Chapter Text
Soukaku's day began a little earlier than usual, with a pot of rice porridge bubbling on the stove. The comforting scent of cooked rice wafted up as she carefully stirred the porridge. On cue, her stomach growled.
Going by her new routine though, there was still a bit of time before she could eat. That was fine. She didn't need to catch the train to work today. Besides, hunger was something of a constant companion to her anyway; her stomach wouldn't mind if she dealt with it later.
With a final flourish of her wooden spoon for good measure, Soukaku switched the stove off and covered the pot so its contents wouldn't lose their heat. She didn't mind cold porridge, but warm was better because it felt like a hug from the inside. Also, Nagi had taught her that it was rude to serve cold food to other people.
Soukaku made a detour to the fridge to grab some green onion, the jar of pickled plum, and a red bean bun. Hmm... on second thought... She picked up another bun. Two wouldn't hurt, right?
It didn't take very long to slice the toppings and portion them out alongside the porridge into their respective bowls. That part felt more familiar; Nagi usually let her help with picking toppings or side dishes and setting the table when she cooked. Of course, it had taken a while before Soukaku realised that people in New Eridu didn't usually have to use willow bark or dandelion leaves to make the food last longer but... Nagi had patiently eaten them all the same.
The bowls went on a tray with a spoon and some paper towels, next to the plate of red bean buns. Soukaku surveyed her work and nodded in satisfaction. It looked quite a lot like the porridge that Nagi made for her whenever she was sick, though this portion was a lot smaller.
It was a quick trip over to Nagi's room, where the sound of slow, rhythmic pacing was clearly audible to her sharp ears. Soukaku knocked once on the door and waited; Chief told her it was 'good manners' to knock but Harumasa said that knocking too many times was a hassle, so now she was more than a little confused. In any case, the footsteps halted with haste.
"Soukaku?" Nagi's voice called from inside. "You can come in."
Nagi was sitting on their bed when she entered the room. She was dressed in soft, casual clothes and her hair was loosely braided; Soukaku had helped with both of those things today because small, delicate movements were still difficult for Nagi. Something tightened in Soukaku's chest at the memory of the frustrated look on her face.
"Oh! Is that breakfast?" Nagi's voice reminded her that she was here on a mission. Soukaku nodded vigorously, setting the tray down on the bedside table. Nagi's eyes widened a little.
"Okayu? And... red bean buns. Did you make this, Soukaku?"
"Ye— yeah. I remember you said it was good for sick people, so..."
Soukaku wasn't a quiet person by nature, but she did her best to keep her voice as small as possible, because loud sounds were bad for con-cus-son patients.
Nagi's expression was unreadable. She kept looking at Soukaku, as if she was trying to find the answers to a really difficult word puzzle somewhere on her face - except that couldn't be right because Nagi could solve word puzzles so much better than her.
Soukaku looked away, feeling suddenly nervous. What if Nagi didn't like it? What if she had to go back to the hospital and leave Soukaku all alone again? What if she didn't come back this time?
Her tail twined around one leg, its weight familiar and comforting.
"It looks delicious," Nagi said finally. She was looking at the bowls now. "Good work, Soukaku. Have you eaten?"
In response, her stomach rumbled again.
"Not yet," she admitted, tapping her fingers together. "I just finished making the porridge."
For whatever reason, it felt like she'd been caught doing something wrong.
"I'm grateful for the meal, but I can wait - so please eat first next time," Nagi said, a little awkwardly. Soukaku got the impression that her tail would be drooping a bit, though she didn't understand why. Sick people were supposed to rest and be taken care of, weren't they?
Nagi laughed quietly and Soukaku realised that she'd wondered that last part out loud.
"I... suppose I did say that. You're right, Soukaku. I just feel a little... disappointed that I can't take care of you like I usually do," Nagi admitted. "Adults are responsible for children's welfare, not the other way around."
"But I want to help!" Soukaku insisted. "You don't need to leave me with Chief again - I can take care of myself and you."
Nagi went very still for a second.
"You shouldn't have to do that. You're my responsibility," she said. Soukaku's tail whipped in agitation at the frustration in her voice. Was Nagi mad at her? Why? She could handle herself! She fought in Hollows all the time and faced lots of horrible Ethereals - didn't Nagi trust her with this?
... Was it because she hadn't managed to save her from the Hollow after all?
Soukaku's eyes prickled. Suddenly, she desperately wanted a hug from Nagi. Or to run and hide in the kitchen next to the bag of rice — anything that would make the icy void in her chest disappear.
"You don't understand," she said. To her horror, the words came out unevenly. Nagi immediately looked like she was going to cry too.
"Soukaku—"
The doorbell rang, making them both jump.
"That must be Chief Miyabi," Nagi said slowly, not meeting her eyes. "I asked her to drop by today."
Soukaku took a deep breath. The room smelled like cooked rice and her sister; it made her feel a little better.
"I'll get it."
The quick trip to the front door helped her mood too - it was sort of like the "strategic retreats" their team had to perform once in a while... except this time the "mission" seemed a lot harder than beating up strong Ethereals that mobbed them from all directions. Maybe backup would make a difference in this scenario too?
Soukaku cautiously peered through the peephole in the door, spotted a familiar pair of tall ears, and all but flung the door open in favour of hugging Chief Miyabi.
"Boss! You're here!"
Chief didn't hug back - probably because she was carrying grocery bags in both hands - but Soukaku heard the air shift as she nodded.
"It's good to see you, Soukaku," she said. Her voice was gentle and unhurried as usual, like the first flakes of snow drifting down from the clouds. The cold was another constant companion to Soukaku of course, but it was one she no longer had to fear.
Hugging Miyabi reminded her of the days she had spent away from Nagi though, wandering through a home that wasn't hers, nagged by a sense of unease and half-buried memories. A shiver went down her spine. Soukaku stiffened and pulled away, switching her focus to the bags and the faint jumble of smells surrounding them.
"D... Did you bring snacks?"
Her stomach, daunted by neither battle nor emotional turmoil, growled with renewed enthusiasm. Chief held out a handful of bags in response.
"Yes," she said. "I brought melon, red bean buns, and a lot of snacks. Oh, and electrolyte drinks too. My father sends his regards by the way - he says the house was much livelier when you were visiting."
"Oh. Thanks... ? " Soukaku didn't really know how to respond to that. Instead, she took the proffered snacks and beckoned Miyabi inside. Soukaku had tried very hard to stay out of trouble while Nagi was sick, so she had only run into Chief's father on a few occasions outside of mealtimes. He never said very much to her though... Usually, he only gently patted her head and slipped her melon candies. A lot of melon candies. Apparently that meant he liked her.
"You should visit us again sometime — with Yanagi. Father gets lonely sometimes and always appreciates good company," Miyabi continued, changing into a spare pair of indoor slippers while balancing the remainder of the groceries with effortless grace. Soukaku mimicked the pose to see how it felt.
"I'll ask Nagi!" she chirped. His strangeness aside, she liked Mr. Souichirou. He was kind, like Chief Miyabi. Though Nagi would probably overthink the invitation a lot because he was famous or something. "She's in her room."
Chief nodded, trailing after her serenely to the kitchen to drop the bags off before heading to Nagi's room.
"It smells good in there," she commented offhandedly.
Warmth stirred in Soukaku's chest. She did that, all on her own. "I made rice porridge."
"Oh? Good job."
A small but deceptively powerful hand ruffled her hair, and she couldn't stop her tail from wiggling in satisfaction.
"It's nice to create things for once, isn't it?"
Soukaku tilted her head. How did Chief always know what she was thinking... ? But Miyabi was clearly already back in mission-mode, likely having heard Nagi's voice calling from the room. She knocked three times on the door before entering, which Soukaku filed away for later. Was that the correct amount for politeness? Harumasa was probably being silly again then.
"Yanagi, I've brought the things you asked for. How are you feeling?" Soukaku heard the Chief ask. She cautiously poked her head around the doorway and saw Nagi's eyes quickly track the movement before looking away again. That awful, twisting feeling in her stomach stirred like an Ethereal in the depths of a Hollow.
"I'm doing much better, Chief," Nagi responded smoothly. "Thank you for stopping by, and sorry for the trouble."
"There's no need to apologise," Miyabi said firmly. "It's the least I can do. And... we're off duty, so you don't have to call me "Chief" all the time. That goes for you too, Soukaku."
Soukaku giggled at that. Silly Chief — it was the meaning that was important, not the words. But if that was what she wanted...
"Right... " Nagi said quietly. "Thank you, Miyabi."
A tall fox ear flicked, pleased, though Chief's face remained as inscrutable as ever.
"Harumasa woke up yesterday, by the way. He seemed to be in some pain but he was cognisant enough to speak clearly. He asked about you, Yanagi."
Masamasa was awake? That was great news! He was injured and sick too - or that's what they all said. Soukaku hadn't been allowed to see him. It must have been serious though, if he was in the hospital and Nagi was at home. The idea made her shiver a little.
In her memories, Harumasa was always cracking weird jokes or complaining about work whenever he wasn't napping at his desk like a strangely-shaped cat. He played tricks on her, got scolded by Nagi a lot, and slacked off with Miyabi. He fed her tasty snacks and gave her paper to draw on - though the latter sometimes had big words like "risk assessment" or "expenditure report" or the Section Five logo printed on the back.
He was an adult like Nagi and - maybe - Chief Miyabi. But... sometimes, she saw him looking at her and Nagi with a sad expression on his face, his eyes far away like he was searching for something he had lost.
He was probably lonely in the hospital by himself, Soukaku decided. She'd bring him a whole lot of bitter melon candy when they finally let her visit.
"That's... that's good to hear," Nagi said. Her voice was even quieter now, and the corners of her mouth were tilted down. She didn't look happy at all. Actually, it looked more like —
"Do you also feel guilty because you couldn't save Harumasa?"
Nagi froze, like a rabbit that had just found itself between the teeth of a fox, and Soukaku wished she could take back her question. She didn't want Nagi to look at her that way; like she was something to be afraid of.
"That's..." she began weakly, before dropping her gaze to the half-empty breakfast dishes on the bedside table. She flinched and took a deep breath like she was preparing for a kata in training. The action seemed to steady her.
"Soukaku, why don't you sit down?" she said, a new strength in her tone. Tail flicking anxiously, Soukaku inched around Chief Miyabi - who seemed to be paying very close attention to the shadows cast by the wall lamp - and sat next to Nagi on the bed. Immediately, a cool hand was on her own.
Nagi had long, pale fingers like the big, dressed-up puppets in clothing stores, so different from Soukaku's small blue ones, but still very strong from all her hard work. These were the hands that fed her tasty snacks whenever she was hungry, guided her banner in combat training, and held her close at night. Nagi wasn't her sister, but that was what family did, wasn't it?
Then, what was wrong with Soukaku taking care of her family too?
A second hand rested lightly on her head, in the sweet spot between her horns. Soukaku stayed quiet, leaning into the touch.
"Oh, Soukaku... You've grown up so much, haven't you?" Nagi said in a soft, affectionate voice. "You're so sweet and considerate, but... I want to be a person you can lean on for just a little longer. In my duty to you at least, I refuse to fail."
Duty.
It wasn't a word she saw often in her copybooks, nor had she heard it in any of the TV shows about human emotion, but for Nagi and Sister, this was just how they said they loved something — enough to fight, starve, and bleed for it.
Soukaku held out her arms and Nagi swept her into a hug. The comforting scent of her sister cocooned her, intertwined with the familiar gentle warmth of a human, and Soukaku burrowed deeper into the embrace. It felt like safety, like trust. Like family. The cold gnawing at her insides calmed, seemingly satiated... for a while at least.
"Be it triumphs or losses, Section Six acts as a single sword," Chief Miyabi said into the silence. She was still examining the dancing shadows. "The harvest of this operation belongs to us all, both good and bad. I'm sure Harumasa would agree as well."
The words hung in the air like a sharpened blade, ready to purge evil from the world. Above her, Nagi exhaled quietly, and the limbs bracketing Soukaku tightened a fraction.
Soukaku still didn't really get why Nagi insisted on taking all the responsibility on herself, nor why the sister in her memories had done the same thing. If it wasn't about trust, then what could it possibly be? Maybe she wasn't grown up enough yet to understand.
Maybe she didn't want to understand, if it meant doing everything alone.
But... for the moment, they were both leaning on each other. That was enough for her.