Chapter Text
*****The Heart Beneath the Icing!******
The Ayase kitchen looked like a sugar bomb had detonated. Flour dusted every surface, sprinkles scattered like confetti, and the faint charred smell of overdone edges lingered. Momo stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, hair in a messy ponytail, glaring at the piping bag like it had personally offended her. Seiko leaned in the doorway in her robe, arms crossed, smirking.
"They're for my friends," Momo muttered, carefully swirling pink strawberry frosting onto the last few hearts. "Class thing. Don't make it weird."
Seiko's smirk widened. "Friends. Right. Funny how most are basic little hearts... but that one's noticeably bigger. Extra frosting swirls. Almost like it's special."
Momo nearly fumbled the bag. "Shut up, Grandma! It's just... overflowing. Extra dough. Whatever."
She quickly covered the oversized cookie with another layer of frosting, trying to make it look like all the rest, nothing different, nothing obvious. Inside, her stomach flipped. Okarun never gets anything like this. He'd probably think it's dumb. But... he'd smile. That dumb, grateful smile. And I want him to have that. Stupid dummy.
She packed the regular batch into a big tin for her classmates (nothing fancy), but the special one went into a small paper bag she stuffed deep in her school bag. No note. No fuss. Just a cookie.
Standing quietly in the doorway not too close, because Seiko had already given her the side-eye was Vamola. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, big round eyes following Momo's every careful swirl and nervous glance with pure, silent fascination. She hadn't said a word since she wandered in earlier. Just watched. Sweetly. Like Momo was performing some mysterious Earth ritual she wanted to understand but didn't dare interrupt.
Seiko noticed. She jerked her thumb toward Vamola without looking away from Momo.
"You gonna help, space girl, or are you just here to learn how to burn things?"
Vamola blinked slowly, ears twitching once. She didn't move from her spot.
Seiko snorted. "See? Already learning from the master. Stand any closer and you'll inherit her ability to turn frosting into modern art disasters."
Momo shot Seiko a glare. "She's not learning anything bad! She's just... watching."
"Yeah, watching you flirt with that piping bag like it's your new boyfriend." Seiko leaned in, voice dropping to a mock whisper. "Careful, Vamola. One more heart like that and you'll be baking love poems into bread loaves by next week."
Momo's face went scarlet. "Grandma!"
Seiko cackled. "What? I'm old. I can say these things."
Momo huffed, turned back to the counter, and very deliberately avoided looking at either of them. She sealed the small paper bag with more force than necessary, then shoved it deep into her school bag. No one needed to know. Especially not about the oversized heart one.
Seiko chuckled under her breath. "Hopeless."
Momo shot her a glare, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "Yeah, well... help me clean this disaster before I make you eat the burnt ones."
*********Valentine's day at school*********
Day 1 … Valentine's Day
**Morning ***Crimson arrival***
High above Kami High School and the sleepy town surrounding it, the pre-dawn sky split open with a silent crimson-black streak too slow and deliberate for any meteor. It wasn’t a star falling. It was something else...
It moved with purpose, trailing faint red mist that bled into the fading dark like ink in water. A quiet, shimmering presence that hungered for something deeper than light.
It tasted the planet below faint spiritual echoes, dull human auras, scattered yokai traces. Then one signature burned brighter: chaotic, powerful, yokai curse fused with human spirit. Then, It tasted it!
It adjusted trajectory mid-fall descended toward the school grounds, behind the track field in a patch of overgrown grass. The streak dimmed as it neared the surface, vanishing into the shadows without a sound.
Slithered toward the school silent, unseen. Needed ingestion to bond. Time to settle half a day into heart and core.
Okarun sat on the bench outside the entrance, backpack at his feet, finishing the last paragraph of a history paper under the pale morning light. Glasses slipping, hair messy, he muttered to himself: "Just get this done... then wait for Miss Ayase. Don't be weird about Valentine's. It's fine."
He paused mid-sentence, pen hovering. Something caught his eye, a slow, shimmering streak of crimson-black light cutting across the sky, bright enough to stand out against the fading stars. Not a plane, not a shooting star. Almost... beautiful. Like a slow-burning firework trail.
Okarun tilted his head up, watching for a few seconds.
"...whoa. Cool."
A small, distracted smile tugged at his lips. Meteor? Or satellite re-entry? He shrugged just a fun little detail in an otherwise boring morning and dropped his gaze back to the paper. Pen scratched across the page again.
The creeping crimson entity, now on the ground, tasted his aura from afar delicious instability. It slithered closer. The backpack zipper was half-open. Opportunity.
It flowed inside silently, a faint shimmer vanishing among notebooks and pens. Hidden. Patient. Waiting.
*Valentine's Day morning before class*
School gates buzzed with early Valentine's energy girls giggling over tins of chocolates, guys pretending not to notice the pink ribbons everywhere. Momo strode through the halls, big tin of heart-shaped cookies under one arm, the small paper bag with the special one clutched like a live grenade.
She hit her classroom first, casually dumping the tin on a desk. "Here. Extras from last night. Take 'em if you want." Classmates swarmed thanks, squeals, compliments on the frosting. She brushed it off with a shrug: "Grandma helped. Don't make it weird."
But her real target was Okarun's class down the hall.
She lingered outside his door, heart doing annoying flips. Okay. Just hand it over. It's a cookie. Not a confession. He's my friend. My dumb, glasses-wearing friend who probably thinks Valentine's is some capitalist scam. But... he never gets this stuff. And I want him to feel... included? Happy? Ugh.
She peeked in. He was at his desk, head down over a notebook, oblivious. The backpack on the floor beside his zipper is half-open.
Momo took a deep breath. If I chicken out now, I'll hate myself all day. Just do it. Quick. Casual.
She marched in, ignoring curious glances. "Hey. Okarun."
He looked up, startled then his face softened into that shy, genuine smile that always made her stomach twist. "Miss Ayase?” “Good Morning!"
She thrust the small paper bag forward like it was on fire. "Here. Don't get the wrong idea, idiot. I made a bunch for the class and... this one was leftover. Bigger 'cause... dough math or whatever. Strawberry frosting. Whatever. Just eat it."
Her voice was gruff, cheeks flushing a faint pink, eyes darting anywhere but his face. She rocked on her heels, a nervous tic she thought no one noticed.
Okarun took the bag carefully, like it was fragile glass. He opened it slowly. The cookie inside was noticeably larger with perfect edges, generous swirls of glossy strawberry frosting catching the morning light.
His eyes widened. "You... made this? For me?"
Momo crossed her arms tighter, looking away. "I said leftover, dummy. Don't make it a thing."
But he wasn't listening. He stared at the cookie like it was the first gift he'd ever received. No one had ever done this for him on Valentine's day, not friends, nobody. Warmth spread through his chest soft, overwhelming, unguarded. Cheeks flushed. He smiled small, real, boyish, the kind of smile he never let anyone see because it felt too vulnerable.
Inside the backpack, It watched every movement, every glance, every blush, every hesitation, every hidden hope. It was observed silently. It learned. It waited.
"Thank you, Miss Ayase," he said quietly, voice thick with real gratitude. "Really. This... means a lot. Happy Valentine's Day."
Momo's ears burned bright red. She muttered something incoherent, punched his shoulder lightly (more like a nudge), and bolted before he could see her face fully. "Whatever! See you later, four-eyes!"
She fled down the hall, heart racing. Idiot. Why'd I say that? Smooth, Momo. Real smooth.
Okarun sat back down, bag cradled in his lap, smiling like an idiot. He didn't notice the faint shimmer in his backpack, slightly watching, waiting.
Lunchtime. Courtyard bench. Okarun arrived first. Pulled out the cookie. Set it on a napkin. He admired it again. She really made this. For me….
He was about to take a bite when he heard the hallway door swing open loud, followed by a dramatic yelp.
Momo emerged, supporting Miko who was limping badly, one arm slung over Momo's shoulders like a war casualty. Miko's right foot was wrapped in a hasty bandage made from torn gym towel strips, and she hopped on one leg while clutching a plastic bag of ice.
"Stupid dummy, I told you not to try the 'volcano experiment' with actual fireworks-grade baking soda!" Momo grumbled, half-dragging, half-carrying her friend toward the nurse's office direction.
Miko whined dramatically, leaning heavier on Momo. "It was supposed to be a small eruption for extra credit! How was I supposed to know the reaction would launch my shoe across the lab and sprain my ankle when it landed on my own foot? Physics betrayed me!"
Momo rolled her eyes so hard it was audible. "Physics didn't betray you. Gravity did. And your terrible decision-making, moron."
Okarun stood up instinctively as they approached. " Miss Ayase? What happened?"
Momo spotted him and waved him off with her free hand. "Hey. Change of plans. Miko decided to turn the chem lab into a war zone and lost. I'm taking her to the nurse. Can't join you for lunch today, Okarun. Eat without me. I'll catch up when I can."
She gave him a quick, apologetic half-smile, but softer than usual before turning to limp Miko away. Miko threw a dramatic salute over her shoulder. "Sorry to steal your lunch buddy, Okarun! Blame the baking soda demon!"
Okarun waved awkwardly. "Uh... get better soon!"
He sat back down, a little deflated but still smiling at the cookie. She's helping her friend. That's just... Miss Ayase being Miss Ayase. Cool.
He reached into the backpack for his water bottle.
Something seeped out a thin, liquid shimmer and merged flawlessly with the strawberry frosting. The red sheen blended perfectly into the glaze. Gone in an instant.
Okarun took a sip of water, then picked up the cookie. For the briefest instant, the frosting seemed glossier.
And took a bite!
First taste: sweet, perfect strawberry. Incredible. The best thing he'd had in ages.
Then a deeper bite something strange. A cool, jello-like feeling slid down his throat. Slick. Gelatinous. It tickled, almost cold, like swallowing a chill.
He paused, cleared his throat once, twice. "Weird... maybe a little cold coming on." Rubbed his chest absently right over his heart. A faint warmth settled there, comfortable, almost pleasant. He mistook it for simple happiness and nerves from the day's excitement.
He smiled at the half-eaten cookie, waiting happily.
**After School **
School ended in the usual rush of voices and footsteps. Momo caught up with Okarun at the gates, hands shoved in her pockets, already complaining about the lab cleanup she’d been roped into helping with. Miko had been sent home early on crutches with strict orders to “stop being a walking disaster,” which left Momo grumbling as she fell into step beside Okarun like always.
“Next time Miko wants ‘extra credit,’ I’m tying her to a chair,” she muttered, kicking a pebble down the path.
Okarun laughed quietly softly, familiarly. “She seemed… enthusiastic.”
“She’s an idiot. But she’s our idiot.” Momo glanced sideways at him. “You finished that cookie? It looked like you were treating it like gold.”
He nodded, cheeks tinting pink. “It was really good. Thanks again. Seriously.”
She shrugged, looking away to hide her own flush. “Whatever. Don’t get used to it, four-eyes.”
A few steps behind them, Vamola walked quietly as she waited at the gates with Momo, big round eyes fixed on Okarun with that gentle, wordless care she always carried for him. She didn’t say anything, just kept pace, ears twitching slightly every time he spoke or coughed.
They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the usual route past the convenience store, the old shrine, the split in the road where they’d parted ways. Then Okarun suddenly coughed hard, deep, like something thick was caught in his chest. He doubled over slightly, hand to his mouth.
Momo stopped. “Whoa! Hey, you okay?”
Vamola’s ears flicked forward sharply. She stepped closer without a sound, eyes wide and worried.
Okarun straightened, waving it off with a weak smile. “Yeah, just… tickle in my throat. Probably dust or something.”
But as he looked up at Momo, his eyes flared crimson red for a single heartbeat bright, glowing, like embers flaring in the dusk light before snapping back to normal brown.
Momo blinked. She knew that flash; it was the same one Turbo Granny’s curse sometimes triggered. Still, seeing it flare up during something as boring as walking home felt… off.
“Your eyes did the red thing,” she said, tilting her head. “The Turbo Granny flash.”
Okarun rubbed the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “Yeah… sometimes it just happens. I don’t really know why. The curse does weird stuff every once in a while. Probably nothing.”
Vamola tilted her head too, mirroring Momo unconsciously. Her big eyes stayed locked on Okarun, soft and searching, like she was trying to see if he was really okay.
Momo studied him a second longer. It wasn’t the intense glow from battles this was softer, almost accidental. She teased lightly, trying to shake off the weird feeling: “Well, it’d probably be quicker for you to get home if you just used your turbo speed.”
Okarun gave a weak laugh then coughed once more, deeper this time, like something shifting in his lungs. He cleared his throat, voice quieter. “No turbo speed today… I feel really off.”
Momo’s teasing smile faltered for a second as she studied him again, worry flickering behind her eyes. Vamola’s ears drooped slightly, her small hands twisting together in silent concern.
But Momo shrugged it off, punching his shoulder lightly. “See you tomorrow. And try not to stay up too late coughing up a lung, dummy.”
Okarun grinned despite himself. “I’ll try. Night, Miss Ayase.”
He waved once, then turned down his path. Momo watched him go a few steps before turning away herself. That crimson flash lingered in her mind not scary, just… off. He’d never had it happen during something as boring as walking home. And that cough sounded worse than before.
Vamola stayed beside her a moment longer, eyes still fixed on the spot where Okarun had disappeared. She didn’t speak. She just gave one small, worried nod like she understood something was wrong then quietly followed Momo toward home.
Momo shook her head, trying to dislodge the tiny seed of worry planting itself deeper this time.
Probably just the curse being annoying. Yeah.
*******Overnight *******
Alone in his room, Okarun felt wrongness settle in like damp rot.
He tried to eat usual late-night instant ramen, comfort food that always grounded him. But the noodles tasted like nothing. Like chewing wet paper soaked in lukewarm water. No salt, no broth, no warmth. He forced a few bites down anyway, stomach churning, feeling like he was filling a hole that had no bottom.
His body felt worn out, not tired in the normal way, but hollowed. Heavy limbs, heavy eyelids, heavy chest, like someone had scooped out everything vital and left only the shell. Breathing took effort. Moving took effort. Even thinking felt slow, like wading through syrup.
He crawled into bed. The mattress creaked under him louder than usual. He stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to take the edge off.
It didn't.
Something moved under his skin faint, slow, like a single thread of silk being pulled through muscle. Not painful. Just... there. Crawling. Shifting. He pressed a hand to his forearm with nothing visible. Nothing moving. He told himself it was a muscle twitch. Late-night nerves. Nothing.
His canines ached a dull, persistent throb deep in the gums. He ran his tongue over them; they felt longer, sharper, almost foreign. For a second he froze heart skipping because he'd never had sharp teeth with Turbo Granny. Never. But the warmth in his chest spread then slowly, pleasant, like sinking into hot water after being cold too long. The ache dulled. The strangeness dulled. His mind softened around the edges.
Just... curse glitch, he thought, already half-forgetting why it had bothered him.
The warmth wrapped tighter, comforting, almost loving. It felt good. Too good. He let his eyes drift closed.
The tongue felt a strange tip numb, slightly thicker, slightly darker when he glimpsed it in the dark. He swallowed. Ignored it.
The last thing he felt before sleep took him was that deep, hollow exhaustion like his body was a house with all the lights turned off, rooms empty, only one faint candle burning somewhere deep inside.
He slept.
Still worn out.
Still wrong.
But the warmth stayed soft, pleasant, whispering it's fine, it's fine, it's fine until even the worry faded into black.
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