Chapter Text
Trickster knew his home like the back of his hand; as both were hidden away under layers of colorless fabric.
He looked away from the tea table for one moment only, the arbitrary glance towards one of the many paintings forgotten immediately as he looked back and found something he didn't recognize. That one moment of not paying attention was enough for something new to just... appear on the table.
It was a small cardboard package, and it failed to conform to the greyscale surroundings, stubbornly retaining its original pale brown coloration.
The small splash of color on the black table next to the white chair next to the monochrome baku was just as offensive as it was intriguing. However, he failed to be surprised because he couldn't see the box properly from where he was standing and couldn't just guess, as both the shape and color were unfamiliar to him. Something needed to change for him to be able to check it out properly.
"Oh, of course. How could I have forgotten?"
He slipped a hand into the inside of his tailcoat, producing a monocle just small enough to fit between the circle of his index and thumb when he touched his fingertips together, and after wiping the lens clean he put it on. Now in much better focus, the package stood out with color almost painfully.
"This is not mine."
Stating the obvious, the baku reached out to pick the box into his hand. It easily fit into just one, but was slightly more comfortable to hold with both.
There was no 'fragile, handle with care' sticker, so he amused himself with trying to juggle it, tossing it from one hand to another. Whatever was in the package was soft and light. As it flew through the air in front of him, Trickster noticed that not only were there no warning labels, the box was completely missing the shipping information, the address sticker having been peeled off, there was no sign of a stamp either.
Grabbing it between his palms and holding it up to one pointy ear, he shook the package around like an 8 ball, almost expecting it to produce an answer for him. The protective wrapping of the contents shuffled against the cardboard panes from the inside, and no rattling was heard.
"What do I do with this..."
Trickster knew enough about humans to know that they sometimes gifted each other objects in cardboard boxes like this. Was this present for him? If the address was missing (as it ought to be, since Monochrome World has no address) how did it arrive and then get inside? If it was really for him, then his name should still be written on the package, right? It's not like anyone knew his full name, so "Trickster" would have been sufficient.
The easiest way to tell the nature of something is to open it up and look inside. People 'open up' to each other when they want to get a better understanding of each other's past and beliefs, but of course that's fundamentally different to how you'd open up a package. For the first one, you usually don't need a sharp object to cut with.
Cradling the mysterious package against his side, the baku turned to look through his extensive collection of fancy silverware, and produced a butter knife. There was no need for anything too sharp, as the tape closing the top of the box was thin and probably could break easily. For the following operation, Trickster pulled out the aforementioned white chair and sat down, holding the box down on his lap with one hand while the other fiddled with the knife, trying to find a good entry point.
Opening someone else's mail counts as intercepting it and might be punishable by law.
"Monochrome World is under no country's jurisdiction, as the only resident is I."
Trickster's reply was the verbal equivalent of flicking away a speck of dust before he realized that he heard me and not just his own thoughts, for once.
"Now hold on! What was that?!"
... I might have narrated too loud.
Bewildered by the sudden disembodied voice, the baku's head whips around in an uncharacteristic display of confusion before straining his pointy ears to hear me again.
"Oh, I didn't notice you here. You were uncharacteristically quiet."
I didn't want to bother you, since you seemed so absorbed in the package.
As I mention the package, he stops trying to open it and instead holds it up above his head. Luckily for me, I don't need a monocle to see it properly.
"I should ask, might this be yours?"
Oh no, I didn't order anything.
"Hmm..."
The answer is unsatisfactory to the baku, and the mystery is no closer to being solved thanks to both of us stalling. Finally finding purchase, the butter knife glides through the taped gap between the two cardboard flaps at the opening of the box, like, well, like it was butter. The box is opened to show a layer of bubble wrap swaddling, hiding the real contents.
Curiosity overwhelming him, Trickster starts squeezing down on the bubbles in the protective plastic. They pop easily between his fingertips. He could probably take on the entire sheet of bubble wrap and completely ignore what's hiding in it, at least until he peels it back just enough to have something peek out.
A tiny little cap made of dark brown fabric, synthetic to the touch.
Lifting the bundle out of the box, Trickster finishes unwrapping it, the packaging discarded onto the table and completely forgotten as the item sits in his hands. It's much smaller than its box, which was already an unremarkable size, fitting easily into just one of his hands. He brings it up to his line of sight, peering through the monocle's lens with one grey eye.
A pale embroidered face stares back at him in defiance.
Looking all over the tiny plush toy, observing the floppy sleeves, the dark tones of all the different fabric, and those patterned socks that the baku seems to be a fan of in the first place judging by his own outfit, he quickly reaches a conclusion. And by reach, I mean he really does reach.
"Ah, Senbu, who turned you into a stuffed doll?"
It immediately becomes obvious that he thinks it's endearing.
I don't think-
The baku was caught up with turning the plushie around in his hand, despite the knowledge that it wasn't fragile, he still handles it delicately. His head snaps back up towards me, gently squeezing the toy's undetailed little stump of a hand in his fingers as if trying to reassure it, his other hand helping rotate the back towards me.
"You don't think what? It's obviously him, isn't it? Look, the back of his jacket says 弐."
Wait, that isn't what I meant. Of course this is Senbu, but I don't think they turned the actual guy into a plushie, right? It's just made to look like him.
Looking over it again, Trickster notices a couple of discrepancies that at first were chalked up to the small size and simple design of the plush, as in some details missing, like his shoulder cape, and others being slightly incorrect, like the hair color being more orange. He hums thoughtfully.
"You might be onto something, but let's not ignore the possibility altogether."
As he turns the plushie around once again, something catches my eye.
There's a tag on his left arm.
"Oh, you're right, I see it now."
The small paper tag attached to its hand is faded from age, the colors dulled and washed out, the edges missing some bits and the entire thing being a little wavy and deformed. Having the original tag on a merch item is always a good sign, even if the condition is suboptimal. Trickster takes it into his hand, turning it this way and that to see the artwork, on which Oka, Senbu, and Kochou are posing.
Is there anything on the other side?
Instead of looking where I said, as the other side of the tag is only some mysterious QR code, the baku actually opens up the tag, as it was folded in half at first. The inside holds information about the manufacturer, designer, where the item was made, the item's name, as well as a warning label. From previous experience I can guess that it says at first something about not giving to young children, but I can't make out the second thing on the page.
The lower bullet point, what does it say?
"It says 絶対に本品をなめたり口に含んだりしないでください。"
And that is...?
Trickster didn't even notice that he switched languages until I inadvertently pointed it out to him. Consulting the furigana only helped with the pronunciation and it takes another few moments for the warning's meaning to come up. A small, genuine smile tugs on the corner of his lips as he considers the warning.
"That is, never lick or put this product in your mouth."
I figure that it has to do with some sort of choking hazard, although no parts of the Senbu doll seem detachable. Even tugging on the hat produces nothing, nor is Trickster able to take the little boots off of the legs, as they are sewn onto them.
Nothing about the flammable material or instructions on how to display or clean it?
"Absolutely nothing. Taito just doesn't want us eating this poor little stuffed toy."
Well, it's better to be safe than sorry, which was probably what they were going for in the first place. While I'm mulling over that, though, the baku starts to gently dust the plushie off, pulling away pieces of lint and scratching out small stains and loose threads with the tip of his thumb.
"You're looking quite rough there. It's very unlike you to be such a mess, isn't it?"
Once again, Trickster pokes the tip of his pointer finger against its cheek, feeling for the soft synthetic stuffing inside the head.
"I would offer to bring you to Scissors so she could fix you up a little, but I doubt she has the patience to work on any plushes that aren't her own."
There was no damage on the Senbu doll that would have warranted any sort of sewing either. Most of the time, going over a plushie with a lint roller and gently wiping it down with a wet wipe or washing it by hand with soap is more than enough to clean it and keep it in good condition, anyway.
Don't threaten him, it's not his fault. The plushie has to be like a decade old by now.
"Or he just didn't take too kindly to whatever magic spell transformed him into a toy."
That's right, we still hadn't managed to get to the bottom of the plushie's origin... I would say something about Monochrome World and how nothing is as it seems here, but obviously this package is from the outside. Humans love their shenanigans too.
Let's look at it this way,
The baku grabs around the Senbu plushie's small body and turns him over, just like I didn't ask.
No, metaphorically. Rotate him back, he'll get dizzy upside down.
He hurriedly reverses the hand motion, letting it sit upright in one hand.
What if the plushie isn't Senbu but is for him?
"Interesting theory. Why do you think that?"
Despite the dismissive-sounding phrasing, Trickster's ears perk up a little and that tells me he's completely sincere with the question. For such a vain creature, he doesn't fully grasp the appeal of having merchandise of oneself laying around the home, and by the... interesting interior design of Monochrome World, I can tell that he doesn't care to collect anything that features him specifically. He can look in a reflective surface any time he wants to see himself, after all.
If you remember Kochou, you know that she has a doll of herself in a similar fashion.
Would it be better to say that the doll has a Kochou of herself? Before I can doubt my own words and backtrack, the baku seems to understand where I'm coming from and gives me a short nod.
"I wonder if it's for the same kind of speech problem, or if he just wants to offer support to his sister in that way, if the plush really is his."
Calling it a speech problem doesn't exactly cut it, and he doesn't exactly rush to make assumptions about the gesture being sweet, even though it is, in my opinion. Either way, Trickster doesn't know either sibling well enough to make any sort of judgement in this regard, his extent of knowledge stops at their shared nationality and some basic personality traits.
It's not that he can't or doesn't want to learn more; Trickster is very much a people person, or, well, a people baku, and would most likely have no problem finding the most important things out either directly from the people in question or others around them. It's simply that he hasn't had any reason to do so yet, as they aren't regular clients of his.
He's second guessing his usual routine regarding humans, if only a little. Maybe there's something beyond obligation and his own personal interest. Before I can make my own assumption or take the previous conversation any further, the chair creaks as the legs scrape across the kitchen tiles.
"Well then, it's decided. I have to pay a visit to Senbu himself. Do you think I'll be well-received out there?"
Standing up now, Trickster holds the plushie to his chest with one arm, in an almost protective manner.
I'm sure most people are used to you spontaneously appearing by now.
The baku always has something up those short sleeves of his, but if there's one predictable thing about him, it's his unpredictability. That makes no sense unless you think about it in a very specific way, right?
"That's true. Hopefully my dabbling in detective work won't turn out to be the most difficult thing I've ever put myself through."
Something that could help immensely is if there was some way to ask the post office, but not only is there never a 'nearest' one as Monochrome World isn't in the same realm as our planet, Trickster is also a little bit too vain to leave an investigation to someone else instead of doing it his own way. My silence is apparently very loud to his elf-like ears, which work much better than his eyes, if I can say that.
"... You don't have a lot of trust in me regarding this."
It doesn't even surprise me that, even though I have no face that he could read, that's still somehow obvious to him. Well, I have my doubts.
I'm not sure about anything. What if this was all a wild goose chase just to get you outside for a bit?
The contemplative expression on his face tells me that this thought had occurred to him before. On the other hand, Trickster doesn't seem to be very bothered by it, and is already grabbing his walking cane from beside his closet (which I'm sure holds 4 copies of his exact same current outfit, but I have no way to prove that).
"All the better, then. Perhaps there will be an important life lesson somewhere along the way, like in some trashy adventure story."
Life lesson? Is it to not open other people's packages?
"Maybe so. I don't quite know if it isn't mine yet."
Will you just keep looking until you find the actual owner?
"I'll start with Kochou and Senbu and work from there. I have all day, it'll have to be solved eventually."
But let's entertain the thought that you were right and Senbu really was turned into a plushie.
"That's always on the table."
Just like the package was in the beginning, although I don't mention the bad joke.
What's your plan for that, then?
"Regardless of the stuffed toy's nature, I will be gentle with it. I should be able to find someone who can reinstate him to his original form either way, and then I'll take him back to his sister."
To free up his hand and prevent accidentally dropping the plush, a kind of clumsiness I can't see the baku exhibiting, he opened up his bottomless pockets again, safely tucking Senbu away inside his coat, making sure to keep its head upright to prevent it from getting dizzy. Now with both hands available, he spins the cane and promptly stabs it straight through the wall.
There are no doors in Monochrome World, so one must get out in... creative ways, I suppose.
Like dragging a knife down through someone's chest, Trickster pulls the cane downwards to slit into the wall, which seemed pretty solid until now, but it actually seems like a green screen or a projection screen from a movie theater. When I mentally return from reeling after this revelation, his right leg is already through the makeshift portal. He's knee deep in the white light leading to the physical realm.
Hold on, don't you think you should-
I'm cut off and don't get to finish what I was saying, because he already knows both the question and the answer, and he only pulls his head back out long enough to answer me, so his voice doesn't get lost in the ether.
"You'll survive without being graced with my presence for this short while. Do a little housesitting for me while we're away, hm?"
And just like that the baku slipped out into the mortal world, his fancy clothes gradually disappeating into the bright whiteness. The hole he tore into the wallpaper held its shape for a few moments before slowly healing in, shrinking and closing like a small wound in skin before eventually looking like it never had a hole in the first place.
Trickster!
As if this little pocket dimension wasn't bleak enough, without Trickster here it seems to grow even more shadowy. The cardboard box, laying in empty plushielessness on its side on the tea table, is the only thing reminding me that I haven't gone completely colorblind.
Trickster, you-
Agh, I'll be stuck here forever.
Hey, if you're reading this, pull me back into the real world. I'm tired of narrating...
It's a good thing this story is over, huh?