2026-02-23: Little Promises
- Cutscene: Little Promises
- Cast: Umie Akabane
- Where: Aoba Ward, Sumaru City
- OOC Date: February 23, 2026
- IC Date: September 30, 2005
- Summary: Years and years ago, a little girl ran in the green moonlight alone. This night was one of many.
I. The Little Rebel
The red coat was stolen from the closet near the front door; the young girl knew it would not be missed, as it had occupied every closet since their home in Momoishi, without being worn even once. Against the autumn air of night, the coat laid over her small frame like a robe, its size emphasized by the bulkiness of the rolled up sleeves that swayed as she walked. It made her feel like she was older, worthy of the respect she tried to demand from demons, and someone closer to the Badb that flew from her soul.
The street was her street, the houses the same houses. There was the Namihiras' house, the one with the fluffy dog who slobbered all over her hand when she pet it that one time, and the smaller house that belonged to the elderly Ushio couple. Across the way, there were the Watanukis, who had a little boy not even old enough to go to school, and another on the way. In the daylight, this was their world, but under the green moonlight, it became something else, draped in a curtain of verdant glow. Red liquid dripped from the heart-shaped leaves of the Namihiras' katsura tree onto the sidewalk, the remnants of an earlier rain.
The fall night air smelled as crisp as an Aomori apple.
Wheeling around in a twirl, the girl's long dark hair spread out as she laughed heedlessly, arms and fingers splayed under the starless night. Scuffed sneakers splashed over puddles of red, kicking droplets into the air.
"...!" The girl stopped mid-spin as something poked at her senses.
She could even see it, out of the corner of one eye, lingering in the cast shadow of a gate to the elderly Ushio household down the way. It was a liquid, putrid presence, extending a long, spindly hand from the shadows with a meaty *THWAP* against the pavement. A second joined in, emerging from underneath the Watanukis' car, skirting past the tricycle left in the driveway with the patter of malicious hands. A third fell from the balcony of the girl's own house, splattering against the small rectangle of lawn below to continue on.
The Mark itched in the girl's imagination; on TV, this would be the moment when she would bravely use it to become her street's defender, furthering her march towards being more than the girl who had to sit out during gym class, wore sleeves in summer, and could never seem to please or attract her parents' attention.
Yet, the girl hesitated. "That weird feeling will go away, right...?" she asked out loud, despite a fourth creature rising from gaps in the rain grates, growing higher than the girl was tall with nary a sound.
'You won't even notice it after a while,' cooed a bell-like voice in the girl's ear.
II. The Little Visitor
The blue door to the Velvet Room burst open, letting a mud-stained young girl tumble face-first into the vibrant blue flooring. After the door politely closed itself, all was silent, save for the girl's panting. Several minutes passed before she even thought about moving. Craning her neck upwards, the girl was startled to find that she shared what seemed to be a lounge with several others.
They were, of course, all looking at her.
*ting-a-lingling* The lean fingers of the blindfolded pianoman played out a twinkly little tune on the grand piano before turning to face their new visitor, bestowing on her a gracious, patient smile. Close to him, a tall statuesque lady stood in front of a microphone, as if paused in the middle of a song, or perhaps, waiting to start a new one. In another corner was a shady-looking man, dressed in a wool cap and black trenchcoat, his brush still glistening with paint as he stood in front of an easel.
The strangest one of all, however, was the bent over older man with the long, long nose, bulging bloodshot eyes, a ring of white hair, bushy eyebrows, and the suit, which made him look like a spooky funeral director.
The girl stared, red brown eyes wide. "U-um..."
A singer. A pianoman. A man in the corner. Blue velvet curtains. Yes, it was clear in the young girl's mind what all this was.
Clambering to her feet, the girl bowed deeply as the 'funeral director' took in a breath and similarly bowed back, one hand elegantly folded behind his back.
"Welcome to--"
"I'm-really-sorry-I-didn't-know-this-was-a-bar-goodbye!" The girl reached one hand behind her, fumbling blindly about for the door's handle. Finding it, she opened the door, and immediately saw herself back out without another word.
*click* went the door as it politely shut itself, marking the end of Umie Akabane's only visit to the Velvet Room for several years.
III. The Badb
The young girl gritted her teeth against the compulsion to snap back at the giggling voice in her head. Standing at the back door to her own home, she fiddled the lockpick back and forth. Did the Obariyon lie to her when she traded for it with some yakisoba-pan? How did lockpicks really work? The video she watched made it look so easy...
In the girl's mind, the Badb's eye registered a threat to the right of her, emerging from the shadow of the storage shed a few meters away. It's almost enough to distract the girl from the tiny *snap* as the lockpick gave way under the inexpert movements of her fingers.
She has a backup, but there was no time; the creeping thing was behind her.
The shadow's body speared forward, and instead of connecting with the back of the girl's pale neck, it landed against the metal of the door. Meanwhile, the girl's body moved with the grace her earlier actions lacked.
Why, oh why, did she always run away? Why did she always try to choose the safer option? This was the part that was so much more _fun_. Sudden exhilaration stole the child's scream, transforming it into a gleeful laugh.
"_Badb_!"
Roiling dark answered the shadow with twice the ferocity, tossing the inky mass off the doorstep to the fence, where it was graced with another blast of dark magic, and another, dissolving it.
The girl laughed again, throwing her head back as if shooting her frustration and elation towards a blank, green sky.
It was to her disappointment that another creature did not come in the lingering minutes of the Dark Hour. She took her time with this lockpick, learning from her mistakes. How unfortunate that locked door would not lead back to that strange blue bar, but the clean beige of the family home, where the girl's night would end.
As always, as she came back in, the girl promised herself never to do something so stupid ever again.
And as always, she failed to keep her promise a few nights later.