#cat anon

"Atsushi, what is this?" Between long fingers with elongated nails, more attuned to claws, dangles a simple treat. A crab rangoon, homemade, an offering left behind for the kitsune, the great Inari, revered in your town as the almighty, worshipped by almost everyone. And his offering for the day is a common appetizer. His shrine keeper, Atsushi, steps closer, broom in hand, as he examines the fried wonton wrapper, recognizing the shape, and points.

"That is a crab rangoon, Dazai-sama," he states plainly before turning around to go back to his cleaning of the shrine. It's chilly, deep into Japanese autumn, and he's already having to wear a jacket around to keep warm.

Dazai, the great Inari loved by many and feared by all, stares at the snack, then the back of his shrine keeper's head, then back again. "A crab rangoon?" He repeats, skeptical, in disbelief, and a little appalled. "This does not look anything like a crab, and I cannot begin to fathom what a rangoon could possibly be." He cautiously brings it toward his nose, taking a few sniffs, and his fox ears fall backward at his disappointment that there is not crab anywhere to be found in the treat.

"It's simply what it's called, Dazai-sama," he sighs, peering at him over his shoulder with a small puff of air escaping. "Give it a try, you might like it. It's got crab."

"No, it does not," Dazai grumbles, beginning to break it open to peek inside, to see the contents, and sniff it more. "What is this pink stuff inside? Crab is not pink, Atsushi. I do not understand." His shrine keeper sighs again, heavy this go around, before walking over once more to look inside.

"It's imitation, it's made correctly," Atsushi helps himself to one of the halves the deity broke, chewing slowly, allowing the filling to melt on his tongue, and he nods. Pleased. "It's actually really good. Take a bite, you'll love it." He insists, as if speaking to a child instead of a divine fox spirit, and he watches as those big, pointed ears stay fallen back. His multiple fluffy tails twitch behind his kimono-clad body, and he grimaces. "One bite. If you hate it, I'll take them off your hands."

"Why is there imitation crab? What is so wrong with the real thing?" Dazai continues to question, delaying putting something like this in his mouth.

"Not all of us mortals have the kind of money or influence to obtain real crab, especially for an ungrateful deity unwilling to try it," the boy rolls his eyes before going back to his work, the brief discussion of money reminding him he needs to fish out the monetary offerings that were received throughout the day. Not that there is a popularity contest amongst the other deities and yokais, but it is pretty clear that Dazai — “Inari-sama” as worshippers call him — is the favorite amongst those following religion. Anything offered is enough to maintain the shrine as well as keep Atsushi well-paid for essentially being his "shrine maiden".

Dazai sighs inwardly, the other half sitting in his palm, still warm and steaming, then sticks his tongue out to give it a little lick. His tails flick, ear perking up in curiosity, before popping it in his mouth. His hand digs around in the neatly packaged, beautifully decorated bag, finding there are multiple inside, and his tails begin to wag with delight. He tucks himself comfortably away in the corner of his couch he demanded to be placed in the shrine, and indulges himself in eating all of them.

"Atsushi!" He snaps rapidly, mouth half-full, and other hand still roaming around for more. "Atsushi! Quickly, bring me the maker of these rangoons. I must meet the human behind such a delicacy." He has crumbs not only around his mouth but down his kimono, and his fingers and nails are covered in crumbs and filling — that he shamelessly laps up. "I need these to be available at all times!" His shrine keeper stops what he's doing — his job — to see the deity scrounging around for more of the snacks, something he previously detested with disgust.

"Dazai-sama, I thought you couldn't bear the thought of imitation crab?" He jokes, folding his arms.

"Never mind that," Dazai waves him off, sticking his face in the bag to sniff around, committing all scents attached to memory. "Did they leave behind any prayers? Any wishes? Desires? Vengeance requests? Tell me immediately." He motions for the other to speak, voice muffled by the bag, and a light brow raises at the behavior.

"Your great divinity, you're already behind on so many other prayer requests, it would be better if I keep you on track to fulfilling them in order of received," Atsushi attempts. "At the very least in order of importance."

"Nothing could be more important than the prayers of the one who has made these rangoons for me," he yanks his face away, continuing to aggressively sniff the sack, trying to capture the smell of the human he is after. "I want them here at the quickest convenience." The shrine keeper stares at him in awe — while he has not been working for the Inari too long, he has never seen him react quite like this over an offering. They usually pile up in the storage room of the shrine, get donated, or he takes whatever food home that Dazai won't eat. He's never been so captivated by something of as little importance as an appetizer not even of Japanese origin. A mere snack created elsewhere from what he assumes was experimentation that is now a favorite across the globe.

He wants to actually answer prayers.

"Yeah, alright, I'll snoop around tomorrow."

♡

You hum to yourself, stopping by the Inari shrine as you always do after work, carrying a newly decorated bag packed to perfection, steaming from the offering you have to present, and the wind blows gently as dropped leaves whisp along the sidewalk. It's been a long day, but you have been looking forward to visiting the Inari-sama — the deity somehow brings you peace in your daily life, and you feel strongly that this offering is something He would really enjoy.

However, just as you reach the bottom steps of the shrine, a guy is walking up to you: he has white hair and a heavy zip-up jacket over his shoulders. You recognize him, thinking you've seen him roaming around with a broom or working up at the front selling omamoris or other spiritual ornaments and trinkets. What kind of shrine maiden isn't in appropriate attire? Your head cocks when he steps in front of your path, staring up at him silently, and his strangely colored eyes flicker down to your hands. The guy smiles, then bows respectfully.

"Hi, I'm sorry to trouble you, but the great Inari-sama has shown immense interest and gratitude to your recent offering, and He would like to speak with you," he says, and you raise a brow.

"What?" Is all that comes out.

"Your offering, the crab rangoons?" He stands straight, pointing to the bag, and you glance at it before meeting his gaze again.

"How'd you know that's in here?"

"That's the same bag as yesterday. Plus, He recognizes your scent," he explains further, but you're more baffled at the concept of some sort of being actually located in the building is in search of you. Your eyes flit behind him to the shrine, door cracked, light shining through, then slowly take a small step backward. "Please, don't go! He really did enjoy them, and He wants to meet you! Any prayer you have, He said He will see to fulfilling it personally." You blink once, skeptical, before eyeing him up and down.

"The Inari-sama... is actually real?" You ask, words coming out slow — you never doubted your faith, believing in the great kitsune, but you weren't expecting a physical form. More or less, you expected to speak to the air around you while a giant booming voice yelled back at you. "Like, a... a person?" You clarify, seeing a puzzled expression on the shrine keeper's face.

"Well... Sort of?" He gives an awkward chuckle before guiding you up to the stairs to the shrine, opening the door, and gesturing you in. You stand there, silent, unmoving on the other side, the dim glow of the shrine seeping out, and you glance sidelong at the shrine keeper. “It’s alright, I promise. Go on ahead in.” He insists, carefully nudging you along so he can get the door shut quickly before anyone else tries to peek in.

At the sound of the heavy locks clinking behind you, you merely stare at the body sprawled out on the couch: a weirdly faint, pale blue-colored kimono wrapping around it; giant fluffy white tails gently swaying along the back cushion; matching pointed but furry white ears stand straight up out of a mop of shaggy brown hair; and the only other thing you can see are glowing, piercing amber eyes that gaze at you from over an opened traditional folding fan. The color matches the person’s attire, and the longer you stare ahead, the more constricted the pupils get in the floating eyes.

“Is this the maker of the… rangoons?” A surprisingly soft voice flows out into the room, slightly muffled behind the fan, and you notice then there are well-manicured, dark claws pushing out of his fingers.

“Yes, your great divinity,” the guy behind you lightly sighed, gingerly pushing you forward again. “The bag matches the one from yesterday.” You haven’t spoken, voice lost at the sight of someone actually living in this shrine, on quite the lavish couch, you might add. The room has a gentle scent of incense, the trail burning its way through the room from the corner where it was left, and there are a multitude of plump throw pillows cast around on the ground. It’s quiet, you’re shaking a little, and the eyes of a god are watching you closely.

“Come,” a finger urges you forward, the sleeve drooping to reveal standard bandages wrapped around the skin, and you crane your neck to the side to the white-haired guy with eyes that may also belong to a god — given the circumstance, anything could be possible. He offers you a sincere smile, nodding in the god’s direction, and you slowly look ahead once more, then take a cautious step forward. The ears on his head twitch, eyes darting to your hands before quickly locking back with yours.

When you’re in front of him, his arm extends out, palm up, but the fan does not remove. You look between the striking color then his open hand a few times, lowering the decorated bag on it, then take a small step backward. “F-For you, Inari-sama.” You bow, eyes perpendicular to the floor, and wait.

“Please, do not call me that,” he lightly scoffs, then directs his attention to the guy behind you. “Atsushi, open.” He holds the bag up, growing impatient.

“You could always put the fan down,” Atsushi grumbles, walking over to pull the drawstring apart, and the smell of fresh crab rangoons waft up behind the fan and under his nose, tails beginning to wag more intensely at the scent. “There.”

“So, mortal, tell me, what is your biggest desire?” The Inari digs his hand in the bag feeling many more than the night before in there, and is immediately pleased. He plucks one out to stuff in his mouth, continuing to shield it behind the fan. You gradually stand upward, seeing his hand disappear then reappear, shoveling in each snack one after the other, and you blink. “Come along, tell me what it is you want. I am apparently a very busy deity and do not have all day to wait around for your wish.”

“I… I don’t have anything I desire, really,” you mutter, watching as he continues to eat, still only able to see his eyes, and one of his dark brows raise in puzzlement. Disbelief, more to say.

“You do not desire anything? Then why make an offering if there is nothing you are after?” He questions, that tone continuing with softness and a bit soothing to your ears, but you can tell he is skeptical of you. You think for a moment before shrugging, folding your hands in front of you.

“Just… thanking you, I suppose. For bringing me peace and serenity,” you explain, causing Atsushi to give you an incredulous look that you can’t see, and the kitsune stops mid-bite to stare at you. “I learned recently that you seem to respond well to crab, that it’s your current offering of choice, so I thought you’d like to try those.” You point to the bag that his hand is buried in, a small, hesitant smile forming on your lips as you bow your head. “I’m so happy you like them.” The other two share a glance, Atsushi in sheer bewilderment considering prayers haven’t been answered in who knows how long because the Inari is lazy beyond belief, and this powerful fox is just surprised to hear no one wants anything from him.

“You desire nothing?” He repeats, propping himself up straighter as he peers over the fan at you, hand gradually withdrawing from the bag, and Atsushi is already pulling out a handkerchief to wipe off the crumbs and filling. “That is not possible. Even my shrine maiden has desires and prayers he wants answered that he knows I will ignore.”

“Please stop calling me a shrine maiden,” he mutters, finishing cleaning his hand, you watching quietly, a bit taken aback by his words, and just stay put under his gaze. His eyes are stunning, mesmerizing, but it’s hard to hold contact, especially when they glow so intensely. “I’d have to be an actual maiden to be one.”

“Yes, you never follow proper shrine maiden etiquette and attire, I am not sure why you were hired to begin with,” the Inari waves his hand, shooing Atsushi away, then leaning back in his seat, leg over the other, and you note his kimono is loose — his getas seem to be old, worn, visible passages of time withering the wood. Bandages wrap around his ankles. His fan has yet to reveal what he looks like, and those luscious tails are elegantly placed off to the side, quite the handful dangling from the armrest. He is breathtaking as is, but your curiosity is burning to see his entire face.

“I’m the only one that was willing to work for you, Dazai-sama,” he sighs, turning to face you, then bows. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I have the shrine to attend to for the evening, then I’ll be back to get you after you two have talked.” Atsushi gives you one final bow as he exits, the doors clanking shut again behind you, eyes trained on them, when a soft clearing of a throat catches your attention.

“Do you prefer Dazai-sama?” You ask, a bit out of nowhere. His eyes narrow before correcting themselves, an ear flickering then stranding back up straight. He nods once. “Is that your human name?”

“It is the name of the man I possessed, yes,” Dazai switches hands, allowing the other to rest, and holds up the bag that dangles from his finger. “You may have no desires, but I do.” You look at him, wide-eyed and expectant, but he doesn’t speak further.

“Anything for you, Dazai-sama,” you bow, at the waist, and he huffs under his breath before waving you to stand back up.

"I desire these rangoons until I tire of them," he states simply, to the point, and you glance at the bag for a brief moment before looking at him once again, and you don't know what to say. You're in the presence of a divine being that outwardly admitted he possessed the body he's in with animal ears and multiple tails, telling you that he wants you to make crab rangoons until he gets sick of them. You blink once, staring at him in stunned silence. "Is there an issue? You dare deny me?" He asks with a sudden tonal flip, and his brows furrow.

"No, no, of course I would never deny you," you quickly defend, shaking your hands in front of you. "I just... wanted to make sure that's what you are asking."

"I do not believe I stuttered," his presence isn't necessarily daunting, but it is overpowering now, and it's a reminder he is in fact a god.

"No, your great divinity, you didn't," you bow once more, honestly just so you don't have to look into those piercing and striking glowing eyes, lightly chewing on the inside of your cheek as you try to come up with a plan to make the snack daily and drop them off.

"You already have devoted yourself to me, is that correct? Or are there other gods I should worry about sharing your worship with?" Your brows knit together at that comment, keeping your head down, not wanting him to see your reaction. Gods can get jealous...? Your family had always been devoted to the Inari-sama, asking to worship anything else was morally absurd, divine treason, heavenly betrayal. Dazai is a deity, one that has been around for thousands and thousands of years, surely he has answered prayers or wishes from your family at some point — even if he were in a different person's body at the time. I don't think I ever gave Him my name.

"I have only ever worshipped the Inari, as you have brought abundance and peace to my family for decades. You have my undivided attention."

"Good. I need a new shrine maiden around here as is, what with Atsushi being far too slow for my liking," Dazai rolls his eyes, beginning to gently fan himself. "He lectures me far too often, and it has grown annoying. Tiring. You can begin tomorrow, do not bother arguing with me or telling me no, as I will not entertain it." You gradually stand up straighter, staring at him unblinking, mouth closed tight to avoid saying anything out of turn or disrespectful. However, if you heard him correctly, he is asking you to quit your actual job to become a shrine keeper full time because his current one... demands he do his godly duties? "Away with you. I grow tired, and you look exhausted as well. You will need to be fully rested to begin your work here." He shoos you off, his ears falling into more of a resting position, and his tails seem to have stilled completely. He mutters something about 'Atsushi will see you out', going back to stretching out elegantly on the couch, the fan never moving to reveal his face, and he sighs deeply as his eyes close.

... What?

♡

"Dazai-sama, they don't have any prayers," Atsushi shakes his head, rummaging through the different pieces of paper and scrolls sitting in the box amongst the piles of wishes and grievances others have bestowed on Dazai. All waiting to be answered — some dating back decades ago. "You seriously need to focus on the ones you have now instead of trying to answer ones that don't exist!" He groans under his breath, getting overwhelmed at the sheer amount that the other has ignored, unbelievable that a god could be so lazy. Dazai rolls his eyes, laying down on the couch again, his kimono loose to his body, getas tossed haphazardly elsewhere, and his mind has wandered to another plane while he is being berated.

You are off in a different area of the shrine grounds, admiring the nature and care surrounding it, parts you had never gotten to go before since they were closed off to civilians. As a shrine keeper, you get to see the history of the shrine changing with time, how well-maintained it was, obvious love and care put into keeping it in top shape. It also allowed for you to be alone with your thoughts for some time, since Atsushi mentioned needing to go see Dazai after training you.

It was brought to your attention that you live far away from the shrine, more than a standard walk along the sidewalk — a bus and train ride away. There is an offer for you to take the house just down the hill, one Atsushi had turned down because he needs 'as much space between Dazai-sama and I as possible', something about being around him too much that living near him would 'drive me bonkers'. Apparently, the personality of the man possessed, the true Dazai, shines through frequently; he is an incredibly lazy young man, avoiding work of any kind at all costs, one who plays pranks and makes lots of jokes, and a dangerous flirt. The Inari has a handle on it "for the most part", but you suppose it can be exhausting having to possess a body that He allows Dazai to take over his own mind again so He can rest.

So far, the only thing shining through is his allergy to work.

You visited the house earlier, Atsushi showing you around, and it had also been consistently remodeled with the passage of time, to keep up with modernity. Complete indoor plumbing, fully functional kitchen, already furnished, and brand-new tatami mats have been laid down recently in the past year or two — untouched since no one has lived there for quite some time. The only real work that would need to be put into it is dusting. You were assured rent wouldn't be necessary since it's paid for, the concern would merely be utilities.

You hadn't decided though on if you were going to do exactly what was requested. While the other shrine keeper discussed wages and the money made from worshippers, it didn't sound sustainable. Stable. People change their faith consistently; it would only be a matter of time before they move on from the Inari-sama to a new deity. It all is treated like some strange fad.

His full face continues to be a mystery for whatever reason. The only thing he allows you to see are the bright amber eyes that watch you intently from over the folding fan with constricted, thin pupils.

"How could they not want anything?" Dazai whispers, sighing heavily as he stares at the ceiling.

"Some people don't need much," Atsushi replies, seeing a few papers with your same last name, sorting through them. "They have family in here with requests, prayers, desires, and grievances." He pauses, flipping the pages, and his shoulders slump. "Some from as late as thirty years ago."

"Oh, those are still good," the god sighs, dismissing the concern in the shrine keeper's voice. "I will get to them later."

"Why don't you use the energy and motivation you got now to answer important ones that have been needing your divine hand for countless years?" A few scrolls and papers drop down suddenly on Dazai's stomach, making him grunt on impact, and his nose wrinkles.

"Because I do not care for anyone else at this moment. My power is reserved," his nose turns up, facing away from the other, who sighs again. "Unless they have offered me such delicious treats, they can wait."

"You have been offered money, priceless heirlooms, and peoples' own lives. If I knew crab would have gotten your ass in gear, I would have put a sign out ages ago to not bother with anything else," Atsushi huffs, pointing to the pile. "Get to work. This is getting old."

"How dare you speak to a god that way!" Dazai sneers, sitting up to look at him head on, and he merely glares at him back.

"You're a lazy god!"

"I am not!" Dazai counters, his fangs accidentally coming out as he talks back. "I am trying to fulfill a prayer now but there are not any available!"

"You are wanting them from one person who doesn't have a single thing in the world they could want at this moment. Move on to the ones you have!" The Inari shrine keeper has clearly had enough, grabbing the papers and scrolls he dropped earlier to storm across the room to the desk, plopping down and beginning to sort through them to see about having them fulfilled himself. "You will lose faith and worshippers if you keep this up. You like being popular, do what makes you the favored in the first place." Just as he finishes his sentence, you slip in through the front door, causing both him and Dazai to whip their heads in your direction, catching the deity off guard that there isn't enough time for him to shield his face with his fan. You're ashamed to admit it, but you are accidentally gawking as you stare at him, seeing his entire face now, and you're rendered speechless.

Is it the divine powers that make him look that way, or is he really that handsome?

"What is it that you need?" Dazai clears his throat, situating himself in a more polite manner on the couch, and withdraws his fan anyway to splay out covering his nose and mouth. However, it's too late, you have already seen his features, absolutely captivated and awestruck by his appearance, and trail your gaze down to see that his kimono is more or less disheveled to reveal more gauze wrapping around his neck and chest. "Please speak instead of ogling." He instructs, words bouncing back from behind the fan, and your eyes snap back to meet his — those alluring irises that you had dreamt about the night before from how intense they are whenever gazing back at you.

"I'm... Forgive me," you bow, hands tucked into the sleeves of the kimono Atsushi let you borrow — per the request of the Inari. "I finished my tour of the shrine grounds and decided to come see what I could do for work."

"I have no duties for you. Although, I am hungry," he tells you, leg crossing over the other, arm crossed over his chest, and his tails wave slowly behind him. "Could you provide more of those rangoons?" Your eyes grow wide, scoping out the room for the bag you had given him this morning, to find it torn to pieces as if an animal had gotten to it — all the contents gone.

"Dazai-sama, why don't you eat something else? The poor thing is probably tired of making them for you already," Atsushi comes to your rescue, but you would never want to deny the kitsune you have idolized your whole life. If the Inari-sama desires crab rangoons, then so be it.

"It's fine, honestly," you interrupt, diverting the harsh glare Dazai is shooting his shrine keeper to rather look at you. "I will just have to... leave." You swallow, feeling as though you are not making a good fellow shrine keeper, let alone a standard worshipper. Leave?

"I thought you would be taking the house?" His ears droop some, but his brows are deeply furrowed, the wrinkles prominent to show his confusion. "You work here now. Is that not what we discussed yesterday?"

"Th-The offer you made is so generous, but even if I were to take the house, Atsushi-kun said nothing is turned on. I'd have to call someone to turn on the utilities, and I don't know if I can give up my current job—" You stop yourself as his arm gradually lowers, the fan revealing the displeased frown that matches his fallen ears and wrinkled brow. His eyes are bright, on fire, and you don't know what else to say. It's true, it would take the same amount of time, if not longer, to call and wait for someone to come out to turn the electric and water on than it would take for you to head back home to make the snacks. You said you would do anything for him, as a sign of gratitude for the life he has blessed you with, but you're overwhelmed already. "D-Dazai-sama, I'm not denying you, I just—"

"I do not like excuses," he states, blunt, the fan snapping shut with a wild echo in the room, almost strong enough to put out the incense burning on the other side near Atsushi. Who is stunned in place by the behavior of the deity he has been tending to for a handful of years. What the hell is his damage? "I stated my intentions with you, offer you a place to live that is closer, a rather labor-less but fulfilling job as my second shrine maiden, in exchange for your continued cooperation of making me those rangoons. I am even willing to answer any prayer, desire, or grievance you may have or will ever have, just for a delicacy. And you dare to upset me with excuses?" His eyes, inflamed with blatant anger, narrow, and he gets to his feet for the first time since meeting him. He doesn't seem to care that his clothes are not appropriately tight to his body as they should be, but none of his skin is visible anyhow, and a shiver runs down your spine for the thought of how — even in the deepest depths of his fury — he is still so breathtaking. It's almost like a sweet sedative to endure the raging storm.

You stare up at him, timid, biting down harshly on your cheek, and the scraping of chair legs creeks along the floor. "You cannot force them to uproot their life like you did me. It isn't fair." Atsushi defends, coming to your side, even carefully shuffling you behind him. "I only did it because Dazai is my friend, and I wanted to make sure you didn't do anything to him. They don't know him, and you can't take advantage of their love and devotion for you just because they gave you an offering you actually liked for once. Humans are not to be treated like this; I thought I taught you this?" You're taken aback by how he is speaking to the Inari, not ever expecting to hear anyone talk back to the revered fox spirit. Dazai's head raises, glowering down at the boy trying his best to protect you; his tails fwhip behind his body, irritated, and ears are standing straight up once again, flickering at the octave of the lecture he received. His lips part, gearing up to say something in return, and you catch the hint of fangs hanging down. You mildly cower, unsure of how this is going to pan out, and tempted to call someone to turn on the utilities as soon as they possibly can to prevent further angering a god.

Mortals are so aggravating, what with their free will and entitlement. We used to strike down anyone who spoke to us the way this impudent boy is now.

Amber irises, calming down to their normal glow, glide in your direction, pupils elongated and constricted still, and a shadow momentarily casts over his face. He inhales deep, lids dropping, and jaw flexes once before relaxing completely. When he opens his eyes again, he seems normal, human-esque, and his voice lowers to the soft tone you heard yesterday: "Do you wish to accept the house down the hill? It would... please me if you did, as well as work here fully. However, I... understand if you do not want to. I will n-not f...force you." He struggles to get the words out, and you can't help your gaze darting to the back of Atsushi's head before meeting Dazai's. He stares at you, eyebrows still knit together, a scowl etched into his features, and his tails occasionally flit around.

You clear your throat, gaze downcast, and you shrug. "I... I don't know."

"You don't know—!"

"Great Inari-sama, don't," Atsushi scolds, causing the other to bite his tongue, lips pursing, then turning his head away. "This is a big change for them. They are allowed time to think about it."

"What if he can convince them?"

"Don't you dare!"

You continue staring down at the floor, not understanding what either of them are talking about, who they are talking about, but you're uncomfortable. You should be flattered by the deity wanting you here, that He is specifically requesting you to be at his side, but something feels... off. While he is saying to give you a choice, you don't actually believe it is going to end in you doing what you want. You're fairly certain you will be living in the house down the hill and being a shrine keeper full-time by tomorrow.

They bicker in the background of your thoughts, going back and forth of how "immoral" it would be to use someone against you, when you remember that Atsushi had mentioned to you prior that while shrine duties are always caught up, the Inari's are on an almost eternal backlog that He refuses to complete. You wonder, for a fleeting moment, if you can get away with such a bargain.

"Dazai-sama, I do have a request for you," you murmur, it enough to cause the fighting to stop. He looks to you, a bit too eager, and waits. You glance up, both of them staring at you, and Atsushi has a puzzled brow lifted as he waits as well.

"Out with it," Dazai urges, his tails beginning to wag, displaying his anticipation to finally fulfill a wish you have for him.

You inhale, raising your head, to seem more dignified and less intimidated, and straighten your back, squaring your shoulders so he knows you mean business. Professional. Not at all worried this is a terrible decision. "I will accept the house down the hill, and work for you full time, if you could please fulfill your existing prayers and grievances." The room goes still after that, his tails no longer showing his previous elation, ears perked, and lips in a line. You can see in the corner of your eye that Atsushi is fighting a grin, covering his mouth with the back of his hand and diverting his attention elsewhere to prevent bursting into laughter. Dazai looks at you, eyes wide and unblinking, and his kimono slips some from his shoulder. Your fingers lightly tremble in the confines of your sleeves, but your expression is otherwise steady.

"I do not wish to fulfill such selfish desires of otherwise undeserving mortals," he whispers. Meaning every word. "They ask for material trinkets, or for the impossible. Everything they want is in their interest only. Why would I appease them?" Well, I can't necessarily argue with that. You nod once, slowly, understanding, before sighing through your nose.

"Because you wouldn't have the power to without their prayers and devotion in the first place," you begin, maintaining a steady but gentle voice, not wanting to come off as weak but definitely not wanting to make things worse. A dark brow twitches, but he doesn't give a response. "They pray to you and seek your guidance because you haven't steered them wrong yet. Even if you answer a prayer that is thirty years old, or maybe older than that, they will still praise you, revere you, hold you to the highest pedestal because they love you, devoted their entire lives to you. Their wishes may be selfish, but they would continue to be grateful to you." You tell him, as if he should know this, but he doesn't. He is a god, a deity, a divine spirit that has to borrow a human body to roam the Earth alongside mankind. He is used to receiving offerings, presents, gifts, bribes in order for wishes to be granted.

It's why he doesn't understand how you are capable of giving him such a delicious gift with no expectation in return. Humans almost always want something, especially from him, or other fellow gods. Sure, the faith continuously restored to allow his power to flow helps, but they still hold him to high regard without answering anything in years — merely because they all asked for the same things: money, power, love. What good are those things when there is always the possibility of dying tomorrow? Mortals are so fragile, these two before me could be gone the moment they leave this shrine. The thought makes his tails droop slightly, hand on his hip, tight grip on the closed fan, and you two have been having a staring contest due to him trying to comprehend how there is the existence of such selflessness, to a point that you would essentially uproot your entire life, set aside precious time to make endless batches of crab rangoons at his request, and all you ask for in return is that he answers others' wishes.

"How many a day will be considered satisfactory to you?" Dazai begrudgingly asks, words jagged by gritted teeth with visible fangs. Atsushi has to hold back his surprise, still facing away from him, and the smile he had previously tried hiding drops behind his hand.

"No less than five," you spout off politely. His nose scrunches up in response. "I think that is plenty. Enough to count on one single hand. And if you do more, you'd be overachieving." You add with a genuine smile, tilting your head.

"Fine," he agrees, a little too immediately. "However, the moment you have an actual prayer, I will put it at the front of the queue." Your smile grows bigger at such a ridiculous comment, but you can't help the small giggle that follows, and his ears tingle at the sound, one folding down, and his tails sway.

"I promise, the first time I actually need something, I will let you know firsthand," you assure, the interaction making Atsushi look between you two, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"So be it," Dazai agrees once again, having no choice but to believe you. "Atsushi, please call whoever it is that will turn on the amenities for them while they are away making the rangoons I need." He turns, almost elegantly, on his heel to saunter back to the couch, sitting down to stretch himself out and fanning the comedown from the rising blood pressure with eyes closed. Preparing to rest. You sigh inwardly, mentally prepping yourself to have to wear a kimono and getas on the subway to get home to make more of the treat for the lazy deity.

"Sure," he shrugs, but not before walking over and rummaging through the papers on the desk, searching for what he thinks are the most important. He picks up five exactly, all from your family lineage, then plops them on Dazai's stomach. "Go ahead and get started."

"I will smite you where you stand if you think I am going to do absolutely any work before a nap."

used my silent hill f brain rot for this.

- ghxst

dazai masterlist

tag list//: @dazaisfavoritemistake @luanniidae @grubluunch

He looks an awful lot like Mother.

"Ivory, would you give me a moment of privacy with my family?" Pyro finally asks, his voice barely audible and strained.

"Of course, Sir." Ivory nods, and Zam decides to take his chances.

"Serapter said something this morning about missing your company through the chores. It might brighten his day to see you." He suggests, avoiding the disappointing look that Muu and Izzy shoot him.

"I don't see how I could brighten the day, the sun isn't something I can effect. I'll see if he needs any help, though." Ivory bows to them all as she leaves, and Pyro chuckles weakly.

"I don't know if she's putting on that confusion, you know?" He says. "I'm fifty percent sure she knows what a saying is, and is just messing with us."

"Maybe." Vi says, his voice a little bitter.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Pyro's using his gentle voice again, the one that soothed them when Father was mad. When knees were scraped. When Mother died. "Is Father acting like a robot again? I'm sorry-"

"For what?" Vi snaps. "Not telling us you were being stalked!"

"Sorry?"

"Are you?"

"That's enough, Vi." Izzy interrupts, giving their little brother a disapointed look. "We agreed to keep our heads, if you can't stick to that you have to leave."

"I gather this isn't a social visit, then." Pyro's face is remarkably blank, but his voice - quiet as it may be - betrays the hurt he must be feeling. Zam winces, and Muu spins about to face him.

"It sort of is." She shrugs. "I, at least, have not been allowed to visit you until now."

"But that doesn't mean we don't have questions." Zam says finally, dropping onto the edge of the bed. "Pyro, they were trying to kill you. We could have helped you. You should have told us."

"Don't you trust us?" Vi's voice is small, and younger than he normally lets himself be seen as.

---

Pyro is certain he's awake now.

In the past, when he's been this ill, his mind sends him comforting dreams. Often his Mother and siblings, though when he was younger, and more naive hopeful, his Father would also be there. They would sit as a family, and talk about nothing while he watched. He knew it wasn't real, that it was the servants assigned to ensure his comfort, and not his family, but it was still a comforting dream.

His feverish nightmares had never been like this before.

Vi's shaking, no longer looking at him. If it's tears or anger making him shake, Pyro can't make heads or tails of it. Zam is looking at him, but his eyes are stormy and his lip is set with fury. Izzy might be looking at Vi with disappointment, but he knows that her upset falls on his shoulders. Finally, Muu won't turn to look at him either, but she fusses over a spotless windowsill like it might answer their questions.

"I didn't want any of you caught up in it. It is bad enough that my," Pyro doesn't know how to explain, how to make them understand that it isn't their fault. None of this is their fault. "my scandal had affected the later years of your childhood. I mean, it nearly made Muu's presentation get cancelled. Another scandal wouldn't do any of you any favours."

"You don't believe that." Muu points out, quick to notice and quicker to strike at her observations. "If you really believed that, you would have asked Father for security. I know you didn't."

"Would you believe me if I said I wasn't aware that I was being stalked?" Pyro already knows the answer, has already been warned by Clown that his younger siblings had taken back up their childhood pastimes over eavesdropping on private conversations. But he tries anyways. For the normalcy, if nothing else.

"No." Izzy snaps at him, and Pyro can't help but to smile back. This feels normal. "Don't look so happy about it, Pyro. A month. You were stalked for a month."

"I thought they would tire of it. I was hardly getting up to anything scandalous, and I thought the seven of them were just working tabloids-"

"There are seven of them?" Zam's voice is nearly silent, his face pale and nearly as sickly as Pyro feels. "I thought there were only two-"

"You should eavesdrop better, then." Pyro tries, though his joke falls flat as the air goes still. "I didn't mean to hurt any of you, truly. I thought if they had their attentions on me, they wouldn't turn to any of you."

"Do you think they killed Mysti?" Vi says softly, and Izzy smacks his arm. "Stop it - It's a fair question!"

"We've already ruled that out, Vi!" She hisses, but Pyro's heart is already sinking.

"No, I don't." Pyro admits, leaning back against the pillows. "They didn't show up for weeks afterwards. Had they killed her, I expect this all would have happened sooner."

"Are you alright?" Muu is by his side before he can blink, and Pyro can feel himself slipping. "We can leave, let you rest-"

"Stay?" His mouth betrays him again, running off without his input. He wants them to stay, he wants his siblings nearby. To make sure they're alright.

He has missed them, with his only company being Ivory and a doctor that gives him such violent deja vu that he feels as though he might die of it. He misses being a kid, he misses the nursery. He misses having his younger siblings in his lap as he regailed them stories from the schoolyard or around the house.

He misses how close they all were.

Something must break a little in his siblings resolve, because Vi ducks under his arm, curling up like a cat into his side. Muu and Izzy both claim the other side of the bed, pushing away pillows onto the floor so that they can have more space to rest.

Zam hesitates, looking somewhere between anger and guilt, his fists clenched around the edges of his shirt. Vi screws up his nose, silently lunging for him and yanking him until he is lying down on the bed.

It's cramped, its too hot, and Pyro feels more than a little overwhelmed by the contact, but his heart is warm in his chest for the first time in what feels like months. He's safe, his siblings are safe, and no one can get to them here.

He lets himself drop over the edge, the comforting darkness of sleep whisking him him into a dreamless slumber.

---

"Have you any idea where my children are?" Sir Hemlock asks, and Ivory feels her soul drop into her shoes. She's been trained for this, and Clown is with her. She can answer them.

"They were with Mr Pyroscythe, sir." Ivory doesn't stammer, and she can see the corners of Mr Peirce's eyes crinkle with an encouraging smile. "Would you like me to fetch them, sir?"

"You both will accompany me to fetch them, at the very least if they have left Pyroscythe you should be there to attend him."

"Of course, sir." Ivory bows, falling into step just behind Mr Peirce as they follow him to Pyro's room. Ivory is incredibly familiar with these halls, her and Serapter having cleaned them - and having found every possible nook and crany to hide away inside - but she feels out of place, following around Sir Hemlock. If Mr Peirce notices, he doesn't mention it.

She wishes she could have stayed with Serapter through the afternoon, though.

Sir Hemlock opens the door to Pyroscythe's room without a knock, strolling in as though his sons privacy is nothing but an afterthought to him, and then he stops in his tracks. His hands shake by his side, and he reaches out - almost as though he is expecting someone to be there.

All five of the Hemlock siblings are sound asleep, resting in a pile on top of each other. All of them still wear their shoes - save Izzy and Zam, the later of whom only has one of his shoes on - and all of them are a tangle of arms and legs, latched onto whoever is closest.

None of them stir, but Zam snores lightly, face down in the pillows. Clown looks at them with a fond expression in his eyes, and Sir Zombie's shoulders shake slightly. Ivory moves to get some tissues, but Mr Pierce holds out his hand, stilling her.

Then, as soon as it started, Sir Zombie's moment ends. He pulls out a handkerchief, wiping his face and putting it away. Then he turns, and walks out of the room.

"Stay with them." Mr Pierce's voice is barely above a whisper. "I'll have Ash prepare a cold supper for them, and let the people assigned to them know where to find them if they aren't awake for the nightly routine."

"Is Sir Hemlock alright, Mr Pierce?" Ivory can't stop herself from asking. Mr Peirce doesn't seem to outwardly judge, though she doesn't believe he approves of her question.

"He's been worried for them." Mr Pierce allows. "As any father would be. I imagine he's recalling when they were much younger, and reminiscing."

Ivory doubts the explanation, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she closes the door behind Mr Peirce, and takes up her station at Pyro's desk. There's a small novel - one that Ross had given her, when he had found out that she was going to be alone monitoring a sleeping Pyro for most of her days - that she picks up. It's not to her taste, but she's been slowly reading it as the days wear on.