Chapter Text
Nanami sank low in the bathtub, soaking up the last few minutes of blessed serenity. Sooner or later, she’d have to leave this room, where she’d retreated to scrub the dirt and tree sap from her body and gather her thoughts, and then she’d have to face her new, confusing reality again. Not that she wasn’t grateful to have a place to stay. Just that she was still wrapping her head around it.
The last twenty-four hours had consisted of some of the most overwhelming and emotionally volatile events she’d ever faced in her life. And that was saying a lot.
Meeting a yokai had been one thing. Being told that the former tochigami of the shrine had given her his powers had been another. She could even process that she’d stepped into the shadows and discovered another world beyond the borders of humanity. But this? This was just strange. Because she, an eighteen-year-old girl just shy of graduating high school, had a servant.
Well, servant wasn’t really what they called it. Onikiri and Kotetsu, the spirits of the shrine, had explained to her that Tomoe was what was called a shinshi — a god’s familiar. Apparently, familiars did all sorts of useful things for their masters. Cooking, cleaning, tending the shrine… Even recording prayers or low-level purifying.
Now she, a young woman who’d lived and cared for herself for more years than most people her age, found herself as the awkward recipient of these services. No longer did she have to do the laundry or wash the dishes or cook meals. Perhaps that was the most unbelievable part of it all.
Not that she’d believed it at first, anyway. No matter that Tomoe had cared for the shrine for years, transcribing visitors’ prayers, sweeping the pathway of debris, and ensuring weeds never choked out the yard. Even when he’d obeyed her command and saved her from the onibaba, it hadn’t seemed real. It still didn’t, not even when he’d been so kind as to provide her soap and a freshly laundered towel for her bath. Based on his snide remarks over the short time she’d known him, she wouldn’t have been surprised if that had been no more than a means to keep her from tracking in mud. No, these gestures in themselves didn’t convince her that Tomoe had committed himself to her.
It wasn’t until she toweled off, dressed, and exited the bathroom that she received her first hint that something had changed. Because when she stepped out, she caught the delightful scent of something savory cooking. That was odd.
The first night she’d stayed with them, Tomoe hadn’t bothered. It had been Onikiri and Kotetsu who’d prepared a meal and served her. In fact, Tomoe had disappeared entirely, refusing to welcome her. This was so unlike him that her curiosity was piqued, and she wondered — was this really happening? It seemed strange to think that Tomoe could change his tune so quickly, unless what the shrine spirits had said was true. Without thinking, she wandered towards the kitchen, aiming to find out.
Right before she caught sight of Tomoe, the image of his face so close to hers flashed through her mind. His breath against her cheek, his taste inundating her senses, the wet warmth of his mouth locked with hers. His eyes had flashed with such defiance, but his skin had been so soft. The moment their lips had met, he hadn’t resisted or pulled away, instead resigning himself to this fate. And they’d remained engaged in that kiss for what had felt like minutes, all in the midst of this death defying stunt just to preserve her dignity.
Fresh nerves seized her. Regardless of the fact it had happened an hour ago, what she’d done hit her like a freight train. In fact, she swore she could still taste the faint dregs of sake and tobacco on her tongue, the remnants of his kiss lingering in her mouth. Had she shoved her tongue down his throat? Suddenly, she couldn’t remember. But if she had…
Another realization cracked through her mind like lightning, and her breath caught in her throat. “Oh, my god, that was my first kiss!” she thought, mouth open, eyebrow twitching. And she’d forced it on him too. Certainly, she couldn’t face him now.
Her cheeks flushed with heat, her feet rooting themselves at the threshold, where the hallway gave way to the main space. Just across from it, she could hear pans scraping and meat sizzling, along with the clanks and thuds of her newly minted servant storming about the kitchen. Each wham had her wincing, curdling further into herself.
She wouldn’t have called him happy, but… Was he really that mad? Then again, she had made him her shinshi against his will, when he had so been enjoying his freedom after twenty years of abandonment. That would’ve been enough to piss even the most virtuous of saints off.
But then again, he’d been an asshole, she reminded herself with a little huff. She didn’t really want a servant, but she had needed someone to help her, and he hadn’t been willing unless she’d sacrifice her pride. Not that there had been any guarantee he would’ve done more than point and laugh while she fell to her demise — even if she had caved and called him Tomoe-sama. She didn’t want to believe he’d be that cruel, but she had much less faith in him after he’d announced he didn’t care what happened to the shrine.
How one could denounce their precious home, she didn’t know. He had no idea how lucky he was. If he was going to be a spoiled brat about it, then maybe he had deserved a wake up call. That erased some of the shame she felt. Still, she decided to try to be nice to him, because he had gone out of his way, and he was still going out of his way even now. At the very least, she should extend the olive branch and make sure he was okay. Cautiously, she inched forward.
Before she’d so much as entered the kitchen, his ears twitched. “Have you already finished your bath?” he asked.
She jolted. His hearing was even better than she’d thought. She scrambled for some semblance of normalcy, but what came out was nothing short of awkward. “Yeah, and then I realized you were cooking so—”
“Was it satisfactory?” He shot her a piercing look over his shoulder.
She gulped. Those eyes made her feel like he wanted to eat her alive. Worse, a rather large chef’s knife lay on the counter beside him. She ignored the butterflies in her chest, trying not to think about how he stared at her like he wanted to stab her with it.
“Yeah, it was really nice, thank you,” she said. “I needed it.”
All he did was hum and turn his back. He grabbed an unidentifiable shaker and snapped his wrist in jerked motions, seasoning the fish he fried in the pan. Uncomfortable, she rubbed the back of her hair and shifted from one foot to the other. “Seems like he doesn’t want to talk,” she thought, face falling. She wondered if expressing a bit more gratitude would help.
“It’s kinda amazing how dirty you can get just from climbing a tree, huh?” She forced a laugh. “So I’m glad you let me use your shower.”
“You did not just climb a tree. You ran about in the mud. Without shoes,” he replied without turning around. “Naturally, you will be filthy after such a thing.”
A scowl settled on her brow. She released a huff, but didn’t comment on that. Silence stretched between them for a moment. Not one to be deterred, she tried again.
“What are you making? It smells really good.” She clasped her hands behind her back, rocking forward on her feet, attempting to look over his shoulder.
“I am preparing fish, rice, and a medley of vegetables, all of which are packed with nutrients, which you no doubt need,” he replied, his eyes on the pan as he flipped the fish. “Since we are low on supplies and it has been many years since I have had need to cook, I am afraid I do not have a feast nor any sort of culinary delight for your liking. However, tomorrow I shall go shopping—”
Eyes widening, she waved her hands. “Oh, no! That’s okay! You don’t have to go crazy or anything. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I got to have fish or vegetables, so it smells amazing.” As though on cue, her stomach growled.
He paused, shooting a glance over his shoulder. “You have not eaten fish or vegetables?”
“Not in a while,” she agreed, blushing. “I told you — my father left. I didn’t have any money.”
“Hm, you are skin and bones,” he agreed, flicking a judgmental gaze over her.
He talked to her like she was a stray dog, she thought, unsure whether she should be angry or embarrassed. Maybe a bit of both. “I can’t help it,” she retorted. “You don’t have to be mean.”
“I am merely making an observation,” he said, cutting her off before she could complain. “You seem sickly, even for a human. Your complexion is pale.” Here, he exhaled in length, his eyes falling shut, an expression of lamentation on his face. “Humans are weak as insects. This will take some time to correct.”
“To correct?” she sputtered. The rest of his statement sank in, and she glowered. “Hey, I’m not weak!”
He opened one eye followed by the other. Disdain soured on his mouth. “Then why did I need to save you?” A beat passed, and he tacked on, “Besides, if you do not eat, then you will wither away. That is what happens to humans, hm?”
Her mouth flapped open and shut. Words failed her.
It seemed he was satisfied that he’d made his point, because he turned to the stove and clicked the burners off. She watched him plate the fish and vegetables, then scoop a generous helping of rice into a bowl. More than she was allotted in a day, she thought, eyes huge. He set every dish at the same place at the table. Then, he knelt, his eyes locked on her and his tail swaying, expectant.
“Oh…is that all for me?” she asked. When he nodded, she took a seat, staring down at the food, taking a moment to appreciate it. While anyone else might’ve viewed it as a humble meal, it was the most beautiful thing she’d seen in weeks. A smile played on her lips. “Thank you for the food.”
Just as she dug in, she realized — he continued to stare at her, as though waiting for some sort of sign. Had she committed a faux pas? It occurred to her that he didn’t have so much as a grain of rice at his side of the table, and she wondered if a familiar was supposed to wait for permission to eat. That was awful, she decided.
“Aren’t you gonna have dinner with me?” she asked, offering a smile.
“I am fine, thank you,” he replied. “Yokai do not need to eat. And I must remain attentive to my lady and mistress’s needs at all times.”
Mistress? She swallowed a rather large mouthful of rice at once, nearly choking on it. Once she’d composed herself and sipped some tea, she found her voice. “I don’t think that’s the right word.” Instead of responding, he only stared at her. “I mean, if you don’t want to eat, that’s fine, but you can if you want to!”
“No, thank you.”
As he watched her, his expression so solemn, she wondered if perhaps he turned her down because he had no appetite after what had happened. He’d said he was miserable, that he was upset that she’d forced him to become a familiar again. And she had no idea how to handle this situation, how to address it when she felt no need to apologize, so she opted to say nothing more about it.
But she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was different between them — and more than the familiar contract. She was sure she’d find out whatever that was sooner or later. One thing was for sure, though — she was not going to be the one to bring it up.
—
For the remainder of dinner, she ate in relative silence. Eventually, Tomoe poured a cup of tea for himself, settling down, no longer staring at her. That relaxed her enough to think perhaps he was feeling better. It took the edge off her guilt.
Since it was already late, in the early hours of the morning, after she ate, she brushed her teeth and crawled to the inner shrine, where her futon had been set up. Much to her surprise, she found Tomoe in her room, arranging a canopy of some sort around her freshly made futon. The night before, her futon had been equipped with minimal bedding; however, now it was covered with plush blankets and plump cushions — more than necessary. She halted in the middle of the room, gaping. Subsequently, he paused what he was doing and turned to her with an unusually warm smile.
“Ah, Nanami. Your bedding was subpar, so I have taken it upon myself to make it more comfortable for you.” He adjusted one of the curtains.
What was going on? First, his gestures had been simple, no more than handing her a towel or two. Then, he’d gone a little farther out of his way, preparing dinner and washing the dishes. But this? He’d gone above and beyond. No one, not even her own family, had ever put in so much effort for her. It began to sink in that he really was her shinshi.
But how on earth had a normal girl like her become a god? She still didn’t understand it.
“Oh, um, thank you…” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a little sheepish. “But you didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“It is no trouble at all. It is my duty as your familiar.”
He straightened up, hands clasped before him, a smile still playing on his lips. That was such a stark contrast to how he’d behaved earlier, Nanami thought. Was this a trap?
Confused, a bit wary, she stepped closer. But with his gentle gaze on her, she thought maybe he had calmed down after all, that maybe he’d had some time to process it and come to terms with it, that maybe he didn’t despise her as much as she’d thought he had. Slowly, she relaxed.
Good, she thought. She hadn’t deserved his ire anyway. After all, if he’d simply helped her, she would’ve never kissed him. Besides, she’d never asked to be a god.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better!” she said, a sigh of relief leaving her. “I thought you’d be really mad at me for making you a familiar, but you’re not mad at all!”
His smile tensed. “Mad? How tepid.”
Tepid? Something in the pit of her stomach stirred. She uttered a sound of confusion. Why did she have a bad feeling about this?
He drew in a breath, and then his expression morphed, his eyes flashing and wild, his fangs on full display. “I am seething! I have told you I was enjoying my freedom for the first time in five hundred years, and yet a human woman has chained me to the shrine again!”
A squeak caught in her throat, her heart beginning to rabbit. He looked like he’d roast her alive with his foxfire. And perhaps this wild fox would have done just that had she not been his god. Tears of fright stung her eyes and she quivered as foxfire blazed around him, his teeth clenched and claws bared. He seemed so much larger now, reminding her of the moment she’d stumbled upon the shrine.
“He has such a bad temper!” she thought, knees knocking together, entire body feeling like it’d wilt to the floor. “I’m gonna die!” Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Please don’t hurt me!”
He paused. As soon as she whimpered again, the flames flickered out, and he withdrew his hand. He exhaled.
“I am angry, but you are my god. I would not hurt you,” he muttered.
“Y-you wouldn’t?” She did her best to keep her teeth from chattering. Every muscle in her body felt uncomfortably tense.
“No. In fact, I will serve you to the best of my ability. Starting today, I am your familiar. That means if you require anything, I am here at your service.” He nodded once, eyes shut.
Throat tight, she nodded, her vision still swimming with unshed tears. She continued to tremble, although she felt a little less afraid of him now.
Perhaps he was sorry for how he’d scared her, because he murmured, “I did not mean to stress you so. You will hardly get a good night’s sleep in that state.” To this, she only nodded again. He sighed and beckoned her closer with a forefinger. “Come. I will work the knots from your shoulders.”
That hardly sounded relaxing, but she found herself plopping down beside him anyway, her legs too weak to hold her up any longer. Odd how he had her obeying him when he was supposedly her familiar, she thought with a stifled groan. That groan soon turned to a hitch of her breath when hands fell to her shoulders. Momentarily, she stiffened.
“Now, how on earth will I relax you if you act like that?” he complained. “I do not bite.”
“Well, you were acting like you would!” she shot back, turning to look over her shoulder. She found his face hovering close, and her cheeks flushed.
The image flashed through her mind again, that little voice in her head reminding her that she’d kissed him. It was hard to tear her eyes away from his lips, thinking about how her lips had been on his mere hours ago. Practical reasons or not, the fact remained. Her first kiss, and it’d been so unromantic.
His voice stopped her anxiety spiral before it even began. “And I am saying I would not.” He pressed his thumbs into the backs of her shoulders, alternating the pressure, beginning to rub them. “If you would — relax.”
She drew in a deep breath and then released it slowly. It didn’t calm her racing heart much. After all, a man was touching her. A handsome man. A man she’d met just the day before. A man she’d kissed. Her mouth went dry.
“Do not hold your breath,” he complained. “And stop ruminating on whatever you are ruminating on!”
“Sheesh, thanks, I feel so much better,” she said, jaw slack, eyes half lidding.
Regardless, his words pulled her back to reality. Maybe he was gorgeous, but he was rude as hell. There was no need for her to get worked up over this, because he clearly wasn’t thinking about the kiss anymore. Then she wouldn’t think about it anymore either.
As she pushed it from her mind, his firm yet gentle touch migrated to her shoulder blades. There, he pressed along the ridges of her bones, reaching the muscle just beneath, alerting her to a soreness that she hadn’t realized was there. Climbing that tree and falling had done a number on her. Yet he so skillfully eased her body into a state of relaxation. He knew what he was doing, and he was good at it too.
Before she could stop herself, a tiny groan left her, her chin dropping towards her chest, her eyes falling shut. “That’s nice,” she murmured aloud.
In response, he hummed, working his way up her back, leading with the heels of his hands. He pressed a particularly sore spot, and she couldn’t help but moan slightly. No one had ever given her a massage before. Not that anyone other than her mother had shown her any sort of affection. In fact, she couldn’t recall anyone else having ever touched her before, apart from the few times someone had held her hand to lead her or to keep her from getting lost.
Now, leaning into that wonderful touch, she found a lump coming to her throat. It was nice to be touched, she realized. It ignited an ache deep inside of her, knotting her chest and tensing her core. But it did a little more than that — it also had her craving more, to know what it was like to be hugged, to be held, to feel safe in someone’s arms. She kept this to herself. After all, that wasn’t what he was here for, and she was just being wistful. This was more than enough.
For several minutes, he continued to rub her back. He kneaded her to putty, working away all signs of tension, from the nape of her neck to the small of her back. His hands were like magic, making her feel more relaxed than she thought she’d ever been. It amazed her to think that she’d been so nervous to be massaged, and yet now…she felt fully at ease. Her eyelids fluttered, and she leaned back, humming.
Shortly, she became aware of his gentle breaths falling against the wispy hairs at the nape of her neck. His hands ran slow, firm circles over the expanse of her back, between her shoulder blades, the warmth of his palms burning through the fabric of her yukata. Having another person sit so close to her left her heart pounding like mad, especially as his touch glided up and down her spine. Whether consciously or not, he awoke something inside of her, stroking just the right spots on her body, sending tingles in the form of waves over every inch of skin.
Within minutes, her lips parted, shallow breaths quickening, that dull ache at her pelvis increasing. Even in the private recesses of her mind, she wondered — she wasn’t actually letting her thoughts go there was she? Maybe she’d discovered him in a brothel of all places, but it just wasn’t appropriate to think of someone she knew personally like that. Never mind that he rubbed and caressed and stroked her. Heat flooded her cheeks anew.
As she debated whether or not to end this massage before she got wet over such a thing, his hands crept up to her shoulders. His fingers worked into the collar of her yukata, loosening it a bit, exposing more of her neck. She froze. In the next second, the light touch of his lips brushed the top of her neck and each vertebrae that followed, trailing down. This time, her breath caught sharply and audibly. His hands wandered over her sides and her stomach, leaving her heart knocking against her ribs.
Oh, gods, she was getting wet. Vaguely, she wondered if he possessed some sort of bewitching powers that foxes were said to have and, if so, if he was using it on her. She felt her skin flush, her blood pulsing strongly between her legs. Hell, she even felt like her nipples were poking through her yukata. And all it had taken was a few intentionally placed kisses on her neck and warm hands running circles over her body.
Just as he caressed her stomach, mouth attaching to the hot skin at the junction of her neck and shoulder, her senses snapped back to her. What was she doing? And what kind of woman was she to let a man touch her like this? She jolted in his grasp, shrieking.
“No!”
Immediately, his hands jerked away from her sides and he went rigid. Scrambling forward, she hastily readjusted her yukata and whirled to face him, panting raggedly. Tremors encompassed her entire body, eyes stinging slightly, and she clutched the front of her yukata with one hand, as though it’d come open any moment. Yet she couldn’t deny the tendrils of arousal that had bloomed below her navel, enticing her to allow it, reminding her how good his hands had felt.
But she didn’t know him, she argued with herself. Inwardly, she beat down those flames with an imaginary broom, telling it to go away.
It took her a moment to find her voice again. Since she’d shouted, he hadn’t so much as moved, his eyes wide and his hands outstretched in the same position as before. Sputtering, she asked, “What are you doing?”
This must’ve snapped him from his daze, because he blinked. His hands fell to his knees, his ears remaining upright, alert. “Tending to my lady,” he replied. His brow wrinkled.
“Tending to me? Is that just some excuse to be a pervert? Because you didn’t get to do whatever you were gonna do to those girls at the brothel?” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “You were trying to get into my pants, weren’t you?”
His brow furrowed deeper, his cheeks flushing scarlet. “I was doing no such thing!” he barked. “It is part of my duties to care for my lady’s needs!”
A humorless laugh burst from her lips. “Part of your duties? What the actual hell?” Her breaths remained harsh, ragged. “That’s the dumbest excuse I ever heard!”
“It is the truth!” he retorted, his tail snapping. “Part of a familiar’s duties is to ensure that their god is satisfied in every facet of life. Including in the bedroom!”
Her cheeks puffed, her body quaking. She couldn’t even begin to process this right now. “Get the hell out of my room, Tomoe!” she yelled, the shrine all but shaking in the process.
Perhaps she’d scared him, because he scrambled to get up, and then he all but flew from her room, his tail whipping behind him. The door slapped shut, enveloping her in silence.
It took her a moment to gather her bearings. She sat there in the middle of the floor, legs splayed, knees turned in. After a moment, a small, dry sob wracked her frame. She rubbed her forehead, purposely sucking in a deep breath.
“I’m shaking,” she realized, a wavering laugh leaving her. She stared down at the floor. “Did he know he was turning me on?” Quickly, she shook her head. “No, no, no! Don’t think things like that! You don’t even know him!”
She heaved a sigh. Then, lifting her head, she stared at the door. There was not so much as a peep from the other side. It looked like Tomoe really had left her alone. Maybe she hadn’t needed to be so harsh after all. But what did bother her was how he’d claimed it was his duty to please her. Like she’d ever believe that.
She wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep at this point, but it was late, and she was sure to have plenty of work to do the next day. Just to be safe, though, she pushed her nightstand in front of the door. That way, if he did try to come in, it’d make enough noise to wake her. With that additional peace of mind, she crawled into her futon and curled up in a ball under the blankets, attempting to get warm.
Yes, many unbelievable things had happened in the last twenty-four hours, but she decided this one took the cake. What kind of person claimed a happy ending was a part of godly duties? That made no sense. Whatever, she thought, pulling the covers over her head. She decided she’d deal with him — and this shinshi nonsense — tomorrow.