CHAPTER 10

Usually, having oni royalty stay over at your home just to apologize for their blunder was a weird enough story as is. What happened at Kou’s school the next day was somehow still weirder.

First things first—the day began with an almost uniformly dreary look on everyone’s faces. Their eyes were gaunt, their skins pale; the bedhair was countless, and it was as if everybody was struck with an insomniac spell at the same time. It would’ve been funny any other day, but when it happened to nearly everyone, even the most cheerful of the kids in Kou’s class could feel that something was wrong.

Not a single one was brave enough to broach the topic.

Kou wasn’t, either, but he wasn’t particularly cheerful to begin with, so he wasn’t burdened with that responsibility. It’s important to know your role in a social setting—the opinion leader, the follower, the core group, the yay-sayer, and the outsiders … Kou was occasionally part of the core group, yeah, but he was no leader. Japanese tatemae was itself based on knowing your own place. Kou was good at that.

Tackling heavy topics with surface-level acceptance was the job of the leader, whose opinion should be echoed and expounded on by the follower, inviting noisy nods from the core group and the yay-sayers, giving the outsiders no choice but to agree with it. In short, it was someone’s job, yeah, but not Kou’s.

Kou’s job was to keep an outlook of things and make his own judgment.

His judgment: none of it made sense.

Homeroom. First period began. It was Tuesday, so the first subject was English. The teacher was the boring Takanoue-sensei, who wasn’t even half as good at English as he was supposed to be in order to actually qualify as a teacher. Takanoue-sensei was always boring—Kou always secretly blamed him for his bad grades, he just couldn’t think of English as interesting—but even he was lacking something that day. If he were usually any more energetic, Kou would say he’d lost the pep in his step. His thick eyebrows were drooped down as low as his half-open eyes, his writing on the blackboard was a few seconds slower than usual, his nearly nonexistent response to literally anything happening in class became entirely nonexistent, and he went from walking a snail’s pace to walking dead because that’s just how sluggish he looked.

The kids being slightly more irritable would’ve made more sense since the summer flowers had begun showing up and they’re finally nearing the early test season, with essays for homework pretty much ramping up (oh, curse the high educational standards of this high school and its great acceptance rate at Tokyo U, seriously), but there was no explanation for that. Especially since there was no essay homework for English this past week (which was pretty weird on its own), meaning he didn’t have as many tests to grade. Troubles at home, maybe?

Also, the weather was just getting good. They’re probably going to start handing out the parental consent forms for the third years’ school trip in just a few weeks. Was that why? Were they too busy arranging the trip? It’s not like their school would do anything special, though; the high school division just kept going to Kyoto year after year, anyway. Was something going to change this time around?

That sounded like an extremely unlucky coincidence. And that didn’t explain the kids also looking like their souls were drained of all energy.

Or was it really just simple coincidence?

The second subject was mathematics, Kou’s favorite, so he struggled a lot less. However, Nakamura-sensei actually was losing the pep in his step. For real this time. That just didn’t add up. Sure, happy folks had their downtimes, but when Nakamura-sensei was down, he wore his heart on his sleeves and let everyone know (to the point some of the older teachers would scold him in the teachers’ lounge, or so Kou overheard from Himiko). There were times when Nakamura-sensei was down, and then there was this.

It was the dreariest morning of Kou’s entire high school life.

Kou dreaded third period.

And then the fourth….

His one saving grace came in the form of the lunch bell. Kou was never one to run to the cafeteria, but he just had to escape the class. Someone came along, though. There was a soft tug on his sleeve just before he went out the doors.

“Koumori-kun.”

It was his girlfriend. She was looking gloomy, too.

“Can I … can I join you?”

If Kou were to be honest, he didn’t feel like he needed the company. He still hadn’t forgotten about Kurotarou dissolving into spiritual essence before his very eyes. He still hadn’t forgotten the shining cross she cast in the air, the flaming shroud that enveloped her, or the way her golden eyes shone in the dark of the night.

He still hadn’t forgotten how she was shaking, how pale she was, how she must’ve known that she would be upsetting Kou.

Hang on a second—he never told her anything about being the King of the Night. Why would she know that she would upset him?

Was she afraid of something else?

She wanted to prevent kitsune from entering the school—was it that ‘something’ she hid?

Kou stared into her golden eyes, then sighed. Dealing with lives beyond theirs felt a bit too heavy for fellow sixteen year-olds. Deaths aside, right now, in front of him, was a girl who probably wanted to extend her goodwill. At the very least, Kou couldn’t be angry about that. “Mm. Sure.”

Kou could’ve sworn Himiko was about to cry. “Thank you.”

Kou scratched his head as they walked. It just didn’t feel good seeing Himiko on the verge of tears like this. “Are you … affected by this, too?”

“This?”

“This entire … mood? I’m not sure how to explain it.”

“Oh,” Himiko turned to stare at the ground. “I … I actually didn’t notice. I was a bit, uh, preoccupied.”

Kou raised his eyebrows. There’s an easy way to get over the heavy atmosphere, but it would involve not addressing the elephant in the room. Now, if the subject was literally anything else, it would’ve probably been a lot easier for Kou—the problem here was that the topic involved someone else’s life. “What’s wrong?”

“I….” Himiko fell silent. Then she took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

“Hate you? I won’t—”

It was then that Kou realized that Himiko was about to cry. He didn’t think anymore—he grabbed her hand, then swiftly guided her to the student council room.

Luckily, it was empty.

Kou had her sit in her usual seat as the student council president. She was shaking, but now that they were alone, she was audibly fighting back her own sob.

“Let’s just have lunch here,” Kou said. “I’ll grab your melon bread real quick. Won’t be five minutes.”

“N-no,” Himiko grabbed Kou’s pinky finger just as he turned around. “Don’t go.”

Kou’s head spun quickly—lunchtime, cafeteria, lines, bread, drinks, student council, Himiko, crying, a pinch on his pinky—then it just all stopped.

Himiko was crying. Himiko was crying this whole time. She only let it out now. Wasn’t there a reason why he brought her here where they could be alone?

Kou turned back, then crouched until his head was level with the desk. Himiko mirrored his lead and leaned forward, down, until her head rested entirely on the desk. Kou patted her head. “Himiko-san.”

“Mmm?”

“I don’t hate you.” Kou touched her cheek. “I can’t possibly hate you.”

“But I … and you….”

“Are you afraid that I’d hate you because you exorcised a nightwalker in front of me?”

Cat’s got Himiko’s tongue. She just kept sobbing. “Yes….”

“And you think it’ll make me think you were cruel?”

Himiko actually cried a little louder. “Yes….”

“I don’t….”

Kou let his voice trail off. It was the way Himiko quivered, the way her voice was breaking. It was the way Chi went silent, the way she felt vulnerable enough to lean on him. It was the way Kurotarou shrunk away when chased, the way he looked when he was exorcised.

I wish everything’s as simple as a mushiyoukai attack.

And even that wasn’t simple.

He could already hear Chi complaining about this, but in the more than one year Kou had known Himiko, she was never one to lie. She would hide things, yes—heck, she could keep her exorcism well under wraps until the moment she confessed—but she never lied. Not even when keeping things under wraps. She would divert the conversation, she would give curt responses, but she would never lie.

Nothing about her was a lie.

Not her reasoning, not her fear.

Not her love.

She never once lied about her love for him, nor did she lie when she said she did not want her to hate him. So, Kou had only one question: “What made you so afraid?”

Himiko raised her head a little, letting her eyes finally meet Kou’s. “I love you.”

“No, I mean…,” Kou shifted his weight. “When you exorcised Kurotarou. You were afraid. What made you so afraid?”

Himiko fell silent. She sobbed a few more times, drew a sharp breath, then hid her face again between her arms. “Because you’re kind.”

The little Chi inside Kou’s head was saying that her answer would be because I’m keeping a secret or because I know you’re the King of the Night or maybe because I don’t want you to kill me, so he was frankly not ready for the actual answer. “I’m … what?”

“Y-you wouldn’t have liked seeing my exorcism.” Himiko’s voice was dampened by the arms she refused to lift her face from. “Koumori-kun, you’d be right. I’m cruel. I exorcise nightwalkers. I’m your enemy. I was afraid because you were there. I was afraid because I didn’t want you to see how cruel I am.”

Her golden eyes, shining in the dark, shrouded by sacred flames. “Then please just answer one question for me.”

She was definitely reluctant to answer, but she also knew she had no choice. She nodded.

“Do you think there was really no other choice? If you were faced with the same situation again, would you have responded the same?”

Himiko was definitely reluctant to answer.

She also knew she had no choice.

She nodded.

Kou sighed. “I know you have everyone’s safety in mind,” he said. “Look—I don’t hate you. I can’t hate you. I’m not angry at you … Himiko.”

Kou swallowed—mainly out of nervousness—but that actually made Himiko raise her head. Her eyes widened. Still very wet, a little swollen, but clearly widened in surprise. “K-Kou-kun….”

Kou smiled a little. “I’m not angry. I’m just sad.”

Himiko took a deep breath. “Because … because he died?”

Deja vu. Kou kept his little chuckle to himself. “Well, that too, but I still feel like we could’ve solved that one differently.”

Himiko reached out, gently, faintly. Kou took her hand. “I understand. I’m sorry. I … do you think you could’ve solved that?”

“No,” Kou said plainly. “But I’d like to think that there’s more I could’ve done before we had to … well, resort to that. You’re probably right. I can’t afford to drag my feet, and there’s too much that I don’t know. I’d just hoped there’s something more that I could’ve done.”

Himiko was quiet, but she kept Kou’s hand in hers. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“You’re too kind.”

Kou chuckled. “It’s brought me nothing but problems so far.”

“But that’s why I fell in love with you.” Himiko gave Kou’s hand one more squeeze before letting go to wipe her eyes. “You know what? I’ll trust you.”

“So you don’t trust me this whole time?”

Himiko pouted. “That’s not what I mean. Kou-kun, you meanie.”

“I’m just kidding.”

“I know. That’s also why I love you.”

“What am I but a bundle of kindness and humor to you?”

“My one true love. Anyway, I’ll trust in you. Before worse comes to worst, I won’t step in. Let’s do things your way.”

It was Kou’s turn to widen his eyes in surprise. “So you mean—”

“I want to believe in your solution. I’d like to think there’s more that could be done. But,” she raised a finger, changing her tone to something more serious, “if any human comes into real danger, I’m stepping in, and I’ll take it as far as I need to just to make sure no one else gets hurt. I need you to understand this. I still have my responsibilities as an exorcist. I can’t quit just because I love you.”

Kou couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Thank you.”

Himiko smiled back, then held Kou’s hand again over the desk. “Thank you for not being mad.”

“I still do have some questions about that, by the way,” Kou said. “You said responsibilities. Aren’t most exorcists working by hire?”

“It’s the most viable way to survive, yeah. We need money, after all.”

“So what do you mean responsibilities? Are you hired?”

“Not exactly.” Himiko touched her choker. “It’s a job if it’s a hire. It’s a responsibility if it’s something you inherit.”

Kou peeked at her face. Her golden eyes. He’d been avoiding the topic forever, but it might be due time they talk about it. “Inherit?”

“Yeah. It’s in my blood to be an exorcist.”

“Is this also the reason you could use Christian exorcisms without being a Christian?”

“Something like that. Faith is personal, but lineage is a legacy.”

Legacy. “So it’s something you've had since birth?”

“Yeah.” Himiko looked into Kou’s eyes. There was no mistaking that glint—the shine of gold, the sun, the flame, the holy. “It just so happens I’ve got the bloodline of saints in my veins, so.”

*