed.

It was time for an intervention.

“Turbo Granny,” he said flatly when he spotted her waiting in his sorry excuse for a living area. His face didn’t change (just that same dead-eyed resignation) but he did bring a hand up to rub at his face, like he was trying to wipe the exhaustion off.

“Sorry, I don’t have anything in the house to cook with right now,” he muttered. “And it’s kinda late to go to the shops.”

She curled her lip. “I don’t want your damn shitty cooking, brat,” she sneered. “I’m just sick of looking at your miserable-ass face.”

A flicker of alarm crossed said miserable-ass face, but she ignored it. Instead, she let her spiritual power flare outward, shifting into her most familiar form.

Not that she minded the vessel Seiko had stuffed her into, if she had, she would’ve discarded it ages ago, but there was something about returning to her true form that just felt right. Comforting. Like stretching out stiff limbs after being cramped up too long.

Hell, she hadn’t even realized how much she’d missed having full access to her powers until now.

The brat, meanwhile, just blinked at her in confusion. Clearly, his singular brain cell was working overtime trying to process what was happening.

She sighed and flopped onto his sofa, making herself comfortable before fixing him with a stare, arms crossed.

Still, he didn’t get the message.

Gods, why did she have to pick such a dense kid?

She sighed again, waving a hand through the air impatiently. “Well, shithead? Get on with it.”

“...On with what?” he asked uncertainly, brow creasing like she’d just handed him a pop quiz in a language he didn’t speak.

She resisted the urge to smack him upside the head. He already looked pitiful enough.

“I’m not having my servant moping around like some kicked puppy,” she grumbled. “So talk.”

He stared at her, bewildered, for a second before his eyes drifted around the room. To the tiny, drafty window. To the ancient, half-functional TV. To the “kitchen,” with its creaking tap and barely operational stovetop. His hand raked through his hair before he finally let out a breath and dropped heavily onto the sofa beside her.

“Granny… is this place really that bad?” he asked, eyes fixed on the floor. “It’s my home. I like it.”

She clicked her tongue. “Cheh. Momo’s a jackass who should mind her own damn business. Who cares what she thinks?”

He shot her a sharp look, voice low with warning. “Don’t call her that.”

She snorted. Oh, now he found some fire? Where the hell was this when he was actually arguing with his little girlfriend earlier?

Not that it lasted long. As quickly as it flared up, it fizzled out again. He slumped, shoulders curling inward. “I know she only does it because she’s worried about me,” he muttered. “But I just wish she’d stop trying to get me to leave…”

He leaned into her. And without thinking, she raised a gnarled hand to his head, giving it a few quick pats before shifting into an almost absentminded ruffle.

…Must’ve been some leftover instinct from the damn maneki-neko vessel.

His voice wavered as he went on. “I have a lot of good memories in this place… and it’s…”

He cut himself off with a sniffle, dragging his sleeve over his face. His glasses obscured his expression, but she could still see it. The way he clenched his jaw, the way his shoulders trembled slightly.

Seiko really needed to teach her moron of a granddaughter some damn tact.

“I forbid it,” she said flatly.

He blinked at her, clearly thrown. “What?”

“As your master, I forbid you from living with that old hag. I won’t be indebted to her for housing my servant,” she said, jabbing a clawed finger into his ribs for emphasis. “If you do, I’m taking my powers back.”

“Oh,” he said. Then, the punk had the audacity to look relieved. “Okay then.”

He hesitated, clearly turning something over in his mind before speaking again.

“I know you’re just doing it to spite Seiko-san,” he murmured, lips twitching slightly, “but thanks anyway, Turbo Granny.”

Then, just as quickly, he let out another long sigh and sank back into gloom so heavy she had to double-check he wasn’t accidentally using her power.

“I wouldn’t want to infringe on her hospitality any more than I already have anyway,” he mumbled. “She’s done so much for me…”

Gods above, the brat was just pouring his heart out to her now, huh? Must’ve been building up for a while if he was desperate enough to unload on her of all people.

He could have the decency to do it without sounding so damn pathetic, though.

“If anything, she owes you for constantly saving her dumbass granddaughter,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

He just groaned, slumping even further into her side like some oversized, emotionally wrecked puppy. “I owe Ayase-san for so much too…”

She couldn’t resist smacking him upside the head after that.

“Ow!” He shot her an indignant glare, rubbing the spot like she’d just tried to cave his skull in.

“Stop that,” she snapped, unimpressed. “Little bitch owes you just as much. I told you already—I won’t have me or my servant beholden to anyone else. Got it?”

Idiot. Always thinking he owed every person who so much as looked at him kindly. Did he seriously not see how much he gave in return?

What kind of person felt compelled to throw himself into the fire again and again for other people? And expected nothing back?

She remembered it all.

The first time she possessed him through her curse—how he told Momo he’d become a monster just to save her, when they’d still been practically strangers.

How he’d been willing to sell his damn junk for some alien brat he hadn’t even met.

The way he kept throwing himself into fights with that ridiculous mountain spirit every week, just because his idiotic friend wanted to spare it.

How he insisted on breaking himself to protect his little friends. Saving Seiko’s useless granddaughter, over and over, even after knowing it would’ve (had) killed him if she hadn’t stepped in.

And even now, after all of that, what did he do? He threw himself right back into danger, happy to indenture himself to her so he could keep doing it.

Well, too bad for him.

He belonged to her now.

And she’d be damned if she was going to let her servant keep giving himself away piece by piece—until there was nothing left.

She stashed herself in his backpack the next day as he went to school. Not for any particular reason of course. She just had nothing better to do and was curious about what they were teaching kids these days. That was all.

But as an unexpected bonus, she got a front-row seat to Momo’s painfully clumsy attempt at an apology (and the brat apologize back—for what, exactly? He hadn’t done anything wrong!) And then, as if the universe was personally rewarding her, the conversation took a turn for the hilarious.

“I appreciate that you’re concerned for me, Ayase-san,” he said, his voice unbearably patient. “But please stop asking. Turbo Granny told me she won’t allow me to leave. If I try, she’ll take her powers back…”

“What?” Seiko’s brat screeched. “Screw what she thinks! You should stay with us just to spite her, for that alone!”

At that, the brat hesitated. His shoulders hunched, and a small tremor ran through him. From inside his discarded bag, she tilted her head and poked it out just in time to see him raise a shaky hand to adjust his glasses, revealing watery, glassy eyes that shimmered with unshed tears.

“Ayase-san…” His voice came out raw, appropriately choked up. “Do you really want me dead that badly?”

Momo paled as though he’d physically smacked her. Oh, that was good. That was really good.

“Wait, shit,” she blurted, panicking. “I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. Look, I’ll stop asking, okay? Just—just don’t look at me like that!”

“Okay,” he sniffled out, rubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his uniform. Meanwhile, Momo continued digging herself deeper, tripping over her own words in a desperate attempt to undo whatever emotional damage she thought she’d inflicted. The way she flailed her arms? Hilarious.

But as they turned to leave, he took a moment to retrieve his bag, and in the process, he glanced inside. A grin, not sad, not pitiful, but downright cheeky, spread across his face. One he really shouldn’t have been giving to what should have been an empty bag.

Huh. Kid could put on some damn convincing crocodile tears. She had to wonder… could she use that to her advantage in the future?

She was minding her own business, sifting through outfits while getting ready to head into town with the other hag (because she had nothing better to do, not because she actually liked spending time with her, or anything) when she felt it.

Someone was invading her territory.

Her tunnel.

Except… she didn’t have territory right now.

When she lost her powers, her claim had vanished. And with the girls gone, there was no reason to try and get it back.

So why did it feel like someone was stepping where they shouldn’t be?

The sensation gnawed at her. She didn’t like it.

Perturbed, and wanting answers, she dropped what she was doing and ran, instincts taking over.

The blurred streets passed in a haze, but she barely noticed. She just followed the pull, the unease pressing at the back of her mind until—

She stopped short. The brat’s house. Of course.

He belonged to her, so his territory was her territory. That made perfect sense. There could be no other reason she was so attuned to it.

But more importantly—

Who the hell was invading her kid’s home?

Common thieves.

Common goddamn thieves were trying to invade the home of her servant.

She found the front door already ajar. No sign of the brat. Either he was still asleep, or—

Rage consumed her.

Now that she was aware she considered this place hers, twisting their perception was child’s play.

Creaking floorboards. Bloody footprints appearing out of nowhere. An unearthly shriek that only they could hear, curling around them as they crept closer to the brat’s door.

That was all it took. They turned tail, scrambling for the exit—only for their flashlights to land on her.

She had taken on the form of something grotesque and wrong, something that should never have existed in their fragile little reality.

They froze.

Good. Let them regret every little action that led them to this moment.

Normally, she’d let them run for a bit. Draw it out. Have a little fun with the chase.

But if the brat was still asleep, she didn’t want to risk their screaming waking him up.

So she silenced them. Immediately.

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. They were reduced to quivering, begging messes after a single glimpse of her true power.

She wanted to kill them. Curse them. Make them wish they had never stepped foot in this place.

But. The brat and Seiko wouldn’t like it. And, well… she had a good thing going.

With the would-be intruders incapacitated, she took a second to quietly crack open the brat’s door.

Just to make sure he was still there.

Ha! Damn kid had slept through the entire thing. Even with the amount of power she’d flung around, he hadn’t stirred.

Either he was stupidly oblivious, or—

Or he didn’t recognize her power as a threat.

…Hmm.

She turned to leave, satisfied, only for a quiet mumble to stop her in her tracks.

“Granny…?” His voice was sleep-rough and muffled against his pillow. “That you…?”

She panicked.

“You’re dreaming, kid,” she said gruffly. “Go back to sleep.”

She was fully aware that didn’t make any sense.

But he just sighed, already halfway back under.

“‘Kay…” he mumbled, voice soft, fond. “…S’nice dream, for a change.”

She stood frozen for a moment before shaking it off. She could think about the implication of that… later. She had more important things to worry about right now.

Just because she hadn’t killed those bastards didn’t mean she was feeling soft or anything.

And well… it had been a while since she had some fun with some hapless humans.

She had a lot of stress to work out.

She was still trying to scrub the damn bloodstains out of the brat’s carpet when he finally stumbled out of his room the next morning, blinking blearily at her.

“Granny?” he mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with a yawn. “What are you doing here this early?”

“What I am doing,” she snapped, wringing out the useless, blood-soaked rag in her hand, “is dealing with the aftermath of your pathetic ass getting robbed!”

“Oh… again?” he said, sounding completely bored.

“AGAIN?!” she screeched.

So this wasn’t even the first time the stupid brat had let some nobodies invade his damn territory?!

Unacceptable.

He already had started doing it, but she was definitely going to have to teach the kid how to properly sink his claws into this place and claim it as his own. How to create an atmosphere so oppressive that any idiot who so much as thought about breaking in would immediately regret their life choices.

“They usually leave after realizing there isn’t anything worth taking,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. Then his eyes landed on the bloodstain she was still scrubbing at. His entire body tensed.

“Is… is that blood?” He audibly gulped. “Turbo Granny… you didn’t kill someone, did you?!”

“So what if I did?” she said, shrugging. “Punks woulda deserved it.”

“Would have?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes. “So that means you didn’t kill anyone… right?”

…Sneaky little brat.

“I shouldn’t have to come bail out my own servant anyway!” she huffed, turning back to the carpet with renewed aggression. “And it should be you doing this shit as well!”

“I would’ve been fine,” he groused, crossing his arms. “And technically, the blood is kinda your fault, so I don’t see why I should—”

“You talking back, brat?!” she roared, whipping the bloody scouring pad straight at him.

It bounced off his stomach with a wet thwap.

He straightened immediately, raising his arm in a salute. “No, ma’am!”

Hmph. That’s what she thought.

It was only after he’d retreated back into his room to get ready for the day that she considered the possibility that his salute hadn’t been entirely genuine.

After the brat ran off to school, she dug around and managed to find a dusty old phone handset to call Seiko with.

No way in hell was she dealing with this mess alone. The phone barely rang twice before Seiko picked up.

“Oi, oi, I usually don’t get a call the day after being stood up,” she teased, not even saying hello first.

“Shut it, hag,” she grumbled back. “I know you don’t have anything to do today, so get your ass over to the brat’s apartment.”

“Oh?” Seiko hummed, clearly amused. “So that’s where you ran off last night. What happened? Kid need a bedtime story? Needed to be tucked in? Kissed goodnight by his granny?”

“Try some assholes breaking in while he was asleep,” she growled. “Now get over here. I dunno how to fix a damn door or get blood out of the carpet or walls.”

Seiko snorted on the other end of the line. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll come help clean up your kid’s place.”

“Oh, and I also need someone deal with the jackasses I have tied up in the alley.”

There was a long pause on the other end.

“…Goddamn it,” Seiko muttered.

They couldn’t get the blood off the walls in the end. But the place needed a fresh coat of paint anyway. And hell, while they were at it, they might as well just get a new door. One with better locks. And if Seiko was already heading to the hardware store, she might as well grab a few new windows too.

Seiko even had a few favors outstanding with some carpenters who could fit everything ASAP.

The new carpet, unfortunately, was going to take a few days. In the meantime, she just shoved a rickety old bookcase over the bloodstain. Problem solved.

Double unfortunately, the useless idiots Seiko brought along didn’t work fast enough, and the kid came home from school right in the middle of the renovations.

She knew he’d arrived from the soft thump of his bag hitting the floor, followed by a high-pitched noise that quickly broke into a full-blown screech.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” he yelled, grabbing fistfuls of his hair like he was on the verge of collapse.

“What does it look like we’re doing, idiot?” she said snidely. “We’re making this place habitable.”

Instead of the eternal gratitude he should have shown her, he just stared at the mess, looking like she’d just kicked his childhood puppy.

“The landlord is gonna kill me,” he groaned, dropping to his knees like a man awaiting his execution.

Seiko popped her head out of his bedroom, where a new window was currently being installed. “Don’t worry about it, kid,” she said, grinning. “Me and your granny had a word with your landlord and got the okay for all this.”

“Oh,” he said, blinking. “Okay… but you still didn’t have to do all this just for me!”

“Also,” Seiko added cheerfully, “your rent’s gonna be half price for the next year.”

“WHAT?!” he squawked. His voice hit a whole new octave. “What did you do?!”

Damn, the kid could really screech, huh?

“Don’t worry about it,” she ordered, waving a dismissive hand.

Didn’t help.

He still looked like he was teetering on the edge of a full-blown panic attack, so of course Seiko had to go and throw more fuel on the fire.

“Oh, by the way, hag,” she said casually, stepping out of the bedroom. “The police called. Said it was touch-and-go for a while, but the guys you beat the shit out of finally woke up and confessed immediately.” She flashed a grin. “So good news—no murder charges.”

She already knew that, Seiko had told her the exact same things half an hour ago.

Turns out the brat’s screeching could go even higher pitched. Who knew?

The brat had managed to break himself. Again.

She had specifically ordered him (as his master) not to do that!

She really thought his little brush with mortality might’ve knocked some sense into his thick skull (and Momo’s too, for that matter). But apparently not, because she was perfectly content watching Baketono with Seiko, house to themselves, no interruptions, when she felt it. A twinge at the back of her mind. A telltale pull. One of her own was hurt. In her territory.

She groaned, untangling herself from Seiko’s grip, already irritated before she even stood up. The hag didn’t even pretend to be surprised, just glanced at her over the top of her glasses, smirking.

“The kid?” Seiko asked knowingly.

“The kid,” she confirmed dryly.

Seiko cackled as she left.

She was at his place in less than five minutes, arriving just in time to see him limping toward his couch—still powered up, ice pack in hand.

“Granny,” he greeted easily.

“Idiot,” she greeted back.

He just hummed, lowering himself onto the couch with a groan. She crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Thought I told you to stop breaking yourself, brat.”

“M’sorry,” he mumbled. And damn it, his voice was already shaking.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair before stalking over to his pathetic excuse for a freezer, yanking out a few more ice packs. Then, without waiting for permission, she dropped onto the couch beside him, grabbed his clearly broken leg, and yanked it onto her lap.

He yelped in pain. She ignored it, slapped the ice packs onto the swollen mess he called a leg, before reaching for the remote to turn the TV on. She was going to keep watching Baketono at least, screw him.

He blinked at her, watery-eyed, confusion clear on his face.

“So what was it this time, moron?” she grumbled, eyes on the screen.

He blinked again, then, somehow, managed to deflate even further.

“I was being stupid,” he eventually admitted, flopping his head back against the armrest of the couch.

“Well, that’s a given,” she said easily. “But how did this—” she gave his leg a light poke, eliciting a sharp hiss of pain “—happen?”

“…Building fell on me.”

She raised a brow. “And how, with even a fraction of my speed, did you manage to get hit by a building?”

He sighed. “Momo-chan was in the building too.”

Of course she was, she thought.

“So it’s her fault?”

“…Maybe a little,” he admitted, like he was confessing to some terrible crime. “I’m pretty sure she was the one who brought it down.”

He suddenly stiffened, turning to her with wide, pathetic puppy dog eyes. A mystery how he even managed that while under the influence of her spiritual power.

“Please don’t tell her I said that,” he begged.

“Hmph.” She crossed her arms. “Maybe.”

She might not tell Momo, but Seiko was definitely getting an earful about her idiot granddaughter later.

“And why isn’t she the one dealing with your pathetic whining?” she asked, changing the subject.

“She has work,” he said simply.

She scoffed. “What, she left you alone to go flirt with randos in her skimpy little maid outfit?”

His eyes narrowed instantly, red glowing in the dimming room. “Momo-chan ain’t like that.”

And ha! He actually growled at her! Cute. She laughed.

Any fire he had melted away, dissolving back into his usual annoying gloom. “…I didn’t tell her I was hurt,” he muttered miserably. “She’d bunk off if she knew.”

Idiots, both of them. She was gonna have to yell at Seiko for that too—was no one teaching that girl basic observation skills? She just didn’t notice his leg was broken?

“And you were just gonna crawl back here and deal with it yourself, huh?”

“Pretty much, yo” he said, nodding like that was a perfectly reasonable answer. “How’d you even know?”

“Don’t ask questions, brat,” she huffed. “I still might decide you’re too useless of a servant to keep around, you know.”

“Yes, Granny. Sorry.” He paused, then sighed, voice quieter. “…I’m glad you’re here, though.” He let his head sink further into the couch. “I forgot how much it sucked dealing with this alone. Without Momo-chan. Depressing, yo…”

“Your whole life is depressing, brat.”

“Yeah,” he agreed listlessly.

Damn. He didn’t even try to deny it. Now she felt awkward. Damn brat. Ruining the mood.

She busied herself adjusting the ice packs.

She almost panicked as the brat’s spiritual power suddenly petered out, and he fell back into human form, thinking he had passed out. But no, he was just sleeping. Must have fully healed.

It had taken long enough. He’d spent the last few hours fidgeting, shifting positions, and sniffling pathetically about his broken leg before finally settling down. As if that was her problem. She’d told him not to break himself, but had he listened? No. So now he got to deal with the consequences.

Not that she’d leave him to deal with it alone, obviously. 

The rumbling purr after he had settled down was pretty soothing, she had to admit.

She was still sat on the couch, the kid using her lap as a leg pillow, watching some late-night variety show with the volume turned low. The kid’s slow, even breathing was the only other sound in the room.

Without meaning to, she found her hand reaching for his head of fluffy hair, giving it a few pats. Must be the maneki-neko instincts again.

She leaned back, letting herself relax, only for the brat to suddenly mumble something under his breath.

“…Granny…”

Her head snapped toward him.

The brat was still out cold, face relaxed, breathing steady. But he shifted slightly, eyebrows drawing together like he was having some kind of serious dream. “…don’t wanna move…” he murmured. “I like it here…”

She squinted at him. The hell was he on about? His expression softened, lips curling faintly at the edges. “Stupid cat… stop yelling at me…”

She bristled. Yelling?! The nerve.

Then, to her utter horror, he sighed and smiled, snuggling adorably into the couch.

“…nice, though…” he mumbled. “’S good… not alone…”

She went still. The brat’s breathing evened out again, and just when she thought maybe she could pretend this hadn’t happened—

“…thanks, Granny…”

Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting.

She grabbed the remote and turned the volume up on the TV, pretending the warmth in her chest didn’t exist. And if she didn’t move from her spot for the rest of the night…

Well.

No one had to know.

She made sure she was nowhere to be found by the time the brat woke up.

Not that she was avoiding him or anything. That would be ridiculous. She just had better things to do. And she would not think about what happened last night. Because nothing happened. Her servant fell asleep. That was it.

She had far more important matters to deal with—like screaming at Seiko for the actions of her idiotic granddaughter.

The temple doors slammed open as she stomped inside, adding a little spiritual power for flair. She found Seiko lounging in the sitting area, casually watching the morning news like she didn’t have a reckless brat causing problems every damn week.

“Oi! Seiko!” she bellowed. “I’ve got a goddamn bone to pick with you!”

Seiko didn’t even flinch. She just flicked the remote, turning the volume down, before glancing up lazily.

“Hey, hey, I should be the one pissed,” she snarked. “You abandoned me. Left me all alone on a Friday night. This is what I get for going after single grandmothers.”

“Cut the shit!” she snapped. “You need to teach your damn granddaughter how to dodge so my brat doesn’t keep breaking himself in half bailing her out!”

“Bold words,” Seiko said, pushing herself up from her seat. “From someone who cursed an innocent kid who just happened to wander into a tunnel on a dare! If you hadn’t screwed with him, he wouldn’t be getting hurt in the first place!”

“He’d be fine if it weren’t for that little bitch constantly dragging him into trouble!”

“Momo can take care of herself!” Seiko sneered. “Maybe you should teach your kid not to be such a damn martyr all the time, huh? Or are you too busy threatening to kill him over burning your morning pancakes?”

“Don’t tell me how to deal with my servant!” she roared, letting her spiritual form flood the room, the air crackling with power.

Seiko didn’t so much as blink. Instead, she sauntered over to the side, grabbing her bat and tossing it over her shoulder.

“And don’t tell me how to parent my goddamn granddaughter.”

They stared each other down, both seething, both ready to pounce.

Then, at the exact same time, they both caved.

Seiko sighed, lowering her bat to the floor. “I know Momo’s a mess,” she admitted. “I’ll try to get her to actually train her powers. I was hoping she’d scare herself into realizing it on her own, but Four-Eyes just keeps bailing her out.”

She exhaled through her nose, crossing her arms as she let her power settle. Fine. She could offer her own olive branch.

“I’ll try to beat some self-preservation into his thick skull too,” she muttered, begrudgingly.

They stared at each other, both still buzzing from the argument, neither willing to admit they felt better after getting all that frustration out.

Seiko was the first to break. She jerked a thumb toward the TV. “So,” she drawled. “Wanna pick up where we left off last night?”

She grinned, baring sharp teeth.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter Text

Things had been… confusing for Okarun lately.

But good! Confusing, but good.

He had a girlfriend now. Sure, he had kind of agreed to it under duress, but he already knew he loved Momo. And it was just Momo now, she kept hitting him in the arm until he stopped calling her Ayase-san, now that they were dating.

And he was only getting seriously injured in about one out of every five fights now. He was making progress! Or maybe it was more because Momo was really trying to cushion the blows and be more aware of herself. But it was still a good result!

His apartment looked better (and felt warmer) than it had in years. He had a new jacket and glasses (ones that Momo complimented him on!) that meant he didn’t have to squint at the whiteboard and give himself headaches anymore. He was eating more, eating better, and not feeling so tired throughout the day. He even had money left over at the end of the month. If he saved up long enough, he might finally be able to buy a new phone.

And all of this was because he had died and was now an indentured servant to a powerful, evil modern yokai who either took the form of a maneki-neko doll or a scary old woman, depending on her mood.

Did it say something about him that being a servant had only improved his life?

Now, don’t get him wrong. Dying sucked. A lot. But honestly, what happened afterward might have been worse. It had genuinely felt like someone had taken his insides, run them through a blender, and then stuffed them back in his body without much care.

He tried not to think about just how much blood he threw up that night. If he did, he might start wondering if that wasn’t an entirely inaccurate description.

And as for the whole indentured servitude thing…

It didn’t seem that bad? So far, at least.

At first, Turbo Granny seemed mostly content using him as her personal chef. Which, honestly, wasn’t that bad. He’d been wanting to learn to cook for ages, but he was always too afraid to try, he couldn’t exactly afford to waste ingredients if he messed up.

But now, Turbo Granny was the one paying for groceries, and she even let him eat his failures. (Which tasted fine to him, though he probably didn’t have great taste.)

So far, she mostly had him making simple things. She probably assumed he wasn’t skilled enough to cook the dishes she actually liked, especially the egg dishes Seiko-san could make so effortlessly.

But if he was going to be a servant, he should at least be a good one, right? Minimize the chances of her throwing him away.

Though, when he nervously asked Seiko-san to please teach him how to make omurice and tamagoyaki so that Turbo Granny wouldn’t leave him for dead, she burst out laughing.

And, of course, Momo joined in right alongside her.

Which was… kinda rude. If he was being honest.

After five straight minutes of rolling on the floor in hysterics, Seiko-san finally wiped the tears from her eyes and said, “Sure, kid. Wouldn’t want Momo moping if her little boyfriend up and died on her again, after all.”

Then she pulled out an ungodly amount of eggs and walked him through the whole process for each dish, step by step. Momo sat nearby, offering encouragement while devouring any less-than-perfect attempts. She even did the dishes as thanks for the food.

Just thinking about Momo, how she always did little things like that for him, spread a goofy grin across his face and renewed his determination.

He was gonna nail this. He was gonna be such a good servant that Turbo Granny would have to keep him around forever. And if he stuck around forever, that meant he could keep being Momo’s boyfriend forever.

And maybe even more than that one day…

Wait. Would he have to ask Turbo Granny’s permission for that? Since she technically owned him now Hmmm.

Oh man. If he had kids one day, would they automatically be her servants too?!

Don’t think about it, Okarun, he told himself. Just focus on learning how to make a good omelet so Turbo Granny doesn’t let you die.

…It sounded pretty bad when he thought about it like that.

Turbo Granny seemed to actually like the omurice he made. Which was a huge relief, he’d been seriously worried she’d get bored of trying to teach him to cook and just give up.

She even started eating some of the other things he cooked, at least a small portion. Called them "acceptable."

Yay! He was an acceptable servant!

…Yeah. That still didn’t sound great.

Okarun had a confession to make.

He… might have manipulated his girlfriend. Just a little bit.

He just really wanted her to stop trying to make him move out of his apartment! And… well, she was always so nice to him whenever he got super emotional while transformed (and in pain), so he figured it was worth a shot.

So, yeah. He might have put on the waterworks a little. Hammed it up just a bit. Not that any of it was a lie—Turbo Granny really would kill him if he tried to leave, after all!

It wasn’t even hard. He had a deep pool of miserable thoughts to pull from that could get the tears started. From there, it was just a matter of not shoving the feelings down like usual and letting them all spill out.

And it had worked!

A little too well.

…And Turbo Granny had seen it.

Later, when he was alone, she had cornered him.

“That was impressive, brat,” she said approvingly. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

He was painfully aware of how pathetic he must have looked—cowering against the wall from a maneki-neko doll.

“New order, servant,” she sneered. “Anytime I give the signal, you pull those crocodile tears out again, got it?”

“I… what?” He blinked at her, confused. “What signal?”

She punched him in the shin.

Hard.

Tears immediately welled up in his eyes from the pain.

She nodded in approval. “Yeah, brat. Exactly like that.”

Momo was hanging out with Miko-san and Muko-san after school, and the rest of the group had various club activities, so he was left to his own devices.

Oddly enough, the thought of being alone didn’t bother him. He was in a great mood!

Man, it had been so long since he had new glasses. He had forgotten that he used to be able to see individual leaves on trees! And on top of that, he had enough spare money to buy the special edition of Super Mystery Mu, which claimed to have exclusive pictures of an actual Tsuchinoko!

Humming to himself, he unlocked his apartment door (so much easier to do now that they’d replaced it after the break-in!) only for his good mood to immediately vanish.

Turbo Granny stood in the middle of his hallway, in her maneki-neko vessel, grinning at him.

“Drop whatever you were doing, brat,” she said. “You’re coming with me.”

Their destination was, unsurprisingly, Momo’s house.

As soon as they stepped inside, Turbo Granny wasted no time announcing their arrival.

“Seiko!” she bellowed. “The brat and I are here for dinner. Order sushi tonight.”

From somewhere deeper in the house, Seiko barely spared them a response. “What did I just say last time? Like hell I’m getting sushi for you lot again.” Her tone was so bored she didn’t even bother turning around.

“It’s a reward for the idiot,” Turbo Granny countered. “He’s managed not to break himself in half for a whole week.”

…Wait, what?

He blinked. That was news to him. But now that he thought about it… yeah. He actually hadn’t broken anything this past week. Huh.

“Still no sushi, hag,” Seiko shot back, finally turning toward them as they stepped into the sitting area, one brow raised.

Turbo Granny popped up from his hood, yanking on his hair as he climbed up on top of his head so she could peer at Seiko-san.

“Aw, c’mon, Seiko,” she cajoled. “I promised the kid! Look at him!”

Then, before he could react, she hopped down from his hood—

—and punched the back of his shin.

Oh shit. That was the signal.

C’mon, Okarun, he thought, think of something sad. Think of—

Oh. Right.

If he messed this up, Turbo Granny was gonna take her power back and he’d die.

That was plenty sad.

His breath hitched, tears welling at the corners of his eyes as he let out a sniffle.

“Seiko, look what you’ve done!” Turbo Granny gasped, gesturing dramatically. “You’ve gone and upset him!”

Seiko stared at them, utterly unmoved. “…Uh-huh.”

Granny punched him in the shin again—harder this time.

He barely held back a pained yelp. Honestly, he probably would’ve had tears in his eyes without even trying after that one. But apparently, he wasn’t doing a good enough job. He needed to try harder. Think sadder thoughts.

Okay. Fine.

If he did die and leave Momo all alone… how long would she even be sad? A few weeks, maybe? But she was strong. She’d move on. She’d probably even end up with someone else eventually.

Like Jiji.

Oh. Oh, that did it.

The tears welled instantly, and he made a show of trying to keep them in, swiping at his eyes. But they were coming fast now, too much to really stop.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Seiko-san still standing firm. But… was her eye twitching?

Was this… actually working?

Turbo Granny hopped onto Seiko-san’s shoulder, placing a dramatic paw on her head as she gestured toward him with the other.

“C’mon, you old hag,” she goaded. “Don’t you have a heart? Look at him.”

Seiko-san narrowed her eyes. “I know what you’re doing, and it ain’t gonna work on me.”

But if he wasn’t imagining it… Did her voice waver a bit at the end there?

Turbo Granny shot him a look and started making very aggressive hand motions—first an upward motion with her paw, then direct eye contact as she dragged it across her throat, wearing a manic grin.

Shit. Still not enough! Even sadder thoughts, okay.

He scrambled for something truly devastating.

His favorite pillow. That time Momo had told him she threw it out. How he had thought (for a few brief, harrowing hours) that he would never see it again.

He let out a heavy, gut-wrenching sob, tears pouring down his face.

“I’m sorry!” he wailed through the crying.

…He wasn’t entirely sure what he was apologizing for, but it felt like something he should do.

Seiko-san’s facade finally cracked.

She looked visibly uncomfortable now, shoulders slumping as she turned to shoot a dirty look at the grinning maneki-neko perched on her shoulder.

“Alright, alright, I’ll get the damn sushi!” she huffed, sparing him a pitying glance. “Just—jeez, stop sobbing like that. I feel like I just kicked a damn kitten.”

Through the blurry waterfall of his tears, Okarun caught sight of Turbo Granny giving him the closest approximation of a thumbs-up… and was that… a smile?

Looked like he was getting to live another day!

Unfortunately for them all, that was precisely when Momo returned from her day out with her friends.

She stepped through the door, took one look at him—red-eyed, still sniffling, surrounded by Seiko and Turbo Granny—and froze.

Her shock was brief. Her rage was immediate.

“WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU TWO HAGS DONE TO OKARUN?!”

Thankfully, the promise of imminent sushi managed to cool her ire. Though, for the rest of the night, she clung to his side, as if he were about to burst into tears again at any given moment.

Which was… really nice. If he was being honest.

Even if he did feel like any remaining scrap of masculinity in her eyes had long since evaporated.

And well… if it was already gone, then there was no harm in sniffling a little when she reached for the sea perch on his plate, was there?

She backed off immediately. Even Seiko-san sighed and pushed some of the fatty tuna his way.

He still didn’t dare touch the uni after last time, though.

But that aside…

It was possibly the best sushi he’d ever had in his life.

Afterward, he got cornered again, this time by Seiko-san.

She crossed her arms, pinning him with a severe look that made his stomach drop. He didn’t think he’d ever been on the receiving end of such an intimidating stare from her before.

“Look, Four-Eyes. I know what you were doing.” she said, voice icy. “And I indulged you this time. But if you try that shit again with me, I’ll turf you and your granny right out of this house.”

He swallowed hard.

“I’m really sorry, Seiko-san,” he said, completely earnest. “She forced me to do it, I swear.”

He gulped. “And you know what happens if I don’t listen to her.”

Seiko just gave him a pitying look. (He’d been getting a lot of those these last few months…) Then, to his surprise, she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“That hag is gonna ruin you, I swear…” she muttered before sighing. “Just don’t do it again, and I’ll make sure she doesn’t take her powers back. Okay?”

She paused, then tacked on, almost as an afterthought—

“For that, at least.”

He could only nod.

The impromptu sushi reward dinner had reminded him of something important. He hadn’t broken anything in over a week! That was a new record!

Feeling victorious, he and Momo decided to celebrate with a date that upcoming weekend. They were still figuring out the details, though Momo had been dropping very obvious hints about the fair that was in town. He was a little wary of that. He had no clue how expensive it would be, and he really didn’t want to depend on Momo any more than he already had. A man shouldn’t just let the lady pay for dates!

He was just about ready to suggest something else when, out of nowhere, Turbo Granny shoved a wad of bills into his hands.

“You’re a piss-poor excuse for a boyfriend,” she scoffed. “And I refuse to deal with Seiko complaining that Momo’s complaining about what a terrible date you had.”

Which seemed… kind of convoluted.

But he wasn’t about to say no.

It had been so long since he’d been to a fair.

And honestly? It ended up being an amazing date.

He even managed to win Momo a prize at the ball toss game, his training was finally paying off! He was able to throw the balls really hard and fast. Momo had grinned so wide as she pointed at a ridiculous stuffed tuna fish, immediately hugging it to her chest and enthusiastically declaring its name to be Ken-san.

He was just going to pretend it was named after him and not… the other Ken.

Momo did then go on to one-up him right after by winning an even bigger prize at the ring toss. But he was pretty sure she had used her powers to cheat, so it didn’t count.

He really loved his new giant alien plushie (Named Zim), though.

They went on a ton of fun rides together, even if none of them compared to the speed he could reach in his cursed form. They got a hilarious haunted house picture of Momo clutching onto him for dear life, which he was going to treasure forever. They ate so much sugary, greasy fair food that he was probably going to regret it later, but at the time? It was great.

Right up until the clown-themed yokai decided to attack.

With Ken-san and Zim safely stashed away, they both leapt into action.

The fair cleared out quickly as panicked screams filled the air, the crowd fleeing from the mysterious "gas explosions" ripping through the area. Meanwhile, the yokai clown cackled dementedly, attacking at random with no apparent reason or pattern.

Oddly enough, he wasn’t feeling nearly as gloomy as usual, even in his transformed state. If anything, he and Momo were maybe even having fun. She clung to his back, trading quips as he nimbly weaved through the fairgrounds, leaping over booths and dodging rides in pursuit of the damn clown.

As they finally honed in on their target, Momo suddenly vaulted off his back, using her momentum to swing herself up to the peak of the Ferris wheel. The moonlight outlined her perfectly, making her look damn near radiant, her energy crackling around her like a living storm.

She thrust out a hand, catching the clown mid-air with a triumphant shout.

“Get him, Okarun!”

Oh, he already knew exactly what she was planning.

Even before she’d finished speaking, he was already scaling the nearby roller coaster scaffolding, muscles coiling in preparation. As soon as he reached the perfect vantage point, he launched himself into an all-out powered dropkick—

And sent the clown flying a good 50 meters before it slammed into the ground below.

And his streak continued! The clown somehow absorbed most of the impact, meaning that when the fight ended, he himself was...

Completely fine.

Hell yeah.

Grinning, he quickly climbed back up to where Momo-chan was still cheering, scooping her up in his arms before leaping down to the ground. They landed right next to Ken-san and Zim, laughing breathlessly as the adrenaline wore off.

Still holding onto her, he nuzzled against her shoulder with a content sigh. “Momo-chan, you were so cool.”

Being transformed always made him want to pour his heart out to her, to tell her every single thought he had about her.

She laughed, brushing some dust off his shirt. “What about you, huh?! You—”

He froze, pulling back slightly to look at her, hope rising in his chest.

Was she... finally gonna say it again?

That he was cool?!

She caught the look in his eyes, her smile turning sly.

“—did such a good job, Okarun!”

His entire body slumped. He dropped to his knees in despair. “Momo-chan…” he warbled dramatically.

She only laughed again, ruffling his hair before leaning down to press a quick, affectionate kiss to his forehead.

“Alright, alright,” she said, failing to keep the giggle out of her voice. “You were…”

His perked up. He immediately wrapped his arms around her waist, staring up at her with shining, expectant eyes.

“...really cute!”

Bitch.

He let go of her instantly, slinking away with wounded pride to grab Zim, holding the plushie to his chest like a lifeline.

Zim thought he was cool.

Momo only laughed harder.

They gathered up their things, ready to leave. He wasn’t hurt, but he stayed transformed so he could graciously offer Momo-chan a lift back.

Or so she thought.

Just as she stepped forward to climb onto his back, he leapt away, crossing his arms behind him.

“Ah, Momo-chan’s so cool,” he said, grinning behind his oversized jaw. “She should only be carried by cool people too, yo.”

Momo’s expression turned murderous.

“Oh,” she said, voice dropping to something dangerous. “Oh, you little shit. You are so in it now.”

She lashed out with her powers, teal energy sparking toward him—but come on, she should really know by now that he was way faster than her. He easily sprang back, landing just out of range, a practiced move at this point.

“Ah, Momo-chan~” he singsonged, perching on a railing just beyond her reach. “It’s getting late, we should really start walking back.”

To really drive his point home, he stretched his jaw wide and let out a massive yawn.

And—huh. His mouth really could open wide like this, huh? It was actually kinda satisfying.

Until—

Crack.

Pain shot through his jaw.

It suddenly felt oddly loose.

And.

He couldn’t close it.

His mouth was just… stuck open.

Ah.

There went the streak.

He barely had time to process this extremely unfortunate turn of events before he realized—

Momo-chan had snuck up on him. The next thing he knew, he was completely cocooned in teal energy, floating helplessly in front of her.

She smirked, triumphant. “What do you have to say for yourself, huh?”

She definitely knew something was wrong, but she was clearly enjoying drawing this moment out.

He tried to play it cool.

“Momo-chan,” he said, voice coming out way more pitiful than intended.

He hesitated. Then, finally, admitted—

“…I’m stuck.”

There was a beat of silence.

And then she burst out laughing again.

After Momo-chan finally stopped laughing, they spent a little while umming and ahhing over what to do.

He had definitely broken something. That wasn’t too unusual—it would probably heal—but the real problem was that his jaw was still stuck wide open.

And what if… what if it healed that way?!

Panic crept in at the thought. Was he just going to be permanently gaping like some kind of deep-sea fish?!

On top of that, his neck was getting sore from constantly staring down just to actually see Momo-chan—his mouth was currently taking up most of his vision.

Momo-chan, looking far too amused, tried to gently close it herself—only for him to shriek the second she applied pressure, making her immediately jump back.

It didn’t hurt too badly, but the second she tried to move it, the pain became unbearable.

So, with no other option, they resolved to head back to her grandmother for help.

Running with most of his vision blocked sucked. Also, he was pretty sure he swallowed a few—okay, maybe a dozen—bugs along the way.

What a bummer, yo. The night had been so nice up until now.

When they finally reached the temple, he barely had time to explain before Seiko took one look at him and immediately burst into laughter.

A lot of laughter.

It was starting to stress him out.

Then, to make things worse, Turbo Granny strolled in, took one long, hard look at him—

And promptly launched herself into a turbo-powered dropkick aimed directly at his jaw.

He barely had time to flinch.

The impact sent him reeling, knocking him onto his back on the tatami floor as every single bone in his skull seemed to resonate with pain. He let out a strangled screech, stars bursting behind his eyes as his entire soul rattled from the force—

But then…

His jaw snapped shut.

It still hurt, but at least it wasn’t stuck open anymore.

Turbo Granny, now perched smugly on his stomach with her little paws crossed, smirked down at him.

“You’re welcome, brat.”

He wheezed.

Then, without a word, he scooped up Zim (his only friend in this world), turned on his heel, and fled the scene to go mope and heal in his apartment alone.

He took Ken-san hostage for good measure as well.

He knew this day would come.

There was no way Turbo Granny would be content just having him cook for her. She was always going to want more. And now, apparently, "more" meant dragging him into whatever shady, ghostly business she had going on.

He had barely stepped through the door after a study session with Momo when he spotted her lounging on his couch—again.

How did she keep getting in? He hadn’t given her a key.

The TV flicked off as soon as he entered, plunging the room into silence.

“Oi, brat. Get ready to head out.” She stretched like she hadn’t just been making herself at home on his couch. “Tonight, you’re gonna start learning how to be a proper yokai.”

Oh gods.

What was she going to make him do? Chase people out of her old tunnel? Drag poor, innocent souls back for her amusement? Curse people by stealing their junk?!

He didn’t even know how to curse people!

Turbo Granny cracked her neck with a disturbing amount of force before continuing. “Some upstarts have gotten funny ideas since I’ve been… indisposed.”

Translation: Since she’d been stuffed powerless into a maneki-neko doll.

“I’m gonna go scare some sense into them, and you’re gonna stand by like a good little servant and look threatening. You got it?”

Oh. That didn’t sound too bad.

He could do that. Probably.

Except… could he actually look threatening? Momo didn’t even think he was cool anymore. She called him cute. And that was basically the opposite of intimidating.

Turbo Granny narrowed her eyes. “What’re you waiting for? Transform!”

He obeyed instinctively, spiritual energy washing over him like a thick fog as he shifted into his yokai form. Without thinking, he threw up a cheeky salute, a habit from messing around with Momo, before immediately regretting it.

Crap. Would she—

She didn’t say anything about it. Maybe he got away with it?

His cursed form settled over him, his posture shifting into something more hunched and predatory. He felt the usual weight of gloom settle over him like a too-heavy cloak.

Granny tilted her head, inspecting him.

“You look stupid in that getup,” she finally said, flatly.

He blinked down at himself.

His getup was just one of his favorite pullover shirts and a long cardigan. They were comfy. Momo said they suited him.

Okay, sure, they did kind of clash with the black-and-red aura of his yokai form. But still.

“Change into your school uniform,” she ordered.

To his mortification, she followed him through to his bedroom as he began to change.

He fumbled with his shirt, trying to pull it over his head, only for it to get stuck around his jaw. He struggled for a solid five seconds before she scoffed behind him.

“Have you not been eating at school, you damn brat?” she sneered. Then, quieter—almost to herself—she muttered, “Look like a goddamn twig.”

He finally go the shirt off.

“I—I have been!” he defended weakly, frantically digging through the chaotic mess of his wardrobe for a somewhat clean uniform.

And he had been eating. The usual amount. Right after his daily lunch exercises while Momo-chan cheered him on.

The fact that he still felt kind of hungry afterward was irrelevant.

He always felt like that at school. At least until he met Momo-chan and Seiko. Then… it wasn’t as bad.

Finally, he found a clean Gakuran, As he shrugged it on, the fabric shifted oddly, warping around his transformed body. As always, the collar flared out weirdly, and the coattails—longer than they should have been—swished dramatically behind him.

Honestly? He thought it looked kind of cool.

Turbo Granny, meanwhile, had made herself comfortable on his bed, lying back like a queen surveying a particularly disappointing subject.

He turned toward her hesitantly. “Uh… does this look—”

“Hmm.” She tapped her chin, unimpressed. “Your expression is pathetic. You somehow look both exhausted and terrified. That ain't gonna cut it, brat.”

Ouch?

Still, he was good at hiding his expressions by now. He’d had to be. He exhaled slowly, then focused a tiny amount of spiritual power into his glasses, forcing the lenses to become completely reflective. It was the one aspect of his appearance he’d figured out how to manipulate, out of sheer necessity.

Well… other than making the big, unsettling, toothy maw disappear. But he liked keeping that one on. It was comfortable. Plus, it made talking easier, no need to actually move his mouth.

Everything felt exhausting while he was transformed.

Turbo Granny squinted at him for a moment, then gave a begrudging nod. “Yeah, yeah, that’ll work. Not what I’d go for, though. Not grotesque enough. Could use more body horror.”

She sighed dramatically. “But whatever. It’ll be enough for these nobodies.”

With that, she hopped off his bed, scrambled up his arm, and settled herself onto his shoulder like she owned the spot.

“Alright, brat.” She jabbed a bony finger toward the door, grinning wildly. “Let’s go scare some nobodies shitless!”

Turbo Granny ordered him to run through the streets, yanking on his hair and pulling in random directions to “steer” him.

Which felt a little undignified.

But was he going to argue with her?

Absolutely not. Just the thought of trying to tell her no was already stressing him out.

Their destination, apparently, was some abandoned warehouse.

Why did yokai like abandoned buildings so much? Was it some kind of unspoken rule? Like, “Oh no, we could haunt a nice family restaurant, but that would be gauche—better stick to places with broken windows and bad vibes.”

Granny hopped off his shoulder before they reached the warehouse properly, shifting seamlessly into her old woman form. She straightened, arms crossed behind her back in that typical wise-old-master pose.

His back kind of hurt too, actually.

He mimicked the motion.

She immediately smacked him.

“Don’t copy me, brat.”

He let his arms hang limply again, resisting the urge to sulk.

Inside, the warehouse was packed with yokai, an eclectic mix of creatures, most of which he didn’t recognize. A few looked vaguely familiar, probably some he'd seen or heard about in passing before, but the majority were complete mysteries.

At the forefront, an old crone of a yokai stood on what could only be described as a spring-loaded seesaw contraption, balancing precariously while glaring down at them.

“Alright, you nobody punks! Listen up!” Granny bellowed, voice echoing through the space.

Oh. She was just going to monologue at them?

How… depressing.

He kept silent, standing where he was supposed to, scanning the gathered yokai with vague, veiled interest.

Momo-chan was going to be so jealous.

One of them, a fox spirit with multiple tails curling lazily behind it. was looking at him. Smirking at him.

Wait.

He was supposed to be threatening, right?

He gave the fox a lazy V-sign with his fingers.

That had freaked those kids out when Momo-chan made him intimidate that group from Zuma’s school, right?

Apparently, it did not have the same effect here.

The fox just winked. Then wiggled its eyebrows.

…

What did that mean?!

Oh no. He was already messing this up. He sucked at this.

Panicked, he glanced toward Turbo Granny for help—only to find her still in the middle of her monologue.

“—And if you leave now,” she was saying, drawing out the words with deliberate menace, “I might be kind enough to let your sorry asses live.”

Oh. That sounded serious.

Was he supposed to do something? He was obviously not being intimidating enough. What if they called his bluff? What if this went south? What if—

He exhaled sharply, a sigh slipping out before he could stop it.

Dark smoke leaked from the corners of his mouth.

That happened sometimes. He wasn’t sure why.

The fox spirit licked its lips.

…

What did that mean?!

Before he could spiral further, the crone on the weird seesaw contraption let out a growl.

“You’re nothing but hot air, you old hag!”

Oh. That sounded like an attack cue.

And sure enough, the crone lunged.

Now, logically, he knew Granny was strong. Stronger than him. She could probably dodge an attack like that without even trying. But something about seeing someone attack her flipped a switch in his brain. The same alarm bells that blared whenever Momo-chan was in danger started screaming in his head.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he moved.

A burst of spectral energy surged around him as he shot forward, blocking the crone’s strike with an outstretched leg before twisting into a roundhouse kick.

The force sent the crone flying back into the crowd.

Instinct took over completely. He dropped to all fours in front of Granny, a low, warning growl rising from his throat, as he still wasn’t allowed to talk.

And—

And his leg was broken.

He was pretty sure his leg was broken.

The crone hit hard.

“Cheh!” Granny crowed. “Couldn’t even get through my weak-ass servant! What hope would you have against me?!”

She strolled up beside him, resting a clawed, gnarled hand on top of his head.

“Anyone else wanna have a go at me, huh?”

The crone, now thoroughly humbled, limped to the back of the crowd.

The rest of the yokai stared at Granny with rapt attention, not a single one daring to speak.

And ah… it hurt. It hurt so much. He would’ve thought he’d have gotten used to it by now. But no, it hurt just as much every single time.

Breaking his leg was always the worst too. Even using his spiritual energy to prop himself up, there was nothing he could do about the pressure…

This sucked. He wanted to go home. Not stand here like an idiot while a bunch of random yokai gawked at him.

But he’d already screwed up once. Granny had told him to just stand there and look scary, and he’d immediately blown it by taking that hit for her. He couldn’t afford to mess up again. Not by breaking down over a little bit of pain.

He missed Momo-chan…

If she were here, she would’ve crushed these yokai into dust by now. And he’d be nice and cushioned in her power as she carried him carefully, already on his way home instead of standing here, shaking from the pain.

Thinking about Momo-chan just made him feel even worse. Thank the gods he could hide his eyes with the glasses thing, because whether it was from the pain or from missing her, they were definitely starting to water.

Oh. Right. He’d gotten distracted thinking about Momo-chan.

Granny was still talking. “—and if any of you little nobodies even think about starting trouble in my turf again, I’ll sic my attack dog here on you.”

Wait. Attack dog? Did she mean him?

Every single yokai was staring at him now. Wide-eyed.

Ah… the pain was getting worse. He was trembling from the effort of holding it in, and the shaking traveled all the way up his body—into his jaw, which he couldn’t stop from clicking open and shut in quick succession, producing an awful chittering clacking sound.

Staying standing was expending a lot of energy too. His jacket and hair were starting to flare up again.

How embarrassing.

He let out a slow exhale, trying to calm himself down as steam-like energy escaping through his teeth once more. Ah… how depressing… Hopefully Granny didn’t notice.

The assembled yokai all took a step backward. In sync.

…Had Granny said something else?

Oh man. He really needed to pay better attention before she got pissed at him.

But it hurt…

“Now scram!” Granny’s voice boomed, startling him so badly that his jaw snapped shut with a loud, echoing clack.

The assembled yokai fled.

Granny burst into laughter, turning toward him with a wide, toothy grin.

“Oi, brat! You can put on a decent scary face, huh? Maybe there’s hope for you yet!”

As she said it, she nudged his side.

Pain exploded through him as the movement jostled his leg, a sharp, searing spasm that shot down his entire body like he’d just been struck by lightning.

He couldn’t hold it in any longer.

He out was a long, keening wail. A soul-deep, pitiful noise that echoed through the empty warehouse.

The dam of tears he’d been holding back finally broke.

“...The fuck?” Turbo Granny muttered, staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “What, you never heard a damn compliment before?”

He was too busy trying to hold back another wail to answer.

Granny clicked her tongue. “Damn brat. You broke yourself again? I told you not to do that.”

“I’m sorry!” he cried out, voice cracking somewhere between a sob and a whimper.

Panic flared in his chest. He’d already screwed up once tonight. If he pissed her off any further, she might actually kill him.

He widened his eyes, lips trembling, pouring every ounce of pathetic energy he could muster into his expression.

“Please don’t kill me!” he whimpered.

Granny recoiled as if he’d physically struck her.

“Shut it, servant!” she barked, looking away suddenly. “We’re going home.”

He sniffled one last time, reluctantly pushing himself upright, groaning as every single muscle in his body complained about the movement.

She took one look at him, rolled her eyes, and let out a long-suffering sigh.

“I ain’t listenin’ to your whining from walking on that all the way back,” she muttered.

Then, grumbling under her breath, she crouched slightly.

“Get on my back.”

He blinked.

He was taller than her when he was transformed. Even when he wasn’t transformed.

By like. A lot.

How was he supposed to—

“That was an order, brat!”

Panic kicked in. He’d already pissed her off enough. He wasn’t about to argue now.

Awkwardly, he wrapped his long limbs around her neck, then hesitated before hoisting himself up. He tried to settle in the way he did when Momo-chan used her powers to swing around, locking his legs around her midsection.

It hurt shifting his broken leg into position, but the second he draped himself over her shoulders and let the weight off of it, he couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

Turbo Granny clicked her tongue in irritation.

“You’re heavy as shit,” she grumbled, adjusting her stance to support him.

He made a noise of protest, muffled slightly by his jaw resting on her shoulder.

“‘M not that heavy…”

“Shut up before I drop you.”

He shut up.

With that, she took off, sprinting through the streets.

As they ran back to his apartment, Turbo Granny came to an abrupt stop, muttering a quiet but unmistakable, “Shit.”

Before he could ask, a familiar, gleeful voice rang out from across the street. “Oi oi oi~”

He turned his head slowly, already filled with a deep, sinking sense of dread.

Seiko stood there in full exorcist gear, clearly fresh off a late-night job, eyes flicking over them with far too much amusement. “When you said you were busy tonight, I didn’t think you’d be giving your kid the sightseeing tour.” She smirked, tilting her head. “Or are you just bringing him home after he tuckered himself out?”

And man. If he had any dignity left in Seiko’s eyes, it was gone now. Evaporated. His face burned as he opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out.

Seiko's grin only widened. “Make sure to kiss him goodnight after you tuck him in,” she called over her shoulder before striding off, laughing uproariously to herself.

Turbo Granny’s entire body tensed. “Not a fucking word, brat,” she hissed before taking off again, faster this time.

Not that he was about to say anything anyway. He just buried his face into her shoulder and hoped Momo-chan wouldn’t hear about this.

Momo heard about it.

In fact, the very next morning at the school gate, it was the first thing she mentioned, casually asking if he’d had a "nice night out with his granny".

He wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

On top of that, he was starving.

They had gotten back so late, and between the hours he had to stay awake while healing (Turbo Granny had, again, stayed with him, pressing ice against his leg—he must have looked really pathetic…), he had ended up oversleeping. That meant no time for breakfast.

Usually, skipping breakfast wasn’t that big of a deal, but he had burned through so much energy healing that he was now ravenous enough for it to be actively distracting.

Maybe he could scrape together enough for a double portion of lunch.

Except—no. Because in his rush that morning, he had also forgotten his wallet.

With the loose change he did have rattling around in his bag, he could maybe afford a single melon pan. If he was lucky.

He spent the entire morning slumped over his desk, exhausted, drained, and miserable. He had almost forgotten how much it sucked to feel this hungry…

He was already mentally preparing himself to beg Momo for just a few bites of her lunch when he got ambushed.

Miko-san and Muko-san cornered him in the hallway.

Why did he get cornered so much?!

He braced himself for the inevitable teasing, maybe some obnoxious questions about his next date with Momo, when, instead, they presented him with…

A bento box.

Not just any bento.

One of Momo’s bento boxes. He recognized it—it was one of the ones Seiko-san cycled through.

…

Were they mocking him?!

“Uh,” he started warily. “Did Momo forget her lunch, or—?”

“Nope,” Miko-san said, grinning. “Your granny dropped it off for you, O-ka-run~.”

“…what.”

“Yeah!” Muko-san chimed in. “Like, super old lady with crazy white hair just walked up to us and handed it over. Told us to give it to, and I quote, ‘the four-eyed alien brat.’”

Miko-san gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Your gran’s, like, mega cool, dude.”

He opened his mouth. Shut it again. For a moment, all he could do was blink at them.

“I… thanks?” he managed, still processing.

“Enjoy your lunch with Momo~!” they called, already skipping away, giggling to themselves.

He made his way to their usual meeting spot in a complete daze.

Momo was already there, waiting, watching him with undisguised curiosity as he sat down and hesitantly opened the box, almost afraid of what he would find inside.

A small note fluttered out.

The writing was scratchy and old fashioned.

“Good job not embarrassing me last night, servant”

Underneath was a carefully arranged selection of food—stewed beef, grilled fish, pickles, an assortment of vegetables. And beneath it all, a very generous portion of rice.

Sitting right on top of the rice, written in delicate strands of nori, was a single word.

“Shithead”

For some reason, his throat felt a little tight.

Chapter Text

To Okarun’s surprise, the bento box wasn’t a one-time thing.

He had assumed it was, based on the wording of the note, it had seemed like a one-off reward for not being a complete embarrassment (yay!). Dutifully, he had cleaned out the box at the end of lunch, handed it back to Momo to pass on to Seiko-san, and figured that was that.

But the next morning, Momo met up with him for their walk to school with a mischievous grin, practically shoving the same bento box into his hands with a wink.

"Looks like your master thinks you’re not eating enough, Okarun," she teased.

And then it happened again the next day.

And the day after that.

The second bento had another note inside, this one a bit more blunt.

"Stop being such a goddamn twig."

Which, stung a little bit, actually. He was working out! He was already way better than when he started! But… at least she was trying to help instead of just giving up on him entirely?

That second bento was also less elaborate than the first, fewer side dishes, less variety, but there was still just as much food. In fact, after a few days, he started to notice a pattern. The contents of his lunches looked suspiciously similar to the ones Momo brought from her grandmother most of the time.

Though, one morning, Momo didn’t have a bento. Her grandmother had been called out to an urgent job overnight, so no time for cooking. That day his box had been a little bit… rough. If he were being diplomatic.

Shoddy as hell, if he wasn't.

The vegetables were hacked into uneven chunks, the meat was overcooked, and the rice was still a little hard. But the insult was still weirdly neat. Granny must have been extra pissed off, because the insult was simple “Fucker” that day.

Indeed, every single bento still came with some kind of insult written in nori. She was starting to run out of unique ones, though. The latest was "Four-Eyes" which was less of an insult and more of a factual statement, in his opinion.

And then, just to add to his confusion, the bento box itself suddenly changed. The cutesy pop-culture bear Momo liked box was gone, replaced by a box he didn’t recognize.

It looked new. And a fair amount bigger.

That day’s note went on a mini rant about how Seiko had thrown a fit over Granny using one of Momo’s boxes. And since he was a useless servant who didn’t even own one himself, she had to go out and get him one. It was apparently the first one she saw. And if he didn’t like it? Too bad.

For something randomly chosen, it just so happened to be designed after an older anime he really liked. In fact, it was one of the shows he’d been rewatching while healing lately.

What a nice coincidence! He liked it a lot.

To make things even more confusing, the next time he saw Seiko-san, he awkwardly apologized for the trouble he’d caused, what with Turbo Granny hijacking Momo’s bento box for so long.

Seiko-san just blinked at him, silent for a moment. Then she burst into loud, bellowing laughter, wiping at her eyes as she struggled to get the words out.

"I told that old hag to keep that old thing!" she cackled.

…

Huh. Weird.

Even if they were mostly veiled insults, he appreciated the lunches from Granny. They were more filling than the usual fare at the cafeteria (and huh, it had actually been a bit easier to focus in his afternoon classes lately…) and saved him a lot of money.

He had tried to give her some money to cover the cost of ingredients. Once. She had yelled at him so much that he was seriously worried she was about to yank back her power then and there.

He didn’t try again.

Which meant he suddenly had some spare money.

And he knew exactly what he was going to do with it: take Momo on a really nice date.

Lately, it seemed like every date they had ended up cut short by something attacking them. When Momo had complained about it within earshot of her grandmother, Seiko-san had just scoffed and told them point-blank that it was inevitable, what with him running around with half of Turbo Granny’s power (which, come now. That was a bit of an exaggeration. Granny herself said it was 5% tops), and Momo being, in Seiko’s words, “a goddamn beacon of bullshit psychic power.”

So, apparently, they were doomed to being attacked by aliens and yokai alike for… well, forever, basically.

Which was a little depressing to think about.

But surely, surely, they were due for a single, uninterrupted date, right?

…Ah. He probably shouldn’t have thought that.

He probably jinxed it.

Before their date, however, there was something Okarun needed to address.

Momo was so fashionable. Every outfit she wore felt so her. And her hair. Her perfectly styled, soft, shiny hair. It always sat just right—

—Okay, he was getting off track.

The point was, he was downright scruffy compared to Momo, and now that he had some spare money, he could finally do something about it before he embarrassed her on their next date.

There was one thing in particular that needed fixing.

His hair.

It had definitely gotten a bit out of control lately. He hadn’t had the time (or the money) to do much about it, and ever since he got fried, it just never seemed to sit right. No one had said anything, but he figured they were just being polite, like Momo, when she said she liked his hair after he got cursed and set on fire.

But he was going to look better for Momo! So, he made an appointment (only stuttering a little on the phone!), marched right in there, and…

…panicked.

He had always just gone for the cheapest cut available—whenever he managed to scrape together enough money after the teachers started threatening to send a letter home. He had no clue what to ask for beyond that.

Maybe he should’ve asked Momo for advice… but that would’ve completely defeated the point!

In his panic, he just asked for the cheapest cut again. It would still be better than nothing, right? The kind-looking hairdresser nodded and started preparing when—

Turbo Granny burst through the door.

The hairdresser stopped for a second, startled by the the door opening, but didn’t seem to actually see Turbo Granny.

“Oi, brat. What the fuck are you doing?” she barked, arms crossed.

His gaze flicked nervously between her and the hairdresser, his entire body going rigid. He couldn’t reply without looking crazy, could he?

“Answer me, servant!”

Biting his lip, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and flipped it open like he’d just received an extremely important call. He’d take looking rude over looking crazy any day.

“Getting a haircut,” he muttered into the blank screen, locking eyes with Granny.

“Obviously,” she scoffed. “What the hell did you ask for?”

“A basic flat cut?” he more asked than stated. Had he done something wrong? Was he not allowed to get a haircut without her permission!?

“Fuck no!” she spat immediately. “Just get it a bit shorter and keep it curly.”

He blinked. What?

“Do it or else, kid.” Granny growled.

…Well, that certainly made the decision easier.

Face burning with embarrassment, he quickly snapped the phone shut and stuffed it back into his pocket.

His mouth felt dry as he hesitated before mumbling, "Um… actually," not quite meeting the hairdresser’s eyes, "could… could you just cut it back a bit and, um, keep it kind of curly?"

The hairdresser looked mildly confused but nodded. "Sure, I can do that… Yeah, that’ll look good. It’ll be a bit more, though. Is that okay?"

“…Yeah, that’s fine,” he sighed, utterly defeated.

Turbo Granny stuck around long enough to see the haircut through before running off just as suddenly as she’d appeared, spooking the poor hairdresser all over again as the door mysteriously swung open and shut by itself.

He just sat there, deeply confused, as he stared at his new haircut in the mirror.

…He had to admit, though.

It did look good. Hopefully, Momo thought so too.

The next day at school, Momo lit up the moment she saw him.Her eyes practically sparkled, and before he could even say good morning, she had already complimented his haircut.

Which, of course, turned him into a blushing mess. (He could be vain sometimes, okay?)

Feeling proud of himself (and still a little flustered), he recounted what he thought was a funny story about the whole ordeal and Turbo Granny appearing out of seemingly nowhere during his haircut at lunch later that day.

But instead of laughing, Momo just… stared at him.

Stone-faced. Unmoving.

Then, suddenly, she grabbed him by the shoulders, locked eyes with him, and, in deadly serious tones, told him to never go to the hairdresser alone again.

Which—okay? He could do that?

She only sighed in visible relief when he gave her a very confused nod, before letting the matter drop and returning to their usual idle lunchtime chatter. She did enthusiastically agree to his date idea, at least.

For some reason, though, after school that day, Momo followed him home.

Not only that, but she dragged him into a shop on the way there, bought an absurdly expensive box of sushi, and then presented it to Turbo Granny with an impressive amount of pomp and ceremony.

Turbo Granny accepted the offering without a single word.

Just a knowing nod.

He just stood there, lost, idly wondering what the hell that was all about.

Okarun had spent a good while pondering what to treat Momo to for their date, until he happened to overhear a girl at school gushing about how she’d been taken ice skating recently. According to her, it was the perfect couples’ date.

That had sounded nice. Romantic, even. Plus, the rink was smack in the middle of a big shopping area with plenty of places to eat beforehand. So, feeling uncharacteristically bold, he went ahead and booked it, and kept it a surprise from Momo.

There was just one tiny problem…

He had no idea how to ice skate. When would he have ever learned?

Still, it was cold enough outside that the river had a thick layer of ice, and puddles had completely iced over. That gave him an idea. On his way toward the Ayase household, he spotted one of those large, shallow puddles and decided this would be his training ground later when he was alone.

The thought did cross his mind that if he was an idiot and broke something while practicing, it would be a long, miserable walk back home… but that was future Okarun’s problem. He didn’t tend to break stuff when he wasn’t transformed or he was alone anyway, so it’d be fine, right?

It took some effort, but he kind of got the hang of it. All that running, dodging, and flipping around in yokai battles had apparently done wonders for his balance. He knew actual ice skates would be completely different, but hopefully, it was enough that he wouldn’t make a complete fool of himself in front of Momo.

The date was going great! Ice skating hadn’t been too expensive to book in the end, which meant he had enough money to take Momo to a buffet beforehand.

A buffet that, luckily, had a lot of seafood.

He would never get tired of the way Momo got super excited and squirmy when she was presented with a plate of crab or other fancy seafood. It was like watching someone be told they had just won the lottery, or something.

Weirdly enough, he’d been craving seafood more himself lately. Maybe Momo was rubbing off on him. Or maybe it was Turbo Granny’s influence—she’d been demanding he cook it more often, and he’d been happily eating all the meals she rejected. He never used to care much for it before.

Once he and Momo were nicely filled up on crab and other fancy seafoods, He led her toward the ice skating rink, excited to see her reaction.

Only for her to suddenly freeze as she realized where they were heading.

Oh. Oh no.

Did she not like ice skating? Oh god, did she hate it? Had he completely screwed this up?!

What if (oh god!) what if her parents had died in a tragic ice skating incident and—

“Hey,” Momo said, nudging his shoulder gently. “I can practically hear you thinking from here, dude. It’s fine.”

She paused, then added, “It’s fine… I’ll be fine.”

… That last part sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than him.

And was it just his imagination, or did she actually look… nervous?

It wasn’t his imagination.

The reason for Momo’s nervousness became glaringly obvious soon enough.

She didn’t know how to ice skate.

He had just assumed she’d be great at it. She was always so cool and effortless with everything else, after all. But as they picked up their skates and headed toward the rink, her brave front faltered more and more.

Wanting to set a good example (and, maybe show off a little…) he stepped onto the ice first. He wobbled at first, but his practice had paid off. Soon enough, he was moving without too much trouble. Grinning to himself, pleased, he turned back to Momo—

Only to find her immediately flailing the second she clumsily stepped onto the ice, clearly about to go down.

With only slightly clumsy movements, he managed to reach her just in time, catching her as she fell and carefully setting her back on her feet. He took her hands in his to steady her.

“Whoa, Okarun!” she said, delighted. “That was really—”

Wait. Wait. Was she finally about to say it again?! He leaned in, hopeful.

“—Neat!”

Damn.

He tried (and probably failed, judging by the snort she let out) not to show his disappointment too much.

And, as he let her go to give her a chance to find her balance… well. The next time she overcompensated and fell backward, he made no effort to catch her.

She landed right on her ass.

What a shame, he thought.

…Before immediately heading over, helping her up, brushing the ice off her back, and holding her hand as she steadied herself against him.

Soon, they were making slow, careful laps around the rink, hand in hand. He kept sneaking glances at her—the way her brows furrowed in concentration, her tongue poking slightly out of the corner of her mouth as she focused on keeping her balance.

She was so beautiful.

That classmate had been right, this was pretty romantic. Since they had eaten first, it was already late, and the ice rink would be closing soon. Most of the families and kids had cleared out, leaving behind mostly couples.

Momo had sort of gotten the hang of skating, but she kept holding his hand anyway. And they kept throwing each other these small, shy glances, like they were both aware of something unspoken between them.

In fact, she was looking really shy all of a sudden. Her fingers tightened slightly around his, and then—

A look of determination passed over her face.

She was leaning in.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

Oh!

She was totally going for a kiss.

His heart nearly stopped. He leaned in too, his own eyelashes fluttering, eyes drifting shut—

Only for sudden screaming to erupt around them as a blast of icy wind sent them both flying backward.

FU—

Yep. He’d totally jinxed it earlier.

“A Yuki-onna!” Momo-chan had shouted as Okarun hastily yanked off his skates and transformed.

Seriously? Here? In an indoor ice rink? There wasn’t even any snow!

What a bummer, yo.

At least dodging her attacks was pretty easy, his practice sliding about on the ice without skates was actually paying off. She was just wailing the usual spiel about stealing their life energy so she could return to the living world and reunite with her long-lost lover.

So dramatic.

Momo-chan’s power apparently decided to follow the laws of physics sometimes. Every sweeping attack she unleashed sent her careening backward across the ice, usually resulting in her fumbling the attack entirely in the process.

Which wouldn’t have been so bad on its own, if he wasn’t also trying to get close to the Yuki-onna himself. Twice now, he’d been caught in the crossfire of her unintentional flailing.

Ah, Momo-chan was so powerful…

At least she’d managed to rein it in enough that he wasn’t seriously hurt. Yet.

Meanwhile, the icy surface beneath his bare feet was starting to bite at his feet in a way that was becoming deeply concerning. Could he get frostbite like this? Man, he really hoped not.

Probably not, right?

This sucked. They’d been having such a cute date, and now all he wanted to do was go home.

Determined to salvage what was left of the plan, he made another approach, exhaling a a stream of steam gearing up for an all-out attack—only to get blindsided.

A wide, sweeping hand caught both him and the Yuki-onna mid-movement, effectively swatting him right into the ice.

“Sorry, Okarun!” Momo-chan called out.

He groaned, pushing himself up. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

Switching tactics, he skated toward Momo-chan, scooping her up from her unsteady position while dodging another incoming blast of icy breath. He maneuvered them both to the edge of the rink, finally depositing her on solid ground, far from the slippery chaos. And him.

“How about you stand over here now, Momo-chan?” he suggested gently.

She looked like she was about to protest, so he pulled out his best pleading face, even adding a little extra watery shimmer to his eyes for good measure. Seiko-san had only told him not to use that trick on her again. So technically, this was alright.

And he really, really didn’t want to get swatted again.

Momo-chan deflated slightly, muttering, “Good job figuring out I wanted to go over here, Okarun,” while stubbornly avoiding eye contact.

He let out a relieved sigh. Crisis averted.

And with that, he skated back into the fray.

With Momo actually able to aim her attacks, the fight was pretty much over. The screaming woman was soon turning into a pile of slushy dust on the ice.

Well, at least he hadn’t gotten seriously hurt. He was maybe a little bruised from Momo-chan’s attacks more than anything, but otherwise intact. Letting out a tired sigh, he slumped forward, mourning their date that had ended too son.

But before he could wallow for too long, Momo-chan came sprinting over.

“Okarun! I’m so sorry about that!” she fretted. “What’s broken this time? Are you okay?!”

Oh. He actually felt… pretty good? A little sore, maybe, but nothing broken.

Yo! That pretty good, actually!

But Momo-chan was still staring at him, looking so worried. And their date had been cut short… He wanted to spend more time with her…

Maybe. maybe his ribs did hurt a bit. He wasn’t, like, a rib expert or anything, yo.

Think of the pillow, Okarun. Think of the pillow.

The tears came easily.

“Ahhh… Momo-chan,” he whined, voice trembling. “I think my ribs…”

He hit her with the biggest, wettest eyes he could muster.

“I’m sorry!” she wailed. “Just give me two seconds…”

He kept up the act, hunching over more than usual, eyes watering, arms wrapped protectively around his midsection as Momo-chan hurried to take off her skates and grab their shoes and bags.

He only felt a little bad about it.

She had slammed him into the ice, like, three times, after all.

Ah, it was so comfy being wrapped in Momo-chan’s powers. Warm, with a faint buzzing sensation. It somehow felt so much like her. And he always felt just a little bit stronger when in contact with her like that.

It hadn’t always been that. Back when she first learned his “secret”, she’d gone through a few, uh… experimental carrying methods.

At first, she’d tried grabbing him by the scruff. Which, one: humiliating?. And two:

It hurt. A lot.

Apparently, having nothing but the back of your neck supporting your broken bones was not the most comfortable experience. Who could’ve guessed?

On the bright side, Momo-chan had been extra nice and cuddly with him afterwards.

She’d gone through a few more variations after that. Hauling him up under his arms, cradling him in a ball of her powers like a hamster or something, even trying to carry him on her back (which failed spectacularly because she just kept complaining that he was cold).

Eventually, she settled on cupping him in her giant hands, cradling him carefully to avoid putting too much pressure on any one part of his body.

He did wonder how it looked to normal people when they sprinted through the streets like this. Not that it mattered much. There hadn’t been too many people hanging around his apartment lately, for some reason.

It was so warm and cozy that he could almost fall asleep. …Which would freak Momo-chan out, unfortunately, since he was supposed to have broken ribs right now. But at least he could relax and enjoy the ride instead of having to actively suppress the pain.

His eyes started to flutter shut…

Until there was a sudden jolt.

“ACK—!” Momo-chan yelped as she seemed to stumble on something.

And then, all at once, he was being crushed from all sides.

A high-pitched squeak escaped him as every last bit of air was violently expelled from his lungs.

And oh— there was the pain. His ribs might actually be broken now.

Damn.

Momo might have broken his ribs, but honestly? It was kind of worth it to be here again, curled up with his head in her lap, watching X-Files reruns.

His ribs weren’t even that bad. They only hurt if he moved, which was way better than some of the other injuries he’d had.

At some point, Seiko called Momo-chan, and probably, he should have been offended that the moment she answered, she immediately jumped in with:

“So what did he break this time?”

Wow. How depressing. They could have just missed the train back, you know?

Oh well. He was too comfy to care.

In the background, he could kinda hear Granny yelling about teaching the local yokai another lesson for disrespecting her servant (and, by extension, her).

There was also some… angry, screechy meowing mixed in with her ranting. Had that scruffy gray cat Granny had been looking after shown up again?

It did seem to always be yokai attacking lately though, maybe the constant yokai attacks were scaring off the aliens for now. More credence to his “earth is safe from alien attack because it’s haunted” theory” he supposed.

Ah well. Momo just shouted back that she was staying the night at his place, and he vaguely heard Seiko say something about… great grandkids?

He was getting kinda sleepy. Probably misheard. Yeah. Definitely misheard.

Momo ended the call with an irritated huff, and he took the opportunity to snuggle in closer, wrapping his long arms around her midsection and relishing in the warmth as she absentmindedly returned her hand to his hair.

Apparently, Granny had been serious about teaching the local yokai a lesson. Either that, or she just enjoyed giving them a dramatic dressing down while he stood in the background, attempting to look intimidating once more.

His mind started to wander.

How did yokai even know when and where to meet? Did they have, like… yokai group chats? Secret message boards?

Man, they probably had better phones than he did. That would suck if it were true.

Granny was launching into another rant—something about disrespecting her property.

Wait. Was that him? Was he her property?

… And the fox was back.

It was staring at him again. He must not have been doing a great job at looking scary.

He let the effect on his glasses drop just long enough to glare at the fox. It wasn’t hard—when he told Momo-chan about it, she’d gotten really mad and smacked him on the arm a few times for some reason. He still wasn’t sure why.

But the fox made Momo-chan mad at him, so now he was mad at the fox.

It actually flinched this time.

Success!

Instinctively, he went to grin—except, in his transformed state, that translated to his monstrous maw cracking open slightly, sending out a curl of steam.

A few of the other yokai immediately freaked out.

…Maybe he was actually intimidating?

He had been nailing this servant stuff lately, yo.

He’d gotten lost in thought again, and by the time he snapped back to reality, Granny was screaming something about tributes, and yokai were suddenly dumping stuff at their feet.

…What?

Granny gave a series of small, imperious nods as each yokai approached and left their… offerings? Was that what this was? Like how Seiko left offerings at her shrine?

It was an eclectic mix.

For starters, there was just straight-up money. And not an insignificant amount, either. But mixed in with the cash were… snacks?

Chips, Pocky, dried squid… even some cans of black coffee.

He eyed the coffee. It was getting pretty late. Maybe he could sneak one…

Then there were the more exotic offerings. Gold coins. Gemstones. A whole fish.

And then, from the fox (who very pointedly avoided looking at him) came…

A whole dead chicken, feathers and all. Neatly dropped at their feet.

He grimaced. That was kind of gross. He really hoped Granny wasn’t going to make him touch that.

Granny made him touch it.

Gross. Gross. Gross. Gross.

Actually, Granny made him carry the entire haul. The money and jewels stuffed into his jacket pockets while she returned to her maneki-neko vessel, perched on his shoulder, munching on a bag of one of her “offerings.”

At the very least, she generously offered him one of the cans of coffee after catching him staring at them wistfully. Claimed she was a magnanimous master who shared in her bounty.

She even made an impressed noise when he downed it in one go.

But she wasn’t magnanimous enough to save him from having to run home with an entire dead chicken clutched in his arms.

So here he was.

Sprinting along the riverbank in the dead of night, loaded down with an armful of random crap, while a porcelain cat casually ate chips on his shoulder.

Man. He really hoped the smell of the dead things didn’t seep into his uniform…

Oh, who was he kidding? Of course it would. He never had any luck when it came to that sort of thing.

Momo-chan was definitely not going to go near him at school tomorrow and—

What was that whooshing sound?

A shadow suddenly fell over him, making him stop in his tracks. He looked up. Too big to be a bird…

Talons. Thick, sharp talons suddenly dug into his shoulder.

He let out a screech, dropping everything.

What the hell was that?!

He braced himself for another attack—but nothing came. Instead, his shoulder suddenly felt lighter.

His eyes widened.

It was holding something in its talons as it flew off. Something small and screeching.

Granny!

Shit—he could see it clearly now. One of the yokai from the warehouse. A tengu? A harpy? Something with wings and claws, either way.

And it was taking his Granny.

Shit, shit, shit.

Panic kicked in. He had to do something. But it was flying over the river, and in this form, he was useless if he fell in. He couldn’t swim like this—

Then, suddenly. It dropped her.

His stomach plummeted as he watched her power swirl around her, reforming into her old woman shape midair.

But Turbo Granny was a runner. She had no way to change her momentum while falling.

She plunged straight into the river.

Shit!

She couldn’t swim!

He was already moving, sprinting toward the water as he threw off his jacket. He needed—he needed to save her, but in this form, he couldn’t swim either.

The stupid bird yokai was still circling overhead too.

With no hesitation, he shed his cursed form, the cold, dewy grass and freezing winter air biting into his skin. It had already been seconds, who knew how long she could last down there…

Without another thought, he dove into the freezing water.

Chapter Text

The water was freezing. The moment he hit the surface, the shock ripped the breath from his lungs. His body seized, instincts screaming at him to get out. But he was used to pushing past shock by now. Used to pushing past pain. He forced the feeling down, focused on his breathing. Deep, slow breaths. Steady strokes. He had to reach where she fell quickly.

But, she wasn’t there. His chest tightened. No ripples, no movement on the surface. He was going to have to dive.

Steeling himself, he sucked in a deep, shuddering breath and plunged into the inky abyss.

For a moment, nothing. Just suffocating blackness. Panic clawed at the edges of his mind. Where was she?!

Then, a flicker of movement. A little deeper, drifting lower. Glowing yellow eyes, staring back at him in shock. She wasn’t moving.

Relief crashed over him, followed by the sheer urgency of the situation. He kicked forward, reaching her in seconds, grabbing hold of her with a rough, desperate grip. His lungs burned. He forced his body upward, every ounce of strength focused on breaking through the water’s grip.

The surface burst around them, and air had never tasted so sweet. Granny gave a weak, spluttering gasp in his arms. She was breathing. Still clutching her awkwardly, he turned toward the shore, forcing his aching limbs to move. He was so cold, his movements stiffening.

And then—that flapping sound again.

He barely had time to react. He dove back down, but not quickly enough. Talons raked across his back. A sharp, searing pain. He choked back a cry, shielding Granny as best as he could, before forcing them back to the surface.

He didn’t stop. He swam with everything he had left, dragging them both through the water until, finally, the bank. He hauled Granny onto the shore before collapsing beside her, chest heaving, body shaking violently.

Flat on his back, he could see the yokai circling overhead again. Granny was still spluttering, barely conscious. The damn bird was coming in for another attack. And he was going to freeze to death at this rate.

No choice. With every ounce of willpower he had left, he forced himself back into his cursed form. It managed to dull the sharpest edges of the cold, but his limbs were still sluggish and stiff.

He didn’t know how long he could keep fighting. He needed to end this fast.

But his body wasn’t cooperating. His movements not as sharp as they should be.

He set up an all out attack.

And missed.

Whether it dodged or he just sucked at aiming right now, he didn’t know, but either way, he went right past it, skidding through the cold grass as he struggled to slow his momentum.

Something sharp clamped around his stomach.

Shit.

It had him this time.

Well, screw you, bird thing. He could actually swim!

Except… it wasn’t heading for the river.

It was going up. Higher. Higher.

His stomach dropped.

He’d read about this. Birds that snatched up prey, flew really high, then dropped them to crack them open and get to the good stuff inside.

And judging by the altitude. He had a sinking feeling that was about to be him.

Like hell.

Twisting awkwardly, the talons digging deeper into his sides, he started clawing and grabbing at anything he could reach. The thing (harpy, definitely a harpy) struggled, flapping harder, but it kept ascending.

Until he managed to twist just enough to grab hold of its wing.

With a vicious yank, he ripped the feathered appendage toward him.

Opened his jaw.

And bit down.

The sickening crunch was almost drowned out by the keening screech it let out.

And then. Freefall.

Air rushed past him.

He had no clue how high up they were or what they were about to crash into—

And then all thoughts screeched to a halt as they slammed into a tree.

White-hot pain exploded through his side as they tumbled through branches, snapping and cracking echoing in his ears (which he really hoped was just the tree and not him).

They fell a few more meters. Then they hit the ground. Hard.

He spat out a mouthful of feathers, groaning as he staggered to his feet. Yep. Definitely broke something. A lot of somethings. He was already pouring energy into his right side just to stay upright.

Man, this sucked. He wanted to go home…

Underneath him, the bird-thing stirred.

Without a second thought, after everything it had put him and Granny through, he leaned down, opened his maw—

And snapped it cleanly down on its neck.

The thing crumbled into dust and ash. He immediately regretted it, sputtering and spitting out the grossest taste imaginable.

Shit.

Granny!

She was still where he’d left her. Collapsed on the riverbank. Good.

Still sputtering. Less good, but better than the alternative.

He carefully made his way over, every step screaming in protest. Ow. Yeah, this was definitely up there in the Most Injured He’s Ever Been rankings—right behind that one time he, you know, died.

Granny hacked out another mouthful of river water, then turned a vicious glare on him, absolute indignation written all over her face… mixed with something else.

Confusion?

“What… what the hell were you thinking, brat?!” she snapped, voice raw. “You should’ve just abandoned me!”

He blinked, still shivering, his head feeling kind of fuzzy. “I… you can’t swim, right? I had to save you…”

“Not that!” she barked. “If I kicked the bucket, you’d keep my power, you know. You’d be free.”

He just… stared at her. His whole body trembled, either from the cold or the pain—he wasn’t sure which—but he couldn’t quite follow what she was getting at.

Granny scowled even harder. “Why didn’t you just abandon me, kid?”

His brow furrowed. “If someone’s in trouble, you help them, right?”

She let out a sharp scoff, shaking out her drenched sleeves. “Not someone like me, kid. Not after what I’ve done to you.”

He hesitated. Not sure what to say to that.

After a long pause, he finally muttered, “You’ve not been that bad, yo…” He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “As my master or whatever, anyway.”

He paused before continuing.

“Could’ve done without the junk theft though. Stressed me out.”

For a moment, she just stared at him.

Then, with an almost exhausted sigh, she muttered, “…You’re one stupid son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

He opened his mouth to retort—

And was immediately cut off by a massive, thunderous sneeze.

The sound echoed into the night. He sniffled, stunned. Wait. He could sneeze in this form?!

And… everything was starting to feel weird.

Fuzzy. Heavy. Wrong.

The last thing he remembered clearly was Granny reaching for him, alarm written all over her face.

He didn’t remember much of the next little while.

He was still transformed he could tell. That was good. It would have been really bad if he wasn’t. And he was being… carried? But not by Momo-chan. He was kind of awkwardly draped over something…

Something big and soft and white…

It was almost as nice as Momo-chan’s powers, actually.

The surroundings were a blur. He wasn’t sure if it was because they were moving fast or if he just had a concussion or something. Both seemed likely at this point.

And someone was swearing. A lot.

Then—suddenly—someone was digging around in his pocket.

Oh man. Was he being robbed while he was out of it? That would suck, yo.

Joke’s on them, though. He didn’t even have anything worth stealing.

The rummaging sent a jolt of pain through his right side, and he couldn’t stop the low whine that escaped him. Whoever was with him immediately let out a hushed apology.

…Ah. Robbers probably wouldn’t apologize, right?

Whoever it was finally found what they were looking for, and the next thing he knew, he was being dragged through a doorway and—

Ah.

He was home.

Thank goodness.

The next thing he remembered was being on his couch—a familiar scene. Except… Momo-chan wasn’t there.

But there was still someone running fingers through his hair.

A familiar anime opening played softly in the background, the kind of comforting noise he’d usually fall asleep to after a long day. His head… and body? Was buried in something soft and warm—the same big, white thing that had been carrying him before. It was plush, and smelled faintly familiar.

It was also rumbling slightly, the vibrations soothing him.

He also felt like he… should have transformed back by now. But he was still stuck in his cursed form, body weak and sluggish, limbs heavy with exhaustion. Normally, his energy would have drained out by now, forcing him back to human, even if he was still injured.

Except… something felt different.

It was as if something was feeding energy into him. Not a lot. Just enough to keep him going, like the way Momo-chan’s power wrapped around him when she carried him. Just by being here, like this, he felt a little bit stronger.

That was good. Everything still hurt. It would probably hurt more if he transformed back.

He sighed, barely conscious, nuzzling deeper into the soft fluff beneath him. It felt safe.

He let himself sink into it, drifting back into the darkness.

The next thing he remembered, he was in bed. Back in human form. He felt healed, but…

Well.

He also felt like absolute shit.

His whole body ached, but not in the usual "I got my ass kicked by a yokai" way. His throat was raw, his head felt stuffed with cotton, and his limbs were leaden.

Oh. He was sick.

He hated being sick. It meant getting in trouble with the school for unexcused absences, and not being able to go out and get food.

Except… actually, his house was kind of stocked right now. That was one less thing to worry about. And he was pretty sure he’d seen some cold and flu medicine in the bathroom. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad this time.

He groaned as he stumbled out of bed. He was still wearing his uniform pants, but his shirt was missing. He sighed as he remembered what had happened to his shirt, and possibly the gakuran jacket as well. He was gonna have to beg Seiko-san for a replacement..

Who had taken his shirt off?

He blinked blearily.

He had definitely been about to do something.

Right. Bathroom.

Still half in a daze, he shuffled toward the door—only to freeze when he heard Granny’s voice from the main room.

“Turbo Granny.” Her voice said.

“You deaf? My name is Turbo Granny!”

“The stupid brat is sick and won’t be in today.”

“I just said it!—the brat, the one with glasses.”

“FINE! The kid’s name is Ken Takakura.”

“Yeah, yeah, useless human…”

Oh. She was calling the school for him.

And… huh. She said his name.

She never called him by his actual name. Ever. He was always just brat, idiot, or Four-Eyes—with servant thrown in for extra flavor lately. She didn’t even use Okarun, though she used Momo’s name often enough.

Honestly, he’d been kind of operating under the assumption that she didn’t actually know his name and, at this point, it felt too awkward to correct her.

To hear her say it now was… weird.

Not bad. Just… odd.

He loved the nickname Momo had given him—his heart fluttered every time she used it. He didn’t mind that she never called him by his real name. His life had sort of split into two phases now—he was Takakura-kun (or Takakura-san) in one and Okarun in the other.

Seiko had called him Ken, just that one time when she thanked him, after Momo was pulled out the cursed board game. Though he hadn’t even done that much in the end…

But before that?

He couldn’t actually remember the last time anyone had called him anything other than Takakura. The last time someone had called him Ken. Hell, last time someone had called him Ken-kun was probably…

…Ah. His brain was too fuzzy for this.

He didn’t want to think about things like that.

He stumbled through to the bathroom, finished his business and all but fell back into bed.

The delirium might have already been setting in anyway, because the last thing he remembered before drifting back to sleep was hugging Zim tight and murmuring,

“Thanks for knowing my name, Granny.”

The next few days passed in a hazy blur.

He kept waking up to the sound of people in his home. Sometimes it was Turbo Granny. Sometimes it was Momo. At one point, even Seiko-san.

At one point, the whole house was filled with a mild, savory smell—oddly nostalgic, though he was too out of it to figure out why.

At another, he was carefully lifted and carried to the bathroom, a warm, soft cloth running down his back and arms, wiping away the horrible sticky feeling clinging to his skin. When he woke up next, he was back in bed, now dressed in his comfiest pajamas instead of his old, bloody clothes.

He blinked awake to Momo leaning over him, pressing a bottle of some health drink into his hands. "Please take a sip," she asked, her voice soft, worried.

He tried. Really. But his throat was so dry it took a few splutters before he managed to swallow properly.

The next time he woke, something warm was being pressed to his lips. Instinct kicked in—he recoiled immediately, groaning in protest.

A gruff voice clicked its tongue. "Eat."

Ugh. He didn’t want to. His stomach felt like a hollow pit, but also like literally anything he ate would come right back up.

The voice was insistent. He groaned, turning his head away, whining like a toddler.

Who even was that…? His bleary eyes cracked open just enough to make out white. Seiko-san? No, that didn’t make sense—why would she be there feeding him?

"Shit, kid, please eat something," the voice said again—gruff, but… weirdly desperate.

It almost sounded like… Turbo Granny.

Turbo Granny, asking him to do something.

He needed to listen. He had to do what she said. Or she’d—she’d take her power back and… and…

But he was so nauseous.

"Ken, please eat something."

…

He took a slow bite. Then another. And another.

There was a sigh of relief. The gnawing pit in his stomach faded, the nausea ebbing away with it.

Sleep came easier after that.

A while later, he wasn’t sure how long exactly, he woke up alone in his apartment.

Which… was normal. It should have been normal. It had been normal for years.

But for some reason, it felt off.

Still, he felt better. Not 100%, but definitely good enough to go to school. And way better than he usually felt after being sick for a few days.

And yet… he wasn’t entirely sure how much of the past few days had been real and how much had just been wishful thinking.

Momo had definitely visited. Proof of that was easy to find. A quick shuffle into the kitchen (which—oh lord, had a bomb gone off in here? Was that blood on the wall?!) revealed a pile of empty health drink bottles. He remembered her telling him to drink them.

But then… there was the other stuff.

The fridge was full of neatly packed containers of easy-to-eat food—onigiri, chicken rice porridge.

The same chicken rice porridge he could have sworn he had only dreamed Turbo Granny making and spoon-feeding him.

Huh. Well. A sick servant was probably useless to her, so that… kinda made sense?

What didn’t make sense was the fact that he definitely dreamed about her calling him Ken.

Nobody called him Ken anymore.

Shaking his head, he grabbed a container of porridge, reheating it as he glanced around.

…Why the hell were there feathers strewn everywhere?

And—oh. There was a brand-new school uniform folded neatly on the couch. Thank goodness. Had Seiko-san come by too? He thought he might remember that.

Multiple people had checked in on him while he was out of commission. Compared to the last time he had been seriously ill, when he had spent days curled up in bed alone until he got so hungry he had no choice but to drag himself to the store, this was… different.

He stuffed a big spoonful of porridge into his mouth, swallowing hard, trying to ignore the tight, choked feeling in his throat.

It was delicious.

He texted Momo to let her know he was coming to school that day, swallowing a lump in his throat as he scrolled through the flood of get well soon messages from his friends.

Shaking it off, he got up and started getting ready.

First priority—shower. He felt gross.

Stepping into the bathroom, he blinked at the sudden increase in hair care products lining the shelf. Fancy-looking ones, too. He picked up one of the bottles, turning it over in his hands. Did these belong to Momo? Why would she leave them here?

…Well. They were in his house now, so screw it. He was using them.

And whoa.

His hair felt so soft after drying it. Like—ridiculously soft. Fluffy, even.

He ran a hand through it experimentally.

Wait, hang on. If he didn’t stop playing with his hair, he was definitely going to be late for school.He needed to move.

He made it to their meetup point only slightly out of breath, just in time to be swept into a joyful hug and a quick kiss from Momo the moment she spotted him.

And also her immediately burying her face in his hair and yelling about how soft and fluffy it was.

Which was… kind of embarrassing, actually. Though. he didn’t dislike it.

It was just… people were watching.

They eventually split up at the entrance. Momo heading to class while he made his way to the office to handle the admin work for his absence.

It felt different this time. Going through the process without being scolded for just not showing up with no guardian input.

Maybe he should try learning a new dish from Seiko-san as a thank-you for Turbo Granny. For this, and everything else she’d done for him the past few days.

"Oh, and Takakura-san, I’ve updated your guardian details to your grandmother," the office admin said, barely glancing up from their paperwork. "It seemed our previous contact information was out of date. We never seemed to get a response."

Ah. Great.

So next time he missed school because he was stuck in empty space or healing from a yokai attack, Turbo Granny would officially know and have even more reason to laugh at him afterward.

Oh man. They were gonna send her his test results too.

She probably didn’t care about his grade in History, right? …Right?

That morning, buried somewhere in the school announcements, was the mention of the upcoming Parents' Night.

He didn’t pay it any attention. Hadn’t for years.

Because.

Well.

But when the class president handed him the form with the available timeslots, he took it with a smile anyway, stuffed it into his backpack, and tossed it out at the first opportunity.

Then promptly put the entire thing out of his mind.

It wasn’t until lunch, happily chatting with Momo while digging into the bento Granny had sent along with her (the word of the day was just “Brat”, which honestly didn’t even feel like an insult anymore) that realization struck.

The feathers and blood in the kitchen.

The chicken porridge.

Oh.

Granny must have used the chicken that the fox gave them…

Momo told him to ignore everything the fox did!

His stomach dropped.

“Momo, I’m sorry!” he yelped, nearly choking on his food.

She jerked back, startled. “What?”

He immediately launched into a panicked, rambling apology.

“You told me to ignore anything that fox yokai did, and I tried, I swear! But—but it gave Granny a dead chicken as an offering, and I think she made it into porridge and fed it to me, and I didn’t know and I wouldn’t have accepted it if I had and—please don’t be mad!”

By the time he finished, he was gasping for breath.

Momo just… blinked at him. Slowly.

“…What?”

With a miserable groan, he threw himself to the ground in front of her. “Please forgive me!”

There was a long pause. Then, awkwardly, she patted his back. “Uh. Sure? You’re forgiven? There, there?”

Oh, thank goodness.

She wasn’t going to break up with him over accepting the fox’s offering.

Phew.

He looked up to see Momo reaching out a hand toward him.

"Get up, you useless lump," she teased.

With a sigh, he took her hand, pulling himself back onto the bench. He picked up his thankfully intact bento box, still feeling just a little mortified.

"ANYWAY," Momo said, thankfully changing the subject. "I overheard Turbo Granny telling my granny that you fished her out of a river. That true?"

Well. Technically, yeah.

He hadn’t really thought of it that way, but that was basically what had happened. What surprised him more was that Granny had actually told Seiko-san about it.

He had a feeling Momo wasn’t to have overheard that.

"I guess?" he muttered, focusing back on his lunch.

Momo’s grin turned downright mischievous.

"And doesn’t that mean you saved her life?" she pressed. "That should get you out of indentured servitude, right, dude? Since, y’know, the whole deal was because she saved your life?"

Huh.

That… wasn’t something he had thought about.

He hadn’t really thought back to why he had gotten sick in the first place. Or that maybe… that moment should’ve canceled out their whole arrangement.

Granny hadn’t said anything about it.

He popped a chunk of rice into his mouth, chewing slowly.

…Huh.

He couldn’t get the thought out of his head.

Granny had said he was her servant because she had saved his life. Was still actively saving his life, really. But if what Momo said was true… had he just reversed that by saving her life?

He turned it over in his mind, again and again.

Even if he had, it wasn’t like it changed much.

Granny could still take her power back anytime she wanted, regardless of whether he was technically her “servant” or not. So it wasn’t like anything would actually change in that regard.

And besides…

And… well. She did pay for groceries. And she kept stuffing money (which he was staunchly NOT thinking about the origin of) into his bag and pockets before he went out, grumbling that it was his “servant wages”.

She had been making him lunches, too. And when he didn’t screw up too badly for a while, she even got him things. Like his new coat and glasses.

And, honestly? He was having fun learning how to cook for her.

And, well… it was kinda nice having company at his place that wasn’t just Momo.

Besides, it wasn’t like he actually saved her (after?)life or anything. She would’ve been fine. Probably. Somehow.

…Yeah.

He was just not going to bring it up.

That seemed like the best option.

So, the next day, when he saw Momo and she teasingly asked him if he’d finally been released from servitude, he just shrugged.

"Granny said it didn’t count."

Momo just bumped his shoulder with a knowing smirk.

"Sure, dude."

He had tentatively tried to thank Granny for everything she had done while he was sick.

She had just grumbled about useless servants not even being able to take care of themselves, but… he was pretty sure she wasn’t actually mad.

Pretty sure.

Just to be safe (and to properly thank her), he begged Seiko to teach him how to cook something else Granny liked. She had sighed like he was asking for the impossible, but then pulled out a portable takoyaki pan and walked him through making them anyway.

She even sent him home with the special pan, casually insisting they were old spares and not to worry about it.

The next time Granny just so happened to check in on him (randomly and spur of the moment, according to her, despite it somehow always happening at the exact same time every week) she looked positively gleeful upon seeing the pan set up in the living area, takoyaki already halfway to being perfect balls.

And honestly? It had been a pretty great meal.

He and Granny had shared the freshly made dumplings right off the little pan in his tiny living room, Baketono playing in the background (he only got to pick the show when he was injured).

Man. He was, like, the best servant ever.

When Parents' Night finally came, and everyone was hanging around the school waiting for their guardians to arrive for their slots, he bade Momo a quiet goodbye and went to start walking home alone.

Only to walk straight into Seiko-san and Turbo Granny waiting for him at the front gate.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, brat?!” Turbo Granny barked the second she saw him.

He froze. “I… home?” he tried.

“It’s Parents' Night,” Seiko-san said flatly, sounding bored.

“And… I don’t have those?” he replied uncertainly.

“Neither does Momo,” Seiko continued, her expression slowly turning gleeful. “So she gets her grandmother instead.”

She took a long, slow drag from her cigarette, exhaling deliberately before locking eyes with him.

“Same as you.”

And then she cackled.

His stomach dropped, and he turned to look at his “guardian”. Who suddenly looked very interested in the architecture around them, arms crossed as if she wanted to pretend she wasn’t part of this conversation.

“You… you can’t be serious?” he sputtered out.

Was this a joke?

Were Jiji and Momo about to jump out from behind a pillar and tell him this was all just one huge elaborate prank?!

He hadn’t filled out the little form. How did Turbo Granny even know about it? How did she book a slot?!

He was so confused…

He sat there in terrified silence as his homeroom teacher flipped through a stack of papers, humming to himself.

It had been so long since he’d last dealt with a Parents' Night. Did they still ask about grades? Future aspirations? Life goals?! He had no idea. What he did know was that there was absolutely no reasonable explanation for Turbo Granny being here.

What was she doing here? Did she just think this was funny? Was this just another new way to torment him?

Oh god, what if she killed his teachers? Would he get kicked out of school for that?!

Or worse! what if she was about to pull him out of school entirely? She could do that, right? She was officially listed as his guardian now, and guardians could definitely do that.

Momo deserved better than a high school dropout!

Before he could spiral further his teacher (who had apparently finally found his file) started talking.

"I’m glad to see Takakura-san finally has a guardian taking an interest in things!" his teacher said cheerfully. "It seemed like we were sending letters into the void for a while there."

Turbo Granny just grunted.

"And well—" the teacher cleared his throat, flipping to another page in the file. "Things were looking a bit shaky at the start of the year. We’ve mentioned before that Takakura-san seemed to have issues socializing in the past, and while that started to improve, his grades began to slip."

Under the table, Granny smacked his leg.

He stiffened. That… that wasn’t the signal to cry, right? Because that would be really embarrassing.

He was going to assume it wasn’t.

And anyway, the grades weren’t his fault! They’d been getting attacked, like, three times a week those months! He had literally lost a week of school from being on life support, for god’s sake!

"But we've seen definite improvement since then!" his teacher continued, oblivious to his mental breakdown. "His grades have picked up, and I’ve noticed positive engagement with our newest transfer student and Sakata-san."

Turbo Granny gave a curt nod, grunting out a simple, “Good.”

He blinked. She… what?

Was he hallucinating? Had he somehow stepped into another dimension? Maybe he had been abducted, and this was some kind of fantastical dream implanted to distract him.

"And on an extremely positive note," his teacher went on, sounding genuinely enthusiastic now, "Takakura-san has shown tremendous improvement in physical education! I know a few of the sports clubs would be very interested in having hi—"

Granny raised a hand, cutting him off. “Is he the fastest?”

His teacher hesitated. "I'm… sorry?"

“I don’t care about all that other shit. Is he the fastest?”

The teacher blinked, clearly struggling to process the question. “I… well, yes. He’s the current holder of the school’s 50m sprint record.”

Granny nodded decisively. “Good. That’s all I wanted to know. I don’t need to know that other shit, as long as he ain’t failing.”

Then she turned to him. “Get your shit, brat. We’re leaving.”

"Takakura-san, if you would stay for a moment longer," the teacher interrupted, still baffled, "we do need to discuss his long-term plans—"

Granny waved him off without even looking back. “No need. I’m training him up.”

Wait. What? He thought in a panic.

"Oh… taking over the family business?" his teacher said, as if that explanation made perfect sense. "Well, I suppose if there’s nothing else to discuss, we can cut this meeting short—"

But Granny was already ambling out the door.

Still in a daze, he grabbed his bag, gave a short, apologetic bow to his deeply confused teacher, and hurried after her.

Later, Granny refused to elaborate on what exactly she meant by “training him up”—which, frankly, was concerning. There was still a very real chance he was going to get dragged to a tunnel and forced to curse people.

She also did not explain why she had shown up to Parents’ Night in the first place.

In fact, when he asked, she wouldn’t even look him in the eyes.

That was suspicious enough that he actually pushed harder than he normally would—until she snapped and told him to shut up unless he wanted to be a corpse again.

He immediately stopped, clamping a hand over his mouth in panic—especially after an involuntary little eep escaped anyway.

Luckily, she seemed willing to let that slide.

He couldn’t get the thought out of his head.

Turbo Granny was apparently listed as his legal guardian in multiple places.

He hadn’t had a guardian who actually responded or did anything for him in… well, a while. They had just let him keep the money from… stuff, and otherwise left him to get on with his life.

But Turbo Granny—she might constantly threaten to kill him, but she was there. And if he didn’t screw up for long enough, she even did nice things for him every now and then.

And that got him thinking.

There was something he had pined over. Year after year. Something he had given up on until he turned 18, because it required a guardian to accompany him.

A leaflet advertising it had fallen out of his latest issue of Super Mystery Mu.

And now…

Turbo Granny was his guardian (or owner, depending on who you asked).

And she could make herself visible to normal people—she had managed to hand off that lunchbox to Momo’s friends, after all.

And, most importantly—he knew from experience that she was not immune to bribes.

…

He had some planning to do.

He was going to bribe Granny with some uni sushi.

Step one: learn how to make it.

That required begging Seiko for a lesson. Turned out, making sushi was way harder than it looked. But after a lot of struggling (and a lot of failed attempts) he at least managed to shape the rice somewhat properly. Momo had happily devoured his rejects, topped with some cheaper salmon Seiko had “happened to have lying around.”

Step two: get the ingredients.

Uni was… expensive. Like, painfully expensive. But after shopping around, he managed to find some at a decent-ish price. Hopefully she wouldn’t turn her nose up at the quality too much.

And finally—just before Granny’s next “random” check-in.

Step two: actually make it.

The door slammed open. “You still alive, servant?!”

She strode in, but the moment her eyes landed on the platter of sushi he’d laid out, her expression morphed into a grin, before immediately turning suspicious.

Aw, fuck. Was he being too obvious?

“The hell is this for, brat?” she asked, eyeing him warily. “This shit’s expensive.”

“I just wanted to thank you for being such a wonderful master!” he said brightly.

Granny stared.

She actually looked… perturbed. Oh god. He was fumbling it.

He quickly shoved the platter closer, hoping to distract her.

“I made them myself! I learned how!” he added, voice just a little too eager.

Maybe if she knew he was getting better at cooking… maybe he could still salvage this?

She still looked suspicious but took the plate anyway, settling herself onto the couch and turning on the TV. As she ate, she made a few appreciative noises, so at least he hadn’t messed it up too badly.

“You not gonna eat, brat?” she asked suddenly.

“I already ate,” he replied truthfully. He’d snacked on plenty of the misshapen pieces of rice while preparing them.

“Hmm.” She picked through the plate, then, with a decisive nod, shoved a few pieces toward him. “These look like shit. You have them.”

Oh. Had he missed some bad ones? Well, she didn’t seem too mad about it, at least. He took the pieces she handed him and ate them anyway. They still tasted pretty good.

Once she finished, she muttered a quiet thanks before sighing.

She leveled him with a sharp look. “So. What the fuck do you want, then, kid?”

Ah. He had been too obvious.

Right, just go for it. The worst she could say was no.

He reached into his pocket and thrust the leaflet out at her, holding it up like an offering before taking a deep breath.

“Every year they hold a UAP and cryptid convention in Tokyo, and I really want to go, but it’s always been expensive and also you need a guardian if you’re under 18, and my guardian doesn’t really acknowledge I exist, but you said you’re my guardian now, and I actually have some spare money this year, and they said they have an actual Tsuchinoko corpse on display, and some of the cast members from The X-Files are gonna be doing a panel, and I really, really want to go, but I already asked Seiko-san to come as my guardian, and she said she was busy, so I was hoping maybe you could take me—”

He cut himself off, gasping for air.

“The fuck?” Granny muttered.

“Please take me to this convention,” he begged, after finally getting his breath back.

She stared at him. Then down at the leaflet. Then back at him.

“…No.”

It was fine. He expected this. He had one more tool at his disposal.

Placed strategically in the corner of the room, just out of her sight…

Was the pillow.

Just think about it, Okarun. Think about how you almost lost it forever. Think about how Momo cruelly cast your one and only friend out.

Think about missing out on this convention.

His eyes welled up. His lips trembled.

He started bawling.

“THE FUCK?!” Granny screeched, reeling back.

No time for pride, Okarun. You gave that up a long time ago.

“Please take me! I’ll do whatever you want!” he wailed, throwing himself at her, arms wrapping around her as he sobbed into her hair.

“What the—get off me, brat!”

“Please!” he wailed louder. The cast members never showed up anymore, especially not to Japan—this could be his last chance!

She tried to stand up, but he clung to her like a stubborn barnacle, allowing himself to be dragged as she stomped around, desperately trying to shake him off.

“Please!” he cried again.

“If I go to this fucking thing, will you stop crying?!” she snapped, still trying (and failing)to pry his hands off her.

He immediately stopped just long enough to stare up at her, eyes going as big and pitiful as possible.

“Yes.”

Then he started sobbing again.

“STOP IT!” she barked, throwing up her hands. “Stop crying, or I’ll take my powers back, brat!”

He held firm. He really, really wanted to go to this convention. And both Momo and Seiko-san had promised to stop her from killing him.

For this? He was willing to take the risk. He doubled down.

“FINE!” Granny suddenly yelled.

He froze mid-sob, staring up at her with undisguised hope.

“I’ll take you to the damn freak convention—just stop crying. For the love of all that is holy, stop crying.”

He immediately jumped up and hugged her properly this time. “Thank you!”

And man, he really meant it.

Time for the final phase of the plan.

He ran to the fridge, pulling out the egg puddings he had prepared in advance as a final peace offering, and presented them with a deep bow.

Granny eyed him suspiciously but took one with a sneer.

“Damn brat,” she grumbled. “Should’ve never taught you how to do that.”

She took a bite. Paused.

“…Pudding’s decent,” she admitted.

“I made that too,” he said cheerfully.

She snorted. “For a beginner.” she added on.

He could barely contain his excitement in the days leading up to the convention. His bag was already packed. Snacks, portable charger, extra cash, and, of course, his color-coded itinerary.

He had invited Momo, knowing she’d be at least a little interested in some of the exhibits, but she had just laughed.

“Nah, you go on ahead. I don’t wanna intrude.”

Intrude? Intrude on what? It was just him going.

(And, technically, Granny, but she’d probably just find somewhere to nap and leave him to it.)

Apparently, Granny had gone behind his back to complain to Seiko-san about having to go, which was how he accidentally revealed that… he may have never actually asked Seiko-san if she was available in the first place.

But by then, Granny had committed—and backing out wasn’t an option. Those were the rules.

Before he knew it, he was on a train to Tokyo at an absurdly early hour, the city still half-asleep outside the window, while Granny snoozed peacefully in his bag.

The convention center was packed.

He practically vibrated with excitement as he weaved through the crowd, Turbo Granny stomping along beside him. She had begrudgingly made herself visible so they could get in—since, you know, his required guardian had to actually exist.

But what surprised him was that she hadn’t bothered to disappear afterward.

She was getting a few odd looks, though he was pretty sure it was just people trying to figure out what her “super realistic costume” was supposed to be.

One kid had even correctly guessed. “Whoa! You’re dressed as a Turbo Granny!”

He had immediately had to shoo the poor kid away before Granny actually cursed them. He was not about to get kicked out after coming all this way.

He had also told her she didn’t actually have to follow him around. She could just go grab some snacks or whatever. But for some reason, she insisted on trailing after him. Maybe to make sure he didn’t ditch her or something?

Well. Whatever.

He was way too excited to care.

He had kind of assumed it was a hoax—but he had been excited to see it anyway.

But no! The preserved Tsuchinoko corpse looked entirely authentic, showing none of the usual hallmarks of a fake.

And Oh! Oh! This basically confirmed that it was just a UMA! It was only a matter of time before they found live specimens and it was officially recognized as a real animal!

Maybe if he asked nicely, they’d tell him where they found the body, and he could go investigate it himself. Imagine if he was the one to finally discover a living Tsuchinoko!

He was so wrapped up in his excitement that he almost didn’t notice Granny sneaking up beside him.

“A bachihebi, huh?” she muttered, eyeing the display. “Haven’t seen one of those in a while. Annoying little fuckers, they were.”

Okarun barely had time to process what she just said before she added, completely casually:

“Thought we’d managed to kill ’em off.”

“WHAT?!” he screeched, only to immediately slap both hands over his mouth as the crowd turned to stare.

Shamefully, he grabbed Granny and dragged her off to the side, whispering urgently:

“Bachihebi! That’s what Tsuchinoko were called in the northeast! You—”

“Were everywhere back in the day,” she said, bored. “Like I said, though. We killed ’em off.”

“THEY’RE ALMOST GONE BECAUSE YOKAI HUNTED THEM?!” he whisper-shouted, earning more side-eyes from passing convention-goers. “THIS IS BRAND NEW INFORMATION! AND YOU JUST—YOU JUST KNEW THIS AND NEVER TOLD ME?!”

Granny sniffed. “Didn’t ask, did you?”

He grabbed at his hair.

“Granny, please, I am begging you—tell me everything!”

“Later,” she said with a dismissive wave. “You came all the way here, didn’t you? Go look at some other shit or something.”

His next stop was the X-Files section.

As much as he tried to keep his expectations in check, he couldn’t help but feel a little disheartened when he saw the sign confirming that all the signed posters were sold out.

He had known it was a long shot. Cast members from American shows rarely came to Japan, and from what he overheard, people had lined up before the convention even opened just to get one. They had only given out 100, and he had not been one of the lucky few.

But he shook it off.

No point in getting discouraged—he was still in time for the panels!

And those were just as exciting.

He found a seat among the eager crowd, eyes practically sparkling as the cast dove into the real-life urban legends that had inspired specific episodes. They shared behind-the-scenes details, explaining how they had crafted the eerie atmosphere, the subtle tricks used to make the supernatural feel almost real.

And then—special effects breakdowns.

He leaned in closer, his brain soaking up every bit of information.

This was super useful.

Learning how movie magic worked meant being way better at determining whether a video or photo was legit or just a well-done fake. He furiously took notes, practically vibrating with excitement.

Okay. Maybe missing out on a poster wasn’t the end of the world.

The rest of the day passed in a blur as he made sure to visit every single exhibit.

He was so caught up in actual supernatural encounters that he barely had time to keep up with the latest theories—which, when he really thought about it, sounded kind of ridiculous.

Before they left, he made sure to stop by the merchandise hall. Knowing in advance that he’d be coming, he had saved up everything he could—and now? He was ready to go nuts.

Keychains, posters, plushies—if he could get his hands on it, he bought it.

He even found a pair of really cute alien earrings—ones that looked strikingly similar to the teal ones Momo usually wore. He hoped she’d like them.

As with most conventions, there was some overlap with adjacent occult fields, meaning there was plenty of traditional supernatural merch mixed in. He picked up a Ghostbusters-themed apron for Seiko-san. She had done a lot for him after all.

And in a rare moment where Granny wasn’t paying attention, he spotted a plush toy that looked suspiciously like a nekomata. It had white fur, kind of similar to her hair, and he had caught her sporting cat ears around Seiko-san at least once or twice…

He barely managed to stuff it into his bag before she turned around.

It felt like no time at all before they were back on the train, heading home, having finished the day off with gorging themselves on overpriced convention center food.

He knew Granny didn’t really care, but he was still riding the high of the convention—so much so that he couldn’t stop himself from talking.

“It’s a shame I couldn’t get one of the signed posters… I was really looking forward to that,” he sighed. “But honestly? Everyone else was so great I don’t even care. Oh man, I can’t wait to go again next year.”

Granny hmphed. “Well, if you don’t fuck up too badly, maybe I’ll take you again. If you’re lucky.”

He paused.

Next year, he’d be eighteen. He wouldn’t actually need a guardian to take him.

But… if she did come…

He didn’t think he’d mind.

So he didn’t say anything.

Granny, seemingly uninterested in his silence, changed the subject. “Anyway. I found this on the floor while you were off gushing over some keychains or some shit. Enjoy.”

She held out a poster tube toward him.

He blinked. He hadn’t even seen her pick anything up… Confused, he took it—only to freeze at the sticker on the tube.

7 out of 100.

His heart jumped.

This was… one of the signed X-files posters.

A quick peek inside confirmed it, and he immediately shut the tube again. He could not risk it getting damaged.

Tears were welling up in his eyes for real this time. His head snapped up to look at her. “How did you—”

“Aw, hell, what do you want now, brat? Stop it with the goddamn tears!”

“Sorry!” he said quickly, scrubbing at his eyes. “Force of habit at this point, I think.”

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, staring down at the poster before glancing back up at her. “Thanks, Granny,” he said, a bit breathless. “How did you even get this? You just found it?!”

“Don’t worry about it,” she sniffed.

He narrowed his eyes. “Granny, did you steal this from someone?”

…

“Granny?!”

Later, when they were back home, he finally presented Granny with the plush toy.

She responded by smacking him over the head.

But—he also definitely saw it later, sitting on display at Seiko-san’s house.

Seiko herself had just laughed, ruffling his hair when she saw her gift.

And Momo? Momo had practically squealed, immediately swapping out her earrings for the new ones before sweeping him into a crushing hug—then following it up with a kiss as Granny, in the background, made a loud, disgusted sound.

A while later, he and Granny ran toward the Ayase household, Granny tucked into the hood of his jacket, both eager for dinner.

He hadn’t broken anything in a whole week, and at some point, it had become an unspoken rule that if he managed to stay in one piece that long, Seiko-san would treat them all to an extra delicious meal. She’d been keeping this one a surprise, and both he and Granny had been looking forward to it all day.

The moment they arrived, he headed straight in. He didn’t bother knocking anymore—at this point, the Ayase house felt more like a second home than anything else.

Immediately, he was hit with a rich, buttery aroma that made his mouth water.

“How’s my favorite old hag of a cat girl and her pathetic little meow-meow of a grandson doing?” Seiko called over her shoulder from the kitchen.

He furrowed his brows. “Why do you keep calling me her grandson?”

Momo immediately punched him in the ribs. “That’s what you’re taking issue with?!”

He shrugged. At this point, he’d pretty much accepted his lot in life. It seemed to be working out pretty well for him.

Momo laughed and pulled him into a hug. Feeling bold, he leaned in and pecked her on the cheek just before she pulled away, grinning as a soft flush lit up her face.

Behind him, Granny made a loud, disgusted noise.

Hypocrite. Who knew what she was getting up to with Seiko-san behind closed doors?

Seiko called out that dinner would be ready soon and ordered him to sit his ass down, which he happily obliged, settling onto the couch. Then—slowly, inch by inch—he started shuffling closer to Momo.

She laughed, shoving him away once—but only once—before letting him practically press himself against her.

Granny made another dramatic sound of disapproval at his antics—only to immediately turn around and be equally saccharine with Seiko-san in the kitchen. He caught a glimpse of her sneaking up behind Seiko-san, an arm wrapping around her waist, her cat ears fully on display.

Yeah. He had a working theory that she brought them out on purpose just for Seiko-san.

And as he sat there, leaning against his girlfriend, waiting for a delicious home-cooked meal, he had the absurd thought that becoming an indentured servant to an evil yokai might have actually been the best thing that ever happened to him.

…Also, he really hoped Seiko-san was making seafood. He’d been craving it a lot lately.