Photophobia

The sun is up. Its rays spill into the darkness of Renka's room as if from a wound, and instinctively recoils. The divine ichor is too much for this mortal shell to endure— if the sight alone blinds, then how would the flesh be spared searing?

"Renka-chan, come join us for breakfast." A soft, fragile voice. Its words are delicately wrapped in velvet, but a single misstep would see them unraveled. Still, it is steady. This is no request. The goddess of this domain has no need for such things when an ill-fated child has no right to refuse her.

Yet, a dark desire swells within. I can't. Simple words that she will never utter, no matter how much she longs to. Words her body cries to her as she struggles to liberate herself from her tomb. How much easier it would be if she left this thing behind.

Draped in a blanket, Renka forces herself from the bed and onto the ground with a 'thud.' Too light is this shell for it to be a disruption, and too strange are the sounds that emanate from this room for it to be of any note if it were. She pulls the blanket closer as she crawls the modest distance between the bed and the desk, her objective the bottom drawer. It was a coincidence, or perhaps fate, that what could remedy her current state lay within. It had only been placed there because the medicine needed to remain rooted to the earth to be most effective, and most of the small cache had been buried with that in mind. She would need to prepare more if her condition continued to progress at this rate or worsened.

A mix of herby and floral aromas wafts out of the drawer when she pulls it open, though most would not notice, given that the whole room was filled with such scents. A small wooden box, simply made, was perfect for storing humanity.

The little white pills are cool to the touch.
They burn her tongue and feel like coal inside the furnace of her core.
She writhes, sweat drenching her nightclothes.
The spirit is subdued, and the body is deceived.

She slowly pulls herself to a standing position with the kindness of her desk chair. She grabs a box of matches from another drawer, and, shaky as her steps are, the walk to the closet comes to pass without incident. Rather than retrieving something to make herself presentable, she turns her attention to a set of kamidana on the shelves. After placing fresh incense in the censers and lighting them with a match, she offers a prayer to each.

Finally, she can breathe.

Little thought is given to what she will clothe herself in. All of it irritates now. Only a single piece is given any special attention: that seal that will keep her baleful gaze at bay. She uses a stepladder to reach the topmost shelf—for it is closest to Heaven—and retrieves a box filled with strips of white cloth. Each carries the woody scent of hinoki and bears a myriad of characters meant to grant protection and invoke seemingly as many kami as she could name while preparing them.

Tearing off the sheet over her mirror, she watches her reflection as she affixes the seal around her left eye. Around her is Oz, but she alone stands as a remnant of Kansas. It's only now that she notices the red spot of color that spills from her nose and down her lips. Fortunately, not yet reached her clothes.

The second spot of color is expected, even comforting. The deep violet feels like home. The many pupils packed together, a family.

All the same, it is bound and hidden away.

Head tilted forward and fingers pinching her nostrils to dam the stream, Renka gingerly opens the door to her bedroom and slinks out towards the bathroom. It wouldn't do to cause her hosts worry with such a horrible sight. Neither would it be appropriate to keep them waiting longer than she already has. Thus, she settles for cleaning her face and plugging her nose with some tissue to delay properly treating it.

When she finally arrives at the table, the Lordy and Lady are already seated, chatting in whispers. About her, surely. The Lady smiles when Renka comes into view. A tired, but genuine smile. It hurts to behold. "Ah, we were wondering if we'd have to come fetch you. How are you feeling, dear?"

A lily swaying serenely amidst heady winds musters the strength bend forward and offer some of its sweetness to this fly. What a cruel twist of fate that she was made to bear such rancid fruit.

"I am as I have always been." Renka shakes her head dismissively and settles into her seat. Her eye scans the offering laid before her: rice, fish, vegetables— nothing out of the ordinary. Her portion is distinct in that several additional herbs were mixed in at her prior request. Still, it isn't enough. Thanks are given, taste buds set alight, and this gift of nourishment has become a stranger to her tongue now. The flavor acts like a faded memory, one she is granted only in brief recollections of the past.

Memories of being a child. Of being their child.

A more sturdy voice interrupts her thoughts. It is like a river. Steady. Strong. Dangerous to the unwise. "Your friend, is she well? You've told us much about her." Brief but heavy. Calculated. The Lord desires not assurance of wellness, but understanding. She will not attempt to deceive in others' matters, nor is she skilled at hiding her personal feelings on them.

Still a child.

Renka pauses, staring at the snowy mountain of rice in her bowl as if she might wander off into it to find an answer, or otherwise evade the question. It's far too unwieldy for her alone to handle. Given recent events, he must be referring to Madoka Onguuchi, but that word feels inappropriate.

Friend

Would the sun share its light with one who belongs to the night? She would. She shouldn't. It's why she is hurt.

Visiting is out of the question. It wouldn't do either of them any good to play pretend.

"I have beseeched the spirits to aid in her recovery." Her fingers still ache from folding cranes. "She will be well soon. There is nothing more she could require of me." This knot in their fates will come undone. Proper order will be restored.

The Lord appears dissatisfied. His jaw is stiff, shoulders bearing an invisible weight. He wants to say something, but the Lady smiles and seizes the moment first. "But why not let mortals handle mortal affairs?" Exactly. "You should visit." I can't.

She swallows a portion of food and silently nods her head.

"Your mother is right, but I was wondering about your other friend." Other friend? Renka can hardly fathom she's so popular, and has to rack her brain for who else he could be referring to.

She isn't quick enough to respond, so her mother Lady Cho supplies the answer. "Ah! I know we try to let you go at your own pace, but it's awfully hurtful that you haven't introduced us." The Lady pouts, hurt by a secret its supposed keeper was only now being altered to. "Your father and I would like your little blonde friend over for dinner. Oh, and that boy, too."

The Princess and the Ogre.

Blood turns to ice in her veins, and her heart seems to stop for a brief moment. Princess. Ogre. Rodionova. Archibald. Friends. We are friends. Why? Her heart starts again, and it feels like a powder keg. The warmth of a hand is still there, but the reason she grabbed has been consigned to oblivion. There's a longing that dominates her sense, but she's never known what for.

Because it doesn't belong to her.

"We only want to see who's taken an interest in our daughter. Make sure they aren't mistreating you." The Lord's hand rests upon hers. It's shaking so much that her chopsticks slipped free and clattered onto the table.

Her single eye looks between Lord and Lady Cho as if to verify they're still there. I'm scared. But she's the one fading away. The hand that grips hers attempts to reassure. To hold her in this plain. "I..." I don't want to go. "I will deliver an invitation when next I see them." But I can't stay.

The tremors won't stop. Not this time. Nevertheless, she picks up the fallen utensils and continues to devour her meal as if nothing happened. The Lord and Lady eye their daughter with concern, but there's nothing to be done.

Sunlight drowns the trio.

It creates aureoles against the dark manes of Lord and Lady Cho, pushing them into the realm of the divine.

It devours Renka's pale features.

Nearly erasing her from the scene.

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Pub: 11 Jan 2026 21:02 UTC

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