Persona 4: Chie Satonaka/Yukiko Amagi; Anniversary
Title: Anniversary
Author/Artist: dr_silverrose
Fandom: Persona 4
Pairing: Chie Satonaka/Yukiko Amagi
Rating: G
Warnings: Implied Death
Request/Prompt: First Anniversary
Word Count: 738
Summary/Notes: This was remarkably hard to write and surprisingly grim. My sincere apologies to whoever requested this, I seem to have failed. U_U
The silk screen door slides open with a slithering, slick whisper of a sound, like a blade being unsheathed.
The darkness beyond the door is deep and filled, quite possibly, with all of man's worst nightmares.
A gust of cold air whistles through the room, ruffling her hair.
They say this room is haunted and Chie believes it.
Still, no one ever got anywhere by being scared. She squares her thing, boyish shoulders and justs her chin out, eyes flashing with determination. Thus fortified against all things, imagined and real, she steps into the room, her feet chilly as they touch the tatami.
Nothing happens.
Another foot in the door.
Nothing continues to happen.
Grinning a little sheepishly, she steps, fully, into the room.
And screams like a little girl when the door slides shut behind her, with a deafening, rattling slam.
Faintly, she hears an echo of raucous laughter.
"Yukiko." She whispers, heart constricting. She tightens her grip, reflexively, on the basket in her hands and stalks bravely to the centre of the room where she knows, but cannot see, the table in the middle.
I know like my heart knows.
Yukiko never did make much sense, but the table is there, nonetheless and she sits on the floor in front of it, carefully placing the basket on the table. The basket creaks when she opens it, a sound as loud as a gunshot in this otherwise silent room.
It takes her a moment to realise that she's holding her breath and she breathes out, raggedly, as she pulls the fans out of the basket. God, there are so many of them.
She places them, one by one, upon the table, fanning each on out. In the darkness, they are just odd shapes, strange shadows.
But thats alright. Chie is used to shadows, by now.
She sighs and shifts restlessly for a moment, finally reaching into the basket to grasp the last fan and spread it out in front of her. She cannot see it, but knows its colour and texture. Its burned into her mind. Bright feathers, marred forever by dull spots of crimson.
No one wins forever.
She twitches, suddenly uncomfortable.
No! This has to be done. "I must stay strong." She grumbles to herself.
Now for the light.
Her fingers tremble and she nearly doesn't get the lighter to catch, at all. Still, candles are fished out of the basket and lit, shakily, one by one. This room in the Amagi Inn is said to be haunted, due to the strange eddies and currents in the air...but the candles stay lit, their flames steady and high.
Chie sighs with relief and sits back on her heels, once more. She claps her hands once, solemnly. "We are here to remember those who have left us..."
She trails off and suddenly sits bolt upright, eyes wide. She claps a hand to the back of her neck. Trembling, she looks around,wildly. What was that? Is this room really haunted? She wonders, before steeling herself once more.
"You're a grown woman, Chie Satonaka. Time to act like one and stop being spooked by ghost stories." She grumbles to herself. Still, again, she swears she can hear faint, ghostly laughter.
Yukiko.
They grew up together, went to school together, played together and then, as they grew older, got into surreal, alternate dimension murder mysteries together. Yukiko had always been by her side, reserved and beautiful and perfect.
Hell, her shadow hadn't even been anything particularly upsetting. So what, she didn't want to be tied down by tradition? So what, she didn't want to run the inn? If that's the sum of your deep, dark secrets, you're a pretty awesome person.
The laughter fades and Chie closes her eyes, briefly, before beginning the ritual once more. A mix of the traditional and a whole bunch of stuff she had seen in Kung-fu movies, it was meant to immortalise a perfect person.
Yukiko would have understood.
The tears come, by the end of it and she lets them, quietly putting each fan away like a treasured jewel. Quietly, she blows the candles out, gathers her things and stands, brusquely wiping tears away.
As she leaves, she pauses at the door, her fear of the so-called haunted room gone. "Happy aniversary, Yukiko-chan."
And the door slides closed and no one is in the haunted room, after all...
Ghosts haunt people, not rooms.