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Momo knew the storm would be bad when the bus routes shut down, and the city posted a bulletin online for the schools to close and plan for alternative childcare. She breathed warm air into her cupped palms and felt the humidity cling to her skin, watching the heat of her breath evaporate.
“You don’t have mittens?”
Okarun’s cheeks were pink and his nose tinged cherry. His doe-eyes gazed directly at her in a way that never would’ve been possible mere months ago. He was comfortable, and it made her smile.
“I do, they’re just not cute.”
“What?” He scoffed. “So you’d rather have your fingers freeze off?”
“Haven’t I told you how important outfit coordination is? My sweater is a light purple. The gloves are neon-green. Wearing them both would break some kind of rule somewhere.”
“Sure, sure.”
He pedalled his bike while she walked beside him on the road back to the shrine. The sky was bright despite the thick cover of white clouds. There was silence beyond the rice paddies, a cold stillness where the missing sounds of birds and cars echoed hollow. Momo chewed the inside of her cheek.
The vibes between them were off.
Could’ve been that it was a Tuesday, and there was no school tomorrow. The excitement in class was electric and no work was accomplished all day. Or maybe it was her empty stomach and the cold clinging to her exposed knees. Her outfit was cute, at a cost. Or it could’ve been the slight jitter in her heart that felt like music when he looked at her.
But that was normal. Nothing new, at least, for a while. Totally.
“You sure your parents are okay with you staying over?” she asked quickly, no longer looking at him.
“Yeah. The heating at my place isn’t great, and we don’t have a kotatsu.” Okarun seemed to catch himself. “A-And it’ll be nice to hang out! I’m not staying with you just for the warmth.”
Momo laughed. “Our kotatsu is pretty sick.”
He grinned shyly. “Yeah.” Clearing his throat, he asked, “And your grandma? She’s okay with it?”
“She’s chill.” Only because she doesn’t know, Momo thought, but that info was on a need-to-know basis. Besides, Momo’s grandma made it clear she approved of Okarun– not that what others thought of her best friend mattered to her. “She even stocked the kitchen with all your favorite snacks.” Also a lie. It was Momo that raided the convenience store yesterday in a frenzy for his arrival. She smirked at him. “She specifically told me that your comfort was her utmost priority while she was on her work trip. It’s all she talked about.”
Okarun frowned. “You’re teasing me. Are there snacks or not?”
“Yes, there’s snacks. Obviously there’s snacks.”
“Good. ‘Cause otherwise the kotatsu isn’t worth it.”
She smacked him lightly with her bookbag and they laughed together. Their breaths fogged and merged into a cloud.
This wouldn’t be like any other hangout they’ve had. No adults, no other friends. No school and no work. There’d be at least a day of lockdown, and they wouldn’t be able to leave, no matter what– and they’d only have each other.
She’d been dreaming about it for days.
*
Black smoke filled the kitchen as the fire alarm blared in the background. But Momo couldn’t hear it over her and Okarun’s panicked yelling.
“But why were there strainers in the broiler?!”
“I told you it’s for storage!”
“There’s an empty cupboard right here!”
“Okay, well in your house you can store your strainers in the cupboard! I don’t need you telling me– OUCH!”
“Miss Ayase!”
She’d decided to grab the on-fire plastic strainer from the oven with her bare hands and ended up throwing it into the sink as her burned fingers screamed in pain. Okarun quickly ran to the faucet and slammed it on, the water splashing onto the smoking, melted strainer as he took both of Momo’s hands and thrust them under the cold stream.
“Ow ow ow ow ow….!”
“Are you burned? Where is it-”
The water was ice cold and stung more than the strainer had. She fought tears as the shame crushed her, staring at the sink as the nauseating stench of burning plastic invaded her nostrils. Okarun’s face scrunched in disgust, but he didn’t let go of her hands, carefully turning them over in the water as he inspected her fingers for damage.
“Fuck, it hurts…” Momo whimpered, as the angry red spots under her knuckles grew into bright, pimpling blisters.
“Yeah, I bet. That was really stupid.” Okarun’s eyes were angry, but his tone was gentle. “Why did you do that? What if you’d dropped it on the floor and the fire spread? This could’ve been so bad.”
“I know!” she snapped too loudly, and bit her lip to avoid letting any hot tears fall. This was extremely stupid. All she wanted was to cook a meal and make herself look good, but she’d never used the oven before. It didn’t occur to her to check if there were things inside the broiler underneath. And then she’d panicked, and…it was all over. Now everything smelled like burning plastic and the oven was unusable. The mood was up in smoke.
The wind howled and rattled the windows, joining the chaos of the hissing strainer and the fire alarm. The storm was just beginning. Okarun sighed, adjusting his glasses.
“Can you get your first aid kit? I’ll clean things up here.”
She was too sad to protest. Her eyes remained cast on the floor. “Okay.”
It was a long and reflective walk through the dark hallways, but by the time she returned, her attitude had improved slightly and the sting in her palms was infinitely worse. Momo cradled the first aid kid against her chest and entered the sitting room where Okarun was, tucked under the warmth of the kotatsu. She realized he’d reset the fire alarm and most of the acrid smell was gone. One of the windows in the kitchen must’ve been opened.
“Remind me to close it later,” he said when she’d asked. He took the small aid kit as she sat and crossed her legs in front of him. Without asking, he gestured for her to show him her hands, and without protest, she gave them to him.
Okarun hissed in sympathy, turning her fingers over precariously. “Yup, those are burns. Maybe even second degree. At least they’re small…”
She watched him silently as he removed some white bandages and applied aloe vera to the insides before gingerly wrapping her palm. As the bandage weaved over her fingers, she mumbled,
“You’re so cool.”
That was all it took for him to snap out of his focus. “Y-Yeah? I mean, it’s just basic first-aid, anyone can do this at-”
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Well, in an emergency, you have to be calm, you know? Or else things just get worse, and no one can think clearly and then suddenly your kitchen is on fire–”
She let him ramble, the sound soothing. It was funny how much more accustomed she was to this version of Okarun than the smooth, collected version that chastised her a moment ago. Both were good, but the cool guy with glasses was still the same guy that was currently touching her as if she were an injured bird, and it made her heart flutter like one. She had to chill out. “Have you been burned like this before?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Not this bad, and definitely not from grabbing hot plastic from the oven,” he teased, and she stuck her tongue out. “But yeah. I cook sometimes so I’ve been burned.” He slowly folded the wrap over her knuckles again and fastened it tightly. The skin underneath thrummed unpleasantly, but she could bear it. Momo inspected the wrap and felt her chest squeeze.
“Thank you.”
Okarun fumbled to adjust his glasses. “No problem.”
They sat awkwardly in front of each other, Momo resisting the urge to tug her hair as Okarun’s finger drew circles in the tatami flooring.
“So…what are we gonna do about food?” he asked nervously.
She shook her head. “Besides chips and dip, I’ve got nothin’.”
He blew out a breath that tossed his fringe into the air. “If you don’t mind, I could take a look and see what you have. The fish you were going to bake is still good.”
Momo frowned. Making him do more work wasn’t part of the plan. “I don’t want to put you out.
“Oh! It’s no big deal. I like cooking when I can. It’s a puzzle, you know, figuring out temperatures and times.”
“Way to make cooking nerdy too, nerd.” She clicked her tongue. “Don’t bother. It’s annoying, and I don’t wanna be shown up more than I already have.”
She expected him to tease her back. Call her a name, push her away.
Instead, Okarun just looked at her. He pursed his lips together, nostrils flaring, then leaned forward.
Momo’s heart skidded to a halt, shooting up to her throat and pumping hot then cold blood through her cheeks. He was so focused, the silence so intense, that the urge to let her eyes drift shut was a powerful need she forced herself to resist because she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
He swallowed, then stated clearly, “I want you to inconvenience me, Miss Ayase.”
Whatever track her mind was racing down skirted spectacularly off-course. “W-What?” she squeaked.
“I want to be inconvenienced.” He was losing steam, his confidence dissolving into flustered jitters of his knee under his curled fists. “I want to bandage your burns, and cook for you when you can’t.” He leaned closer. His brows were set in a determined furrow. “I want you to rely on me more. It makes me happy.”
“O-Oh.”
Momo’s first instinct was to jab at him. She wanted to call him a sap and diffuse the tension. But as Okarun looked up at her through his lashes, any urge to poke fun melted into a warm, gooey puddle. Her stomach felt like a pool of syrup, sugary sweet and heavy, as she simply nodded. Okarun smiled.
“Okay. I’ll get started.”
Momo sat in the living room while Okarun used the kitchen. She wanted nothing more than to help him prepare the food, her fantasy of him chopping veggies and her masterfully cooking the fish without looking up a single recipe going up in plastic-smelling smoke, but she remained locked in front of the tv, staring at the screen saver. She hated this useless feeling, replaying the moment of her grabbing the strainer and Okarun gently bandaging her hands over and over, but she’d only get in his way, and she wanted the atmosphere to be as romantic as possible. At this point, the only thing that could rescue it was maybe a movie, but their tastes were vastly different. Most of the time whenever he came over to watch something they’d just argue over whether horror or sci-fi was better, and then her grandma would throw on a reality show and no one would be happy. Her worry grew the longer she stared at the droning cars on the screen.
By the time he’d returned with two steaming bowls, the TV had shut off, and the roaring winds of the storm had fully taken over. It battered against the walls of the house, but they were safe inside, surrounded by heaters and blankets.
She wanted to apologize again; not just for forcing him to cook as a guest, but for dampening the mood with her outbursts. It was her fault for setting weird expectations on their hangout, not his.
“Okarun, I— whoa,” she began, but stopped when she saw the food. She didn’t know what she was looking at, but it was incredible. The soupy warmth bubbled with color, greens and reds in a pleasing asymmetrical arrangement. “This looks amazing! How have I not known you could make food like this, you dork!” She nudged him playfully, not missing the proud flush in his cheeks. “What even is this green stuff on the top?”
“Chives. You guys have a plant of them in the kitchen. I trimmed the tops off.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but Momo could tell he was enjoying the attention, and after what she put him through he’d definitely earned it. “There was a curry sauce in the fridge. I just used that, then steamed the veggies and fried the salmon. Salt and pepper, and that’s it.”
He said it like it was nothing. Momo realized she was outclassed by him completely in this area, and in the most exaggerated way she could applauded for him in a grand gesture of thanks. Okarun understood instantly and played into her, bowing low to the floor with a wide sweep of his arm.
“I am not worthy,” she said, clasping her hands together before taking her chopsticks and reaching for the rice. He didn’t reach for the food immediately, instead going for the stack of DVDs in front of the TV stand. The DVDs were all from the second hand store and definitely terrible, these being her only contingency plan since they didn’t have any kind of streaming service.
Momo didn’t argue when he chose an old, animated sci-fi. Neither had seen it before. Okarun sat back under the kotasu, and dug into his food while he fiddled with the remote.
The idea of an apology floated around in her mind. But the more she ate, and the more she silently gazed at his profile as he flicked through the input settings, the more happy she was it turned out this way. Sure, her fingers stung like hell, but he’d cooked for her. And it was delicious.
Then about thirty minutes into the movie, the power shut off.
“No!” They both said aloud, and all the hope Momo had built up fizzled and died. Of course, of course this would happen.
“Is the heat gonna shut off too?” Okarun asked nervously, covering himself with more of the kotatsu’s blanket while he stared anxiously at the kerosene heaters.
“I don’t know, I’ve never had this happen before,” she said, getting up to check the power generator in the closet. Not that she knew what the hell to do with it, so she just gave it a half-hearted kick and returned. “This house is old but our electricity has always worked fine.” Or at least Granny was always here to fix it when problems cropped up…
Turned out it was just the lights and the TV that decided to shut off, so while Okarun fiddled futilely when the power cables behind the box set, Momo gathered all the unscented emergency candles from the supply closet and lit them on the table and left a few in the kitchen. It created a warm, flickering glow in the hall and brought a cozy heat back to the living room that chased away the cold darkness of the snowstorm.
In a way, Momo liked this better.
“It’s no use,” Okarun said dejectedly, returning to sit next to her. “Now what? It’s barely 8:00.”
“Hm.” An evil thought popped into her head. “Why don’t we tell scary stories?”
“Huh? No way,” he said, cutting his hands through the air. “You’ll just freak me out. And we deal with enough of that crap already.”
“Cmon, four-eyes. It’s the perfect atmosphere for it! And I’m sure the power will come back on later. We just gotta wait it out and kill time before we can keep watching TV.”
He cringed but relented, dropping his head in his hands. What a scaredy-cat, she thought.
It was cute.
The power didn’t come back on. Not that she cared anymore, or bothered to think for two extra seconds about how the heaters were working but the lights were not and that didn’t make a lick of sense. Momo told a story that was butchered from an old YouTube poop she saw when she was twelve, and at first she could tell he was interested, but once he caught on where it was from he cut her off by throwing popcorn at her face. Then they went back and forth, sharing goofy internet history findings until the wind howled so loud the walls shook and they jumped nearly a foot off the ground.
“You know,” Okarun said, failing to hide the tremor in his voice. They’d ended up so close their knees were brushing under the kotatsu. Momo refused to mention it in case he got shy and moved away. “This reminds me of an actual ghost story. A local legend.”
“Great,” Momo drawled. “If it’s for real then we’ll probably end up meeting them someday. I’d rather be surprised.”
“Sounds like you’re scared,” Okarun teased, and the glint in his eye made Momo want to shove him, to throw it back at him, to sink her fingers into his hair and—
“Fine! Entertain me then, nerd.”
She sat back, pretending to look relaxed, as Okarun cleared his throat, and allowed his voice to drop to a lower register for effect. It sent a pleasant thrill up Momo’s spine.
“It’s the tale of a snow cryptid. I heard about it online, before everything went down with us. It’s more common in the northern prefectures where snowstorms can last weeks, formed at a time when the cold was a thing with teeth, and when it bit you, it drew blood. There’s a lot of variations to this specific cryptid, but they all seem to have several things in common.
“One- that this monster manifests as an abnormally tall, skinny woman that wears a thin summer kimono.
“Two- that she’s always heard before she’s seen, asking to be let in from the cold.
“Three- if she’s responded to in any way, she comes into your house and eats all the heat in the room. Then,” he paused, “she slowly devours the heat in your body, until you’re dead from frostbite.”
Momo rolled her eyes. “Seems easy enough to avoid.”
“You’d think. But she can change shape. An old man posted his own tale online; he claimed he saw his dead wife standing outside through the window and she was pleading to be let in. He ignored it, until she mentioned their son.” Okarun reached for his drink. “Scary stuff.”
Suddenly she wished to hug something in her arms, but they were sitting on all the pillows, and she didn’t want to go anywhere near that dark hallway to get more. “What happened next?”
Okarun stared off to the side, his eyes listless. “I don’t know. He stopped posting eventually. His last upload was nonsense, something about a high pitched ringing. That, and none of their heaters worked anymore. He was going out to buy a new one, then never posted again.” He shook his head. “The guy went out in the middle of a storm.”
“You’re lying,” Momo replied too quickly, actually getting a little creeped out. “All these stories have some creepy girl in them or a sad old man. It’s getting predictable.” She hugged her arms in lieu of clutching a stuffed animal, staring into the flickering flame of a candle. The darkness around it felt like a growing presence. “I don’t see how anyone would fall for it. Obviously your dead wife isn’t outside in some blizzard.”
“You say that until the Snow Lady shows up, knocking on your front door going, ‘Oooo Miss Ayase, it’s award-winning actor Ken Takakura and he’s outside hosting exclusive autograph signings from beyond the grave-‘“
“Don’t say that name!!” she yelped, lunging to cover his mouth, but Okarun was fast, rolling out from under her as he repeated his own name over and over while cackling, and they tumbled in a heap by the TV, knocking over the stacks of DVDs and a framed photo of her and her grandma.
She finally pinned him down, all the fear replaced with half-hearted anger as she clamped down on his mouth and pinched his side while he mumbled I give I give repeatedly against her palm. His arms were lifted in surrender by his head as she dug her leg into his hips.
“The Snow Lady isn’t real,” she panted. “Say it.”
Okarun’s eyes peered up at her innocently from above her fingers, his face cast in the shadow of the dim candles. “Did I scare you?”
Suddenly awareness crashed onto her like a boat smashing into a cliffside. Her mouth dried as Okarun went very still. Any fear she might’ve held onto drained into a pleasant warmth that settled low in her stomach. Her mind catalogued every small point of contact between them; the bones of Okarun’s hips jutting against her thigh, the soft fabric of his pajama shirt, and the cold plastic of his glasses mixing with the heat of his breath under her fingers. His eyes seemed to flash as if he understood, a glint of red shifting beneath the deep brown. Momo stared dumbly, absorbing everything, thinking nothing, except that all she had to do was…
Lean down a little–
Crash.
They leaped off each other, scrambling towards the sound in the kitchen.
“What was that?!”
“Shit, the window!”
Okarun sprang to his feet and Momo followed, ignoring the disastrous mess of dirty dishes and zeroing onto the tea kettle that somehow fell to the ground. Icy wind flooded through the open window, a pile of snow already forming on top of the spreading puddle of water beneath it. It was almost impossible to see the entirety of the damage; the wind had snuffed all the candles out, leaving only wispy darkness behind.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Ayase, I completely forgot about–”
“It’s fine, just help me fix this!” she snapped a bit too loudly, the heat flooding her cheeks leaving her frazzled and confused. Her bandaged hands threw a towel onto the cold puddle as Okarun struggled to shut the window, slamming it down with a harsh grunt.
As the noise outside and in her head settled, embarrassment rose through her in waves. Momo faced away from Okarun as she stooped to pick up the kettle. She tsked.
“It’s dented…”
Okarun came to her side. “I’ll replace it, Miss Ayase.”
“No, I was supposed to remind you about the window.”
“But I could’ve checked or at least–”
“Enough with the arguing already. I just want…”
She stopped, catching herself. What did she want? She wanted to hang out with her best friend. But they were already hanging out, they’ve been hanging out, and they’ve hung out like this before no problem. But the vibes have been off from the start. Was it because she was greedy, wanting more than a casual friend hangout? She was frustrated about nothing and taking it out on him. Momo stared at her reflection in the side of the kettle. She could feel Okarun’s gaze resting on the back of her neck.
“Sorry. I guess I don’t know what I want.”
“Would…” Okarun seemed to hesitate. When he didn’t continue right away, she turned to look at him over her shoulder. His eyes were on the floor, but she couldn’t quite make out his expression in the dark. “Would it help if I told you what I wanted?”
Curiosity returned the warmth to her cheeks. “Yeah. It might.”
His hand reached to rub the back of his head. “I want to be close to you.” Then she felt his eyes on her. “In lots of ways. All ways.”
Her toes curled in her socks. Every part of her body tingled as her lips parted, letting herself nod. Me too, she might’ve thought or said, but she couldn’t remember as Okarun took a step closer.
It was slow, anticipating every step he took; probably because she backed up slightly every time he moved forward. But she ended up with her back against the counter, and then there was nowhere to go. He was in her space, close enough for her to catch his smell– a clean mix of mint and soap– and realize that, at some point, he’d grown taller than her.
Or that he was finally standing at his full height. She wanted to tease him again, but the words caught in her throat as he took the kettle from her hands.
“Miss Ayase…”
This time, her eyes fell shut, and she didn’t stop them.
She heard the clink of the kettle as he set it on the counter, felt him gently take her hands in his own. Her heart bumped incessantly in her ears the longer she waited, the more she heard his shaky, wavering breath.
“Your fingers are cold,” he murmured.
“I-I know.”
His hands were big and warm. They enclosed around hers completely as he brought them to his lips.
The kiss was light over her knuckles, barely a feather over the thin bandage. But then he moved to her wrist, planting one there firmly, and her inhale took the breath from her lungs and her eyes squeezed so tightly shut that she saw stars. She heard him swallow, a beat passed, then his lips finally, finally, moved up and brushed over her own.
They weren’t quite aligned— he touched the corner of her mouth and seemed frozen there. The tip of his cool nose touched her cheek. Momo waited a moment, and when she realized he wouldn’t move, she tilted her head just a bit, and then their lips met, and everything made sense.
The mess in the kitchen didn’t matter, her screw-ups didn’t matter. All that did was that she understood what she wanted, and he was giving it to her.
Okarun’s kisses were sweet and shy until Momo sighed against him, dizzy from receiving everything she’d hoped for all at once, and he sighed back, a deep, rich sound that struck her down to her core. He pressed into her more firmly and used one of his hands to cup her cheek as if to ask permission before opening his mouth and grazing her lips with a soft sweep of his tongue. She whimpered, her knees weakening, and felt herself sinking to the floor. Okarun went with her, wrapping his arms around her back, and resumed their kiss the moment they were both sitting and he was comfortably, undeniably, between her legs to slot as close to her body as possible.
She was ablaze, a furnace that singed her blood with every wet stroke of his tongue, his touch a shiver that raced down her back along with his cold fingers and lips. It was feverish, but he was drawing it out. He kept his movements steady and deliberate while she wanted to devour, her hands lifting to clutch his shirt in a death grip that stung the blisters in her hands. He hummed low and the sound vibrated through his chest. To her dismay, he parted from her just an inch.
“Momo,” Okarun muttered breathlessly, and hearing his gravelly voice utter her name startled her eyes open. “The door.”
It took her several seconds to process his words. She was staring at the drained pallor of his skin and the blood-red of his demonic stare, reeling in the wetness still lingering on his lips. His focus was so predatorial she felt like a bird in a cage. “The door?”
Just then, a knock thudded clearly from her front door, so loud it could’ve come from inside the house.
The hair raised on her arms. Anger swept through Okarun’s features, his teeth baring as his eyes glowered towards the noise. “Damn. I hate this.” His arms tightened around her possessively. “Interrupting is impolite.”
“Okarun, I don’t think—“
The knocks came again, three in a row, each tremorous boom echoing through the house’s dark halls like the tolls of a bell. Cold bit into every exposed inch of her skin, and she unconsciously hugged closer to Okarun. The knocks ceased, and silence lay heavily against the walls.
Then, Momo caught a muffled, familiar voice.
“M-Miss Ayase? Are you home? It’s me.”
Momo’s jaw dropped as Okarun’s eyes flickered with surprise. It was his voice.
No distortion. No distinction. It was his.
The rapping came again, more frantic. “Please, um, it’s pretty cold outside. I was hoping we could spend some time together, and, you know, talk about aliens and stuff…”
It was all the words she’d heard in a dream, triggering every embarrassing, private moment of yearning that she’d stuffed deep into her subconscious. But it was stale, tinged with wrongness that infested her head like rot. The intangible fire around the real Okarun ignited, swirling like smoke in his ghostly halo of hair, the veins in his forehead pulsing. Momo immediately grabbed him when he tried to get up, snagging her fingers in his shirt to keep him grounded.
“Don’t! It’s the Snow Lady, isn’t it?” she hissed. “We just have to ignore it, right?”
Okarun’s eyes drifted lazily towards her. “Guess so.”
“Then lay low and stay quiet. No heroics.”
They huddled down, Momo’s heart pounding while Okarun’s aura thrummed, filling the atmosphere with his strange mixture of boredom and bloodlust. All the while, Okarun’s doppelganger banged relentlessly on the door, its haggard voice beginning to break.
“Please, I’m sorry if I did something to make you mad…I just want to see you…”
“Miss Ayase, I miss you, do you hate me? How could you leave me out here?”
“I’m so, so sorry…I love you, Miss Ayase…I can’t bear this anymore, please let me inside…”
“I love you, please, I need you, I love you, I love you I love you I love you–”
Momo shook her head as if to shake the poison from her ears. It was killing her knowing Okarun was listening to every word, like this copy was reading from her diary. She could understand the need to let this thing in now, if anything to shut it up or punch it in the mouth. Okarun gave her a mildly empathetic grimace, apparently not able to muster anything more in this form. “So annoying.” He cocked his head to the side. “We should call Seiko.”
Momo ignored the weird use of her grandma’s first name. “No way.”
“No?” Okarun’s eyes were weighed with irritation but never strayed from hers. It made her squirm. “She might be able to help.”
“Can’t.” If they called, her grandma would figure out she had Okarun over without permission. Was it so bad to want to keep their…whatever they were…all to herself? “She’s super busy.”
Okarun’s suspicion was potent. He leaned closer, and Momo reflexively turned her head to the side to avoid his stare.
“Are you lying?”
Incredible, of course he saw through her. She shook her head rapidly, her hands pressing firmly on his chest which were met with as much resistance as a steel wall.
“Momo…”
His deep voice was a balm, both soothing and inciting the nerves in her. He was close enough for his breath to fan across her cheeks. The knocking in the background banged against her eardrums, but it was a fading distraction.
Because Okarun was closing in on her neck.
“I can tell when you’re lying.”
Without thinking, Momo allowed him to invade her space. He was speaking so low that if he weren’t right by her ear there’d be no way she’d hear him. But it cut through the clamor outside and in her head, sinking into her body like warm, curling fingers. His hand moved to grip her arm as if to keep her from escaping, his other tilting her chin back. Not that she’d ever want to escape him, even if she was being called a liar.
His mouth opened, and sharp teeth sunk down into muscle, so close to a nerve that her chest instinctively clenched with fear and she let out a soft gasp. But he released her just as it began to border on pain. Then he licked the mark. “You don’t gotta lie to me, babe.”
“I-I’m not…” She totally forgot what she was lying about. Didn’t matter, though; Okarun bit down again, sucking the skin harshly into his mouth. She felt every indent of his teeth as they left their mark. He was punishing her.
“Miss Ayase, I can hear you…” the voice whimpered. It no longer sounded like Okarun, but like a wailing cat. “I’m so cold…”
She shuddered as Okarun dipped his head lower. His nose skirted the skin of her collarbone. Just as he opened his mouth again, a thought shot through her like a stroke of lightning.
“Wait,” she said, her eyes popping wide. “This thing feeds on heat.”
“Yeah,” he replied, clearly interested in other things. His nips were playful, but it still stung. She gripped his broad shoulders and pushed him back.
“Then we should turn off the heaters. Snuff the candles. It’ll suck for a bit, but,” she continued, “it’ll go away.”
“How long will that take?” The knocking beat against her ribcage as Okarun’s dazed, burdened eyes focused back on her. Two spots on her skin throbbed pleasantly. “We might freeze to death before that happens.”
“I don’t know,” she murmured, suddenly shy under his shadowy stare. Her hand grazed over the mark. “You bit me.”
He licked his lips. “You lied to me.”
It’s true. In this way, she supposed Okarun was a very honorable man. His hurt made the churning red in his eyes more severe, sullen and melancholic. She couldn’t stand it, the way it speared through her heart. The words spilled out of her. “My grandma can’t help us,” she admitted. “If she knew you were here, she might come back…” She exhaled roughly, ashamed. “I-I wanted to be alone with you, Okarun.”
“Oh.” Okarun seemed unfazed by her confession, uncannily still. Then, he sighed deeply.
“...What?”
His smooth cadence dropped to a low rumble in her ears. “I adore you.”
The words made her shoot upright and gawk at his placid red eyes. “What are you mumbling?”
He shrugged. “This sucks. We are alone. But the mood is killed, thanks to Snow Lady.” His eyes fell to the side, his words spoken as plainly as if he were ordering through a drive-through. “I want to taste every inch of your skin. And I want to take my damn time, too.”
Her blush smacked her abruptly across the face. Momo slammed her hand against his shoulder hard enough to force a soft ‘oof’ from him.
“Don’t be weird now!” she yelled.
“Sorry.” Okarun rubbed his arm, then adjusted his glasses. “I’m an awkward guy. Can’t help it.”
“Don’t–!”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
“Miss Ayase! Please!!! I’ll die out here!”
The voice’s scream rattled the walls of the house and completely overpowered Momo’s embarrassed shriek, forcing them to jump to their feet. The banging grew louder, wham wham wham on the walls, then the roof, fast like footsteps stomping right above them until they dropped next to the walls outside the kitchen.
Then the knocking hit the window.
It pounded hard against the glass as if trying to shatter it. They both acted at once. Momo extended her will out as large hands manifested to snuff every candle in the house and unplug every heater and electrical outlet. Okarun picked her up like she was less than a sack of rice and dashed in a straight line to the hallway, ending up in the center of the house underneath the staircase. He threw open the linen closet and shut them inside.
They had to stoop to fit under the shelves, but at least here, Momo could barely hear the knocking. And it was cold. No warmth and no light reached this part of the house. They panted heavily, Okarun’s chest rising rapidly against her back. She knew if she could see, their breaths would fog the air.
Her legs shook. She couldn’t hold herself up, didn’t want to.
“Miss Ayase…”
“Momo,” she sighed as she sank to the floor, and, once more, Okarun followed her down. “Please. Call me Momo.”
“But I–”
“I don’t want to hear it.” She held his arms securely around her body like a seatbelt. “That thing outside doesn’t call me Momo. And…I like it when you do.”
The gentle, nervous timbre of his usual voice returned, signaling that he’d shifted forms. He groaned, dropping his head onto her shoulder. “Okay.”
“So…I guess this is where we’re camping for a bit.”
Okarun cleared his throat. “Sorry. I just wanted to be away from any doors or windows.”
“No, I get it. It’s just…”
Momo couldn’t see, but she knew above them was a rack full of spare duvets and futons for guests, as well as pillows and washcloths. Okarun couldn’t have picked a better place to hide. Hopefully, their combined body heat would warm up the cramped space quickly. But…
“I’m already so cold.”
“Yeah.” His soft whisper was right in her ear, his arms relaxing their protective grip. “Me too.”
With her powers, Momo reached out and dragged two of the thickest blankets down and set them on top of herself. Okarun did the rest, tucking the edges under their legs and around his back to protect them from the walls and floors. Heat radiated like a furnace from his chest through her back, and it was already so much better.
She could fall asleep like this.
“M…Momo,” Okarun stuttered, and endearment danced through her heart. She could hear him say her name every day. “Even though it’s cold, and there’s a monster outside…I’m happy that I’m here.” She placed her hands over his under the blanket while she listened. “And I’m sorry about getting mad earlier. I understand why you didn’t tell her. I…I lied to you too.”
Momo’s voice was hushed. “About what?”
“I didn’t tell my parents, either.”
Momo blinked into the dark, then she was giggling, and he joined her, their restricted laughter shaking the last of the chills from their tired nerves. She hummed when the silence returned, and then, rather than interrupt it, turned her head and placed a kiss on his jaw. Okarun didn’t move, his genuine shock a sweet reminder that he was and always would be the same shy boy she met so long ago. Her eyes remained shut. She was warm and comfortable, and exhausted. “I’m glad you’re here, too, Okarun.”
All the tension in Okarun’s body seeped out of him in one long exhale. He squeezed her tenderly, nuzzling his nose into the side of her neck. He was smiling, she could sense it without even looking, and it put her at ease enough to slip into a dreamless sleep.
*
Momo woke up first.
They were lying on the floor of the closet, Okarun curled tightly around her back with one of his legs pushed between her thighs. It was warm, almost sweaty underneath the layers of blankets, and Momo struggled to make sense of this until she noticed the floor heater in the room with them. Okarun must’ve gotten up at some point to grab one from the living room and plug it into the hallway outlet outside.
It was almost painful, removing herself from Okarun’s arms and leaving the safe cocoon of blankets. But she had to check on things. He squirmed at her disturbance, mumbling nonsense and frowning at the empty space beside him. Momo smiled affectionately, leaning down to pet his hair and remove his glasses, setting them by his head.
She poked her head outside the closet. The muffled sounds of the TV poured from the living room. Good, electricity was working. It was warm and the lights were working–
Wait.
Momo dashed past the staircase, dread rising through her. There’s no way Okarun would have risked plugging the heaters back in, and he definitely wouldn’t have let the TV stay on–
She skidded into the living room, stopping dead.
Her grandma was on the floor, tucked cozily under the kotatsu with a cup of tea while she watched her morning reruns.
“Sup.”
“What?!” Momo screeched. “When did you get here?”
“Wow. That’s some energy you got there, you ungrateful brat. And here I thought you would’ve woken up in a better mood.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she seethed, but heat was already rising through her cheeks. She had a terrible, terrible, feeling that she already knew what it meant.
The old woman picked up her mug and took a longer drink. “The job canceled ‘cause of weather, so I took the early train home to find a Yuki-Onna trying to break into my own house. Thankfully my silly granddaughter was smart enough to turn off the heat, but not smart enough to realize that any heat would have been enough to get the spirit’s attention. Including shared body heat.”
Momo gritted her teeth. She snatched the remote and shut the TV off, pissed to high hell that she was seen sleeping with Okarun.
“You didn’t even think that freezing our asses off in that closet all night would suck? Why didn’t you wake us up?!”
The old woman shrugged. “Looked pretty cozy to me. Besides, I gave you that floor heater. Should’ve worked just fine.” She nodded towards her neck, tapping a spot on her own. “By the way, a cold spoon will help with the bruising on that mark. If you care to cover it up.”
Momo clawed her fingers down her face, just as Okarun sleepily stepped into the living room, a quilt wrapped around his shoulders and his hair a curly, lopsided mess.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” She waved her cup of tea in his direction, grinning wickedly. “Looks like the three of us are snowed-in together. Next time, use the guest room, kid.”
Any worry or confusion he might’ve had vanished as his cheeks flooded to a bright, blazing red.
Snow blanketed the quiet world outside. But here, within the raucous walls, they would remain warm, and safe.
For now.