27
Director Piggot looked up at her closed office door with a sudden, inexplicable feeling of dread. Her instincts quickly proved themselves right as noise started to filter through, soft at first, then louder as footsteps and arguing voices approached. Emily pushed back her chair a few inches so that the panic button would be easily reachable, and took a moment to unlock the nearby drawer that held her sidearm. Just in case.
The clamour got louder, then reached its peak when her door was pushed open, revealing the grinning face of Assault and three security personnel who were failing to restrain the hero. Assault staggered forward, bracing himself against the Director's desk.
"Directorrrrr, this talking thing! It's amaaaaazing!"
Piggot leaned back a bit from Assault, then shifted her gaze over to the PRT security who were making excuses. They cut off all attempts as she looked at them, then turned back to Assault, who was still in mid-babble.
"...and then th' dog went all Jules Verne an' dug to the center of the earth, an' now there's gonna be a hot springs episode 'cause there's always a hot springs episode, y'know?"
"What the hell are you three standing there for? M/S tank them, all of them, NOW."
"But Directorrrrr we need to--"
"I said get in the tank."
* * *
The morning air was crisp and scented with the melancholy of falling leaves, and the sun had taken pity on the poor East coast and decided to stay unhidden by clouds more often than not. It was truly a day for the record books, not because of the unusually nice weather, but from the blue-moon occurrence that, months ago, would have sent Taylor running for the conspiracy theorist sections of PHO to explain:
She was happy to go to school.
Taylor pressed her cheek against the cold brick wall near Winslow's main entrance and sighed. Sweet, sweet normalcy! Let the other kids stare and whisper, she needed this. Homework, and boring lectures, and petty insults— a return to the dull things in life! Taylor pulled back from hugging the building and nearly skipped inside. Hello, faulty central heating system! Good morning, uneven chairs and squeaky lockers! Great to see you, parting waves of asshole teenagers!
Taylor hiked her backpack a little higher on her shoulder, and sighed happily. Not a cape in sight. Wonderful.
The morning passed in blissful doldrums, Taylor's finely-honed skills of ignoring other students meshing well with her more recent, trial-by-fire proven talents of maintaining composure. So what if people stared, or kept sneaking glances at her? Screw them. So what if their frequent checking of phones reminded her of her to-do list? That was a worry for another day. So what if Blackwell called her into her office to— okay wait that last one merited some attention.
Principal Blackwell looked… almost exactly the same as she had every other time Taylor had seen the woman. She had to wonder if Blackwell owned multiple copies of the same three-piece suit, or if maybe there was only the one, and Blackwell simply oozed into it every day as her chosen carapace for her gelatinous, pod-person body. It was probably the former. Probably.
"Miss Hebert, please have a seat," she instructed, then peered intently at Taylor in her red sweater and white, already-stained painter's pants. The woman confirmed Taylor's suspicion of judgment when she asked, "I wanted to ask why you felt it appropriate to wear… that garment… to school."
Taylor frowned. "Well the sweater is because it's October and getting kinda cold. The pants are because I didn't feel like wearing a skirt today. Possibly because of the whole 'getting cold' thing I mentioned."
The principal's expression soured a bit. "I meant that garment in particular, Miss Hebert."
Well, what was her problem? "I was going to do some painting later, after school? And didn't feel like changing?"
"I… see." Ms. Blackwell shuffled some of her papers around, stacking them neatly, and Taylor's frown intensified at the obvious time-stretching gesture. "Well, I suppose it is ultimately your decision. However, you will obey school rules and regulations while you are here, Miss Hebert. Don't cause any trouble, you understand?"
Try to ruin her Normal Day, would she? Taylor didn't have to take that silently. She gave the older woman an appraising glance and said, "Of course, Principal Blackwell. All students should be mindful of their school conduct. And, naturally, of the Golden Rule," Taylor smiled. "'Treat others as you wish to be treated.'"
Taylor saw Principal Blackwell's eyes widen just a fraction, and she smiled a little wider in response. She could almost see all of the complaints and reports she'd filed last year flash behind Blackwell's pupils.
Taylor had to wonder, for a moment, if maybe she was absorbing some sort of vindictive streak from the Baachan Collective. And if she was, did she particularly care? No, Taylor decided. She did not. She deserved a little vindictiveness now and then.
"...understood, Miss Hebert, so long as you keep to the rules as well." Mr. Henrick must have seriously put the fear of God into that woman, though it was still a bit weird to be singled out like she was being. What had gotten under Blackwell's skin? Well, as long as it didn't interfere with Taylor, she was perfectly fine with letting the principal conspire or perspire or whatever she was doing. As soon as she was excused to leave, Taylor stood and saw herself out.
Lunch was… palatable. For cafeteria food, anyway. More palatable was watching Emma sidle up for an attempt at needling her, only to shrink away when Yuuta, Haru, and a few of their friends chose to almost crowd around Taylor. Answering their questions was well worth the show and companionship. A few rumors had circulated among older siblings and friends, and friends of those friends, and so forth, until the recent meetings Taylor had endured were a topic that simultaneously managed to be very known about, and yet hardly understood. Apparently, gang circles worked in much the same fashion as high school ones. That… Taylor wasn't sure if that was comforting, or terrible.
"A hot spring? In the Bay? You're kidding," Haru said, disbelief warring with wonderment.
"Nope. That… actually happened. Is happening." Taylor said, politely ignoring several of the students around her breaking out into hushed conversations that she couldn't understand. "So… yeah. I don't really have the room or funds for a resort or anything, so I guess I'm building a bath house? Not entirely sure how that's going to come about, but it'll probably be fun."
"An onsen and a shrine in Brockton Bay… goddamn," Yuuta laughed. "That'll be a popular part of town if you can happenstance your way into more stuff."
"Huh? Like what?"
"Pretty sure most of those buildings around there aren't houses, they're old shops that got abandoned and robbed an' sh— stuff." Yuuta ran a hand through his hair. "People see the area's safe, move back in, start up businesses? You'll get a lot more traffic at the shrine, that's for sure."
"Hm…" Taylor started chewing on her lip. It was supposed to be a Normal Day, but… well, a little bit of Shrine Business was Normal. She reached down for her backpack, rummaged a bit, then pulled out a notebook and a pencil. She started scribbling a bulleted list, getting her thoughts on paper before they could flutter away.
"Eh— Miko, what's that?"
"Wanna make a list," she said as she put down 'Onsen' at the first bullet point, "A list of stuff to do for the shrine, and… a few other ideas. C'mon, some of you guys know more about this stuff than I do, help me out here."
Haru spoke up first. "You should start selling your charms, maybe ema too." At Yuuta's questioning look, he explained, "Since you're talking businesses, I mean… I figured you could use the donations? To, uh… improve… cycle." He made a circular motion with his hand. One of the other kids behind him snorted and mussed up Haru's hair.
"Right!" Taylor said, as she added the suggestions. "I get it— use donations for more improvements and such. Probably buying towels, too… what's an ema, before I move on?"
"It's a little wood board you write a wish on. Usually got little painted pictures on them— all sorts of stuff. You buy a plaque, write the wish you want, then hang it up on something in the shrine," Yuuta explained. An excuse to paint? Sounded fine to Taylor. After that, suggestions started piling in from the Asian students at her and the nearby tables. Things their grandparents had told them about, or parents. Ideas for businesses that might move into the street— some serious, others not. Even things they'd mostly just seen in cartoons… the less questionable parts, anyway. Taylor's list filled up well by the end of the lunch period.
When her last period rolled around on the clock, Taylor hurried out the doors of the school to her bike, where Sunny was patiently waiting. She squished the wolf's face in her hands in greeting (as one does), then loaded up her bike and wheeled it away from the racks and the curb, muttering a quick 'excuse me' to a student who was holding their phone up instead of looking where they were going. Then they were off, Taylor chattering about her Normal Day and her List to Sunny, who ran alongside and occasionally barked in approval. Instead of heading to the shrine right away, though, Taylor steered them both back home. She pedaled down the street, then pulled smoothly into her home's driveway and hopped off the bike.
Old Mrs. Henrick was outside, in a warm sweater and very fluffy-looking slippers, attempting to wrap cloths and tarps over her rose bushes to preserve them from the winter chill. Taylor called out a greeting, then skipped around the fence to go help the old woman finish her task.
"Well, hello there, dear! You're in high spirits today."
"Yup!" Taylor agreed. "Things are just… going good, y'know? Weird and difficult sometimes, but good."
"Can't speak for the weird, but difficult is good. Anything really worth doing is never easy."
"Heh— I'm starting to think I agree." Not to say that help wasn't welcome. Old Mrs. Henrick directed Taylor to use the shoebox of little plastic stakes she had to fix the tarps to the ground, since Taylor had an easier time kneeling and standing up again.
"So what's going so good for you, Taylor?"
"Well… school's a lot better, I guess. I still get picked on, a little. But it's nothing like it was. Teachers are getting almost jumpy about bullying and I've… made some friends, I think?" She wasn't sure on exactly where the lines of Gang and Shrine politics were drawn, but Haru and Yuuta sat with her at lunch most days, and Souta always nodded to her if they passed in the halls. And the regard for her that those boys had seemed to be spreading to everyone else they talked to, turning what had been silent disregard into tolerance, and from there creeping towards acceptance.
"Oh, that's wonderful! George will be tickled pink to hear that."
"Hey, where is Mr. Henrick, anyway? I haven't seen him on the swing much lately."
"Ohohoho!" Old Mrs. Henrick laughed, the gesture making all the lines near her eyes crinkle together. Taylor wondered if she could convince the old woman to sit for a portrait, one of these days. "That old firebrand! Your school really got his hackles up, sweetie. He's been hounding the new superintendent and yelling at PTA meetings like he was thirty again!"
"Wh—really? But… how long has he been retired?" Taylor asked, as she followed Old Mrs. Henrick into the house. The smell of fresh cookies was thick in the kitchen, and Taylor left the door open a few seconds longer so Sunny could return from her wanderings and scramble inside. Butterscotch, yessssss.
"Oh, getting close to twenty years now. George stepped down when he was sixty-seven, and that old man's eighty-three now." Old Mrs. Henrick poured a couple glasses and a bowl of milk, apparently perfectly fine with Sunny begging at her table. The cookies were still warm, right at that point between 'too hot' and 'not as gooey as it could be.' Perfection.
"That sounds like a lot of work… I hope he doesn't wear himself out. He's supposed to enjoy retirement, you know?"
Old Mrs. Henrick smiled again, and sat down at the kitchen table with Taylor. "That is what he enjoys, sweetie. What you're supposed to do isn't always what you should do, and my George has never been the type to rest on his laurels for long." The old woman's smile lines crinkled again, and Taylor couldn't help but grin in response. "It's good to see him with a fire in his engines again. Just the sight makes me feel more energetic, too!"
"Then, I'm glad. And school has been better, too. Probably not just for me, either." Taylor munched on a cookie, and spared a glance to watch Sunny lapping at her bowl of milk (she'd already devoured her share of the baked treats, of course). She turned a thought over in her head a few times, then looked back up at Old Mrs. Henrick. "Hey, can I… ask a question? Or maybe for advice?"
"Of course, sweetie, you're always welcome. What's on your mind?"
"Well, I— okay inherited isn't the right word, but we'll go with it— I inherited an old shrine recently, a Shinto one. I've been fixing it up and working at it all summer and now fall..." She gave her neighbor an edited version of her recent lifestyle. The retired couple had known about the cherry trees, but not how many there were, or for what purpose— she'd promised to tell them more after they caught her moving bags of seeds and soil out of her garage, but had never quite gotten around to it.
"It sounds like you're having fun, dear."
"It— yeah, I am. It is fun. Hard sometimes, really hard, but fun." Taylor chewed a bit on her lip, getting her thoughts in order. Sunny moved to sit closer by, pressed against her knee, and she rubbed the wolf's ears as she spoke. "And there's a bunch more I think I could do, but… well, it kinda occurred to me to wonder how I'll keep up with it after I graduate. Dad's been keeping a college fund, and I know it's what Mom would want…"
Old Mrs. Henrick nodded. "I understand, Taylor. It sounds like you're having doubts about what you want to do with your life, right?" Taylor nodded, glad for the old woman's wisdom. "And you're right, I'm pretty sure your Ma and your Pa both would love to see their little girl walk for her diploma… but a piece of paper isn't everything."
Something in Taylor's chest tightened, right around her lungs. It was an idea that had come to her late at night, right between sleeping and waking— just a thought. Sunny working over the entire city somehow to get a hot spring was… well, that was definitely a Sunny thing to do, apparently. But the hot spring wasn't the only thing she'd gotten.
Taylor owned the shrine now, or the land it sat on. She owned a couple of derelict shops. She owned the hot spring— and while there was only one spring now, somehow she was sure that if she asked, Sunny would be happy to dig holes until she found another one. The shrine was suddenly more than just a space, more than just a hobby:
It was an investment. It was an opportunity.
Taylor had no illusions that it wasn't going to be hard. But if she could help revitalize the area, get businesses going again— and rent out the shops she now owned?
Taylor wouldn't necessarily have to quit. She wouldn't have to leave the shrine and go on to a career, the shrine could be her career. Sunny (and Lung) hadn't given her a hot spring, she'd given her options.
Taylor took a breath, and said, "I… I think I want to keep at the shrine. Keep working at it, I mean. Instead of… I dunno. Being a teacher, or an editor."
"Well, then you do that, Taylor. Just do be careful, though. I hear the ABB is thick on the ground around those parts."
It was Taylor's turn to smile. "Oh, kinda. I've seen some around. They don't really want to bother the shrine, though." Another thought nudged its way to her awareness, and made Taylor smile wider. "Oh, and I've met even more cool old people, since I've been working there."
"Oh really?"
"Really." Taylor's grin was in full force, and Sunny wagged her tail. "Let me tell you about Baachan."
* * *
Taylor didn't get to the shrine until the next day, having whiled the afternoon talking with Old Mrs. Henrick and regaling the old matron with stories of her Asian counterparts until she'd had to wipe tears from her eyes. Then Old Mr. Henrick had come home, and wanted to be let in on what was so funny.
Old Mrs. Henrick had been right, by the way— the old man had puffed up with pride at Taylor's report about the changing atmosphere of her school. There'd even been time to ask the old man if he could help her with some woodworking. Haru's explanation of ema plaques had sparked a few ideas of where to put them, and between her sketching and Old Mr. Henrick's experience, they designed a rough blueprint for what the old pair called a 'squirrel run.' It was too small to be a cat run, you see. Taylor didn't, but the framework, some cords, and a whole bunch of planter hooks made their way onto her List.
When he asked about the box he'd built, and if she enjoyed it, Taylor had nodded and explained about how she and Sunny were collecting beads. Old Mrs. Henrick thought it a lovely idea and had shuffled off to go find her jewelry box. She'd come back with a handful of loose beads, taken from old bracelets and necklaces, and even a few that looked like some of Mr. Henrick's work. None of them matched, but somehow that made them look even better, cupped in Taylor's hands. Sunny gave both of the retired pair a nuzzle and slobbery kisses.
Taylor kept the beads wrapped in a handkerchief until she and Sunny got to the shrine, and the wolf led the way into the shrine's interior. She pushed the top of the wooden box off with her nose, then pawed at one of the small cubbies until Taylor gently poured the beads inside. The wolf gave a happy sigh and leaned hard against Taylor's leg until she petted her, then after a moment carefully set the box lid back in its place. Taylor eyed the character above the newly-occupied space, and wracked her brain a bit for what she'd put in her notebooks until she recalled the translation:
Ondori, the Rooster.
