TWILIGHT HOUR 05:00 - BAKU
Charon dons a pair of white coveralls, the sleeves and shirt tied around their waist as they greet Cornelia with a smile, “It’s been a while since we’ve met like this.”
Read from the beginning.
Content warnings:
None in particular. (Unless you count yuri.)
Cornelia ignores the pleasantries; “You know about Vivienne, don’t you?”
“That I do. I’m glad you managed to dig her up without an issue.”
“The Undertaker was fine with it, but her body was worse for wear. You knew how bad it was going to be, didn’t you?”
“Well, of course I did. I was the one who wrote those seals.”
Cornelia feels her heart freeze; “But not the one who put her in those plastic bags.”
Charon makes an affirmative hum, unaffected, “No. When I came, it was already too late. The best I could do was ensure she wouldn’t be conscious.”
“Since you’ve been watching, you know what I’m going to ask next, right? About the Lindenis that visited the Twilight Detective Agency recently.”
A book falls off the shelf. Charon bends to pick it up, scanning the cover with a soft laugh. It’s a book on interpersonal communication. Charon spares Cornelia the comment on the tip of their tongue, and instead says, “You’ve added quite the variety to our bookshelves, haven’t you? Let’s walk and talk, if you don’t mind.”
Cornelia offers a curt nod, and they begin to walk.
“Have any of the books I left you come in handy?”
“The ones on cranioplasties,” Cornelia says, “A kappa with a cracked basin came to visit us. I managed to repair it with polymethylmethacrylate.” At Charon’s puzzled look, she adds, “Bone cement.”
“Ahh~ so it did have some use. The medical field was just too difficult for me, so I gave up pretty easily.”
Cornelia frowns. “I regret defending you.”
“Hm?”
A creak comes from the attic above them, the both of them glancing up at the sound. Cornelia catches Charon’s eye, who offers her a mildly reassuring smile, “It’s alright. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Cornelia deadpans, “When has saying that ever been a good omen?”
“If good omens were enough to negate fate, we would all be living very different lives, wouldn’t we? Like the tatarimokke, for example.”
Shifting her weight from one foot to another, Cornelia asks, eyes trained on the ground, “Do you think I made the right choice?”
“What do you mean?”
“I could have discouraged them from engaging with that yokai. Regardless of whether or not it was their son once, they live in different worlds now. I’m asking you if you think I made a mistake; that I should’ve discouraged them."
“It isn’t up to me.” Charon replies, simply. Cornelia, dissatisfied, frowns.
“I just wanted to know your opinion.”
“You’re tasked with keeping the balance between the two worlds. How you keep that balance is up to your discretion.”
“Yes, but the last time I checked, keeping the worlds separate implies separation. A guideline, some sort of path to follow, that’s all I’m asking.”
“You’re asking the impossible,” Charon replies, “We’re the ones who write the rules of the worlds. There’s no footprints for us to follow; you know that.”
Cornelia can’t resist rolling her eyes like some sort of petulant teenager, “People are going to start lining up to give God an earful.”
They bark out a laugh, “Don’t make that face. Here, I’ll make the truth up to you.” Their smile disappears in an instant, replaced with a darkness as bleak as pitch—Cornelia reminded of who they really are—of what they were here to do. “You won’t need to look far for Encyclia and Calypso Lindeni. They’re here, in this town. I don’t know what they want, or why they’re here, but I know for certain that they are. That’s something, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so,” Cornelia says, her tone betraying her disappointment, “But at least now I know their names.”
They turn the corner, about to head down the stairs, when Charon stops in front of Cornelia, extending their arm as their eyes narrow. “Wait. What’s that? There, by the file cabinet.”
Cornelia peers over their shoulder, sparing a second of bitterness at Charon’s height differing in their mind; what she sees pushes the thought straight out of her mind as they descend the stairs. Like steam, or smoke, or perhaps mold, something seeps out from the cracks of the floorboards; or perhaps the moulding—
Stardust, as if someone had cracked the cosmos and spilled it onto the floor. It flickers like a memory, clouds and the glimmering of stars; neither of them were swayed by its beauty. They exchange a glance; Cornelia gives a curt nod as Charon pulls an unused paperclip off of the desk and throws it into the cluster of cosmos.
It disappears instantaneously, as if it had been devoured.
“That’s…” Cornelia trails off, unable to find an apt descriptor.
Charon finishes, “Certainly a mystery, isn’t it?” They take a plain, white mug from the counter and throw that, too. It disappears before it hits the ground; its defining fragility rendered irrelevant. “I don’t believe that this is a particular facet of your dream, now is it?”
“It’s like some sort of black hole, the way it’s swallowing everything without a trace.” Cornelia crosses her arms over her chest, eyebrows furrowed with thought, “I don’t think that it’s yours, either, which means that this…”
“Is something encroaching on our mind. More than that—it’s something powerful enough to break into our collective consciousness without so much as a knock.”
“What’s the plan, then?” Cornelia asks, “I can’t imagine touching it would be wise. We don’t know where it goes… if it goes anywhere at all.”
“It’s alright. There’s an answer for just about every question. It’s just a matter of finding who knows it,” Charon steps away from the quasi-singularity to one of the many bookshelves lining the walls, stopping at a book boasting catch-all dream interpretations. They procure a wrinkled piece of paper, and hand it to Cornelia. "There's a baku in town named Matricaria. Go talk to them. I don't think the location has changed—it's across town. Keep going down Heron Street and take a left. It's somewhere around there."
"'Somewhere around there?'" Cornelia clarifies, with an annoying frown, "What exactly should I be looking for?"
Charon simply smiles, as if saying, "You'll see."
Cornelia, Vivienne, and Cuke stand in front of a large, two story building; Cornelia reads out the sign on the front of the building, “The Matricaria Dream Clinic…”
Cuke looks up at Vivienne, “Mistress, have you ever been to a place like this?”
“Mmmm…” She draws out the sound, wrinkling her nose up as she rustles through her memories. She shakes her head, “No, not here. I wasn’t allowed outside once they discovered I was a nukekubi. But they did call upon a baku from outside of town.”
Of course, Charon says, their voice crystal clear in Cornelia’s ear, They’d consider it a disaster if anyone knew. Make sure Vivi knows not to let Matricaria hear her say she’s seen another baku before.
“Charon says not to tell the baku here that.”
Vivienne seems to brighten up, a new twinkle in her eyes that's oddly difficult for Cornelia to look at, "Oh, hi, Charon!"
Cuke looks up at Vivienne, silently asking for clarification; she glances Cornelia's way.
"Feel free."
"Basically, the detective isn't the only inhabitant of that physical body. Being a guardian is tiring, is what Charon said, and over time they retire and have someone else stand in. All of them handle things differently, and they all have their different specialties.”
Cornelia hasn’t said a word, but Cuke nods as if it understands and beams up at Vivienne and then back to Cornelia again. “It’s nice to meet you then, master Charon!”
Charon’s laugh is immediate, You picked a good assistant.
Ignoring them, Cornelia says, “Anyways, what we were talking about before… baku are territorial creatures. There’s only so many dreams to go around, after all. Which means… we have no way of knowing what to expect.” She waits for their acknowledgement. Cuke enthusiastically nods its head; Vivienne smiles.
“What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go inside!” Without waiting for a response, Vivienne skips to the door and pulls it open. A receptionist sits behind a desk a few feet from the door; there’s another sitting across from her manning the other side. The three look around. A grand staircase sat in the middle of the reception waiting room, leading upwards.
The area was sparsely but carefully decorated, everything in shades easy on the eyes and comfortable. Cornelia could see a cracked door across the hallway; a bed, a side table, and what looked to be a bathroom door. “Sleep studies,” she mumbles to Vivienne, who nods her head as the receptionist closest to them beckons them over.
“Good afternoon! Do you have an appointment with us today, or were you looking to do a walk-in consultation?”
Shortly after Cornelia hands the receptionist her finished paperwork, the trio glance up as hoof-like footsteps echo through the space. A tall individual stands in the center of the room, bowing their head. Between the locks of their brown hair were two indigo colored ears.
There was no mistaking it: this was the baku Charon was referring to.
“Hello, and welcome to the Matricaria Dream Clinic,” the baku says, slowly raising their head as the gaze up at Cornelia, the tip of their nose switching as if they caught her scent red-handed, “Charon…? Is that you? No, you must be—”
“—what they told you about.” Cornelia finishes. The baku nods their head. “My name is Cornelia.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Cornelia!” They exclaim with a glee Cornelia can no longer tell the sincerity of. She had no idea where genuinity ended and customer service began. “And these two are your companions, I assume?”
“Yes. This is Vivienne, and next to her is Cuke.”
“My name is Matricaria.” They introduce themselves with a bow. Matricaria looks at Vivienne, a curious smile dancing on the corners of their lips. “You’re a nukekubi, aren’t you?” When she nods, they continue, “Do you dream?”
“I don’t,” Vivienne replies, looking slightly dejected, “I haven’t since I was buried.”
Matricaria hums, and directs their attention to Cuke, instead. “What about you?”
“I do!” Cuke replies, shyly fidgeting with its webbed hands. Vivienne giggles, standing behind it to rest her hands on its shoulders and affectionately squeeze them.
“You said that you had a nightmare about your basin cracking again.”
“That’s a great place to start!” Matricaria says, with a beaming smile. “Your pal Cuke here is having nightmares, but what do you do when they won’t go away, and start disturbing your sleep, seeping into the waking world?”
“I’ve heard taking a melatonin helps,” Cornelia says, genuinely unable to help herself.
“Don’t those give you weird dreams?” Vivienne asks.
Cornelia replies, “I heard it depends on the person.”
Matricaria ignores them both as they continue, “Dreams can have many probable causes. Your fears, your hopes; they can be what you repress, and they can be what you’re unconsciously aware of; information you know but can’t see. There are as many meanings for dreams as there are dreams themselves. To end the nightmare, you need to find the source: the cause of that dream. It’s only natural for a kappa to fear cracking their basin, especially if it’s already cracked once before. The source of that anxiety comes from why the basin cracked in the first place, of course.”
“The source of the anxiety is why my basin broke in the first place,” Cuke says, thoughtfully as it taps its clawed finger against its chin. Its beak chatters, “I already know what broke it. A cat.”
“That’s exactly why. In dreams, fear triumphs reason. Even if you already know why it broke and how; even if there’s a solution, even if you know now you could simply shoo the cat away—you still have that same fear, and thus, that same nightmare.”
“So… then what?” Vivienne asks. Cornelia glances over at her, and then Matricaria.
“I assume that’s where you come in.”
“Quite right~” The baku hums, “You can think of a baku as a remedy against nightmares. I offer services greater than simply eating your nightmare; I enter it, and remove the problem at its source. Fear triumphs reason—for the dreamer, not for an interloper, who can enter and exit the dream as I please.”
“You can enter the dreams of others…” Cornelia says, more to herself than anyone else.
“This town is my territory. Dreams reflect unconscious thought. I find the root of their nightmare, and remove it, in exchange for the consumption of their dream.”
“The underlying meaning is that you’re aware of the goings-on of this town on a subconscious level,” Cornelia suggests. Matricaria raises an eyebrow, but smiles. “I’m not insulting you. There is a reason we came here today; a ‘nightmare’ for you to investigate, but it isn’t Cuke’s. It’s mine.”
“Yours,” Matricaria says, their eyes wide, ears perked up, “Hah, that’s interesting, isn’t it?” They gesture towards the stairs, and give one of the receptionists a wave; they look charmed. “Let’s head upstairs. This is where I take my specialty clients.”
“And I can assume by ‘specialty…’”
“Much like your Twilight Detective Agency, I too take on the cases of yokai and humans alike. It just so happens that not all of my clientele know exactly what my methods entail.”
“How do they not notice that you aren’t human?” Vivienne asks, keeping a hold on her wrist as she uses the guardrail to carefully climb the stairs. “You’ve got those ears…”
“Since I have a primarily human form, they simply don’t notice them. To humans, they just look like a normal pair of ears. They’re not, of course; if twilight hour comes and they’re still within the clinic, well, it’s just a trick of the light, or the vestiges of their dream; the state between dream and reality.” They push a door left slightly ajar all the way open. “To them, I’m just a sleep clinician who’s very good at their job.”
Matricaria leads the three of them into a small room; the same Cornelia saw earlier. There’s also a couch alongside the sparse furniture. She gestures for Cornelia to take a seat on the bed; she does, while Vivienne and Cuke stand by the bed. Matricaria leans against the wall, “Tell me about this dream you mentioned.”
“I don’t dream,” Cornelia says, “At least, not in the typical sense. For me, sleep is a meditative state where I find myself in my system’s materialized consciousness; some call it headspace. It isn’t inaccurate. There, I can organize my thoughts and speak with the other members, primarily Charon. Much like typical sleep, I can restore my mind, body, and spirit whilst meditating like this.”
“I see. So anything out of your control is very worth noting.”
“There was a disturbance in my dream. An interloper like yourself, if you will. But it wasn’t human; it wasn’t an object. It was stardust—cosmos that consumed everything around it like some sort of black hole. It appeared yesterday, and Charon suggested I come speak to you.”
“Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place. I believe, unlike some others, you have considerable less hesitancies about this ‘procedure?’”
“I have no reason to be afraid.” Cornelia replies, her voice taut. Matricaria laughs.
“Somehow, you’re very different from Charon… while also being frightfully similar. Lie down, dear detective, and close your eyes.” Cornelia obliges, taking one last look at Vivienne, Cuke, and Matricaria before dutifully closing her eyes. The baku places their hand over Cornelia, who’s tense expression falls away, “Let us enter dreamland together.”
Vivienne and Cuke watch in amazement as the baku’s body disappears. Vivienne leans over Cornelia’s sleeping form, and gingerly touches her cheek with her fingertip. “She’s asleep…"
“Let’s wait for her to wake up, mistress. I’m sure that it won’t be long.”
Vivienne, although unconvinced, sits on the couch nearby the bed with Cuke as they wait for the time to pass.
Cornelia opens her eyes to the Twilight Detective Agency, Charon, and Matricaria. She rubs her face as she’s helped to her feet. Matricaria whistles as they look around. Their gaze eventually settles on Charon, a catlike grin dancing on their lips. “Why hello, Charon.”
“It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?” Charon greets.
“Indeed. I must say,” Matricaria scans the room, gesturing to the two of them, “Your mind is quite the interesting place to be. It’s not often that I encounter more than one dreamer in a dream, let alone one dreamer, one interloper, and one observer.”
“But you have before?” Cornelia asks.
Matricaria’s eyes flash with something as they say, voice measured and cold and chillingly cheerful. “Once, perhaps twice.”
Cornelia and Charon decide not to ask, and instead, they return to the site of the disturbance. The three of them stand nearby, although now the stardust seems to have vanished into nothingness.
“It disappeared…” Cornelia mumbles, disappointed.
“Being unable to see it doesn’t mean that it’s not there. I can still feel it.” They stretch their hand out, hovering it over the site of the disturbance. They gesture an open palm to the pair behind them, “May I have a coin?”
Cornelia hands them one.
Matricaria pockets it, and instead throws a small marble from their pocket. Cornelia’s protests stop short when, like the objects before—
The marble disappears, as if it had been devoured by starlight.
The three go silent.
“Now that’s interesting, isn’t it?” Matricaria begins, “Now you’ve got two mysteries, detective. First, we wonder why it appeared in the first place. And now we wonder why it faded.”
“Well, the second answer’s simple,” Cornelia replies, getting on her knees as she gingerly peers at the flecks of stardust. She points to the third floor above them, “Purification. I can do it too, albeit to a lesser degree.”
“Of course,” Charon nods, “This is our mind made manifest.”
“But how could an outside force make its way inside? That’s the aspect I don’t understand.”
Matricaria asks, “Is this the only place you’ve seen it?”
“We haven’t seen it anywhere else,” Charon answers, “But it might be good to do a second look through. We wouldn’t want to be caught off guard by it.”
They make their way through the dream Twilight Detective Agency again, Matricaria stopping every now and again to hover their hand over a book or a stretch of space; nothing. They climb up the stairs to the second floor, passing their shoe rack, bathroom, kitchen—Matricaria stops in front of the bedroom door next to Cornelia’s.
“Who does this belong to?” They ask, turning to Cornelia, who stiffens. “Charon’s?”
Charon answers instead, “You know the girl you met today? The nukekubi.”
“Ah, so this is her bedroom.” Matricaria says, and throws their head back in a guffaw of laughter. “As far as my knowledge goes, she doesn’t exist within your headspace, but her room does? What a good boss you are, keeping your assistant in your thoughts.”
“I’m just glad that you’re getting along well,” Charon says, with a smile.
Cornelia grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest as she huffs, “Vivienne is my assistant, and, correct me if I’m wrong, has nothing at all to do with the problem at hand: the disturbance?”
“We’ve checked the place from top to bottom. It’s far from unlikely that we’ll never see a distortion like that again, but for now…” Charon gestures to Matricaria.
“Yes, of course. I’ll come back if anything changes. But for now,” they turn to Cornelia, who instinctively takes a step back; “The dream has ended. Open your eyes.”
Cornelia sits in her bedroom, idly toying with the tapir charm Matricaria had pushed into her hands. “It’s a summoning charm,” the baku explains, seemingly pleased with themself, “If you’re ever in a pinch, find the charm and repeat three times, ‘Baku-san, come and eat my dream.’”
Vivienne floats behind Cornelia, touching down on the rug underneath her desk as she says, peering over her shoulder, “That’s a cute charm.” Cornelia turns, and Vivienne smiles, handing her a cup of tea. “Cuke put some tea on. It’s soaking in the tub right now. I said I’d give it to you.”
“Right, that makes sense,” she takes it, “It’s getting cold outside. Winter starts at the end of next week. I suppose it’s good we got that reptile oil, in the end…”
“You’re not going to scold me for it again?”
“Maybe next time,” Cornelia says. Vivienne laughs lightly, and a silence falls between them. Cornelia sips her tea; Vivienne simply stares at her, as if she has something to say.
Eventually, she does. “How did you sleep?”
“At the clinic?”
Vivienne nods.
“It was okay. It didn’t feel much different from when I meditate.” When she looks back, Vivienne is still staring at her.
She continues to quietly watch her, before saying, in a soft voice, “You said my name. While you were sleeping.”
Cornelia, not for the first time this day, freezes, hand stilling around the handle of her teacup. “That’s…” Her search for the words to say is fruitless, cut short by Charon’s distant laughter. Cornelia makes a mental note to smack them upside the head later. She clears her throat, “My dreamscape is the reflection of my mind; it takes the form of the Twilight Detective Agency. Matricaria asked who was staying in the room next to mine… that’s all it was.”
Vivienne keeps her eyes trained on Cornelia; she doesn’t need to look to know that; she can feel her gaze; an animalistic instinct. She doesn’t need to look to hear the delicate uncertainty in Vivienne’s voice. “...does that mean you like me being here?”
Cornelia takes a long sip of her tea, and says, “It’s not like I… mind it.”
Vivienne leans in; forcing Cornelia to look at her face, instead of averting her eyes, “Thank you.”
A crash resounds from the bathroom, and Cuke’s startled chatter of its beak follows, along with a squeak. Cornelia nearly rises to her feet, but Vivienne places a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s alright. I’ll go check on Cuke. Don’t forget to drink your tea before it gets cold! You know it complains about you ruining the flavor by microwaving it eighty times.”
Cornelia watches as Vivienne floats away down the hall. She listens as the bathroom door opens, Vivienne and Cuke’s muffled voices secondary background noise to the static in Cornelia’s head. She slumps her head on her desk, passively wondering what to do about the strange feeling that had been steadily growing in her chest; unidentifiable and impossible.
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