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starlitwhispers · 2 months ago

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to another world, to another you limochi — 6000 words a/n: Happy early Birthday to my bff, my love, my heart!!!! i took some liberties here and there but i hope you enjoy this offshoot of your precious children i had sm fun writing them<3 @musubiki summary: The world is out of balance, something isn’t right. Mochi doesn’t know what it is, but she can feel it. She looks at Pom, who tilts her head, sensing her uncertainty. Something — something is missing… but what? ‘Him!’ A voice flashes in her mind, but she doesn’t know who ‘him’ is…

...

…

The bell rings. Her long, brown hair bounces as her body turns around from behind the counter. She smiles as she sees a regular patron come in, welcoming them. Somewhere, on one of the shelves of the lower counter, Pom lays curled into a ball. The day passes into obscurity. Stacking, sorting, a text from Coco here, a phone call from her mom there. She makes herself a nice warm drink, enjoys it in a free moment, and sees it is now 5 PM. Time to close up shop; her cardigan slips off her shoulder while she finagles into her bag searching for keys.

Right before she closes the door, she looks around the shop to make sure nothing is amiss. Something feels off. She can’t put a finger on it, so she shrugs her shoulders and lets the door close behind her. She’ll figure it out tomorrow. Her fingers turn with the key in the lock and she drops the carabiner clip back into her bag with a clink.

“Let’s head out Pom!” Mochi says to her familiar, happy and carefree. As she walks through the streets, the sun setting in the background paints the sky a blood orange. It’s a warm day in September, no sudden chills of autumn slipping by yet. When she walks through the front door of her home, her mother greets her from the kitchen.

“Oh, hi honey, how was your day?” Tiramisu asks, drying a casserole dish with a cloth.

“It was good! …I think,” Mochi responds, scratching the side of her neck and smiling sheepishly. Gently, she lets her bag slip off her shoulder and down her arm onto the couch.

Her mother blinks, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “You think? That reply doesn’t inspire confidence, you know.”

Suddenly, Mochi jerks upwards, her hands coming up and waving her mother off. “I really don’t mean to cause alarm or anything, I mean it. I just have been feeling strange today. Everything’s okay!”

And with that, Tiramisu strides across the living room to her daughter, her hand reaching out to grab her daughter’s chin, and giving her a bottom-up inspection. Mochi’s cheeks flare up in heat, embarrassed by her mother’s overprotectiveness.

“Hmmm,” Tiramisu muses. “You seem fine to me. Maybe you’re just tired, go upstairs and rest. I need you to deliver something tomorrow across town for me.”

“R-Really? Another delivery? Guess we’ve been doing pretty well lately, huh?” The brunette perks up, a little reassured her mother senses nothing off but also excited to make a delivery.

“Yes, well, the M34TH hasn’t really been turning their noses up in the area for a while, so it makes for pretty good foot traffic for magic users around here. But remember, if you ever see that white uniform, try to discreetly walk away — or if they come up to you, act like you know nothing because—”

“Yes, yes, I know mom,” Mochi cuts in, pulling her cardigan tighter around her body to hug herself. “You’ve drilled it in that they aren’t company to keep for… witches like us.”

“Right, good, I’m glad you remembered,” her mother nods, turning back to the kitchen.

Mochi has yet to meet anyone from the M34TH, so in her mind, everyone from the M34TH is bad. She’s caught glimpses of their officers in the distance whenever she’s on the outskirts of town, but really, she’s never come anywhere close to them. The idea of coming in contact with anyone from the regiment… It frightens her. As she slogs up the stairs and into her bedroom, her body drops onto her bed.

Pom has jumped up beside her, propped up and sitting. Her own mother says everything seems fine, but for some reason, she can’t shake the feeling. Again, just as she did at the bookstore, she looks about her bedroom. Everything is in its place, nothing out of turn. Something feels like it’s gone. Her phone buzzes. It’s Coco asking when they can hang out. An odd sensation sweeps over Mochi’s body, as she taps out of the conversation and sees her conversations with other contacts. ‘Mom,’ ‘Coco,’ ‘Oscar,’ and that is it… Of course, there were various numbers from old classmates and the like, but within her circle of immediate persons to talk to, that is it. She blinks, and then shoves her face in her pillow.

She lifts her face from the pillow, sighing. She knows she should trust her mom, but this is a feeling she knows she cannot deny. Even if it is just her who can sense it, so be it. This must be a mission only she as the cat witch can handle. The world is out of balance, something isn’t right. Mochi doesn’t know what it is, but she can feel it. She looks at Pom, who tilts her head, sensing her uncertainty. Something — something is missing… but what? ‘Him!’ A voice flashes in her mind, and her body jolts up at the strange voice calling out to her. Someone is missing? But she doesn’t know who ‘him’ is…

Her eyes glance over at her alarm clock, it’s 6:30. Dinner should be ready. Mochi slowly tumbles out of bed, a headache growing behind her eyes. The frustration is beginning to burn with every blink, maybe she really is just tired? No, that isn’t it. And she knows it.

The natural forces are affecting her; the essences and spirits are trying to let her know what is amiss. And her body is too immature to take it all in at once. She takes her seat at the table, her mother preparing dinner and setting it down. They spend the entirety of the meal talking about Tiramisu’s plans for both of them tomorrow; her mother will be headed to the inner capitol for a day or two due to restocking on certain ingredients, and Mochi will be traveling to the other side of town to make the delivery.

Mochi quietly eats her portion of dinner, not a lot as her appetite wanes in the anxiety and uncertainty, and excuses herself to an early retirement for the night. She takes a bath in silence, her face gently bobbing above the waterline as she watches the steam rise to the ceiling. She dries herself, blow-dries her hair, lotions her body, and slips a big t-shirt on. She curls up into a ball into bed, Pom following suit after she turns the light off.

“You know I can tell something weighs on your mind,” Pom says in the darkness, with Mochi’s back facing her.

“Mhmm.. mmm… mmhpphm…!” Mochi mumbles into her pillow, deliberately groaning to herself in self-pity.

“Hah?!” Pom yaps at her.

At that moment, Mochi springs up, turning to look down at her cat familiar. “I said, do you think it’s possible to forget something, and not be able to know what it is?!”

“Cannot say I do, is that not the whole point about forgetting? Being unable to recall it?”

The witch takes a breath, calming down. “Yeah, I would suppose you’re right. But I just can’t shake like I’m forgetting something really big, or like there’s something missing. Do you think I left something at the shop?”

“No, I saw you look around anyhow. If you are that worried, just do one of the reminder spells, we can grab the stuff you need tomorrow.”

Taking Pom’s suggestion to heart, Mochi relaxes. “Y-Yeah! You’re right, I don’t know why I’m getting so worked up! We’ll just get the ingredients tomorrow, and then I’ll have an answer for sure.”

Laying back down, she stares at the ceiling. Tomorrow will be better. They have a delivery, when she drops the delivery off, she can pick up the ingredients she needs since they’re common items anyway. She loosens up a little more, closing her eyes. She likes when she has deliveries on the other side of town, more walking; it means she’ll have to take the route on the outskirts of town to get there.

Tomorrow will be better.

And boy, is she wrong about that.

The next morning starts off nothing short of normal. Her mother has already up and left for the capitol, and Mochi eats breakfast with Pom. She grabs her bag off the couch where she put it yesterday, and retrieves the parcel Tiramisu prepared the night before for delivery. Slipping her shoes on, she’s ready to make her way through town to deliver this package. Pom follows at her heels as she locks the door behind her and begins making her way through the streets. It’s quite a long walk, approximately 1 hour to reach the destination, but she thinks she could use the exercise anyway. These are the moments she wishes her mother would allow her to use her broom, but it’s bright out.

About fifteen minutes into it, she arrives at the outskirts of town to reach the route which will take her straight there. And right before she reaches it, as she walks down a narrow path through some buildings, white fabric flashes into her eyesight. Exactly what her mother told her the evening before to be aware of. An officer from the M34TH. Immediately, her heart starts racing, as this tall individual has caught sight of her as well. She barely has time to react and think before her body moves on its own, she turns and starts running away with Pom ahead of her.

Tears well in the corners of her eyes as she runs away from him, she doesn’t dare turn back to look at him, but she can feel him on her heels. He’s close. Gasping for air, all she needs is to make it out of this narrow alleyway and she’ll be amongst other throngs of people. No way he can catch her then. Just feet before she hits a main road, she entertains the idea of turning her head back for a second.

And she regrets this.

Instantaneously, her eyes are met with green irises staring back into hers, she’s been overtaken already. He has grabbed her and gently forces her against the wall of the alley, it’s quiet as both of them pant. She finally takes a good look at the officer, his bright green eyes, as lush and colorful as the new spring leaves of a dogwood, piercing into her gaze, with short orange hair underneath his cap. Air catches in her throat, her mind doesn’t want to admit it, but her heart already has by the way it skips. He’s extremely handsome, a little too handsome to be on the wrong side.

His large hands hold onto both sides of her arms, almost squeezing her together as his tall body bends over her, looking down. He isn’t looking at her with hostility, in fact, something about his stare is dripping with affection just like the sweat on his temple. And as if the sudden sprints and attack on her heart from physical charms haven’t been enough, the words that come out of his mouth almost send her spiraling.

“Mochi, why would you run from me?” He breathes heavily, speaking all too familiarly with her.

Her pink eyes go wide, her eyebrows rising in surprise and alert. He knows her name? Just how much information does the M34TH have on her already? Instantly, she goes into panic mode, terrified of the man before, no matter how gorgeous he is. Now she really wishes she had her broom. She turns her head slightly to the side, to see Pom looking at her cautiously.

“Moch? Are you going to answer me?” The officer asks again, this time almost frantic undertones in his voice.

The cat witch thinks carefully for a moment, about whether or not to answer him. Right now, she’s looking at him as if he has three heads, and is curious if a tail is about to sprout from his rear end in a moment from the way he’s addressing her so intimately. Her lips press into a thin line and air exhales from her nose. In a swift motion, she shakes his grip off her and he fumbles a little back. Huh, she thinks, he’s not that strong after all.

Which is false. Truly, the officer hadn’t been holding her down against her will, or very tightly at all; it’s his last intention to harm her — unbeknownst to the witch, of course. He now stands a step or two from Mochi, his face contorted in frustration.

“Are you joking around with me right now? Come on Moch, it’s me, Lime,” he says, the curve of his mouth turning downward. Something about his sudden burst of despondency feels genuine and tugs at her heart.

“I-I don’t know anyone named Lime,” she finally answers him, turning her face towards the ground and stepping further away from him.

With her moving away from him, he steps towards her, a hand reaching for hers, which she reflexively pulls away. “Mochi, we grew up together, we went to school together, we’re best friends, we… love each other,” Lime pleads with her, his words spilling out of his mouth like he’s trying to conjure up his own spell.

“I’m sorry, I think you must have me mistaken for another Mochi,” the brunette asserts, her shoe dragging backwards, attempting to further the distance between them some more.

“There’s no way you forgot me,” he turns his head up, regaining confidence and talking himself through it. “Yeah, some weird thing happened again, I don’t know how but I just woke up on the outskirts of town, and now that I’ve finally found you, I’m sure you must’ve just messed around with some magic a little too much and you’ve forgotten me somehow.”

Forgot.

Hearing his voice say the word ‘forgot’ is like lightning striking. For a second, she looks at him, clear as day. Her? Forget this man? Strange, her eyes observe him from the foot to the top of his head, but nothing about his visage sparks a memory. Strange, she continues to think, as his voice, his presence, something about him feels like a memory. Like she really has known him her whole life, and she could be forgetting—

“Don’t let him trick you, cat witch,” Pom breaks into her thoughts, sensing her student letting her walls down around this officer. “He may be beguiling you with some M34TH gadget we cannot see!”

Immediately Mochi puts her guard back up, hesitantly furrowing her eyebrows back at him. Pom isn’t wrong, that could totally be the case; but something inside her just wants to believe him.

“Oh, for the love of—!” he groans to himself. “Pom, I know you don’t like me, but you know I would never hurt Mochi!”

Pom circles around him, her tail wiggling as she sizes him up and her snout crinkling at his scent. After a solid moment, she returns to Mochi’s feet, standing in between them. “I do not know any M34TH officers acquainted with my student, but you are quite a strange human… You smell different.”

“Different, Pom?” Mochi asks, crouching down to her. The black cat nods her head, and then scratches the back of her ear with her hind leg.

“Yes, almost like he is not from here.”

Lime sighs in exasperation, his shoulders weeping. “I grew up here, I know this place like the back of my hand, just like the way I know you, Mochi.”

For some reason, his assertion picks at her, and she finds herself frustrated, standing up to face him at eye level. “And just what does someone like you know about me? I would have never tangled myself up with the likes of the M34TH!”

“I know you struggled with school, you hated it because it was hard to balance with becoming a witch at sixteen, I know where you live because I lived across the street from you, I know you lost your powers at one point in high school due to your nasty aunt, I know you overthink things and worry too much, I know you’ll only drink coffee with a shit ton of sugar in it, just like I know a million other little things about you,” he says in one breath, panting and smirking like he’s just proved a point.

However, it has the opposite effect. Mochi begins recoiling, hugging herself and evidently creeped out by the amount of information this man has on her. But at the same time, he continues to speak about her and to her as if they really have known each other all this time… what if, just maybe…?

“Compose yourselves,” Pom speaks, raising a paw. “I wasn’t done talking. I did not mean you were not from this town, but rather, this world. It could be very likely you belong to another dimension, and some forces of magic have to do with it—”

“That’s not possible,” Lime cuts in. “I have incredibly high magic resistance, the highest in the regiment. You would need to be ridiculously powerful to have an effect on me.”

Pom then looks at Mochi, who turns her head down. “If what you say is true, then look no further. The witch right here is more than capable of sending you back to your original world. Although I find it hard to believe my student in another realm would befriend the likes of you.”

The cat witch stands there, looking at Pom, and then the officer. It truly sounds as if Pom also believes he isn’t from here, and the way he speaks really makes it sound as if they were friends. Another thought strikes her. Didn’t he previously say ‘love’? He and this other Mochi were lovers?! Heat rushes to her face, daring to entertain the idea. In her 21 years of life, she has never fallen in love with anyone. And this man, no less an officer from the M34TH, is apparently her beloved in another realm?

“Well, no use in trying to think about it more,” Pom continues talking. “Cat witch, take out your notebook and pen, we should write down the direct coordinates where he fell into the plane of existence. You — do you remember exactly where you awoke?”

Mochi allows a strap from her bag to fall off her shoulder, scrambling to grab her book and pen. She shuffles over to Lime, her hands moving all about to open the book to a blank page, where she suddenly grasps onto her pen a little too tight and presses the tip into the paper a little too deeply, breaking the pen and squirting ink.

All over Lime.

The tall officer in white abruptly jumps, looking down at himself in disarray. A brief “oh no,” releases from Mochi’s lips as she gawks at his mess of an outfit. Pom looks away and shakes her head at the scene. And that is how the odd trio ended up returning to Mochi’s home, to allow him to clean up himself. It’s fine, the witch thinks to herself as she places her bag back onto the couch, the delivery isn’t anticipated until later in the afternoon at the latest, and this gives her and Pom some time to write up a game plan.

A very, very strange quest has unfolded right before her, and she feels a responsibility to this ‘Lime’ knowing that another Mochi once dearly loved him. If it is true that another her loved him, she trusts herself… kind of. She tilts her head, her thoughts stopping her in her tracks. Such an odd conversation she continues to ponder, imagining another universe out there with another her. And somehow, she fell in love with an officer from the M34TH. As she works through this conceptual situation in her mind, she hands a towel to Lime, asking him to leave his top outside the door while he showers.

There’s a quick potion she has handy in a cabinet that will take the stains right out and fix his clothes right up. After she removes the stains, she notices it is noon and feels a grumble in her stomach. So she heads to the kitchen to whip up lunch. She silently goes into her zone as she chops an onion on the cutting board, not realizing that Lime has finished up and… exited the bathroom shirtless.

He stands there, his arm reaching for the top of the doorway, his temple touching the wood as he smirks in Mochi’s direction with beads of water trailing down his body. “Hmmm,” he hums, catching her attention.

When her pink eyes notice him, pecs and all, her face immediately blushes a crimson hue, having never eyed a man’s body so closely and intimately before. She does not say anything as he stalks towards her, his shirt dragging in one of his hands. Mochi turns back to the cutting board on the counter, reciting in her head ‘focus Mochi, focus,’ as she chops up the onion. This, she instantly regrets, as Lime comes up from behind her, placing a hand beside hers on the counter.

“Oooh, food — smells good like always,” he says gently to her, his breath hot in her ear. She carries on with the knife, trying with everything in her body to not cut herself in a fluster.

“I-If you don’t mind,” she finally retorts. “Could you please back away? I’m trying to prepare lunch.”

She hears a husky chuckle release from Lime’s mouth, where he responds instantly. “How about no? How about Mochi harassment hour!”

At which he grabs at the choker on her neck, that he knows is sensitive, and laughs wholeheartedly. However, this does not amuse Mochi, who instead feels somewhat violated by this stranger, but at the same time self-conscious regarding all the insinuations. So, she pushes him away in a huff.

“I don’t know anything called Mochi harassment hour! I’m not your Mochi, do you understand? So please just put a shirt on, and we can eat lunch and I can gather what I need to send you back!” She exclaims in one breath, her shoulders bobbing up and down in agitation.

In the next moment, she realizes what she has done. That isn’t like her at all. Her eyebrows immediately release in remorse, her opalescent eyes turning to the side. Quietly, she turns back around, returning to the task she has at hand. Lime, on the other hand, is equally frustrated and dejected. But, what he has to say surprises her.

“In the event you’re unable to send me back, I swear I’ll make you fall in love with me again, Moch,” he states, his voice low and serious.

A second passes, and she hears him silently slip out of the home and out the door. She assumes he’s going out for some air, he seems like the type to need that after a confrontation like that. After she hears the door close all the way, she drops the knife from her hand and covers her cheeks with her palms. What on earth was that? She thinks to herself, her face burning a bright red, her heart pounding at the proximity they shared. No man has ever touched her neck before, no man has ever been so close to her skin before…

Make her fall in love with him… again?! And he sounds so confident, it’s almost disgustingly… charming. He’s so charming, and something about his presence does something to her. She cannot explain it, but she is naturally drawn to him, wanting to stick around him. And she just met him this morning. Yet, everything inside her is betraying her heritage as a witch. She’s been stuck on this question: how on earth did other Mochi fall in love with an officer from the M34TH?

She clenches a fist in front of the stove, finally understanding how. Because it seems, even in other dimensions, they are inexplicably drawn to one another.

In all her life, no one has ever inspired such feelings in her. And all of a sudden, her self-proclaimed lover from another world has spun her out of her wits. She now also begins to doubt herself again, what if she isn’t able to send him back? What if she isn’t as strong as she and Pom think she is, and he really is too resistant to magic? What if, in the most ridiculous possible thought to entertain, she is okay with him being stuck here?

Minutes pass as she sets the table with dinnerware and Lime serendipitously returns into the home, sitting at the table as if he’s done it a million times before. They eat their meal in silence, until the very end, where Lime breaks the quietude by acting normal and teasing her, as if nothing happened 20 minutes ago. After lunch, Pom and Mochi re-set out for the delivery, their party of two now a party of an unexpected three.

They make their way through town without hazard, and as they trek closer and closer to their destination, Lime complains like a child dragging his feet.

“It’s not that big of a deal, I’m sure there’s some spell that will reverse everything and you’ll remember me again,” he says, waving an arm up in the air.

“That’s kind of hard to do, if you never existed in the first place,” Pom answers, to which Lime narrows his eyes indignantly.

“I’m sure if I were to remember you, I probably would have by now,” Mochi mumbles to herself, thinking a little deeper about the situation. Truly, could she have ever forgotten someone like him if they really had met in this world? She thinks not.

“Besides,” Mochi brightens up her voice, smiling at Lime. “The person we’re delivering to will be able to give us some good advice! They’re quite knowledgeable about the magic world.”

An eyebrow of Lime’s raises in curiosity as they walk deeper into the streets, coming to a part of town that is eerily familiar to him. Immediately, they overhear an older woman admonishing someone, a whizzing sound through the air as her long, oaken staff comes into view while she swings it.

“No, no, not like that you heathen!” The small, short, yet absurdly agile, old woman chastises her apprentice, who shrugs his shoulders with a care-free grin.

The young M34TH officer’s expression immediately perks up on sight of the apprentice, rushing over to him with a smile. This startles Mochi and Pom, who stand idly by to watch the moment unfold.

“Well what do you know, it’s Oscar!” Lime rushes over to him, ready to put an arm around him for a noogie. Just like earlier when he reached for Mochi’s hand, Oscar reflexively moves away, unsettled by a M34TH officer suddenly acting like he knows him. As Oscar moves away, his cape swishes to the side, revealing both of his arms. “Woah, you’ve still got both your arms, too!”

“What — What the heck Mochi, who the hell is this guy?” Oscar asks nonplussed, his hands grabbing onto their opposing arms and holding them against his body. As if reliving this morning, but replacing Mochi with Oscar, the brunette steps further away from Lime, eyeing him in suspicion.

“H-Hold up there, Oscar,” Mochi steps in, putting herself between them. “This is… Lime. Pom thinks he’s from another universe, one where he and I grew up together, and I guess, apparently you too by the way he’s talking to you.”

For a minute, Oscar looks Lime up and down and then brings his gaze back to Mochi, his head tilting to the side in disbelief. “Are you sure?” the brunette muses, his voice slightly lower in volume as he speaks to the cat witch.

“Oh, he’s certainly not your average, crusty, old officer! That’s guaranteed,” the elderly woman cuts in, waving her staff. “Quite a strange thing happened to you, huh?”

She stops herself in front of Lime, her circular glasses flashing as she looks up at him from the height of his knees. Her staff stands right next to her, its golden bauble dangling from the top which Lime can see his own reflection.

“You’re tellin’ me, lady,” Lime agrees with her, his expression blank and his lips pressed into a line.

“You can tell, too, Madam Springs?” Mochi asks her, a little relief resounding in her tone.

Madam Springs then turns to Mochi, looking up at her face in consternation. “You can sniff him out already? My, the power of the cat is utterly terrifying all right.”

“Oh no, Pom was the one who noticed it! I had no clue at all,” she renounces the woman’s statement, shaking her head.

“Ah, I see,” Madam Springs replies, growing quiet. “Well! Good luck with that.”

And she starts waddling away.

“W-Wait! Madam Springs, I was hoping to ask for your expertise on the matter!” Mochi moves to stand in front of her, her expressions pleading with the woman. “And besides, we have your order! Don’t you need this?”

With that, Mochi pulls a small parcel from her bag, handing it over to Madam Springs. The short lady glances at it, takes it from her hand, and then throws it over her shoulder in Oscar’s direction. Oscar, acting as if this is nothing new, immediately rushes forward to catch the package in time.

“Expertise? What would I know about some kid who jumped through dimensions or whatever?” Her oaken staff waves in the air again, trying to pass off the witch.

“I mean, you have lived a long time, there’s gotta be something you know,” Oscar slips in, shrugging his shoulders.

Her head instantaneously whips around, glaring at him. “Why you—!”

And while the old woman swings her stick with all her might in Oscar’s direction, with Mochi attempting to deescalate the situation, Lime stands off to the side, watching. As if he’s not even present, everyone argues about him, his circumstances, and all he can feel is… loneliness. It’s as if Mochi has disappeared all over again — although she’s right in front of him — and he can’t contribute anything to help.

His gloved hand grips at the fabric forming a fist, a squeak sounding from the material rubbing so hard. But it’s like a drop in the ocean, again, with no one to notice. Not even Mochi. He senses himself growing frustrated, because being helpless is the last thing he ever wants to feel. This world isn’t his? These people in front of him aren’t his? No one remembers or knows him? He never thought he would see the day when Lime Goldwood became… irrelevant and unknown. And that’s not to say with an arrogant air — it’s just that he’s always been… someone.

And now he is no one.

His green eyes flash over the cat witch again. What if he’s unable to go back? He would have to start all over again with Mochi. How could he make her love him again? Make her? No, he shakes his head in disgust of himself. Mochi isn’t someone to be won or made to do something. She comes to her own decisions, has her own preferences, is her own person — that’s the reason why he fell for her in the first place.

While he’s thinking to himself, the rest have calmed down and begun discussing the situation at hand. Madam Springs contemplates on the problem aloud, humming to herself intently.

“I’ll say you have your work cut out for you,” the woman says to Mochi. “He’s a tough one, a black canvas. You’ll be needing a lot of stamina to send him back.”

“But it is doable?” the witch asks.

“Well sure, but like I said, lots of stamina.”

Mochi looks at Lime, and then at Pom. But Pom stares back, her expression unnerving and straight. Mochi knows exactly what that means, and it means Pom’s leaving the decision up to her. She makes the choice about sending Lime back, and that’s if she can. He’s a black canvas, she’s never tried magic on someone like that before.

Her eyes return to Lime, who’s gazing back somberly. She doesn’t know why, but she senses a great deal of uncertainty in him; and she doesn’t blame him one bit. The idea has been hard for her to grasp — well, not so much really, since she is a witch — but more difficult to come to terms with this man being someone she loves in another timeline. If she herself had been thrown through a dimension, into a world just like the one she grew up in, only to find no one she cares for remembers her, much less the person she’s in love with, well…

Safe to say, she breaks her own heart thinking about it.

And she admires him for a long second, because he has the mind and strength to deal with it far more confidently than her. In the soft silence, with murmurs of passersbys and distant car noises, she nods at both Pom and Lime. It’s the right thing to send him back; it’s her duty as the cat witch to restore balance.

They say their farewells to Oscar and Madam Springs — who wish them good luck on their endeavors to send Lime back — and tread their way back to her home. As they walk back, Pom advises Mochi to rest for the night, so that tomorrow morning her strength will be optimal to cast the spell. Approaching the house, dusk has already begun to scatter across the sky in hues of lilacs and roses from the setting sun. It has been a long day, indeed.

Mochi’s heart feels worn out, as she watches Pom head inside. Lime lingers behind her, he’s been eerily quiet the entire route home, and she’s not too sure if it’s because he’s hungry or what. Perhaps she should start dinner soon—

“Moch,” he starts earnestly, breaking into her thoughts. “Will you be okay tomorrow? I don’t… I don’t want you to send me back, if you’re at risk for being hurt.”

His concern startles her, and then she eases into it quickly, as she done with all the feelings he’s flung at her today, as if they’ve been doing it for years. Of course he’s worried about the person he most fervently loves.

And that’s her.

But not her at the same time. She has to remind herself.

Gently, she shakes her head, her hair bouncing in the movement and a small smile of reassurance across her lips. “I wouldn’t have agreed if I couldn’t do it, besides you—” she stops herself for a moment, unsure if she should finish. She’s not trying to hurt feelings, whether or not they’re his or hers; at this point she doesn’t know whose she's hurting. “You don’t belong here, Lime. This isn’t the world you were born in, this isn’t your world.”

“Any world with you in it is my world,” he replies, steadfast and sincere.

She feels a hiccup in her heart, a flutter in her chest, an unspeakable response to the waxing poetic he spouts at her like it’s nothing. She’s left speechless as the sun finally rolls down, leaving them in the glimmer of the streetlamp overhead. A faint gust brushes by their ankles, her face beating red, his green eyes unwavering.

“No matter the time, dimension, world, or realm—”

He steps closer, the streetlight shining over his face. There’s something in the air, some kind of chill, making the hair on the back of her neck stand. And it’s like there’s a hand over her heart, gripping it intensely, deftly, as he confesses to her how much he loves her.

“I’ve always been yours, Moch.”

Goosebumps fleck across her body. Her heart beats rapidly and her cheeks burn. Summer’s supposed to end this month, the heat’s to blame. It’s confusing her, how it’s cold in the morning and hot in the afternoons. It’s not… him. It’s not. To do right by her role, to do right by her birth, she must send him back.

“I have to do it,” she breathes out, her eyes growing red.

His gaze softens on her, stepping closer and bending down. His fingers gingerly and tenderly tilt her chin up at him, and he does exactly what she has feared the most to experience.

They kiss.

It’s affectionate, delicate, and bittersweet. It's warm and impossible to take in. It's rough but kind. It's slow, but not slow enough. It’s everything she’s wished for and wanted, yet not at the same time. He slowly pulls away, giving her a loving and emotional smile.

“I know,” is all he says in a low cadence. He walks inside the home, leaving her at the front of the house. Night has fully fallen by now, and she is alone with the stars and space. He’s shaken her resolve, he’s shaken her whole world. Her eyes flicker up to the sky, asking the universe for an answer she knows she won’t receive.

Tonight is a full moon. The perfect night for a witch to rest.

Somehow, Mochi is able to lull herself to sleep that evening. Perhaps it is the heavy weight of responsibility on her shoulders, or the slim chance she messes up the spell; but she knows how paramount it is for her to receive her rest. It is a still night.

When dawn breaks, she awakes with a serious expression, looking out her window at the pale orange sky and seeing the sun in the horizon. It is time. She leaves her bed and readies herself for the day, meeting Pom and Lime at the bottom of the stairs. He’s quiet, Pom’s quiet. They head down to the basement to prepare for the spell. Since it’s a type of transportive spell, she needs to draw a circle with Lime standing in the middle. She uses her white chalk sparingly, the scratch noises screeching as she etches into the ground.

After writing the last sigil, she wipes her nose with the back of her hand and stands back to read her work. She has to make sure all the proper markings are there. Afterwards, she takes a deep breath. Mochi turns to Lime.

“It’s ready, can you stand in the middle?” she asks him, almost hesitantly.

He nods his head and struts over to the middle of the circle. She initiates muttering the incantations, and suddenly gales begin to rise and twist around them; the sigils on the ground start to glow and shine brighter as she continues speaking. Mochi can feel the magic begin to drain from her body — it’s not something so simple as time travel — time travel is against the witches’ laws. This spell is about sending someone to another dimension. Something almost unfathomable to Mochi. This is an entirely too powerful spell to cast.

But she has to. For both of their sakes.

Lime can see the distress surfacing in her face; his brows knit in worry and his lips are pressed into a line in heartache. He clenches his fist, he holds down his tongue until he can’t anymore.

“Mochi, please, remember, you don’t have to do this if it hurts you,” he entreats her, a pained smile across his mouth. He’s trying to reassure her, it simply doesn’t matter to him. They could be apart in universes, galaxies, dimensions — but he would always find her. Even if she didn’t remember him. And Mochi realizes this. And his words cut like a knife on her heart, because more than anything, she’s come to terms with their undeniable connection.

She almost takes everything back in that very instant; but in a swift second she knows. She knows it’s time. He’s not her Lime, and she’s not his Mochi. She smiles to herself with her eyelids welling up, the winds and forces sweeping up around her and Lime — almost becoming a violent tornado with the two of them at the center — his green iridescent eyes staring back into her fiery pink gaze. That’s a lie. No matter where, no matter when, just as he said last night, he’d always be hers and she would always be his.

For once, she’s jealous of herself.

��Goodbye, Lime.”

It all fades to black.

…

The bell rings. Her long, brown hair bounces as her body turns around from behind the counter. She smiles as she sees him standing in the doorframe, an all too commonplace smirk spread across his mouth.

“Come on, Moch,” he tilts his head with a husky plea. “It’s almost dinnertime and I’m starving.”

“All right, all right, let me grab my things,” she answers, quickly grabbing her bag and Pom following at her heels. As she heads to meet him at the door, she turns around, looking about the store. A moment passes, she breathes out.

“What’s up?” Lime asks, an eyebrow raising in curiosity.

She turns back to him, her cheeks tint rose-colored. “Nothing,” she starts, heading out the door and naturally taking the tall officer’s hand into hers. “There’s nothing wrong at all.”

Everything is just right, as it should be.

#musubiki #the cat witchs guild #limochi #tcwg #the misc adventures of mochi & lime #tmaomal #lime goldwood #mochi catbelle #honestly i had sm fun writing this it was a blast i love stephs children with all my heart <3 #i hope u enjoy them my beloved!!!!!!#happy birthday to uuuuuuu #you are a national treasure<3 #MY national treasure lmao #well OUR national treasure (mine and stellas >:))

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mochiwrites · 2 years ago

Text

The desert is quiet.

It’s rare for it to be so still.

Whether there be people yelling, Scar scamming, the bleats from Pizza, the sounds of bunnies scampering around, or even the crickets during night fall. There is always sound.

Tonight, there is not.

Tonight, the desert is completely silent. It is as if the desert has silenced itself and it’s inhabitants in preparation of the coming death that will surely paint its sand tomorrow.

Not even the crickets make noise.

Up on the hill is a base. Maybe in another world it would be called a home. But that would imply that it is someplace safe. Welcoming. Something built on love.

But this tower of sandstone and birch is built on debt. It is built out of necessity. It is meant for protection, but that does not make it safe. It is a base. A shelter.

It is not a home.

There are lights on inside. Even with the moon raised high in the sky, both occupants are still wide awake. Neither are sleeping, not for a long while. They know death awaits them.

Rather than sleeping, they occupy themselves.

Grian sits on the floor, clipped wings tucked in as he rifles through their chests. He’s prepping any last minute things they might need. His brows are pinched tight, lips set firmly in determination.

On the edge of the bed rests Scar, who is watching him. To any outsider, he may seem relaxed. Comfortable. And maybe there is a part of him that is. But his eyes give it away. They’re stormy, clouded and dark. He is filled with thought as he considers what tomorrow might bring him.

“We could die tomorrow,” he says, shattering the silence the desert worked oh so very hard to create.

Grian continues rifling through their supplies, unaffected, “You won’t. That’s what the obsidian box is for.”

“There’s still a chance.” Scar shrugs, even though Grian can’t see it. The avian offers a slight hum of acknowledgement. He doesn’t turn around to face Scar.

The silence returns, and Scar goes back to his staring. He tries to drink in the sight of Grian in this base. Tries to memorize how it feels to be in his space. To have him at his side.

Neither of them have forgotten that Grian is only here until he’s yellow.

As much as Scar may want to believe that he’s managed to make a partner out of Grian, he knows the truth. Grian is a survivor. He is calculated. Careful. He is playing to win, and being with Scar will not grant him that.

Their partnership goes no further than a man trying to repay a debt for a mistake.

Grian is only here out of obligation. Out of guilt.

Scar is very aware of this. He has repeatedly told himself this. Yet that doesn’t stop his hope. It doesn’t stop the fact that he so desperately wants to believe that Grian will stay past his yellow life. He wants to believe somewhere along the lines, Grian stopped thinking about their partnership as an obligation. That he looks at Scar as something more.

But that probably isn’t true.

Scar has forced himself to accept the fact that Grian is something temporary. Something even less temporary than this game. He has forced himself to accept that Grian will leave. So he savors every moment he has with him while he can.

And alone on his mountain, he will sit with his memories for company.

He’s known from the beginning that this wasn’t going to last. And he thinks he’s okay with that.

(He’s not. He wants Grian to stay so bad that he aches. He yearns. Scar wants nothing more than to reach for Grian, to pull him close and keep him at his side. They’re partners. He doesn’t want Grian to leave him.)

Tomorrow, Grian will most likely be free from him. With what they have planned…

Scar’s gaze flickers to the avian once more. “You’ll be leaving tomorrow,” he hums, as if it were a fact.

Grian stills. “Scar…” he trails off, and Scar wishes he were better at understanding him. With just a single utterance of his name, Grian leaves Scar wondering what’s going on inside his head. He sounds solemn, resigned. Or maybe relieved? Happy? Defeated?

Forcing out a light chuckle, Scar lifts his hands up in surrender, “It’s fine, it’s fine! Really, G, I won’t hold it against you!” He doesn’t. God knows he could never hold it against him. “Your freedom awaits you! Are you budding with anticipation?”

Grian is silent. He drops his hand from the chest, ignoring the open lid. Slowly, he stands up and turns around, allowing Scar to see his face.

Yet even with his silent permission, Scar still can’t make anything of his eyes. His gaze is guarded, his face set neutral. Stoic.

He calmly walks over to Scar, moving to press himself between Scar’s legs.

Scar’s hands twitch, wanting to hold his waist.

Grian looks at him, “I’m most likely going to go yellow tomorrow.”

Scar’s heart clenches painfully in his chest.

“Which means my debt will be repaid and I’ll be free to do as I please,” Grian declares, and Scar knows this. He is painfully aware of it. He knows that he will lose Grian as soon as he’s no longer green. He’s been preparing himself for the loss since he brought Grian to the desert on Pizza.

He hasn’t allowed himself to reach for Grian the way he wants to because he knows he is going to lose him. He has kept just a bit of distance from Grian, never closing in, if only to keep his heart a little safer.

With Grian so close to him, his throat feels dry. He can see the way Grian’s brown eyes darken with the burning light from the lanterns. How that brown is molten, deep and mesmerizing. Up close like this, Scar wants to trace every light detail of Grian’s face with his fingers, to commit it all to memory.

He does not.

“Tomorrow,” Scar echoes, “you’ll be free.”

Grian nods. Though there is nothing enthusiastic about it as Scar assumed there would be. Perhaps earlier in their partnership there might have been. Scar never missed the way Grian’s voice sounded whenever he reminded him of their arrangement. There was always impatience laced with his words, some subtle excitement.

Now? He doesn’t hear any of it.

Instead, he hears hesitation.

“I leave tomorrow,” Grian repeats, and it almost sounds like he’s trying to sound convincing. To whom, Scar isn’t sure.

There’s no question about it. They both know Grian will most likely be a causality in their fight against Dogwarts tomorrow. They’re outnumbered, even with Scott and Jimmy at their side. And if he isn’t killed by their enemy, then surely he’ll be caught up in the tnt.

“I lose you tomorrow,” Scar forces himself to admit, as if it’s the final nail in the coffin. The final piece of evidence to prove what Scar has been telling himself this entire time. He just wishes his voice didn’t tremble.

Something in Grian’s gaze weakens, and for a moment, Scar is let in. He sees a hint of conflict in Grian’s beautiful brown eyes, and Scar wonders why it’s there.

And then, there are arms settling around Scar’s shoulders. It makes him freeze, eyes slowly widening as he looks at the man in front of him. “G..?” he asks.

“I’m turning yellow tomorrow,” Grian says, and his eyes are suddenly burning with flames. “And I’m choosing you.”

Scar’s heart stutters. He continues to gaze up at Grian with bewilderment, and his hands twitch once more. He doesn’t deny them, reaching up to settle his palms on Grian’s waist. “What?” Scar questions him very quietly, voice hardly above a whisper. It’s almost like he’s afraid speaking any louder will make Grian change his mind.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Grian snorts, something playful in his eyes. “You heard me. I’m staying. I want to see this through with you to the end.”

Scar doesn’t react for a moment, just in case he’s dreaming. He waits for this image of Grian to disappear and melt away in his mind. He waits to lose the feeling of warmth around him. He waits to wake up in bed, alone and very cold.

But it never comes.

Grian remains where he is, arms resting on Scar’s shoulders.

Scar kisses him.

#mochi writes #scarian #trafficshipping #yes hi I was possessed #I’m. tempted to write more #very tempted #but for now have this #desert duo angst my beloved

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