Chapter Text
He couldn't pinpoint exactly when it started. The first sign should perhaps have been the ease with which he adapted to his new form. As the months went on with no leads on retrieving his remaining 'family jewel', he, Ayase-san, and the rest of their motley crew had fallen into a familiar routine. Either a new rumor leading to a monstrous yokai or a surprise alien ambush would interrupt their school lives. They would fight for their lives, usually damaging a few articles of clothing (and in Okarun's case, whatever shoes he was wearing at the time) in the process. They would emerge tired and battered but victorious. And they would return to the Ayase household to eat their fill and rest, with the occasional reformed spirit or mollified alien in tow.
They all got stronger, but Okarun seemed to grow in leaps and bounds. Where using his yokai power once felt like being dunked in an ice bath, it now felt like donning a familiar, well-worn outfit. Where before his transformation would peter out and leave him unable to move from the pain after going all out twice, now he could keep his yokai mode up consistently, ferrying Momo-chan around the battlefield effortlessly as she landed the final blow.
Indeed, as time went on, he seemed to have the opposite problem. It became increasingly common to finish a fight having barely broken a sweat in his yokai form and be… stuck. Starting the transformation was easy now, ending it? Not so much. His emotions seemed so much more intense while transformed, and while still in the adrenaline high of battle, any thought of returning to "normal" slipped through his mental grasp like water through fingers. Thus, it became a normal occurrence for him to trudge back to the Ayase residence still transformed. While Momo-chan was quick to tease him for it, she took advantage of the situation by clambering onto his back (if she wasn't already still on it) for a ride home. On his more energetic days, he would tease her in turn for being lazy, just to hear her enraged reply. But he could feel the tremble of her exhausted body pressed against his back as she spewed false bravado and victory cheers, so he made sure to hold extra tight and grunt appropriately in response. It would be a hassle to contradict her.
The first few times he came back transformed, Seiko-san had given him the side-eye but said nothing and served him a delicious meal all the same. Nowadays, it was more common than not to see his gangly form folded up at their small table, chopsticks held awkwardly in spindly, clawed fingers. He was glad he had gotten a handle on switching between his full monstrous jaw and his (slightly) more human mouth while in yokai mode, at least. It turned out it was hard slurping celebratory noodles without lips, much to Momo-chan and her grandmother's amusement. The shark-like teeth still posed some logistical difficulties, but he made it work. Watching Momo-chan's expressions as he crunched through several fried chicken legs (bones and all) had been the highlight of that week.
Those nights usually ended in impromptu sleepovers. Momo-chan would mutter some excuse about the "danger of walking back so late alone" or him "freaking people out looking like that." He strategically chose to avoid pointing out that normal ruffians posed little danger to him now or that all anyone would see would be an unassuming boy with no shoes and bad posture. He put up no resistance to spending the night at the temple, which felt more like home to him than his empty apartment ever did. While the pervasive gloom that accompanied his cursed form never truly left, those lazy nights spent bickering with Momo-chan left him feeling more content than anything else.
On those nights, tucked into an extra-large futon that had suddenly appeared in Momo-chan's closet barely a week after he started coming back transformed, he would fall asleep easily to the soft snores of Momo-chan. He was always back to normal when he woke up.
What was slightly more inconvenient were the unexpected transformations in response to strong emotions. At first, it seemed to just be anger, tapping directly into the emotional undercurrent of Turbo Granny's power. Despite Aira's reconciliatory efforts, the rumors about Momo-chan continued to circulate in the school for a while. Those who repeated any such rumor in his earshot soon found themselves held in place with surprising strength, staring up at harsh, angry eyes that looked more red than brown. Though unable to fully perceive him, the terror seemed to come through all the same. The rumors eventually died down, but his classmates started ignoring him for entirely different reasons than before. In the early days, the transformation dissipated as quickly as it appeared. But, just like after battles, he soon found himself stuck transformed, an undercurrent of anger still running through his mind.
Momo-chan eventually stopped commenting when he listlessly staggered to their designated lunch spot in his yokai form, instead offering comforting pats and easy conversation that gradually cooled his residual anger. He would still be bound to his yokai form the rest of the day, however.
He soon found out that it wasn't only anger that triggered the change, however, as fear—or surprise, perhaps—forced him into his other form next. After a stressful few days of constant attacks from a persistent new alien stalking Ayase-san, he was on high alert. Trudging through the school gates half asleep, he felt a sudden pressure on his shoulders, a feminine voice shouting, "BOO!" right in his face. Before he could recognize Momo-chan, he had leaped back and transformed in one smooth motion, his entire body bristling like an angry cat.
It took him a second to recognize Momo-chan's high-pitched laughter as she tried (and failed) to school her face into an apologetic expression. His body relaxed, but he let out a low whine.
"Mooooomoooo… I'm gonna be stuck like this the rest of the day… What a bummer…"
She finally stopped laughing, her expression falling into genuine guilt. She took his hands and started to drag him toward their classrooms. "I'll make it up to you. I found these forum posts on the net about a nearby alien sighting!"
He spent that entire school day on edge, waiting for an attack that never came. He couldn't even come down from "serious mode," as Momo-chan called it, sporting the large, vicious rictus grin jaw. Forced to eat lunch in awkward, huge bites, he made sure to stare balefully at Momo-chan the entire time she rambled on about the latest alien gossip. At this point, she had apologized profusely and swapped her easier-to-chomp lunch with his in a token gesture, but the sincerity of it was undercut by her giggles throughout the day. Once again he didn't return to normal until that night, with Momo safe and sound in her warded home.
Even happiness could force the transformation. A busy few days of constant fighting had left both him and Momo precious little time to prepare for an upcoming test. They desperately crammed together the night before, but he had come out of the test feeling so gloomy he wondered if he had transformed without realizing it. Ayase-san hadn't looked much better, seemingly equal parts ready to burst into tears or bite someone's head off. They spent a despondent few days waiting for the results to be posted. As the entire year crowded around the results board, he nervously shuffled to the back of the crowd. He searched for his score (initially searching for "Okarun" out of sheer habit) and was overcome with immense relief at seeing his name just a few points above the passing mark. Before he could search for Ayase-san's name, he heard a high-pitched squeal from further down the hall at an identical board.
As he turned around fully, Ayase-san was already barreling down the hallway, arms outstretched and a huge grin on her face.
"Okarun!" she shouted joyfully. "We did it!"
The infectious joy in her voice and the relief he felt at his own pass seemed to flood through him, transforming him in its wake. As Momo-chan reached him with arms outstretched, he caught her in a gangly, bone-crushing hug. Still feeling the emotional rush, he swung her around, throwing her a good meter into the air before catching her easily and resuming the hug.
Told you you're a genius, yo," he murmured into her ear as he held her.
She pushed herself away from him, laughing, her feet finally touching the floor. "Since when did you get so smooth, huh?" she said, brushing her bangs from her face.
Before he could help himself, he replied with the first thing that popped into his head. "Since cute girls started throwing themselves at me, yo." He gave her a sly smirk full of too-sharp teeth as he said this.
Momo stood stunned for a second before flushing pink and covering her face with her hands. "Oh my god, stop!" She took a second to compose herself before removing her hands and gesturing to him, her face still tinged pink. "And what's with… all this, huh?!"
He gave a lazy shrug. "I'm happy."
She stared at him, wordless for another long second, before another wide smile broke out on her face. She started to tug him away from their stunned classmates.
"C'mon, let's go throw this in Aira's face. She totally bombed it." Her voice was slightly breathless.
If he had been paying attention to anyone other than Momo-chan, he might have noticed the jealous glances of the other students, both boys and girls alike. He spent the rest of the day transformed but unusually cheery—right up until a Kelpie erupted from a rice paddy and attacked them on the walk back to Momo-chan's house.
To his utter mortification, even embarrassment could trigger it. This would have been less of a problem if he wasn’t such an awkward guy usually, and Ayase-san wasn’t such a tease. She seemed to delight in words and actions that caused him to flush with embarrassment and become a stuttering mess.
In one instance, they were spending a quiet Sunday out together at a local shopping street, looking to replenish their beaten wardrobes. After a few hours of conversation and wandering between stores, Ayase-san spotted an ice cream vendor, declaring it time for a break before running off to order, leaving him at a bench with the bags they had accrued so far.
She came back with a large white peach soft serve. He watched her start to devour the treat with gusto.
“Ah, it looks good. Maybe I should have gotten one for myself…”
In response, Ayase-san gained a mischievous glint in her eye. She took a large, slow lick of the dessert, exaggerating the smacking of her lips afterward. She then leaned over to him, and before he realized what was happening, kissed him on the lips.
“Here, have a taste,” she crowed at his rapidly warming face.
He squawked and shifted away from her, emitting a high-pitched keen, hands raising to cover his rapidly reddening face. A few passing shoppers stared over at the commotion, giggling at the couple’s antics. Just as it felt like his face couldn’t possibly get any warmer, the sensation was replaced by an icy wave as the transformation took over at the peak of his embarrassment. He continued to hide his face in his hands (could he even flush like this?) and groaned, embarrassment still dominating his thoughts.
In response, Momo-chan started laughing even harder.
Feeling vengeful, he willed his “serious mode” into existence. While she was distracted laughing, he opened his jaw wide and darted out a long, black tongue. He wrapped it around the top of the cone and yanked it right out of her grip and into his maw, paper holder and all. He closed his jaw with an audible click, then made a show of licking his teeth in the absence of lips.
He was rewarded with a screeched, “Okarun!” and Momo-chan beating his chest with her fists.
“That was friggin' gross! You’re buying me another one!” She resumed laughing, however. “God, what did that even look like to everyone else here?” She glanced around, but no one seemed to be paying them particular attention anymore.
He fell backward until his back was flat on the bench, his mouth returning to somewhat normal.
“Shouldn’t have teased me, yo…” He tilted his head upward to face her and smirked. “Was pretty good though, bummer it’s gone now.”
“Ugh, did you even taste it, jerk?” She jabbed his side, hard. “Up, up! Get over there and buy me a replacement, dammit!”
He groaned in reply, only to be poked even harder with psychic fingers from both sides. He let this repeat a few times before pulling himself up to go buy another cone (chocolate this time). The vendor looked a bit wide-eyed but otherwise didn’t say anything, so he assumed it hadn’t looked too weird.
He returned to their bench, and they shared the cone between them, taking turns. With the treat consumed, embarrassment long faded, but no sign of turning back, he gave a long sigh and mentally prepared to spend the rest of the day in yokai mode.
At least the bags hadn’t felt as heavy the rest of the day, though he did get some sympathetic glances from men who assumed his hunched posture was a sign of defeat.
To his surprise, these accidental transformations weren't as detrimental to his schoolwork or day-to-day life as he would have thought. At school, some subjects bored him even more than usual, leaving him napping through class where he would usually muster at least some notes. Subjects he genuinely enjoyed, however, such as History/Mythology (so many ties to aliens!) and Science (he wanted to understand how alien tech worked!), benefited from the clarity of his mind, and he started excelling. These experiences just solidified the idea that his yokai form was largely himself—but amplified.
This continued for a time, their group growing used to his sudden changes.
It was a quiet, rainy night after a particularly grueling battle. They had bid goodnight to their friends, taken turns having a nice hot shower, and settled down for the night. (He had discovered a while ago that he could shower in his ghostly form; he just had to dry his hair quickly before it iced over from the supernatural cold of his excess spiritual power. He’d learned this the hard way after being openly mocked by the entire Ayase household when his hair had frozen solid into one awkwardly shaped block.)
When he stepped into Momo-chan's room, looking only slightly ridiculous in borrowed, too-short pink pajamas, Momo-chan was lying in her bed, idly scrolling on her phone. He splayed himself on the floor, taking up his usual spot supported by a beanbag. He picked up an older occult magazine—one of many such personal items he’d left at the Ayase household over time—intent on comparing the conjecture within it to the actual creature they had fought the previous week. In the low light of her bedside lamp, his eyes cast a hazy red glow on the pages as he read. The easy silence continued for a while as they sat contentedly, enjoying each other's company.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Momo suddenly flip over, leaning on the edge of the bed to look at him. She was chewing the bottom of her lip, her brows drawn in thought. She stared at him for a long second, so he tried to break her out of her reverie. He put down his magazine and raised a lazy hand, drawling out a casual, "Yo."
In turn, Momo-chan gave him a small smile.
"Yo," she replied softly. She reached over and took his upraised hand in hers, clasping it and letting it hang idly between them. He could sense something was eating at her and shifted to sit up properly, though he didn’t remove his hand from hers.
"Something up?" he asked, hoping his concern came through in the low drawl of his yokai form.
She bit her lip again before steeling her expression.
"Are you… okay with this?"
He frowned in confusion, not sure what she was referring to.
"With holding hands? I think we're a bit past that…" He raised an eyebrow at her as he said it.
"No…" she said softly, her soft smile returning. "I mean, I know you have trouble going back to normal after transforming, and it seems like you spend more time like… this—" She raised their clasped hands and gestured toward him. "—than your normal self. Are you… okay with that?"
Before he could respond, she uncharacteristically rambled on, as if trying to cover up the previous question.
"It's just, you're always transforming in battle to defend me, and I've seen you transform at school when shutting down those rumors, and a bunch of other times, and you end up stuck like this for ages." She suddenly averted her eyes. "And you usually end up so gloomy… and we've never asked if you were actually okay with any of this…" She trailed off, still not meeting his gaze.
He didn’t really have the energy for a serious conversation, but the troubled expression she wore spurred him into thinking through a proper reply.
"I think… we both kinda opened Pandora's box that first day we met." She turned back to look at him, so he took the opportunity to gently take her other hand. "We both get targeted for various reasons now, yo. I can use this power to protect us." He paused to steel himself. "On that night, I said I would even become a monster for your sake." He looked her in the eyes. "That's still true."
"Okarun…" she replied, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.
He suddenly felt awkward but continued, his voice quick and nervous as he looked down at the floor.
"And yo! Even if I'm kinda gloomy, I still feel like me. I don't mind if I'm a bit taller and scarier half the time." He paused, looking back up to meet her eyes with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about me, Momo-chan. I'm okay with things."
Her eyes still shone wet, but no tears looked ready to fall.
"Good," she said. "I'm glad." She pulled her hands back from his and reached over to ruffle his wisping hair.
"But scary? I've seen scarier kittens than you! Big scary yokai sitting here in girly jammies reading his nerd magazines.”
He groaned and lay back down on the beanbag, out of her reach.
"Thought we were having a serious moment there, Momo-chan."
She smiled at him. "We were, but now we're going to sleep before Granny starts shouting at us, and with any luck, you'll wake up back to normal." She pulled herself over the edge of the bed and planted a quick, soft kiss on his head, among the spectral hair.
"C’mon, help me get your futon out."
He fell asleep easily again that night, Momo-chan’s question out of his mind.
The next morning, he did indeed wake up as his normal self, his hair back to messy black rather than spectral white, and the borrowed clothing reaching his ankles rather than his knees.
What he didn't notice that morning, however, as he rushed to get ready for school, was the distinctly red tinge his eyes had become, over their normal brown.