れいとはなすもの

hi all! i'm peach ( she / her | 29 | gmt ) + you're watching disney channel! i'm very excited to get my girl kanzaki yui up and running. she's a teacher with spirit tethering abilities, pretty avoidant and aloof but dedicated to her craft and her teaching.

below the cut i have included a few potential plots but more than anything i just want to say i'm excited to brainstorm and come up with some exciting ideas !

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( . . . ) "do you need anything?"

for a moment, she falters.

she hadn’t thought this far ahead, hadn’t planned out exactly what to say, or how to broach the request without allowing that underlying wariness to show. she had not considered the phrasing, nor the most appropriate way to present it without unnecessary deviation.

she had not considered the rest of her plan. how very unlike her. this would disrupt the routine of a mental checklist she usually relied on. and without that, it would be more difficult to remain neutral.

yui preferred neutrality. it allowed her consistency in how she approached things, casting critical analysis in even the minute areas of her life. but even she had her limits. and jiho was her limit.

he bothered her, in a way that was difficult to ignore. the same way a fly might linger nearby, buzzing in your ear and returning the moment you think you’re free. he had taken her seat in the staffroom, held up lines with menial small talk, and generally placed himself in her way more often than not. at first, she had assumed it was coincidence. over time, the perceived repetition made that explanation less convincing.

in return, yui held no fondness for him, despite everyone else seemingly considering him a fine teacher and a capable colleague.

she did not dispute his intelligence, though. how could she, when he had so successfully wound her up without anyone else having the slightest clue? still, it was his knowledge of the past, his role as an archivist, that made him relevant to this situation. if anyone had encountered similar symbols, it would be him. and if he had not, he would at least be able to point her toward a source that might.

“do you have some time? i would appreciate if you could look at this and see if you recognise the runic language.”

her request is precise. there is no ambiguity in what she is asking. she avoids confirming that she needs anything from him, and most notably, she avoids the word help. not because she is too proud. yui is not a prideful person.

but the term itself does not fit cleanly into her way of thinking.

asking for help has historically not yielded the best outcomes for the witch. while she is aware that this is not necessarily a universal rule and logically speaking, asking for help is necessary, yui cannot help but to avoid the word. after all, independence continually proves to be the safest and most reliable choice. .

she stands there, almost statue-like, waiting for a response. for a moment, she considers whether to leave it at that, to simply hand over the material and allow him to review it without further explanation.

then she remembers.

“oh—i have a photograph,” she adds, reaching for her phone. she retrieves it from her pocket, unlocking the cracked screen and navigating to the blurry image without hesitation. “and i have copied the symbols out a few times as well, though i have not been able to find any correlation so far.”

the classroom settles differently once the last student leaves.

she wouldn’t call it quiet, however. though it may lack the voices of the living, there is still plenty of input from the other side. but at least it is more contained, pressed into the corners of the room, subtle and controlled. they understand and respect yui’s need for routine, and in turn, yui has already given them their allotted attention earlier in the day.

although it is not silent, it will do.

her jaw aches, set for too long. it creeps up slowly, a dull throb that settles behind her eyes, down the back of her neck where she’s been bent over the same page for …. well, even she doesn’t even know how long anymore.

it’s been long enough.

yui presses the palm of her hand into her eye, dragging it across until colour blooms in the dark. it doesn’t help much. the heaviness stays, clinging onto her and she knows the only cure is sleep. but any attempt to rest now would be futile. this puzzle would follow her there too.

the room is dim, and it’s only then she realises how much time has slipped past her. that in itself is strange. yui doesn’t lose track of time.

 silvery moonlight slips through the gap in her curtains, the only source of light in her room.  soft, pale – the symbols sit half in shadow, no wonder her eyes feel leaden.

they look different like this. not different enough though.

the book rests heavy in her lap now, older than it has any right to be. the spine worn in a way that suggests it’s been opened and closed far more times than it should have survived. on the table, her phone, old and cracked, the screen holding an image she captured weeks ago at the temple; an inscribed tablet, uncovered beneath the rubble and wreckage.

yui stares, lines settling deep into her brow. she traces the lines with her finger, she traces the markings with her finger, chewing at her lower lip. the curves, the shapes, the way they repeat – there’s a pattern that sits just outside of recognition. something she feels she should understand.

she’s copied them over and over, filled pages with her own attempts, hoping something might click. she’s poured herself over countless rune books, ancient texts, anything that might offer even a starting point.

nothing.

this wasn’t meant to become all-consuming. but that’s what curiosity does when it goes unanswered.

she shuts the book, sharper than she means to.

the sound lands heavy in the room, swallowed in the darkness rather than echoing. for a moment, she stays still, and then a thought returns.

it  first came to her a fortnight ago, quiet and unwelcome. she’d brushed it off easily at first, irritated at herself more than anything. asking for help had never sat well with her. it wasn’t how she worked. if something didn’t make sense, she stayed with it until it did.

until she did.

but this hasn’t moved. hasn’t budged. not even a little.

if anything, it’s gotten worse. the symbols follow her now, slipping into the edges of her thoughts when she’s doing something else, settling in too easily. and worse, she remembers them perfectly.

if she doesn’t do this now, she already knows she won’t sleep.

and so, she swallows her hesitation, gathering her pages, phone and nerves.

the hallway outside feels colder. perhaps it’s just her. maybe she should’ve grabbed a cardigan, something to wrap around herself, but she doesn’t go back. she holds the papers tight to her chest and steps out, the quiet settling around her in that familiar way.

her footsteps stay light against the stone, more out of habit than anything else.

she doesn’t look back.

by the time she reaches his door, she’s already made the decision. her hand hovers there anyway, just short of knocking, her balled fist tightening as if she might still turn around.

she could go back. try again. sit with it a little longer.

the thought of opening the book again makes her feel lightheaded.

that’s new.

“…let’s just get it over with,” she mutters to herself, like she still needs convincing.