Chapter Text
within a boat
such a brief
bond is formed; yet
do i envy it,
i really do!
– lord ari'ie
I. [10:00] Monday the 7th of August, 2015
Shrines have always been some sort of hotspots for Curses—that is one of the many things that Nanami Kento first learns when he was first scouted into the Jujutsu Kōtō. Therefore, he supposes that it makes sense that the famous Higashiizumo-chō, Matsue-shi of the Shimane Prefecture will be one of the greatest spots for Curses, considering that it is said to be the place where the door to the underworld rests. Upon Yaga Masamichi’s insistence, he is given a week-long mission in Higashiizumo-chō, saying that all he needs to do is to do the biannual sweep in said place, and he can spend the rest of the week off. Nanami knows that he is only doing this because of how much he had worked throughout the year, fresh out of his work as a salaryman. He does not bother with his newfound fame.
He tugs on his collar uncomfortably as he reads through the directions given to him by his supposed ‘boss’.
Higashiizumo is biannually ‘sweeped’, as they call it, by various sorcerers. Because of the strange activity at the place near the infamous Yomotsu Hirasaka, the slope that leads to the entrance to the underworld according to the legends, Curses are truly, truly alive. Their existence is further strengthened because of how religious this part of Higashiizumo-chō is, feeding on the lives of the Curses no matter how much the sorcerers try to get rid of it which is why it is Nanami’s turn to sweep through one of the most popular jobs among his coworkers, cleaning up the area near the so-called ‘Yomi’. It does not help that Higashiizumo-chō’s most famous shrine is a shrine dedicated to Izanami-no-Mikoto, the goddess of the underworld and by extension, of the dead.
Nanami does not plan on making do with his vacation. He doubts he will finish the sweeping in one day only, perhaps in two to three days but definitely not in a single day.
Another unspoken rule, after all, among sorcerers is that the mountains are another hotspots. People believe that yōkai lurk there and are guarded by mountain spirits; being spirited away is also a common theme and thus, their stories come alive with each rumor they spread.
And when he finally arrives at Higashiizumo at the bus stop, the first thing that Nanami Kento sees is you.
The cicadas in this midsummer afternoon screeches to his ear. They scream at him, almost.
The first thing he notices when he sees you are your bouncy pigtails, curled miserably in a way that must have clearly been your first attempt in curling your hair. Then he notices the intensity of your gaze, ominous dark eyes, followed by the booming noise coming from your earphones. You blink. Your fingers fiddle with the bright pink ribbon around your neck, as cheap as everything you are using to accessorize yourself, Nanami can tell.
You look at him from head-to-toe and the first thing (a hundred and thousands of firsts here, he will realize later, a week or so) that registers in his head is how young you look, your sailor uniform loose around your body, meant to be one that you will grow into. It is significantly larger in size than your frame.
Something must have clicked in your head then because the next thing he knows is that you are right in front of him with a business smile, hands clasped together in front of you. “Welcome to Higashiizumo-chō of Matsue-shi!” You exclaim, the chirps of the birds echoing as well as the sharp stench of fields and fertilizer. The both of you grimace. “May I ask where ‘ya’ve come from, ojisan?”
Nanami’s eyebrow twitches. He knows he must look older than he actually is with his necktie and his full ensemble of a dark suit but he is only twenty-five years old, his birthday recently passing last month. “Tokyo,” he answers unsurely. He squints at you: you are most likely just in your second or third year in middle school, he guesses to himself. A child in an oversized uniform and high pigtails. Not to mention, you have a handful of clips stapled in your heart and earrings heavy in your earlobes. Is this what people call the modern ‘gal’-style nowadays? Back in his time (his nose crunches), ‘gals’ had a dark tan and light-colored make-up, but that does not seem to be the case of the much modern versions.
The moment the word ‘Tokyo’ comes out of his mouth, the business smile on your face abruptly disappears. It is instead replaced by a strange gleam in your eyes, a light squeal following suit. “To—To—Tokyo?!” You beam excitedly, throwing your hands in the air in awe. You fidget in your spot. “‘Ya know, ojisan, I was born ‘n’ raised in Higashiizumo-chō! I can bring ‘ya to the best spots here! I mean, I was goin’ to volunteer to be a tour guide to tourists, ‘ya know—but! I can give ‘ya a massive discount in exchange for stories from Tokyo! I swear, ojisan! I’m a really good tourguide!” He catches the edges of your shoes, worn, and the strange bracelets that hang on each side of your wrists. The clips on your head are just as worn and cheap-looking as your other accessories. You are also, most likely, underweight.
Nanami gives you one look before he passes you a note. You gladly accept it. “Oh! The ryōkan near the mountains! I know where this is! Do ‘ya want to go to a shortcut? Or do ‘ya want the long way? The long way has the best scenery, ‘n’ stuff!” You chatter quickly, your heavy accent and fast mouth making it hard for Nanami to understand what you are saying. It takes a while for him to register what you said, the tilt of your words completely different from his own.
“The short cut,” he says, “Then the mountain path to the Yomotsu Hirasaka.”
You raise both eyebrows as you volunteer to carry his luggage. He looks at you suspiciously before you give him your best trusting smile. He passes it to you, finding no harm from a child that is probably just thirteen or fourteen in comparison to a First Grade Sorcerer. You drag it along effortlessly. Nanami ignores the smug look you give him in turn.
“Guess ojisan is also checkin’ out the entrance to Yomi, right? Not surprisin’—” You shrug. Nanami feels stares digging at the both of you the more you get closer to your destination. The locals. “Did ‘ya know, ojisan? Lots of men disappear when they go to the entrance in the middle of the night! Some say Izanami-no-Mikoto whisked them away ‘cause she thinks it’s Izanagi-no-Mikoto. She wants to seek vengeance!”
Nanami struggles to focus on observing the surroundings with how loud your babbling is. Somewhere along your one-sided conversation, you say that since it is summer vacation for most students, you are trying to earn as much money as you can to travel to Tokyo and see Akihabara and Shibuya and Shimokitazawa and all those other cities for yourself. Sadly, there are no part-time jobs willing to accept you for some reason so you became a pseudo-tour guide instead. You talk about a family that you once toured and how they were a ridiculously big one, so big that each of them gave you a thousand yen, even the kids! “Four-year-olds carryin’ around a thousand yen are so weird, ;ya know!” You say, as if a thousand yen is a lot of cash already. Despite your seemingly effortless dragging of Nanami’s bag, you falter midway. “Are ‘ya hidin’ a body here or somethin’, oji—” You look down to his luggage, spotting his name. “Nanami-san?”
He makes a sound of affirmation. You exclaim your own name to him and with an exaggerated wink he only sees in idol commercials on TV, you grin, “Future idol ‘n’ temporary tour guide!” You probably had expected a reaction from him, judging by how long you maintain your grin for. “‘Ya know, ‘Nami-san, whenever I say that people usually smile. You’re kinda mean, ‘ya know.”
“There’s nothing amusing about it,” Nanami remarks.
“Well, that makes sense,” you giggle.
When the two of you arrive at the ryōkan, you pass his luggage to him and crouch at the entrance of it, meters away from the actual place. You wave a hand. “I’ll be waitin’ here, ‘kay?” Nanami can just leave without telling you, though, he knows, but everytime he spots how worn your shoes are, how pointy your wrists are, and how bright your smile is, Nanami thinks he can spend some money for the teenage tour guide. Children in the countryside are the same as the ones in the city, he thinks. At least there are lesser love hotels and bars here. Nanami has seen many high school students and even younger girls get pulled into love hotels by men way older than them already. The police officers usually respond quite quickly when dialed but Nanami knows how much it is worse in Roppongi, the home of the nightlife, where Curses born from massive negative emotions mock him from the balconies and the love hotels.
The ryōkan is more extravagant than he had expected but he should have known it would look like this because of Yaga’s commentary on how much he needs a break. Ever since Nanami quit his job as a salaryman less than a year ago, Nanami had done nothing but work.
Just as promised, you are at the entrance of the ryōkan, doodling something on the ground with a random stick you had picked up. Nanami frowns when he recognizes them to be numbers and a random katakana of convenience store food. He calls your name, overly formal as he usually is. You immediately stand up, kicking the soil in your feet to cover the doodles. “Nanami-san!”
You move directly beside him and point to the other side. “The Yomotsu Hirasaka is a little walk here but if you really want the mountain path, then I guess so. But it’s not as creepy as it is at night. The guy who cleans the place often never goes there at night, you know,” you explain carefully. Your accent is less pronounced, your words only having a tinge of your dialect. Your eyes fly to his head. “Is Nanami-san a half? I mean, you’re really tall! You also have a pretty nose and you know, you’re blond.” Nanami wonders how you would react when you see his other more eccentric-featured coworkers.
He nods. “Westerner from my mother’s side,” is all he says vaguely, not wanting to diverge more of himself.
“Oh? Then, that means Nanami-san prefers to be called by his surname, then?” He grimaces instantly.
“I was raised in Japa—”
“Kento-san? Ken-chin? Kenton?” You snap your fingers. “Kencchi!” You run the back of your head in embarrassment. “This is the first time I gave a nickname to someone I just met! Westerners are really intimate, huh? I’m kind of embarrassed.”
Nanami genuinely wonders how your mind works.
He reminds himself that you are probably thirteen years old, loud and still hanging in the edge of your childhood. You say that you are in your first year in middle school and you like to watch baseball like most middle school students your age. And you also love idols so much! When you first saw Morning Musume in the screens of the television displayed at the windows near the city, you had fallen head-over-heels. “They’re all so cute and pretty! They sing and dance so well and—” In this part, your eyes are practically, hands swinging at your sides and clenched, trying your best to not squeal. You look like you have been wanting to tell this to someone. To anyone. Even a stranger like Nanami. He humors you for a bit. “And everyone loves them! And anyway, I think I”m cute enough for an idol, anyway. Is Kencchi a—”
“Please don’t call me that,” Nanami interrupts.
“It’s cute!” You walk ahead, finding the path near the edge of the mountain. You nod to the direction. “And it’s really weird for an ojisan to talk to me in keigo, you know—are all people in Tokyo stiff like you, Kencchi?”
He furrows his eyebrows. “I use respectful language with everyone. It’s only polite.”
“Still! It’s weird. I’m way younger than you, Kencchi,” you groan.
Nanami watches the trees shift around them, the atmosphere as ‘creepy’ as you described it but so far, there are little to no Curses around, nor are there any remnants of Cursed Energy present aside from a handful but aside from that, Nanami finds the Yomatsu Hirasaka not as much of a hotspot as he was informed. But you did say that Yomotsu Hirasaka’s strange occurrences happen at night. It seems like he will be visiting during then instead.
You suddenly stop on your tracks. You fidget, rubbing your arm in discomfort. “Sorry, Kencchi, my Mama doesn’t want me anywhere close to the entrance. My Mama somehow knows whenever I pass by so, I’ll just drop you here in the path, okay?” You intertwine your hands and sit on a nearby bench. “Uh, you just head straight up, then you’ll find the tablet with all the tourist details about it. I’ll be waiting here again, sorry. You can, uh, take that away from my pay—sorry.”
Nanami counts three apologies.
He walks to the nearby vending machine and drops a cola to your skirt. You catch it, surprised. You look up at him. “I’ll be back in an hour. Can you wait?” His words are heavy in keigo as always, but you learn to shrug away your so-called dislike towards it the moment you get the small gift from him.
“I’ll wait even if it takes a decade, Kencchi! Thanks for the cola!”
“I won’t be away for that long.”
He returns in forty-five minutes and you are still there, on the bench, with a foolish grin on your face. Children get happy over the smallest things, don’t they?
II. [18:00] Monday the 7th of August, 2015.
Nanami tells you that you can choose a restaurant for dinner, even when you try to tell him that he has dinner waiting for him in the ryōkan. He insists though, saying that it is only polite for him to treat you to dinner. (Nanami thinks there is something wrong with you. Something inexplicably wrong with your oversized sailor uniform, your dirty shoes, your cheap accessories, dark eyes, and your skin that clings tightly around your bones. And Nanami believes in responsibility. He believes it even more when you hold the drink coming from nothing but the vending machine like it is precious. He believes it the most when you smile with your crooked teeth. This is the only way he can help you.) So when you drag him to a restaurant you say is so underrated it must be a crime, you tell him more about this area of Higashiizumo-chō. Perhaps a little too much.
The man that had been staring intently at them since early in the morning is called ‘Maeda’. He owns the biggest fields in the place and he is kind enough to share it with his neighbors (“Okuda-san should learn from him! He’s so greedy!” You add.) He does not like foreigners that much, thinking that they are defiling the Iya Shrine and the holy land of Izanami. Okuda thinks the same, though less in the foreigners but more in the people who constantly visit the Yomotsu Hirasaka, saying that they are treating it as a tourist attraction when it is their precious entrance to the underworld. “Lots of people are really traditional and stuck-up here. You can’t really blame them though. They’re nice deep down, but their families have been here for generations! You can just ignore them, Kencchi. They’re harmless,” you quickly defend, “Anyway, how long is Kencchi going to stay here?”
“A week. And please do not call me that.”
“A week is long enough to tour Higashiizumo’s best places! When do you wanna go to the Iya Shrine?” You lean across the table as Nanami orders for the two of you. The waiter glances at you before nodding. “Oh, but I’m not allowed inside, okay? I’ll wait outside too. Mama doesn’t like me going there.”
Nanami’s eyes flick to you before it settles to the emptiness of the restaurant you claim is your favorite. A normal izakaya place in the corner of the Higashiizumo. “It’s a shrine,” Nanami contradicts your words.
You hesitate. You bite the inside of your cheek. “If I tell you, your promise you won’t run off, okay, Kencchi? I’m the best tour guide out there!” For someone who did not do much touring but only gossiping, Nanami doubts this but he still nods. “Since Kencchi’s a stranger, it’s easier to say things—” You chuckle. “Well, my Mama used to be a miko of a shrine but not the one here—she got pregnant with me but you know, even if virginity isn’t that big of a deal among miko nowadays, she still got pregnant. Mama left her shrine but rumors followed her. The shrine doesn’t like us here. They said we’re sullying the gods. Mama doesn’t like stuff like that now.” You stretch your arms, glancing every now and then at the chef preparing your food. “I can still bring you there, though, Kencchi! So don’t get any other tour guide, okay?”
With a shake of his head, Nanami stares at the meal presented to them by the chef. “I won’t,” he answers and the smile on your face is irritatingly blinding.
You tell him stories between bites, how there had been lots of men going missing all-year round, some tourists seeing it for themselves but end up disappearing as well. One of Maeda’s grandsons apparently got spirited away in the mountains too and no matter how many times he knelt to the gods, his grandson never returned home. You occasionally mention your Mama every now and then, happiness dripping with every word as you talk about her and a part of Nanami finds it calming. You are terribly talkative. Too talkative, actually, and you never stop doing so even as he interrupts you midway but when he actually talks, instead of correcting you and telling you to stop calling him ‘Kencchi’, you listen, gaze wide and attentive.
Like a dog, Nanami had thought briefly before correcting himself: like a child.
Nanami will like it more if you do not call him ‘Kencchi’ but he cannot force you to stop from doing so. Children can be fickle and you are probably thirteen years old, feet planted on the ground with your chin up high but still, just a child at the end. Your wrists look like they will break if he holds them and you walk so slowly compared to him that Nanami wonders if he moves just a little faster, the next time he will see you, when he turns around to look at you, is when you are too far behind.
He thinks this must be what Haibara died for—children, his sister, and he remembers Haibara rubbing the back of his head as he smiles, crying a little when he was told that his sister wanted to be a sorcerer just like him. “I don’t want her to be like me, Kento,” Nanami remembers biting his lip, resisting the urge to tell him off for calling him by his given name instead of his surname. He remembers many things—ending up letting Haibara call him that for a little while longer. His given name drops on Haibara’s lips on his deathbed.
He remembers that too.
You are a human, just another one of the people he is obligated to protect. And to think that you live in Higashiizumo, the hotspot of Curses, makes Nanami’s chest tightens. As you walk him back to his ryōkan, you speak: “I really want to be an idol but before that, I need to go to Tokyo!” Idols are hypersexualized in the media, one of the most popular being gravure idols and Nanami is not sure if you know that but you are too happy, too excited, too blinded by the dreams you had seen on TV. “Kencchi is really fun to talk to. I think strangers in general are but it’s kind of weird to see an ojisan hanging around with a middle schooler, huh?—” You wrap your arms around yourself dramatically. “Kencchi isn’t secretly a creep, right?” He grows irritated but you quickly cut him off. “Kidding! Kidding!”
You stop right in front of the ryōkan and maintain the grin on your face. “This is where the best tour guide in the world stops for the meantime! If Kencchi wants to see more of Higashiizumo, then you know where to find me, okay?” You look like you do not expect him to come back but the next day comes; Nanami spending the rest of the night slicing down too many Curses to count, too many, and Nanami finds you in the waiting shed of the bus stop, still in your sailor uniform but your hair down to your shoulders. Your knees are up to your chest, clipping a mirror between them as you try to tie your hair in pigtails with the ribbon around your neck a navy blue this time.
He calls for your name.
And when you turn to him, you look like you are about to cry. “Kencchi!”
(Monday the 7th of August, 2015—six days before the Sunday without god.)
・ higashiizumo-chou (東出雲町) is a town in the shimane prefecture. it's now within the matsue city (松江市, matsue-shi).
・ yomotsu hirasaka (黄泉平坂) is the slope that leads to the entrance to the underworld, yomi (黄泉の国, yomi-no-kuni). izanami-no-mikoto was said to have gone there when she died. in grief, izanagi-no-mikoto, her husband, tried to bring her back but izanami already ate from the underworld and thus, she cannot get out. izanagi, however, insisted and izanami made izanagi promise to not look back but he did and found her hideous now because of her rotting body and tried to flee. izanami, angered, vowed to kill thousands of people each day and izanagi promised that more people will live in exchange. in short, izanagi is an asshole.
・ gal (ギャル, gyaru) are, in layman's terms, trendy girls. back then, it was generalized that they have to wear heavy tans and over-the-top make-up but nowadays, they range from just trendy girls, girls with heavy tans, or etc.
・ ryokan (旅館, inn) is just that. an inn. a traditional japanese inn.
・ roppongi is the home of night life. there are lots of men who will literally drug you and drag you to a hotel, and this is actually common in all parts of japan and rarely to never are they reported because of the rape culture there, which is why i get really frustrated when people romanticize japan so much and japanese men. sure, some of them are shy and kind, but many are literally so disgusting.
・ morning musume (モーニング娘) is a japanese all-girl group boasting as the longest-running idol group.
・ half (ハーフ, haafu) are the term used for half-japanese people and though nanami is not half, he's still treated that way by the reader. westerners are very much worshipped by young japanese girls, especially the haafu because they believe they are a lot prettier than average and are "unique". of course, many from the older generation do not like foreigners, specifically the very nationalistic ones. they actually exist up until today.
・ keigo (敬語, keigo) is respectful language. canonically, nanami has always used this when speaking. i have never seen him talk to anyone other than in keigo, whether he is talking to students or not.
・ miko (巫女, miko) are shrine maidens. traditionally, they are virgins but nowadays, that isn't veyr important but there's still a stigma surrounding it since miko are supposed to embody purity. a miko cannot be married.
・ the iya shrine (揖夜神社, iya jinja) is a shrine dedicated to izanami-no-mikoto.
・ izakaya (居酒屋, izakaya) is a japanese drinking bar.
・ kencchi (ケンッチ) is a cute nickname.
edited as of the 7th of april, 2023