Archive of Our Own ^beta

Before Seiko had a granddaughter—back when she was a bit younger and a bit more naive—she used to make house calls. This housecall wasn’t supposed to be anything too strenuous, just a haunting; and while Seiko was young, she wasn’t so young that she didn’t know how to handle a haunting.

Cleansing a house like this was really just a series of careful, tedious tasks: creating the talismans; performing the ritual washings; and, finally, actually conversing with the spirit. In fact, once clients realized how dull a cleansing actually was, they usually left Seiko’s presence to go about more earthly chores.

But on this particular job, Seiko wasn’t quite alone. There was a little girl peeking out from behind the doorway, filling the room with her giggles. Though, every time Seiko turned around to catch her at it, the girl ran away with a giggling scream, like she was some kind of impish spirit herself. Finally, the mother of the house came downstairs and looked sternly at the doorway where the girl was hidden.

“Momo!” the mother said. “Behave. I’m sorry, Madame Ayase, is she bothering you?”

Seiko shook her head. “Nah. Livens the place up. That’s your daughter?”

“Yes, that’s Momo…” The mother pursed her lips. “Are you sure she’s not in the way…? I’m worried about what will happen if this spirit isn’t dealt with by sundown. That’s when it’s the most active.”

The woman was tapping her foot like an impatient customer, but Seiko clocked something else in her voice as well. Fear. But not fear about the spirit. Seiko only heard that fear in the woman’s voice when she talked about Momo.

Seiko carefully put down her brush. The talismans could wait a few moments. She had a feeling that the infamous Momo would be much more intriguing than whatever minor spirit haunted this house.

Seiko slowly approached the corner of the room, and in a gentle voice said, “Hello, Miss Momo.”

As if summoned by a spell, Momo popped out from behind the corner and stood up to her full height. She grinned, pointed at Seiko, and exclaimed, “You’re magic!”

“That I am,” Seiko said indulgently. Then, she tilted her head, made a circle with her fingers, and peered through its hole. A flicker of light—and the girl came into grainy relief, looking almost too real now, too sharp: like an overprocessed photograph. Seiko saw dark, red eyes; canine teeth that seemed sharper than before; and ears shaved into slender points. Huh, so not a human after all.

Seiko kneeled down to Momo’s eye level. “How old are you, kid?”

“Two!” Momo said proudly.

“Two, huh?” Seiko mused. Momo had seemed older than that through her third eye, but it was always tough to tell with kids.

“And a half,” Momo added modestly.

“The terrible two’s…” Seiko said. She peeked at Momo again through her fingers and once again saw that flash of teeth. And yet, despite their ferocity, they still belonged to a little girl, one who looked at Seiko with wonder. Momo even peeked through the hole in Seiko’s fingers as if to figure out what she was seeing. Eh, you’re not so bad. Seiko relaxed and stood back up.

“The terrible two’s,” she repeated. “But you’re not so terrible, are you, Momo?”

“Madame Ayase!” the mother said, aghast—and there it was, that fear again–but Momo just shook her head.

“No!” Momo said. She pouted as if that question had been asked of her many, many times before. “I’m not bad! I’m just playing!”

Ah, playing. That word was enough to solve the mystery of what Momo was–and to send a chill down Seiko’s spine despite the humid summer air. Play. Fae children did love to play, didn’t they? Seiko could see now why the mother was so afraid, given what a changeling’s idea of play might be.

Seiko tilted her head again. She’d only ever met one other changeling, and only ever in passing. He’d reminded Seiko of an angler fish, charming and bright. At first glance, that is. After a few minutes of speaking to him, though, he’d started to remind Seiko more of an old, battered shark: all scars and dull skin from one too many attempts to bite. Apparently things hadn’t ended well for him.

But that had been an adult, worn down over time. Seiko had never met a child changeling before…

And then, Momo tilted her head to mimic Seiko again and stuck out her tongue, and it was enough to make Seiko snort. She could remember doing the exact same thing to a traveling miko back when she was Momo’s age.

A child changeling, huh…? She didn’t seem like an angler fish, nor a shark. Nah, Momo reminded Seiko more of a kid waving a sparkler, gleefully illuminating everything around them with the light.

Seiko waved away the mother’s concerns and went back to her talismans. In any case, the topic of the changeling child should be brought up after the minor spirit had been dealt with. It was a very delicate one, after all. Though, even knowing this, Seiko hadn’t expected just how badly that conversation would go.

The parents had cried, which was to be expected. But then they had yelled at each other and at Seiko and at Momo—little Momo—and finally they’d shoved Momo away as if she were diseased, saying that they wanted nothing more to do with such a child, and that it was Seiko’s responsibility as a priestess to dispose of her. Most of all, Seiko had been shocked at the parents’ facial expressions: the naked relief that she saw there. As if that mother and father would actually sleep easier that night, even despite their actions, because they’d finally been vindicated in their suspicion of their child.

“Think you’re better than her just because you’re human? Buncha garbage,” Seiko snapped at them, grinning as their lips curled in disgust upon hearing such language from a priestess. She gently took Momo’s hand. “Time to go, Momo.”

Despite her impishness earlier in the day, Momo had been silent and still during the argument, and was largely silent on the walk back to Seiko’s shrine. Seiko wanted to say something else after her outburst, to break that silence, but she was still a bit new at this, and she didn’t know what she could say that would truly help the abandoned child at her feet.

In the end, it was Momo who broke the silence, in a voice that was small and careful.

“What is it?” Momo asked.

“Hmm?”

“A change…” Momo’s tongue tripped over the word and she had to try again. “A changeling.”

Seiko sighed. Of course. The parents had been superstitious, so they hadn’t needed an explanation. But Momo didn’t even know why she’d just been cast out of her home. Seiko knelt down to Momo’s level.

“There’s a world right next door to this one,” Seiko said, wracking her brain to decide how to explain this to a toddler, even a fae-touched one. “It’s very hard to get to, so most people don’t even know that it exists. It’s called the fae realm, and the people who live there are called the fae.”

“Fae,” Momo said, tonguing over the word as if she weren’t one herself. “Like a fairy?”

“Kind of,” Seiko said, wiggling her hand in an eh gesture. “But they’re not small like fairies, and they don’t fly either. In most ways, fae look just like humans. Like how you look just like me.”

“We look alike?” Momo asked.

“Sure,” Seiko said with a shrug. She wasn’t sure why Momo had fixated on that part of the lesson, but she was willing to go along with it. “Why, I bet you could pass for my niece.”

Momo looked skeptical. “You look too old for that…”

“Brat,” Seiko muttered, rolling her eyes. But she smiled when Momo giggled in response. “Okay, maybe you could pass for my granddaughter then.”

“Okay,” Momo said, apparently content with that. Then she frowned. “But then…what’s even the difference…?”

“Well,” Seiko said carefully. This was the tough part. “Unlike humans and unlike fairies, the fae like collecting…humans. Do you like to collect anything, Momo?”

Right as Seiko said it, she realized it was a stupid thing to ask. Anything that Momo did collect had just been left behind along with most of her other belongings.

But Momo only smiled and said, “Fruit seeds. To help mommy plant!”

“Exactly,” Seiko said, making a note to pick up some seeds at the market later. “Well, just like you really want those fruit seeds, the fae really want humans, of all different kinds. So they take human babies, when the parents aren’t looking. But they always leave an identical baby in its place, so that the parents aren’t too sad. That baby is called a changeling. That’s what you are.”

Momo appeared to think about this for a long time, and Seiko could tell that she didn’t completely understand. Or—she did understand, but only the parts of it that mattered to a two year old.

“But my mommy is sad,” Momo said, starting to sniffle. “Is it because I stole her baby…?” Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over in big drops, and Seiko’s heart broke into pieces as Momo began to wail. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I’ll give her back! If I just give her back, can I go back home?”

“Oh, Momo,” Seiko said, forgetting for a moment the dangers of the fae and their glamour and their strange collections. Or, maybe it was more accurate to say that Seiko did remember, but all of those things felt so small compared to the tears of this little girl. Seiko hugged Momo and said what she knew to be true, despite the rest of it: “You didn’t steal their baby, okay? It isn’t yours to give back. But believe me when I say that none of this is your fault, Momo.”

Momo cried in her arms, and, whether consciously or not—whether out of some fae compulsion or out of something more mundane like duty or love—Seiko decided to take Momo in. Seiko had never intended to have children of her own. And she knew enough about changelings to know the foolishness of such a decision. But she couldn’t imagine that this changeling—that Momo—would be able to survive anywhere else. Not based on what she’d seen that night.

But really, if she was being honest with herself, it was much simpler than that. Seiko took her in because she just couldn’t bear the thought of that little girl crying any more.

“Come on,” Seiko said, helping Momo climb onto her back. “Let’s go to my house, and I’ll make you some dinner, yeah? I was gonna make crab tonight. Does that sound okay?”

“Okay,” Momo murmured, already half-asleep on Seiko’s back, surely exhausted from crying and walking and the weight of whatever else happened in her first two years at that house.

Seiko just hiked her up so that she wouldn’t fall and continued the careful walk home through the night.

///

At first, Momo seemed unsure of what to do in Seiko’s home. Being a shrine, it was much larger than her last home and much more remote. Momo had trouble sleeping her first week there.

“It can be scary, living in a new place,” Seiko reassured her one night. “It’s different. Do you miss your mom and dad?”

“They were scared of me,” Momo mumbled, which didn’t exactly answer the question. But, then again, it was a pretty complicated question.

Seiko turned up her nose and put on a brash voice. It was something she was well practiced in. “Well, I’m not scared of you, hot shot. So there.”

Momo furrowed her eyebrows, distracted for a moment from thoughts of her parents.

“Yes, you are!” she protested. “You are scared!”

“Nu uh!”

“Uh huh!”

“Nu uh.”

“Uh huh!” Momo said, now struggling to keep the frown on her face with the mirth of the back and forth. “You should be scared!”

“Oh? Why? I have powers, you know,” Seiko said, wriggling her fingers in front of Momo’s nose until it tickled and she giggled again. “You don’t look all that tough to me.”

“But I trick people!” Momo insisted. Then her voice got quiet again. “I don’t mean it. But my mommy says I do.”

Seiko hummed. The mother was both right and wrong. Changelings didn’t have the full power of the fae, but they did have access to their charms. Trickery and glamour were both well within Momo’s scope of power. But then again, Seiko wasn’t half-bad at trickery herself.

“I think my powers beat yours,” Seiko said. “But I’ll make you a deal. I’ll do a ritual tomorrow that will make me immune to your tricks. Then you’ll never be able to scare me. Deal?”

“Deal,” Momo said, exhaling loudly in relief.

Seiko made dinner that night with a frown on her face. This entire time, she’d been wondering how much of her situation Momo understood. Momo seemed like a happy enough child, given the circumstances—cheerfully eating the food that Seiko made her and exploring the house to her heart’s content—but evidently she’d known exactly what her parents had thought of her.

Seiko imagined what it’d been like before her arrival: how many whispered conversations had trailed off into silence as Momo walked into the room, how many of Momo’s screamed laughs had been quickly hushed, how trepidatiously footsteps must have fallen in a house ruled by a changeling child. Such a quiet house for such a lively girl.

Maybe tomorrow Seiko would hang up some wind chimes. Get out her old boombox and play some music. Invite some loud noises into the house that could harmonize with Momo and herself’s loud conversations and make the girl’s sleep a bit less troubled.

“Do you want to go back home?” Seiko asked later, curious despite how loaded the question was.

But Momo only shook her head and said, “I can never go back,” and that was that.

The next day, Seiko did hang up some wind chimes, and she did play some music for Momo, and she did perform a ritual. While Momo was preoccupied with the old boombox, Seiko headed to her shrine, donned her robes, and prayed.

“God of this land,” Seiko whispered. “I need…”

She paused. It was foolish to perform such a powerful ritual for someone she’d just met, let alone a changeling. Even though Seiko herself did not have much experience with changelings, over the course of her training she’d been warned about fae glamour, about all the charms and comforts that Momo’s kind offered. Seiko knew that she should be wary of the fierce, hot wave of protectiveness that flooded her blood. It was like Momo said—she knew how to trick people, even if she didn’t mean to.

But, all the same—that didn’t stop Seiko from already loving Momo.

Finally, Seiko huffed and decided, Why do I need a reason? To want to help someone even though they ain’t human? To hell with this.

“God of this land,” Seiko began again. “There is a changeling child in my care. She needs a home. But I also have a duty to you and to this world. Momo might…” She hesitated. Would Momo truly? But no, that didn’t matter. “Momo’s instincts might tell her to lure me back to the fae realm, even if she doesn’t mean to. If that happens, both she and I are done for.” She prostrated herself. “I’m already your priestess. This is no burden to me. Bind my feet to this land so that I may never leave, so that the fae lands may never take me from yours.”

Seiko’s magic was never very flashy. There was no rush of wind or loud fanfare to indicate whether her god accepted her promise. But, as Seiko stood up, she felt just a bit heavier and her footsteps fell with a bit more finality.

Seiko never left Kamigoe that much anyway, so the ritual wasn’t truly tested until about a month later. During that time, Seiko and Momo planted fruit seeds and cooked together and listened to music. Until, one day, Momo wanted to do something else.

“I want to go to the woods!” Momo whined. “There were forests by my parents house. Where are they?”

“Forests are dangerous for you,” Seiko said, even as a chill ran down her spine. In the forest, the veil between their world and the fae’s was thin. That was why fairy rings grew there: ready to capture any mortal foolish enough to step in one. Of course Momo felt drawn there, and of course she wanted to take her loved ones there—even if it would doom them. But there wasn’t any explaining that to a child. Instead, Seiko tried, “If you take anyone inside of a forest, they could get hurt.”

“That’s not fair!” Momo said, beginning to cry. “Please take me! Please! Seiko Ayase, please!”

Hearing her full name voiced by a fae—even one as diluted as Momo—felt like a shock of electricity scouring Seiko’s nervous system. Feeling above her own body, Seiko watched herself take one step forward, and then another, and then another, as if she were sleepwalking, as if she were walking through fog. It wasn’t long before she and Momo found themselves at the border of Kamigoe itself, close to the forests that lived across that invisible line.

But then Seiko’s feet filled with lead, and she could not cross that line.

Seiko choked out a gasp and fell to her knees. Perhaps she should be filled with grief. She had just confirmed that she’d given up the entire world outside Kamigoe, just for one little girl. But Seiko knew in her heart that she would make the same decision again.

“Momo,” Seiko breathed. “You can never do that again.”

Momo looked at her quizzically. “But you wanted to…”

“No. You tricked me. Remember that ritual I told you about? It’s the thing that kept me safe from going into that forest.

“Oh…” Momo looked down, then began shaking. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! Please don’t make me go…”

“Of course not,” Seiko said, though anyone in their right mind would be running away in the other direction. But thank the gods that Seiko had never been in her right mind, because that would’ve meant leaving Momo to wander off into the forest all alone. Seiko reached out and held Momo’s hand tight. “I can help you. If you promise to always follow a few rules, you won’t trick anyone again, okay? Then you can spend time with people even if they haven’t done the ritual that I did.”

“Really?” Momo asked, eyes growing wide. Hungry for company, hungry for collecting more humans—who could really say? But was Seiko really supposed to keep such a wonderful girl trapped inside that house, with no one but an old bag like her for company?

What good is a priestess who only helps humans? Seiko reminded herself. She squeezed Momo’s hand tight.

“Always follow these rules,” Seiko instructed, making her voice solemn like a ritual. “Never approach a forest. Never order someone to do something. And never use someone’s full name. Promise me that, Momo. Then you can stay.”

“I promise,” Momo said gravely, holding out a pinky, and Seiko shook it. “But then…if I can’t say your name…”

“You can still say part of my name. Like ‘Seiko’ or ‘Ayase.’ Just not both at the same time.” Seeing that this was confusing the toddler, Seiko amended, “How about you just call me Granny, huh?”

“Okay, Granny,” Momo said, a small smile peeking out through her fear, and Seiko prayed to the god of this land in thanks for allowing her to survive own foolishness and see that smile again.

///

As Momo grew up, Seiko was relieved to see that she carefully followed those three rules. Ever since that day, Momo never entered a forest, never ordered someone to do something, and never used someone’s full name. Seiko knew all of this for a fact, because, like most fae children, Momo could not lie, much to the child’s eternal consternation.

Despite following these three rules, though, Momo seldom followed any others. She rolled in the grass and stained her clothes despite Seiko’s protests; she played games of mischief with the neighborhood kids until they either laughed or cried; and, when Seiko’s back was turned, she gave the adults at the market her most pleading looks–but never orders–until they finally fended her off with sweets.

As Momo grew even older, she found even more rules to break. She watched Seiko’s old, gory action movies on repeat until they broke, fascinated by their gleeful violence. She took great pleasure in throwing aside the clothes that Seiko picked out for her and putting on something more garish instead. When Momo discovered the word gyaru—an entire subculture for flaunting the rules—Momo wore it like a badge of honor.

The fae child Momo Ayase was an absolute menace. And, despite that, Seiko had never loved anything more than she loved her.

Because, as filled with mischief as Momo was, she was filled with even more love. When the kids she teased started crying, Momo comforted them and apologized; when the adults giving her sweets began to harumph, Momo fashioned them tiny little crafts in gratitude; and when Momo watched Seiko’s old movies, she loved Ken Takakura’s gentleness even more than she did his violence. Momo even kissed the bites and scratch marks she littered on Seiko’s skin during her tantrums, looking devastated every single time. As much chaos as Momo cultivated, she planted so many more seeds of joy and affection.

Seiko just wished that other people saw her that way too.

“She’s really a changeling?” Manjiro asked, peering over at where Momo was playing with frogs in the rice paddy fields.

“Your focus should be on your spiritual connection,” Seiko said, irked that her granddaughter was such an oddity to traveling priests and scholars. Especially ones as young as Manjiro, who was supposed to be here to study at her shrine.

“Sorry!” Manjiro said, going back to prayer. But then, not a few minutes later, he asked, “But…my sensei said that you’re training her in our practices. Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I’ve protected myself.”

“I don’t mean dangerous to you, Miss Seiko. I mean dangerous to others.”

Seiko sighed. “That sensei of yours teaching you about prayer or about being nosy?” And then, though the words churned in her stomach, she added, “Tell that old man I keep an iron dagger in my drawer. Just in case.”

Manjiro must have sensed her hesitation, because he asked, “And are you prepared to use it?”

Seiko tossed her final prayers to the god of the land more carelessly than she usually would, if only so she could be done with this nonsense. “Focus on your prayer,” Seiko said, before stepping outside the shrine to smoke.

The cigarette calmed her nerves, but even it couldn’t stop Manjiro’s words from rolling through her mind. Seiko had heard them before, from any number of mediums and priests who’d wandered through her shrine.

Seiko could understand their concerns. She knew what it was like, after all, to be under Momo’s thrall. She still remembered that cold, lightning surge of energy ripping through her. Sometimes it coursed through her dreams too, waking her up in the middle of the night to sweat-stained sheets.

But Momo had been two years old when that happened. It was like being scared of a puppy because it bit you while teething. Or hating a baby for accidentally scratching itself because it didn’t yet understand how sharp its nails were. Ignorance and cruelty. Teaching Momo to control her power—to channel it—was the far safer option. Besides…as a changeling, wasn’t power Momo’s birthright, her heritage? What would that have made Seiko, to keep that from her? To raise Momo like she was a dog on a leash instead of a person?

Later—long after Momo brought a Turbo Granny into her life and Seiko had trapped the spirit inside of a maneki-neko—that same Turbo Granny would look at her with skepticism as Seiko recounted this story.

“Nah,” Turbo Granny said. “Those are all bullshit excuses. She’s just got you good with her glamour.”

“Momo knows what she’s doing,” Seiko snapped, sick of all these people pretending that they knew who she and her granddaughter were. “And so do I.”

Turbo Granny just snorted. “You’re charmed, you stupid bitch.”

“I can’t be charmed,” Seiko said, exhaling cigarette smoke. And it even felt true.

///

“Why can’t I worship the land?” Momo groaned, when she was about five years old. She was helping to clean the shrine, but only halfheartedly. Momo much preferred the physical aspect of training to the spiritual or mental aspects.

Seiko could commiserate. She’d been the same way as a young trainee. But still.

“Put your back into it,” Seiko ordered. “And I’ve told you why. Spirits of the land are reluctant to take on devotees from the fae realm.”

“Yeah,” Momo said miserably. “Nobody wants me, I get it.”

Seiko narrowed her eyes. “Why you saying crap like that? Have kids been teasing you at school again?”

Momo threw down her mop with a scowl. Her fae blood would not let her lie, so her only options in these situations were to sit there in silence, try to weasel her way out with a half-truth, or be honest. Honesty was usually the option that Momo ended up choosing, if only because she was too impatient for the other ones.

“Yeah,” Momo muttered. “But that’s why I need to worship the land, Granny! I need cool powers like yours so I can kick their butts! I can’t even use my…other powers.”

As of late, Momo had started leaning away from the words changeling and fae, and had taken on a look of distaste whenever Seiko said them too. Such a look was being leveled at Seiko right now.

Seiko didn’t blame her. Humans didn’t like changelings—if only by instinct—and the spirits of the earth didn’t care much for the interlopers either. Seiko was coming to believe that the only spirit out there really looking out for changelings might be the universe itself–and only because she’d always had a soft spot for the unlucky ones.

“The moon,” Seiko murmured, picking up the mop and putting it back into Momo’s hands. “Try praying to the moon. She’s fickle, and she probably won’t help you with much. But even when she fades completely from the sky, she always comes back.”

Whether or not Momo found any success praying to the spirit, Seiko never knew. Because only a week later, Momo returned home from school crying about quitting her training.

“All the other kids make fun of me!” Momo cried. She was keeping her fingers locked tight into a fist, so that no matter what Seiko did, she couldn’t coax her hand into the good luck ritual that apparently got her teased so much.

“It’s important–” Seiko tried, but Momo started screaming before she could get another word in.

“I don’t care,” Momo said, tears shining in her eyes as she tried to shove Seiko away. “I don’t care about spirits or the moon or or the fae or any of that! Everyone thinks I’m a freak, they—they think I’m bad!” Momo sobbed. “I did everything you said, I followed all your rules, and they still think I’m bad!”

“Momo…” Seiko tried to reach out to give her granddaughter a hug, but she was pushed away.

“It’s stupid!” Momo cried. “I don’t want to be a changeling anymore.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a changeling.”

“Shut up! I hate you! I’m human, I’m human!” Momo said, her eyes bright with tears and rage. She ran off, stomping through the garden as she retreated into the house, yelling all the way. “It’s all just made up! Changelings aren’t real, and neither are stupid mediums!”

Momo’s words turned Seiko’s insides cold, more so than her compulsion ever had. She still felt cold that evening, long after she’d gone into the house and changed out of her miko robes into something warmer. Eventually, Seiko stopped wearing the robes as often, no longer able to keep from shivering when she wore them outside. She smoked more, to coax some warmth back into herself. She felt herself grow distant, only able to stand back and watch as Momo stared at herself in the mirror for hours and hours, until her ears rounded and her eyes dimmed and her teeth shrank—until she’d pushed down just about everything her blood and Seiko had given her.

I’m sorry, Seiko prayed to the universe, to the moon, every week. I’ve failed your child. And my grandchild.

And every week, after her prayers were not answered, Seiko approached the locked chest in her room, the one that held the iron dagger and thought, Just throw it away. Just let her pretend she’s human. Just throw it away.

But her duty didn’t allow it, and Seiko hated herself for it.

///

Ken Takakura—the kid, not the actor—could have passed for a changeling himself, had he a lick of spiritual power. Enormous eyes, restless energy, and a sense of otherness that rivaled even Momo’s. Seiko had actually been surprised when she looked at him through her third eye and found him completely human—aside from the damn Turbo Granny curse, anyway.

“W-Who are you?” Ken said, sitting within the shrine and staring at her with wide eyes.

“Nu uh. My house, my questions,” Seiko said. “Now who are you?”

“Uh…Ken Takakura.”

Ken gave his own name far too easily. Seiko sighed. He was either ignorant, a fool, or both. And the gods help Momo and Seiko if he was both.

“Does Momo know your name?” Seiko asked.

Ken’s eyes widened, and suddenly his eerie stillness exploded into manic energy. “Miss Ayase! Where is she? Is she okay?”

Seiko peeked through her third eye again, but: yep, still human. It really was hard to tell the difference between teenagers and changelings. Both creatures took so much effort.

“Answer me,” Seiko asked again, not bothering to answer the kid’s questions. “Did you tell Momo your name?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“She…asked me?”

“Did she ever use it?”

“No…? She refused to use it, actually. She keeps calling me Okarun instead.”

Seiko had to interrupt her own interrogation to snort. A fae refusing to take someone’s full name, huh? It sounded like the set-up to a joke. Too bad Seiko didn’t have anyone to tell it to.

Nonetheless, Seiko sighed with relief. Whatever Momo had gotten herself wrapped up in, at least it didn’t seem to involve enthralling this kid. Though—could have fooled her, with the way that Ken kept asking about her. But, once again, Seiko was pretty sure that was just a teenager thing, not a changeling thing. Or perhaps it was even just a Momo thing. She had a way of drawing people into her orbit.

Seiko retreated to her house, knelt by the dresser in her room, and clutched at the knob to the drawer that held the iron knife. But she did not open it.

A changeling boy who was not a changeling, alongside her human granddaughter who was not a human. The whole thing had a touch of fae humor to it, and more than a touch of doom. Seiko prayed that the former would outweigh the latter, and then she went back downstairs to put the TV. She turned the volume up as loud as she could. Momo was still sleeping and recovering, and she’d always had trouble sleeping in a silent house.

Later, Momo knelt to Seiko in supplication, apologized for their argument, and then said, “I…I really am a changeling, aren’t I? I think I forgot about it at some point. But I am.”

“You are,” Seiko agreed, glad that she was facing the TV instead of Momo. It’d been a long time since Momo had talked to her like this. Seiko had thought that maybe her muscles for these kinds of conversations—for Momo’s honesty rather than her silence—had atrophied. It felt painful to use them again.

Momo bowed even lower. “Granny…Okarun tried to give me his name, but I didn’t—I didn’t do anything with it. I promise.”

“I know,” Seiko said. And she did. Momo couldn’t tell a lie. But even if that hadn’t been the case, Seiko would have believed her. Because it was Momo. And the only thing Momo had talked about in connection with that boy was how badly she’d wanted to help him, that strange little changeling who was completely human.

///

“A changeling?” Ken said, completely unperturbed by the implications. Great, so he was ignorant and a fool. “Miss Ayase, is that how you got your psychic powers? Are fairy circles real? Wait. Does this mean that you’re an alien?”

God, he really was an occult otaku, wasn’t he? Seiko should be annoyed at him. But…it’d been a long, long time since anyone had known the truth of her granddaughter and looked at Momo with delight rather than fear. So Seiko held her tongue. Well, mostly held her tongue.

“Aliens ain’t real,” she said, serving them both more food. They’d need their strength if they were going to face Turbo Granny.

“Aliens are totally real!” Momo insisted. Then she turned to Ken, and—as if she were the expert on fae after ignoring their existence for the past ten years—said, “And no way am I one! You think I come from outer space?” She poked him. “And eat faster! We’ve got training to do!”

Seiko glared at Momo, and Momo’s mouth shut with a click. Don’t demand things from humans. And she’d collected the brat’s name? Was Momo determined to break every one of her rules today?

Ken only rambled on about aliens and the fae, ignoring their silent conversation. He also ignored Momo’s demands for him to eat, which—huh, maybe he had some amount of willpower after all. Or maybe his passion was just hot enough to weather the storm of Momo’s demands.

“I don’t think you’re necessarily from outer space,” Ken said. “But you said that the fae realm is on a different plane from Earth, right? Well, aliens have inter-planar technology! They could totally use that to create a pocket plane, travel here, and bring people across the border! That means that the fae have to be aliens!”

Momo squinted at him. “You calling me part alien?”

“W-well, what’s wrong with that?” Ken asked, puzzled. “Who wouldn’t want to be part alien?”

Momo just yelled at him with glee in her eyes, and Ken looked at her with stars in his.

Seiko shook her head. What a fool. And yet, she had a certain amount of sympathy for the kid. Just because you knew you were being charmed didn’t mean you could avoid it.

As Seiko cleaned up the dishes and the kids went outside to refine their plan, she eventually heard a quiet conversation trickle in through the window.

“It’s weird, though,” Momo said, her voice more solemn than it’d been at lunch. “I didn’t remember being a changeling for a really long time. I guess I shoved that part down so deep it just…disappeared. It wasn’t until I unlocked my powers that I started to remember again.”

“Why did you want to forget?” Ken asked. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

Momo huffed out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, tell that to anyone else who’s ever known about me.” Her voice grew quiet. “Okarun…I’m dangerous. Especially now that I know your name. If you don’t want to hang out after all this is over…I get it.”

“Of course I want to hang out! T-that is if you do…”

“Of course I do! I just didn’t know if you wanted to!”

“Well–good!” Ken paused for a moment, and then his voice turned teasing. “Besides, you can’t even say my name.”

“Why you!” Momo fumed. “I could! If I wanted.”

“But you won’t.”

“I won’t,” Momo said, and Seiko breathed a sigh of relief over her dishes, because Momo couldn’t tell a lie.

Momo’s voice grew quiet as she spoke again, as she brought something up that—to Seiko’s knowledge—she hadn’t spoken about since the first night that Seiko took her in.

“I replaced the real Momo, Okarun,” Momo admitted. “Even if I never do anything bad again, and even if I follow all of Granny’s rules, I stole that human baby. The one that my parents actually wanted.”

“No you didn’t,” Ken said, identical to Seiko’s own, numerous reassurances to little Momo long ago. But, perhaps it was the fae touch about him, because then his approach changed to a tactic that Seiko had never considered before. His words turned from reassurance to confession.

“But, no matter what…” Ken said. “I’m glad you’re the one who’s here, Miss Ayase. You’re the one who stood up for me and who’s helping me get rid of this curse. Whatever happened to that other baby…to me, you are the real Momo.”

“Huh. But isn’t that kind of messed up?”

“Maybe…but it’s how I feel.”

“Huh,” Momo said, but her voice was more relaxed than Seiko had heard it in years. Absolution, perhaps, something Seiko had never been able to fully give her.

///

“So, you like collecting yokai, huh?” Turbo Granny spat.

It was the yokai’s first night as a maneki-neko and her first night in Seiko’s house. Despite Seiko offering Turbo Granny her own room, Turbo Granny was setting up shop in Seiko’s room, insisting that she had to keep an eye on Seiko in case she tried to get up to any exorcising funny business.

Whatever. Seiko could spare a few pillows for the tiny yokai to sleep on. If only she could get over her bad attitude.

Seiko raised an eyebrow. “Collecting yokai? What are you talking about?”

Turbo Granny snorted and began rummaging through Seiko’s dresser. “You got a Turbo Granny, a changeling, and a cursed boy under your roof. What, you got a thing for us or something?”

“More like I’ve got a thing for strays,” Seiko said. She slammed the dresser drawer shut and picked up Turbo Granny by the nape of her neck before depositing her onto the ground. “And I’m not collecting you, dollface. You’re just here until the kid finds his balls.”

“Sure,” Turbo Granny said. She sneered. “And how long is the changeling here?”

Tch. Even powerless, Turbo Granny still tried to play games with her. It made Seiko uncomfortable how much it reminded her of Momo when she was younger.

“That’s up to Momo,” Seiko said, putting on the brash voice she’d perfected since becoming a grandmother. “I heard that these days, most kids move out when they graduate high school. But we’ll see what Momo wants to do.”

“Huh,” Turbo Granny said. Her eyes narrowed. “You really think of her as your granddaughter, don’t you, Seiko?”

“She is my granddaughter.”

Turbo Granny stared at Seiko for a long time before she finally said, “Maybe. Maybe so,” and left the room, before Seiko could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean.

Months later—when Turbo Granny and Seiko had had many more late night conversations, and after Turbo Granny had long since abandoned the cushions for the comfort of Seiko’s bed—Turbo Granny laid beside her and said, “Seiko…You really do think of all of us as family, don’t you?” She sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Seiko mumbled. She was already half-asleep, too exhausted from feeding that gang of kids to completely follow the conversation.

“Because there won’t be a happy ending,” Turbo Granny said. “Even with all the love in the world, that changeling child will leave and snatch Four Eyes back to the fae realm, and I…”

“And you’ll what?” Seiko asked, but Turbo Granny either never answered or Seiko fell asleep, because the next thing Seiko knew, it was morning. When she awoke, Seiko wasn’t completely sure whether the conversation had been real or a dream. It started to slip away the moment she opened her eyes, until all that was left was a faint and vague unease.

///

No matter what anyone said, Seiko was proud of Momo. Momo had never once broken Seiko’s rules, not on purpose. When Momo discovered her powers, she’d used them to help her friends, broke kappa, lovesick anatomical models, child spirits, and even the entire world—even though all of those things had rejected her more than once. Despite being one of the loneliest creatures in the universe, Momo found her kind and she protected them closely. Seiko wanted to take credit—to say, that’s my beautiful granddaughter—but in truth, she wondered if that goodness was just something at the core of Momo: nestled inside her right next to her human heart and fae blood.

Momo even managed to help Ken get his balls back. And then Turbo Granny got her power back, and then–

And then she left.

Seiko wasn’t sure why she hadn’t seen it coming. That had been the deal the entire time, hadn’t it? Turbo Granny was here until she had her power back. Just like Momo was really only here until her fae compulsion finally drove her to leave.

Seiko’s time among spirits and yokai had always been transitory, both by nature and necessity. The living and the dead co-exist—but not more than that. They were neighbors, not bedfellows. Seiko’s role was simply to be a medium: a space in-between so that the living and the dead could understand one another. And once that space wasn’t needed, Seiko moved onto the next place where it was.

Seiko had always known that was to be her fate, ever since she first started her training. But apparently she’d forgotten, at some point in the past fourteen years. And now that she’d been reminded, Seiko knew in stark clarity—that Momo would leave her soon too.

“Gran, what’s wrong?” Momo said, cleaning dishes with her.

“Nothin’.”

“You know, it’s really not fair that you can lie and I can’t,” Momo grumbled, scrubbing the plate with extra ferocity. “Too bad humans suck at it. If I could lie, I’d do it way better at it than that.” Her voice turned quiet. “You miss Turbo Granny, don’t you?”

“...I do,” Seiko said, deciding to employ one of the half-truths that Momo’s kind were so fond of using. “The house is quiet without her yapping.”

“We can bring the boombox out—if that thing even still works,” Momo said, rolling her eyes. “You know, if you bought me a phone, I could just play music for us off that…”

Seiko snorted. “The day I get you a new phone is the day you order me to do it.”

Momo groaned. “So never.”

“Never.”

“You know, I tried praying to the moon the other day,” Momo said carefully.

Seiko raised an eyebrow. “And? Hear anything back?”

“Nah,” Momo said, shrugging a bit too casually to be completely unhurt. “But it still felt…nice, I guess. I dunno. Reminded me of Turbo Granny in a way. Maybe because their heads are the same shape.” She scratched her head, not seeming to notice that she got suds there. “Next time you could pray to it with me? Then maybe the ol’ bag will finally listen to me.”

“Maybe closer to a full moon,” Seiko murmured. “She’s less likely to answer during a new moon like this, you know.”

“But she’ll come back eventually,” Momo said. “Right?”

“Right,” Seiko said, and maybe it was a lie, but she was allowed. She was only human, after all. Far less worthy of pride than Momo was.

Because, in the end, it wasn’t Momo who broke their three most important rules—it was Seiko.

It happened after Momo had been turned tiny by the danmara. Because while Seiko had been able to uncover the hammer that could break Momo’s curse, she could go help no more than that. She couldn’t even see her granddaughter off to the airport—because her feet were filled with lead and stuck to the land of Kamigoe.

Once they reached the border, Seiko tried as hard as she could to make her feet budge—but the more and more she moved, the heavier her feet became, until they began to sink into the earth.

“Granny, stop!” Momo cried. Her eyes were too small to see the details of, but Seiko had to imagine that they held that bright confidence that her granddaughter often projected. “I’ll be okay! You stay here, okay?”

“But, Momo, I’m…” Forgetting. It was getting harder and harder to hold onto the simple things. Like the time Momo had snatched a fresh peach right out of Seiko’s hands but had grabbed it so tightly that its juices exploded all over the both of them. Like when Momo broke the boombox and carefully looked through hardware repair magazines until smoke nearly came out of her ears, until Seiko gave in and took the damn thing to a repair shop. Like when Momo played with the hem of Seiko’s miko robes and hummed a little lullaby that Seiko couldn’t remember teaching her.

Like Momo’s name.

Names have power, Seiko remembered, taking a harsh breath. She held a hand to her head as if that would help keep all the memories inside her.

“Momo,” Seiko said. “Use my name. Tell me to remember you.”

“What?” Momo said, using her powers to scoop herself into the palm of Seiko’s hand. “No! I can’t do that!”

“The curse isn’t just making you smaller,” Seiko managed, her breath growing heavy with the effort it took to even remember who she was talking to. “It’s making it like you were never here.”

“I can’t,” Momo said miserably, and she was so small that Seiko could only tell she was crying from the tiny drops of wetness whispering against her palm, smaller than raindrops. “I can’t do that to you…”

“Please, Momo,” Seiko begged, hating herself for asking this of her granddaughter just as much as she hated herself for still having that awful dagger in her dresser drawer. But she couldn’t forget Momo. Seiko could accept that, as a medium, her connection to non-humans was transitory. She could even accept that Momo would one day leave her.

But Seiko couldn’t accept forgetting that all of this had ever happened. She couldn’t accept going back to that quiet house and forgetting how loud it had once been.

“Please, Momo,” Seiko breathed. “Say my name.”

Momo wiped her eyes, and took a deep breath.

“Seiko Ayase,” she intoned, her voice layered with a glamour that shot that cold lightning burning through Seiko’s veins for the second time. “Remember me.”

And Seiko remembered. Her body shook with the cold, but suddenly, she could remember Momo—could remember everything about Momo, even tiny memories that she’d long since forgotten. The peach, the boombox, the lullaby—all of it. Over ten years of memories flashing through her mind, forcing her to her knees as she tried to fight through them to see the Momo that was right in front of her.

“Granny!” Momo cried, her voice normal again. Seiko tried to give her a grin.

“No way I could ever forget you, Momo,” Seiko said. She put her hand to the ground so that Momo could leave. “I’ll be okay. Now get that hammer and then come back to me the right size, okay? I’m tired of not being able to feed ya.”

“I promise,” Momo said, and because she could not lie, Seiko felt warm relief cut through the cold lightning that lit up Momo in her mind.

///

Momo did get bigger again, but she came back different in other ways too. Her fae features, long since forgotten, came back with a vengeance, sticking around even when Seiko didn’t use her third eye. Perhaps being tiny had put Momo too close to the veil between their worlds, reminding her blood of its heritage. Or maybe breaking the rules—Seiko’s rules, on Seiko’s behalf—had changed something in her nature, something that’d barely been kept back this entire time.

Seiko’s chopsticks soon became littered in bite marks from Momo’s fangs. Momo had to start wearing headbands to school to hide her ears, and her red eyes shone with an eerie light that startled anyone who met her in the dark. Seiko even noticed Ken’s lips occasionally sporting a few nicks and cuts, and she had no illusions about where those had come from.

“Be careful, Momo,” Seiko said, one night when they were both hanging up laundry. “He’s mortal, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, and I’m not,” Momo said, turning sullen at the reminder. They hung up the laundry in silence for a while, though the whole moment felt like a wind-up toy as it slowly lost its momentum. When it finally wound down, Momo said the words that Seiko had been preparing for for some time now.

“I think I have to go back,” Momo said. “To the fae realm.”

Seiko had known that the words were coming. But that didn’t make them any easier to hear.

“Okay,” Seiko said, taking a deep breath. “Why now? Because of your…” She jerked her head toward Momo’s ears.

“No,” Momo said, holding her hands self-consciously to her ears. Then, she shrugged. “Well, maybe a little. But I’d always wondered what happened to that other Momo. It was easy to forget about it for a while, but now…” She looked off toward the mountains, tracing the sharp curve of her ear with one hand. “I can’t just leave her there, Granny. I have to help her.”

“She’s not going to be the same as you, Momo,” Seiko gently reminded her. “She was raised by the fae. With that kind of upbringing…” She hesitated, trying to figure out how to phrase this: the cruelty that could breed in a human among fae. Finally, she decided, “She might not be as kind as you are. She could be dangerous.”

“So?” Momo said fiercely. The red of her eyes shone bright as she turned her gaze back toward Seiko. “That’s no reason not to help somebody! You want me to leave her behind just because he’s different?”

“What if she doesn’t want your help, Momo?”

“And what if she does?” Momo grinned, her fangs sharp and glinting in the dimming light. “Besides, I’m not scared of her. I’m dangerous too.”

“Okay,” Seiko said, unable to stop herself from chuckling, even despite the circumstances. Maybe she’d done a decent job as a grandmother after all. “Okay. I’ll help you.”

“One more thing…” Momo said, averting her gaze. “I want to bring Okarun with too.”

Seiko’s brain grew hazy, clouds gathering there as she processed Momo’s words.

“You can’t,” Seiko said, trying to shake her head of them. “You know that’s breaking the rule.”

“No, the rule was never to approach the forest at all,” Momo said, crossing her arms. “And you already said I could do that, so why not bring another person? And I’ve already broken two of the rules anyway. What’s one more, if it’ll help the other Momo?”

Fucking fae loopholes. Seiko wanted to bang her head against the wall. She’d been too busy comforting a crying child at the time to focus on the precise wording of the rules. More the fool her.

“Momo,” Seiko said. “Bringing a human into the fae realm is dangerous. You going there is one thing, but him…There will be food and comforts there beyond his wildest dreams—and the instant he takes a bite, he’ll be trapped there forever.” Seiko shook her head. “What kind of medium would I be if I just let a kid walk right into that?”

“But he’s said he’d go with me,” Momo argued. “He wants to help other Momo just like I do!”

“He wants to help you,” Seiko said, snorting. “Because-”

“Because what?” Momo said, eyes shuttering. “Because I charmed him?”

“Because he loves you,” Seiko said gently. “Which is far more dangerous.”

“...But I love him too,” Momo murmured. “So I’ll protect him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t eat or drink anything there. I’ll keep him safe. I promise.” She hesitated, then said, “I’ll try to bring him back.”

Momo cannot lie. And yet, something in Seiko still felt uneasy about it all.

But what else was there to be done? No matter what she said, this wasn’t just a changeling she was dealing with–it was teenagers. They would find their own way to the fairy circle whether Seiko liked it or not. The least Seiko could do was help them get there safely.

And besides, Seiko thought, sighing deeply. Why shouldn’t the other Momo deserve our help too? I’ll be damned if my own granddaughter makes me into a hypocrite.

“Okay,” Seiko said. “Okay.”

They prepared over the course of a week, going over the supplies Momo and Ken would need and researching what they could about the particulars of the fae realm.

“Why aren’t you trying to stop me?” Momo said one night, while they were drafting some talismans for them to bring into the fae realm.

“You want me to?” Seiko asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, but…” Momo fumbled with the brush, ruining the talisman. She crumpled it up, the ink staining her fingers. Tears ran down her face and onto her hands, making the ink run watery and thin. “But if you were my real grandma, wouldn’t you want to?”

Oh, Momo. She’d always been terrible at bringing up this kind of stuff until it was forced out of her. Though, truth be told, that was less of a fae characteristic and more of an Ayase one. Seiko had never claimed to be the best role model.

“What?” Seiko said, wrapping her arms around her granddaughter in a hug. “You think that because we’re not related, I don’t love you like my own? I didn’t change your diapers just for you to think that.”

“I love you too,” Momo said, because she’d always been full of love. And then, because she was a damn selfish brat, she said, “I need you to miss me while I’m gone, okay? Then I’ll have to come back.”

“Oh, kid,” Seiko sighed. “There was no question of me missing you.”

“I’m just going to make sure other Momo is okay,” Momo said fiercely, squeezing Seiko tight and not letting go, as if Seiko were the one about to leave. “Then I’ll come back.”

“I know,” Seiko lied.

///

Seiko packed Momo and Ken’s bags, her chest heavy with more than just the weight of provisions and supplies. Seiko had mostly filled their bags with food, especially Ken’s, as he wouldn’t be able to eat anything in the fae realm.

But he could need more than just food to survive there. So, after their final dinner together—crab, because Seiko couldn’t help but make Momo’s favorites as if this were a last meal instead of just a going away dinner—Seiko shooed Momo off to go pray in the shrine and asked Ken to help with the dishes.

Ken was awkward, but he wasn’t socially inept, Seiko would give him that. Shortly after they started the washing, Ken said, “You think it’s a bad idea for me to come, don’t you?”

“You’d have to be a moron to think it’s a good idea,” Seiko snorted.

“It’s obviously dangerous,” Ken said, frowning at the dishes in his hands. “But that’s why I have to go. I can’t just let Momo do something like that alone.”

Eh, fuck the dishes. Seiko leaned against the counter, took a cigarette out of her pocket, and lit it. Lately—ever since Momo’s damn friend group had multiplied and chosen her house as their base of operations—Seiko had tried to smoke inside less, but well. They were about to be two fewer kids here anyway. Might as well smoke.

“You know what a favorite pastime of the fae is, kid?” Seiko asked, taking a drag.

“No…”

“Tricking mortals into stepping into fairy rings,” Seiko said, glancing out the window toward the shrine where Momo was. “Whisking them away, never to be seen again.”

The kid wasn’t stupid. He knew instantly what Seiko was implying. With a raised eyebrow, he said, “And you think that’s what Momo is trying to do to me…”

“Maybe not consciously,” Seiko said. “But she is fae, deep in her blood. It’s hard to say how deep that instinct goes, even if she doesn’t mean to do it. Even if she thinks she’s going there for perfectly altruistic reasons.”

“I’ve thought about that,” Ken confessed. At Seiko’s snort of surprise, he gave a nervous laugh. “I-I’d be stupid not to, right? But it’s Momo. Even if she somehow charmed me…But I don’t think she did. Momo’s never used my name, not even once. Not even when I started to forget her when she turned little.” Ken’s face split in a dopey smile. “I love her, Seiko-san. And she loves…everyone. I’ve never met anyone like that—someone who just took everyone at face value and loved them like it was nothing! A human’s never treated me like that…”

Ken looked Seiko in the eye, and there was no simpering, charmed fool there, but a determined young man. “If she is luring me, even without meaning to, then that’s okay. She said that we’re going to try to come back, and I trust her.”

“Kid…” Seiko laid a hand on Ken’s shoulder and squeezed. “Thank you.” And before he could ask what for—because god knew that Seiko didn’t have the strength to explain it—she added, “I have something for you.”

It’d been burning a hole in her pocket this entire night. It’d been burning a hole in her dresser for the past fourteen years. Seiko presented the iron dagger to Ken, trusting that the kid knew enough about the fae to know what it was for.

“I can’t…” Ken started, but Seiko held up a hand to interrupt him.

“I need you to be 100% aware of the risks before you do this,” Seiko said. “Otherwise I’ve failed in my duties as a priestess. Some would argue that I’ve already failed just by letting you do this.” But I’m more than used to that by now. Seiko took a deep breath. “Whether it’s Momo or another fae, there are all sorts of pitfalls for mortals in the fae realm, Ken Takakura. If you go—even despite Momo’s best intentions—you might never return. And even if you do, you will come back different. No mortal comes back from the fae realm completely unchanged. Are you ready for that?”

To the kid’s credit, he took the question seriously. He took the dagger from her, fingers massaging the hilt and eyes darting across the engraved surface, before he finally stuck it in his belt.

“I’ve already been cursed once, Seiko-san,” Ken said. “If I come back changed—o-or even if I don’t come back at all…I accept that. Being changed by Momo isn’t a bad thing.”

“I agree,” Seiko murmured. She sighed. “Then I can only wish you good luck. And I hope you come back.”

“We will,” Ken said, and maybe he was ignorant and maybe he was a fool, but Seiko wanted very badly to believe him.

When the time came, Seiko pointed them to the forest where they’d be most likely to find the fairy rings. She hugged Momo tight, and they didn’t whisper their love in each other’s ears, because it wasn’t what they usually did, and because they needed to act as if they would have time to say the words later.

Neither Momo nor Ken looked back as they began walking toward the forest, and Seiko was glad of it. She wasn’t sure if she would have been able to let them go if they had. Seiko watched the retreating figures until long after they’d vanished from her sight, until night snuffed out the dregs of dusk and made it too dark to see her own hands, let alone any kids searching for fairy rings in the forest. There wasn’t even moonlight to show the way; it was a new moon tonight.

At long last, Seiko turned around and began the long walk home. She didn’t let herself look back either, but instead looked up, toward where she knew the moon was supposed to be, and whispered a quick prayer. Let them find what they’re looking for. Let them return. Let no fae steal from us a fairy tale ending.

Even if the moon was listening, it held no dominion over the fae realm. But Seiko prayed anyway. And then, wiping her eyes, she made her way back to home, the god of the land guiding her way back even with no light to see by. When Seiko was finally inside her house, she paused, and then turned the porch light on. In case they decided to come back after all and needed something to guide them back.