Astra Inclinant

06 ⠀ Love & fear, equally.

SIX
Love & fear, equally,

Growing up, Igarashi children are told tales. Thousand year old stories of gods walking amongst humans, of wishes upon falling stars, of scarlet grandiosity and scorching flames inducing equipoise. The children hear grandeur and think of centuries of predecessors crafting a world meant to bow down to them, they feel curses flow through their bodies and take them as blessings, for they have at least been granted the ultimate mercy of not sharing the first Igarashi's own Curse.

Keiko recalls every last minute of her childhood, every legend she has heard, every tragedy and every line of poetry. She remembers sandpaper voices muffled behind closed doors whispering her name like a divine secret or a sinful threat. She remembers a kind attendant, and the less gracious ones, teachers carving lifelong duties into her skin so she never forgets them, and a mould she had to shrink and break herself a thousand times over to fit into. She remembers a door. Wide, polished, painted red. A door she was forbidden to open.

Above all, of her childhood, Keiko remembers her mother. Her arms, strong and safe, carrying her when her small legs would give out and embracing her tenderly when her heart would grow too heavy for her chest. Her eyes, sweet mirages that they were, a kind brown colour which would turn into a frantic, hard black in an instant. Keiko remembers her mother's hands, as delicate and soft in holding daisies as they were in drawing out blood. Of her mother, she remembers a saccharine voice and violent words.

Igarashi Keiko grew up with love and fear in equal amounts.

Reluctantly, Keiko's hand hovers the handrail fixed against the wall so as to not miss a step in the almost complete darkness the hallway basks in. Her fingers only brush the metal rail, ready to grasp it were she to pathetically slip, but still high enough that she doesn't have to actually feel its grime on her skin. The place smells of humidity and feels like it hasn't been lived in for years.

When Osamu parked his car at the address Satoru had given him, both he and Keiko glanced at each other, unsure of whether or not the public nuisance parading around as the strongest being born in many generations was pulling a childish prank on them. The abandoned building they found themselves in front of did not seem like much, but the traces of Cursed Energy lingering around the metal doors leading to its basement were enough of a reassurance that they would not have to plan the murder of a manchild today.

Keiko reaches the end of the hallway and can feel two presences behind the last door. She pushes it open, surprised to see it unlocked, and the view she is met with is only slightly better than the one before. She did not pay much attention to how far underground the stairs went, but seeing as she finds herself in a duplex, maybe they went on further than she first assumed. The place isn't as humid as she thought it would be, but it is still too cold for a Summer's day.

Yūji is sprawled out on the couch in the centre of the room, one of Principal Yaga's Cursed Corpses held against his chest, so absorbed in the movie playing on the flat screen that he doesn't hear Keiko walk in. She waits for a moment before making her presence known. Satoru did mention that Yūji was making progress quickly, but she had not expected to see him already having such a steady output of Cursed Energy.

Keiko sighs. "Is that moron seriously keeping you here?"

She knows for a fact Satoru could have found somewhere a little better to keep Yūji hidden in until the exchange event. The basement of a rundown building in the suburbs of Tokyo is below bare minimum.