The shape she wore

Hayato didn't sleep. He sat with his back against the shrine's outer wall, his knees drawn up, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the hilt of his sword. The air is filled with the sounds of the night insects and water running over stone in the distance.  Yukari is asleep inside. At least he assumes she is. She's curled up near the offering table hours ago, her human body still uncomfortable on the stone floor. Her tails drape over her like a living blanket. She hadn't complained, hadn't asked for anything, she just laid down, closed her eyes and went still.

Hayato's eyes flicker to the paper screen for the hundredth time. He tells himself it's vigilance. That leaving a kitsune unsupervised, even a broken one, would be unforgivable negligence from an onmyōji. He wouldn't admit how the quiet feels wrong, how her voice has become a sound he's grown too used to.

At dawn she wakes up before him. He feels it, the subtle presence he's grown used to. When he opens his eyes, she's already standing at the edge of the shrine's steps, watching the mist roll over the mountains. "You're awake," she says without turning around. He rises to his feet quietly. "You didn't sleep much." She offers a half smile. "Neither did you." He didn't deny it.

They leave the shrine together as the sun bleeds through the trees, casting a golden glow over them. Hayato leads, placing wards as they go. Thin, subtle seals he made to alert them if something follows behind them. Yukari walks close behind him, close enough for him to feel the fabric of her clothes brushing his, her body heat seeping through the material. She hadn't asked him to stay, but he demanded she does. "I'm not letting you wander freely," he had reminded her the night before. "Not with those tails of yours on the loose in the human realm." "And if I refuse?" His answer to her question had been simple. "Then I'll bind you." Her golden eyes held his gaze for a long moment, then she nodded. "Very well, I'll stay." She agreed. Too easily.

They travel south towards the old rail lines, long since swallowed by neglect, moss and time. Hayato had told her it was research. There had been reports from people of loved ones appearing where they shouldn't be, of voices sounding out from abandoned tunnels. 

She feels the tug almost instantly. Stronger than ever before. "Something's wearing faces," she says quietly as they reach the thinning of the trees where concrete once again flows into the world. "Something that likes pretending." Hayato hums in agreement. "A Bakeneko." Her steps slow. "They're clever." "They're thieves," he replies, "and cruel." She glances at him sideways. "So are foxes." He didn't smile, didn't react. When they reach the sealed off subway entrance, the air feels wrong. An almost eery feeling, like something had sucked laughter out of the world. Hayato cuts off the ward-seals, the paper sizzling away. Cold air escapes the dark hollow of the subway, the stale smell of rust and layers of dust following.

Yukari hesitates. Not long, only for a breath, but it was enough for Hayato to notice the falter in her step, the slight stiffening of her shoulders. Without thinking, he reaches back and grabs her wrist. Her skin is warm in his hand. "You stay within arm's reach," he states. An order. She looks down at his hand, then back up at him. "Afraid I'll run?" Her voice came out softer than usual. "No," he says, and he means it. "Afraid you won't." Her lips curve, not a complete smile, but there's something soft in the gentle curve of her lips. She doesn't pull away.

The tunnel swallows them whole. Lights flicker above them, some dead, some humming, barely clinging to the scraps of life left in them. Their footsteps echo, but the sound bends strangely, returning from places they shouldn't be. Hayato's wards prickle, but refuses to trigger. That unsettles him more than an attack would. Yukari feels it too. "The illusion is layered," she murmurs. "Like skin." They reach the platform where the corpse of a train car waits for them. 

Then Hayato hears his own voice. "Yukari." The sound came from behind them. He turns slowly. He was standing there, a perfect copy. The Bakeneko has taken over every detail, posture, expression, even the slight tension in his shoulders that had settled in from years of vigilance. When it smiles, it uses Hayato's mouth. Yukari freezes, her breath catching. She looks between them. "Impressive," she says. The Bakeneko laughs. "I try." Hayato moves instantly, drawing his blade, putting himself between Yukari and the yōkai. "Don't look at it," he snaps. But she already did. The Bakeneko speaks again, a gentleness in his voice. "Come here, I'll protect you." The words triggered something deep and unguarded in her and she takes a step forward. Hayato's heart slams against his ribs. "Yukari!" She stops, then she turns. Not towards the Bakeneko, but to him. Her fingers brush his sleeve as she walks past him, grounding him in a way no charm ever could. "I know which one you are," she says quietly. The Bakeneko's smile falters. The fight that follows would be brutal.

The yōkai shifts constantly. Hayato, then Yukari, then something twisted and half formed. Hayato is forced to fight his own face, his own movements, his own instincts. Every swing felt wrong, every block countered. Yukari moves fluidly for a fox with missing tails. She anticipates attacks before they happen. She moves through gaps, grabbing his wrist mid-swing and guiding it, his blade finding flesh with lethal precision. He doesn't question it. When the Bakeneko pins her to the train car, claw swiping at her throat, something in Hayato breaks. He tears through wards and flesh, sigils burning into the yōkai's skin until it screams. Yukari strikes back, wrenching free, blood at her mouth and rage burning in her eyes. 

The tug flares up and she knows where her tail is. She launches herself forward, reckless but precise all at once, tearing into the Bakeneko's chest with bare hands. Light explodes as she rips her tail free, power returning to her like a breath after drowning. The yōkai collapses, howling in pain. Hayato seals it without hesitation. When the silence falls, Yukari drops to her knees. Her body changing subtly, her body refining into something deliberate as her tail unfurls behind her, pulsing once more. She looks up at him, for a moment he forgets to breathe. "Shapeshifting," she says breathlessly, reaching up to touch his face. 

As they leave the tunnel Hayato doesn't pull away when she stays close, and Yukari doesn't have to try hard to wear the shape he already likes.