Chapter 19
UnwelcomeStorm
BARK! BARK! BARK!
- Location
- United States
19
There was no escaping them. Every day for the next week, Taylor would show up at the shrine, have enough time to brush Sunny and maybe steel her resolve, and then the Vrrrrrr would approach from down the street. Souta and Yuuta would show up in front, Souta as carefree as ever and Yuuta with an implied apology writ large upon his face. And then?
Baachan. They were all baachan, they explained, at least until Taylor either memorized or felt comfortable using their actual names. But until then—or however long she wished, apparently—they were baachan, grandmother. And as frightening as the thought of being under the steely gaze of a half-dozen grannies was, there was also something kind of magical about it. Taylor's own Gran had never been particularly close, considering the blood feud she seemed to have with Danny Hebert, so being alternately commanded and fussed over by a cadre of old women was a very novel experience.
The whole process began as something extremely tense. Taylor gave the collected grandmothers a tour of the shrine, and listened to their increased tsks and clucking of tongues in worry. Through some ritual of seniority that Taylor feared she would one day understand, Yuuta's grandmother was elected the spokeswoman of the group. When the tour was done, Baachan shook her head and turned to Taylor.
"Miko, you do good work for this shrine, but this is not a tea house. There is not enough room in the office or haidan for such a thing."
Taylor bit her lip. "Is it possible to hold it outside? The weather's still warm, and there's a lot of room."
"Nodate? Yes, that could work. It will be difficult."
"I think that goes without saying," Taylor replied. "But if you can teach me what I need to do and what I need to do it with, then we'll have a plan, right?"
"Mm. You have good spirit, miko. Yes, we can do this. Between us, we can find the tatami mats and tea utensils. There is still the flowers and the artwork to find, but—"
Sunny wuffed, and gave a proud toss of her head. Taylor jerked a thumb at the wolf, ignoring the stares of the less-hardened baachans of the group. "Sunny's got that covered, I think."
Taylor's confidence in the wolf was met with doubt, at least until the necessity of a flower vase and the shrine's lack of a hat rack were mentioned. Sunny pulled Souta out of the shrine for an errand, and they came back with a few decorative bonsai pots of bamboo and a receipt for them, which Souta handed off to Taylor. Sunny buried the bamboo pots, and the next day, the thick shoots had sprouted and twined themselves into living shelves and spiraling decorations.
There was considerably less skepticism and considerably more whispers, after that.
So it began. Every day, at least one or two of them would bring food with them (which put them firmly in Sunny's good books, of course) and the rest would come armed with tape measures, or pins and large folds of silk, or books, and different utensils and bowls that Taylor was struggling to learn the names and uses of. A sketchbook was repurposed for taking notes with the instructions she was given in English, and after only a little prompting, the romaji translations.
After Tuesday, she started calling herself in sick to school. Not pissing off Lung was slightly more important than algebra. Haru was summarily recruited to bring her homework to the shrine. To Taylor's surprise, he also brought her class notes, and not just the ones from the periods she shared with the boy.
"Yeah, those are from some of our other friends," Haru explained, making a gesture at himself and at Yuuta, who was being a packmule for his Baachan and carrying in some tatami mats. "It's kinda… not exactly a secret that you're here? I mean, at least among the guys wearing the colors, and any of their siblings. So I asked around, and got the kids with the best notes to make copies for you."
"That's— really helpful, actually. Thanks, Haru." Taylor glanced up from finishing her work on Sunny's fur, and saw the boy giving furtive looks towards the Grandmother Collective. "Something you need?"
"Well— I mean, not need, but—"
Sunny huffed in amusement. Taylor tweaked the wolf's ear and said, "Just say it, Haru."
"I was hoping you could make another charm… I was gonna ask you at school, but— well, you know."
"Sure, that shouldn't take much time. Grab my bag for me, I'll do it before Baachan catches me. You've got a picture, right? Is it the same one as last time?"
"Oh! Uh, not quite. It's close, but that was for success in endeavors, basically. This one is for academics." He dragged over her school bag, and Taylor handed him the book of ofuda to flip through while she picked out her ink and one of her special brushes. "It's actually for my cousin. Finals are coming up, and she's always stressing about every test she takes."
"Sure, I've met a few like that. She go to Winslow?"
Haru shook his head. "Nah, she's in college. Graduated high school early and went up to Cornell." He grinned suddenly, then laughed. "She's not really the mystic type, being an engineer and all, but even if the charm does nothing to help it'll at least give her something new to call my mom and complain about."
"Win-win situation, then. Here— let this dry and it'll be good to go."
"Thanks, Miko!"
"It's Ta— oh, never mind. You're welcome."
* * *
Friday crept up steadily, and the tatami mats settled in permanently in their bamboo pseudogazeebo. Oni Lee stopped by to check on her, and was treated to the trial run of the tea ceremony. It was… less than an ideal showing. The chabana flower arrangement was still growing in its vase, the wagashi sweets weren't to be brought until tomorrow by Baachan (Yuuta's specifically; she claimed she knew a good recipe and would prepare them that very night) and the hanging scroll had yet to be hung. The assassin didn't know the proper procedure for being a guest, so Taylor did her best to direct him, but it wasn't long before the ritualized conversation collapsed into informality.
"I thought it looked hard enough, but it's so much worse." Taylor chewed on her lip, and tried to remember if she was supposed to be using her right hand or her left to handle the fukin cloth as she wiped clean the tea bowl. Why did even a glorified washcloth have so many rules?
"Tea ceremony is meant to take years to learn, Miko. You have had one week."
"I know, but there's a lot riding on this… um. Probably. I still don't understand what Lung even wants."
"I… do not fully understand him either, Miko. Or, I cannot fully express it. Lung will not care about the tea—he will demand much more than he expects from you—but it will provide a— a space, for conversation." Oni Lee made vague gestures with a hand as he spoke, trying to convey his meaning. "So that you may answer his questions with less fear."
"But— that's just it! What does he want to ask me? Why is he so interested in the first place?"
"He must know why you are here. You are in his territory, and though I have tried to explain your presence, he cannot allow a cape to operate near him without his permission."
"He thinks I'm a parahuman?" Taylor asked, mouth agape. "That— I guess that would explain it, but I'm not! Why would he even think that?"
Oni Lee didn't answer directly. Instead he turned his head once to look at the shrine, its fixtures and form like new, then turned his head the other way to stare at the bamboo that was growing around them, forming shapes and structure like a bonsai with years of careful tending.
"...okay, I guess there's that." Taylor admitted. "I know it's probably strange to everyone else, but that's all Sunny's doing."
"The Ōkami has displayed much power, yes. Whatever god she serves must be great indeed." The assassin fell silent for a time, while Taylor cleaned the utensils and let her own thoughts work furiously. "Hm. Miko?"
"Yes?"
"Whom does this shrine belong to?"
"Everyone."
"Ah— I meant, which kami is enshrined here?" He clarified. Taylor bit on her lip again, and looked towards the haidan.
"You know, I don't actually know? I looked up what I could, trying to find where that'd be referenced, but any markings for the kami's name have been worn away. There's a… there's a word for this— shintai! There's a shintai in the honden."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, it's a sort-of octagon mirror set into a big bronze disc. The honden is about the only place here Sunny tends to shoo me away from, but she likes to lie near the mirror sometimes when I'm busy cleaning or doing homework."
"I see."
They settled into an easy quiet, a fact that admittedly left Taylor a bit stumped. It was hard to reconcile the quiet man who liked omelets with the cold-blooded killer that she knew he was— she'd seen him mentioned on the evening news more than once, over the summer. Perhaps his own words were the best at explaining it: the shrine, and the rituals and history associated with it, created a sort of space unlike the streets of Brockton Bay.
A place where old women walked to without fear of being mugged. A place where the rough teens she'd avoided at school respected her. A place where gang members set aside their weapons for a while, to pray or talk or plant trees. A place where she could work and see results from it, unlike the faceless drudgery of high school. A place where nobody spited her, or laughed at her, or completely passed her over.
A place where she could sit with her friend, and watch the clouds go by.
* * *
Oni Lee thanked her for the tea and left. Sunny wandered over as she cleaned up and put away the utensils she would be using again tomorrow, and she gave the wolf a quick pat between tasks.
"I know what I want." She told the wolf, who thumped her tail against the tatami mats. "You'll be right here, right? So I can ask Lung directly." The wolf nodded, and she reached over to grip the canine's fur in gratitude.
The sun was setting as she packed up her bicycle, and wheeled it under the red gate. The evening light cast ripples over the hand-carved wooden poles, and the tiny imperfections that gave them character. Someone had loved this place.
Someone did love this place, and her name was Taylor.
"...Sunny, you don't think anyone else mistakes me for a cape, do you?" Taylor asked, as she pedaled and the wolf trotted alongside. Sunny snorted, once.
"Yeah, I didn't think so. That'd be silly."
There was no escaping them. Every day for the next week, Taylor would show up at the shrine, have enough time to brush Sunny and maybe steel her resolve, and then the Vrrrrrr would approach from down the street. Souta and Yuuta would show up in front, Souta as carefree as ever and Yuuta with an implied apology writ large upon his face. And then?
Baachan. They were all baachan, they explained, at least until Taylor either memorized or felt comfortable using their actual names. But until then—or however long she wished, apparently—they were baachan, grandmother. And as frightening as the thought of being under the steely gaze of a half-dozen grannies was, there was also something kind of magical about it. Taylor's own Gran had never been particularly close, considering the blood feud she seemed to have with Danny Hebert, so being alternately commanded and fussed over by a cadre of old women was a very novel experience.
The whole process began as something extremely tense. Taylor gave the collected grandmothers a tour of the shrine, and listened to their increased tsks and clucking of tongues in worry. Through some ritual of seniority that Taylor feared she would one day understand, Yuuta's grandmother was elected the spokeswoman of the group. When the tour was done, Baachan shook her head and turned to Taylor.
"Miko, you do good work for this shrine, but this is not a tea house. There is not enough room in the office or haidan for such a thing."
Taylor bit her lip. "Is it possible to hold it outside? The weather's still warm, and there's a lot of room."
"Nodate? Yes, that could work. It will be difficult."
"I think that goes without saying," Taylor replied. "But if you can teach me what I need to do and what I need to do it with, then we'll have a plan, right?"
"Mm. You have good spirit, miko. Yes, we can do this. Between us, we can find the tatami mats and tea utensils. There is still the flowers and the artwork to find, but—"
Sunny wuffed, and gave a proud toss of her head. Taylor jerked a thumb at the wolf, ignoring the stares of the less-hardened baachans of the group. "Sunny's got that covered, I think."
Taylor's confidence in the wolf was met with doubt, at least until the necessity of a flower vase and the shrine's lack of a hat rack were mentioned. Sunny pulled Souta out of the shrine for an errand, and they came back with a few decorative bonsai pots of bamboo and a receipt for them, which Souta handed off to Taylor. Sunny buried the bamboo pots, and the next day, the thick shoots had sprouted and twined themselves into living shelves and spiraling decorations.
There was considerably less skepticism and considerably more whispers, after that.
So it began. Every day, at least one or two of them would bring food with them (which put them firmly in Sunny's good books, of course) and the rest would come armed with tape measures, or pins and large folds of silk, or books, and different utensils and bowls that Taylor was struggling to learn the names and uses of. A sketchbook was repurposed for taking notes with the instructions she was given in English, and after only a little prompting, the romaji translations.
After Tuesday, she started calling herself in sick to school. Not pissing off Lung was slightly more important than algebra. Haru was summarily recruited to bring her homework to the shrine. To Taylor's surprise, he also brought her class notes, and not just the ones from the periods she shared with the boy.
"Yeah, those are from some of our other friends," Haru explained, making a gesture at himself and at Yuuta, who was being a packmule for his Baachan and carrying in some tatami mats. "It's kinda… not exactly a secret that you're here? I mean, at least among the guys wearing the colors, and any of their siblings. So I asked around, and got the kids with the best notes to make copies for you."
"That's— really helpful, actually. Thanks, Haru." Taylor glanced up from finishing her work on Sunny's fur, and saw the boy giving furtive looks towards the Grandmother Collective. "Something you need?"
"Well— I mean, not need, but—"
Sunny huffed in amusement. Taylor tweaked the wolf's ear and said, "Just say it, Haru."
"I was hoping you could make another charm… I was gonna ask you at school, but— well, you know."
"Sure, that shouldn't take much time. Grab my bag for me, I'll do it before Baachan catches me. You've got a picture, right? Is it the same one as last time?"
"Oh! Uh, not quite. It's close, but that was for success in endeavors, basically. This one is for academics." He dragged over her school bag, and Taylor handed him the book of ofuda to flip through while she picked out her ink and one of her special brushes. "It's actually for my cousin. Finals are coming up, and she's always stressing about every test she takes."
"Sure, I've met a few like that. She go to Winslow?"
Haru shook his head. "Nah, she's in college. Graduated high school early and went up to Cornell." He grinned suddenly, then laughed. "She's not really the mystic type, being an engineer and all, but even if the charm does nothing to help it'll at least give her something new to call my mom and complain about."
"Win-win situation, then. Here— let this dry and it'll be good to go."
"Thanks, Miko!"
"It's Ta— oh, never mind. You're welcome."
* * *
Friday crept up steadily, and the tatami mats settled in permanently in their bamboo pseudogazeebo. Oni Lee stopped by to check on her, and was treated to the trial run of the tea ceremony. It was… less than an ideal showing. The chabana flower arrangement was still growing in its vase, the wagashi sweets weren't to be brought until tomorrow by Baachan (Yuuta's specifically; she claimed she knew a good recipe and would prepare them that very night) and the hanging scroll had yet to be hung. The assassin didn't know the proper procedure for being a guest, so Taylor did her best to direct him, but it wasn't long before the ritualized conversation collapsed into informality.
"I thought it looked hard enough, but it's so much worse." Taylor chewed on her lip, and tried to remember if she was supposed to be using her right hand or her left to handle the fukin cloth as she wiped clean the tea bowl. Why did even a glorified washcloth have so many rules?
"Tea ceremony is meant to take years to learn, Miko. You have had one week."
"I know, but there's a lot riding on this… um. Probably. I still don't understand what Lung even wants."
"I… do not fully understand him either, Miko. Or, I cannot fully express it. Lung will not care about the tea—he will demand much more than he expects from you—but it will provide a— a space, for conversation." Oni Lee made vague gestures with a hand as he spoke, trying to convey his meaning. "So that you may answer his questions with less fear."
"But— that's just it! What does he want to ask me? Why is he so interested in the first place?"
"He must know why you are here. You are in his territory, and though I have tried to explain your presence, he cannot allow a cape to operate near him without his permission."
"He thinks I'm a parahuman?" Taylor asked, mouth agape. "That— I guess that would explain it, but I'm not! Why would he even think that?"
Oni Lee didn't answer directly. Instead he turned his head once to look at the shrine, its fixtures and form like new, then turned his head the other way to stare at the bamboo that was growing around them, forming shapes and structure like a bonsai with years of careful tending.
"...okay, I guess there's that." Taylor admitted. "I know it's probably strange to everyone else, but that's all Sunny's doing."
"The Ōkami has displayed much power, yes. Whatever god she serves must be great indeed." The assassin fell silent for a time, while Taylor cleaned the utensils and let her own thoughts work furiously. "Hm. Miko?"
"Yes?"
"Whom does this shrine belong to?"
"Everyone."
"Ah— I meant, which kami is enshrined here?" He clarified. Taylor bit on her lip again, and looked towards the haidan.
"You know, I don't actually know? I looked up what I could, trying to find where that'd be referenced, but any markings for the kami's name have been worn away. There's a… there's a word for this— shintai! There's a shintai in the honden."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, it's a sort-of octagon mirror set into a big bronze disc. The honden is about the only place here Sunny tends to shoo me away from, but she likes to lie near the mirror sometimes when I'm busy cleaning or doing homework."
"I see."
They settled into an easy quiet, a fact that admittedly left Taylor a bit stumped. It was hard to reconcile the quiet man who liked omelets with the cold-blooded killer that she knew he was— she'd seen him mentioned on the evening news more than once, over the summer. Perhaps his own words were the best at explaining it: the shrine, and the rituals and history associated with it, created a sort of space unlike the streets of Brockton Bay.
A place where old women walked to without fear of being mugged. A place where the rough teens she'd avoided at school respected her. A place where gang members set aside their weapons for a while, to pray or talk or plant trees. A place where she could work and see results from it, unlike the faceless drudgery of high school. A place where nobody spited her, or laughed at her, or completely passed her over.
A place where she could sit with her friend, and watch the clouds go by.
* * *
Oni Lee thanked her for the tea and left. Sunny wandered over as she cleaned up and put away the utensils she would be using again tomorrow, and she gave the wolf a quick pat between tasks.
"I know what I want." She told the wolf, who thumped her tail against the tatami mats. "You'll be right here, right? So I can ask Lung directly." The wolf nodded, and she reached over to grip the canine's fur in gratitude.
The sun was setting as she packed up her bicycle, and wheeled it under the red gate. The evening light cast ripples over the hand-carved wooden poles, and the tiny imperfections that gave them character. Someone had loved this place.
Someone did love this place, and her name was Taylor.
"...Sunny, you don't think anyone else mistakes me for a cape, do you?" Taylor asked, as she pedaled and the wolf trotted alongside. Sunny snorted, once.
"Yeah, I didn't think so. That'd be silly."
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