It was, Kogasa decided, a very fine silver lining that she didn't have to worry much about getting wet in the rainstorm. It was the only thing going right with her day, anyway.
She had walked aimlessly in the wilderness for nearly an hour now, listening to the persistent drumming of endless raindrops upon her. Usually, night-time was more helpful for spooking humans than daytime, but now they all had scurried into their cosy, dry homes, leaving Kogasa behind. As usual.
Once again, her woes began circling her mind. For starters, she had surprised exactly zero people that day. She hadn't in fact received a single reaction stronger a raised eyebrow. And to make matters worse, disaster had struck when she had hidden in a tree to wait for passers-by. It was usually a relatively successful strategy, but the branches had been slick with rain, and she had lost her balance and plummeted into a puddle before she could even think of flying. To add insult to injury, she was pretty sure she had heard someone laughing at her from a distance. And to top it all off, she was starving.
It wasn't easy being a modern youkai.
She halted, suddenly conscious of how far she had strayed from the village. She was downstream of the Genbu Ravine, and the river ahead looked like it was about to overflow at any minute. She shivered and looked around for shelter. She should really find some relatively dry nook in which to lick her wounds and wait for dawn.
It was at this point that she caught sight of something scarlet further downstream. A person, so close to the rushing waters they were liable to be swept along at any moment.
Kogasa approached, curious, clutching her handle with fingers that suddenly felt numb. The person proved to be a very faintly familiar youkai in a red capelet, leaning against an ancient willow tree overhanging the river. Her position wasn't quite as precarious as Kogasa had assumed it to be from further away; the river curved next to where the youkai stood, leaving her boots dry for the time being.
Kogasa halted some feet away from her, wondering if the rain had drowned out the sound of her footsteps. She was about to leave when the youkai turned and raised an eyebrow at her.
"What? No 'boo!' this time?"
Kogasa hesitated, then stepped close enough for the raindrops on the willow leaves to fall upon her. "You're the rokurokubi who lives in the village."
The rokurokubi nodded. "Sekibanki. And you're the umbrella who tries to surprise everyone."
"And sometimes succeeds." Kogasa tried not to blush. She remembered now why Sekibanki looked so familiar. Kogasa had once stalked a strange human in a capelet for half an hour, desperate to surprise her, only for her target to eventually notice her and to dryly reveal that she wasn't human at all. In Kogasa's defence, she had been exhausted that day.
Much like she was now. When Sekibanki didn't appear to have an urgent need to continue on with the conversation, Kogasa turned to stare at the froth in the river, trying to distract herself from the hollowness inside her. "We're pretty far from the village."
"Aren't we just?"
"So... what are you doing here?"
"Waiting for the rain to end."
"Oh." Kogasa fidgeted with her handle. "I mean, what were you doing here before that?"
Sekibanki didn't answer. She kept watching the river as though Kogasa hadn't uttered a single word.
As the silence became awkward, Kogasa felt her earlier gloom grow even darker. She turned to leave. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."
"You're not bothering me."
Kogasa turned back in wonderment. The words weren't an invitation, not quite, but Sekibanki did seem to mean what she said. And even if it wasn't attention from her fellow youkai that she craved the most, she certainly wouldn't mind sticking around for a moment longer.
She hesitated for a moment longer. Then, feeling bolder, she ducked underneath the willow, sweeping against the sodden branches as she crouched beneath them. She settled next to Sekibanki, glad that the trunk proved relatively dry, and tried to see what the rokurokubi saw in the water.
It came as a surprise when Sekibanki suddenly said, even-toned and staring ahead, "I'm here because I thought I'd connect with my roots for a while. Act like a full-blooded youkai and all that rot. Of course, when I decided that, I thought the rain would abate soon."
"And now you can't go back?"
"Humans avoid heavy rain. I'm supposed to be undercover, remember?" Before Kogasa could point out that humans also avoided leaving the village after dark, Sekibanki continued. "Anyway, I don't like getting drenched."
"Maybe the rain will end soon." Kogasa peeked through the curtain of branches. The sky was covered in an all-encompassing, suffocating mantle of dark grey. If Kogasa had to guess, she would have said it would keep pouring down well into the morning. "Or maybe not."
Sekibanki shrugged.
"Maybe you could put your head under your cape to keep your hair dry, at least." Kogasa hesitated. "But I guess you would have to put it back on before you got to the village."
She fell back into silence. Sekibanki was difficult to read — what little could be seen of her face revealed nothing — but her posture was calm, almost philosophical. Even so, looking at her soaked boots and just how firmly she leaned against the tree trunk, she had to be cold.
"Or maybe... you could walk back with me. That way you'll stay dry."
Sekibanki turned to look at Kogasa. She said nothing. She didn't so much as blink.
"I'm gonna go back myself, anyway," Kogasa hastened to explain, putting on a smile. "And if anyone sees us and says that it's strange to see a human with a youkai, you can point out that youkai or not, I'm still an umbrella."
She half expected the raindrops that filtered through the leaves to wear her away before she ever got a response. She was therefore surprised when, after a moment consideration, Sekibanki shrugged again. "If it's you, I doubt anyone will even question it. Lead the way."
And without further ado, as though there was nothing unusual about it, she came to stand underneath Kogasa's shade, so close their arms nearly touched. Her clothes carried the scent of wet moss, curiously sweet and not at all unpleasant.
"Oh!" There was nothing put on about Kogasa's smile as she found herself warmed by half-forgotten nostalgia. "Okay, let's go!"
They left the river and the willow behind and soon found their way back to the path, now dotted with puddles of all shapes and sizes. It was surprisingly easy for Kogasa to adjust to Sekibanki's walking rhythm. Or perhaps it was that Sekibanki had already taken steps to adjust to hers.
They made their journey in silence until around the halfway point, when Sekibanki abruptly broke the cosy rainfall soundscape. "Speaking of humans, you probably know the foolish superstition they have about umbrellas."
"Which one?" Were there more Kogasa that hadn't heard of? And was there any chance it might be useful in scaring people?
"I doubt it works the same way when one of us is the umbrella. But if you believe them, we're going to end up as an item."
It took Kogasa a moment to understand what Sekibanki meant. Once she did, her face began to burn so fiercely she doubted even a maelstrom could have put it out. "Oh no! I didn't mean that when I—"
Sekibanki gave her a cool, assessing look. "I figured as much. But it doesn't seem too bad." She peeled back her collar to reveal a smile, subdued but sincere. "Assuming you don't mind, of course."
By now, Kogasa had to be red enough to glow. Would she mind? No, she wouldn't. The more she thought about it, the more she felt like she'd like to keep walking alongside Sekibanki no matter how bad the weather got.
Emboldened by the need to surprise Sekibanki at least as badly as Sekibanki had surprised her, she declared, "We should go on a date!"
"Sure. On a day when it's dry, please." Sekibanki returned her collar back in place, entirely nonchalant. Somehow, Kogasa didn't feel disappointed.
Neither of them said anything more as they continued on, allowing the rain to once again drown out everything but the sound of their footsteps. In truth, Kogasa couldn't hear those very clearly, either. Her footfalls had become so light she was almost flying.
Maybe there was something to being a modern youkai after all.