Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The car puttered down the uneven road as luggage in the back rattled and bumped together, a sound that Nate Adams became very accustomed to over the past few hours.

“I’m still getting used to these American cars,” Mr. Adams said with a light laugh, although his driving was fine. “I wonder why different parts of the world drive differently…Nate? New homework. Figure out why Americans have their steering wheels on the left side.”

Nate hummed in response. “Okay. I’ll do it later,” he said.

Mrs. Adams glanced over her shoulder at her son, smiling softly. “Are you excited to see our new home, Nate?”

“I dunno,” Nate replied with a shrug, looking up from his sketchbook. “I miss my friends.”

Mrs. Adams sighed, knowing how her son felt. It was hard for her too. “I know honey. But you’ll make new ones.” She turned back around. “Plus you can still call them. I know the time zones are different, but I’m sure there’s a perfect hour where you’re all awake.”

Nate didn’t reply. He turned back down to his sketchbook, bringing his knees up to his chest. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be back in Japan, back in Springdale, back with all his friends he grew up with and explore the woods and catch bugs with. Now what was he supposed to do? What if everyone thought he was weird and made fun of his accent? What if he got bullied and shoved into a locker? Wait…did that even happen in American schools?

“Your face is frowning again,” said Whisper suddenly. He rubbed Nate’s forehead until the boy’s brow stopped furrowing. The yokai butler smiled. “You’ll be fine. I promise. There are still plenty of yokai here in America you know! It’ll still be a fun summer until school starts again.”

Nate frowned at that, then relaxed his face when he felt Whisper rub his forehead again. “I don’t really care about that though,” he whispered. “I don’t want to live here, I want to go back home.”

Whisper sighed, knowing there was nothing he could do.

Jibanyan just slept peacefully draped across Nate’s lap, kneading the boy’s thigh in his sleep. His twin flame tails twitched as he dreamed. Nate scratched the nekomata’s head.

A sign saying, “Welcome to Peanutsburg!” was just up ahead, its letters faded. What was once some kind of animal had its remains splattered on the sign, a metal pole staked into the ground impaled through its stomach. Another sign, a smaller one, stood beside it with the words, “FUCK THE RICH.”

“Well that’s…unpleasant,” Mrs. Adams murmured, forcing herself to look away from the gruesome scene. “Probably just some unruly teens. The neighborhood is perfectly safe.”

Nate didn’t feel safe at all.

The neighborhood looked like a stereotypical American neighborhood—two-story houses lined up perfectly together with white picket fences enclosing them in, a tree in every yard. Someone was grilling out front, a few kids playing soccer nearby who waved when Mr. Adams drove passed them.

“Those could be future friends, Nate,” Mr. Adams said, looking at his son in the rear-view mirror. He had a grin on his face. “Come on, lighten up champ!”

“I don’t want to, Dad,” Nate grumbled, sinking down into his seat.

Mr. Adams took the hint, seeming a little hurt, and left Nate alone. He was sure his son would come around, it just took time.

The car turned into the driveway of a house sitting on the corner of the street, the luggage in the back bumping and rattling one last time before finally settling. The grass was slightly overgrown compared to its neighboring yards, clumps of weeds here and there along the fence. A stray cat jumped down from the porch and ran off.

Nate shimmied out from between boxes and suitcases to reach the car door, slipping out with his yokai companions right behind him. He looked up at the house with disgust. “I already hate it here,” he mumbled to no one in particular. He grabbed the nearest box in the car and followed his parents inside, taking a look around the empty and dusty house.

“Your room is upstairs Nate,” Mrs. Adams said, setting down a box in what was going to be the living room. She led her son up the creaky stairs and down the hall to the room at the end, putting her hands on her hips and surveying the space. “Here you are. A little bigger than your old room. We’ll get your stuff put together once everything is here.”

Nate frowned at the room. It was bare, save for the mattress in the corner, a dust motes floated in the light.

“Hey…” Mrs. Adams reached out to run her fingers through Nate’s hair. “I know it’s hard. I know you miss your friends so much right now. But you can do wonderful things, Nate. You always do. You’re extraordinary, and I’m not saying that because I’m your mother. How about later this evening we have Dad learn how to use the grill, sound good? It’ll be a nice meal after a long day.”

Nate sighed heavily through his nose, setting down the box in his arms and leaning in to hug his mom. “Okay. I love you.”

Mrs. Adams smiled and kissed the top of Nate’s head. “I love you too. Chin up, honey.”

Nate spent the next hour on getting his stuff in his room, organizing piles of where he wanted things to go. He didn’t have much at the moment; most of the furniture was in a box truck somewhere on its way to Peanutsburg.

Nate headed downstairs to see if he could help his parents, just in time to see a man poke his head in and knock on the open door. He spotted Nate and gave him a warm smile. “Hi there young man! We saw that your family just moved in and wanted to welcome you. Are either of your parents around…?”

“Umm…” Nate looked for an excuse, but thankfully Mrs. Adams was already rushing down the hall.

“Hello! Hello, it’s very nice to meet you!” Mrs. Adams greeted, bowing her head towards the man.

The man smiled and bowed his own head awkwardly. “It’s nice to welcome new neighbors to our beloved Peanutsburg,” he said. “I’m Andrew Sean, this is my wife Sarah and our son Wyatt.”

Sarah waved politely and looked down at her son, reaching out to rub his shoulder comfortingly. Wyatt managed an unsure, “H-hello…”

“I’m Lily Adams, this here is my son Nate.” Mrs. Adams gestured to Nate, who still stood by the stairs. “He and Wyatt seem about the same age, Nate is seventeen.”

“Our Wyatt is eighteen, just became an official adult a few months ago,” Andrew remarked, patting Wyatt on the back who flinched in response. “He’ll be attending college in the fall, so they won’t be going to school together. But I’m sure they’ll get along just fine.”

Why is he talking like I’m already friends with the guy? Nate wondered to himself, already moving away from the front door to hide. He felt Jibanyan brush up against his legs.

Wyatt’s gaze followed Nate before turning back down to his shoes.

Mrs. Adams spoke with the Sean family for a few moments longer before they finally left, walking back down the hall to whatever task she was doing before. “They seem like a nice family,” she said when she passed Nate.

“Mom?”

Mrs. Adams stopped walking. “Yes?”

“Do we have the washer installed yet?”

“Sure do.”

“Okay. I’m going to wash my clothes.”

Nate went back upstairs and to his room, grabbing the laundry pile he had set aside earlier on the mattress. He considered throwing his binder into the washing machine too, but decided to bear with the discomfort for a moment longer so he could hand-wash it. He grabbed his wrinkled pride flag as a last minute thought.

“Being productive already?” Whisper commented, helping Nate with the laundry. “I assume you’re feeling a little better?”

Nate shrugged. “Kinda. I’m sorry if I look pissy,” he said.

Whisper shook his head. “Nonsense. I can tell that you’re tired. Why don’t you go rest for a bit, then later we go explore town? I read that there’s some really good ice cream down by the dock.”

“Hm, that does sound good,” Nate said. He gave Whisper a small smile. “Okay. We can go do that. I’m going to go take a nap now.”

After a much needed nap, Nate went into the bathroom to wash his binder. He put a hoodie on to replace his shirt, walking downstairs so he could let the garment soak. Mr. Adams was busy trying to put together a table in the dining room.

“Hey champ,” he greeted when he saw Nate. “Your mom is drying your laundry, she hung a few on a clothesline outside.”

Nate glanced out the window and panicked. “Oh.” He rushed out and saw his mom clipping his pride flag up, attempting to stop her. “What are you doing?”

Mrs. Adams looked at her son, confused. “What? What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Don’t hang this up outside where everyone can see,” Nate said and took the flag down, folding it up in his arms.

“But don’t you want the wrinkles out?”

“Well yeah but—can’t you just iron it? I don’t want the neighbors to see it.”

“Nate, it isn’t like back at home. People are more open-minded here.”

“Mom I just…” Nate huffed in frustration. Finally he turned on his heel and grumbled over his shoulder, “I’m going to go iron it. Thank you for helping though.”

Nate ironed out his flag in the living room quietly, watching his dad fumble with tiny screws. “Do you need any help with that?” he asked halfheartedly.

Mr. Adams shook his head and smiled, replying, “I think I got it. Just gotta put on the legs and flip it over and bam! New table.” He looked over at his son. “Where’s your flag gonna go?”

“I’m thinking above my bed,” Nate said as he continued to iron out the wrinkles. “Or maybe on my closet door. I dunno yet.” He set aside the iron and turned it off, lifting up the flag and shaking it out. “By the way, I’m gonna go walk the town for a bit if that’s okay.”

“Perfectly fine, Nate.”

“Should I get anything while I’m out? Snacks maybe…?”

Mr. Adams sat back on his knees and thought for a moment, then turned back to screwing on the leg of the table. “There’s some American dollars in my wallet on the kitchen counter, you can take that and go get something for lunch. Anything you want.”

Nate looked over and saw his dad’s wallet, nodding and searching for the money. He pocketed it and quickly set his flag on his mattress, changed into a clean binder and shirt, then headed out the door with a, “Be back later!”

The summer air was warm with a light breeze, the smell of someone’s grill down the block wafting through the air. A car whizzed passed and honked at a group of kids playing in the street.

“Ahh, once again outside!” Whisper exclaimed happily, floating a circle around Nate’s head. “It feels like summer has really started, it makes me nostalgic! Say, shall we do some yokai hunting for old times sake?”

“I’m not a little kid anymore, Whisper,” Nate said as he turned the corner. The Southmond school loomed up ahead. “I have better things to do.”

Whisper started to protest, but thought better of it and closed his mouth. Instead he turned to Jibanyan, who was currently sitting on Nate’s shoulder. “Come on Jibanyan, don’t you want to relive the days when we used to stop villainous yokai from wreaking havoc? We had so much fun! So many new friends too…hey, Nate! Do you think you’ll make more yokai friends here? I’m sure they’re friendly, I have yet to meet an American yokai anyhow. I do wonder what they’re like, don’t you? Say, do you think we’ll have to save Peanutsburg like we saved Springdale? It’d be strange if we had to, as if trouble always follows you—”

“Whisper! Just—!” Nate stopped walking and rubbed his temples, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “Stop. Please. I’m seventeen now, I turn eighteen next year. I’m almost an adult. I don’t have time to deal with stupid fucking yokai right now, okay? I’m not eleven anymore, if people see me talking to any yokai they’re going to think I’m insane and not just a kid playing pretend. Please, Whisper. I’m done doing all that. I don’t want to save the world anymore.”

Whisper floated there and watched as Nate continue walking, contemplating whether or not he should leave his human companion alone. Screw that, he cared for that boy, and by Enma he was going to accompany him.

Jibanyan looked over his shoulder at Whisper, giving him a sympathetic look. He knew it too. Both of them did; Nate was growing up. There wasn’t time for adventures anymore.

Nate decided he didn’t want ice cream from the dock anymore, so instead he walked the streets of Northbeech until he ended up somewhere familiar. He didn’t really expect there to be an Everymart in America, to be honest. He stared at it for a moment and bit his lip, feeling bile rise up in his throat. He didn’t want to think about Springdale right now.

The signature ding of the Everymart’s welcome bell filled the store as Nate walked in, hands shoved into the pockets of his jorts as he nodded at the cashier in greeting. She smiled kindly at him before turning back to her phone, popping gum in her mouth.

Nate searched the aisles of the convenience store, unsure of what he was really looking for. And clearly he wasn’t paying attention, because he ended up accidentally bumping into someone by the sunglasses display. “Oh sh—sorry. Sorry. Are you okay?”

The guy Nate bumped into was a lanky redhead with an acne-and-freckle riddled face, at least taller than the boy by a foot. He gave Nate a dirty look as he perched a pair of sunglasses on his head and walked to the checkout counter.

Rude.

“Yo, where’s Wyatt? Thought it was his shift t’day,” Nate heard the redhead ask the cashier, his country accent thick. The conversation starter piqued his interest, so he pretended to contemplate the shelves as he listened in.

“Not here,” the cashier said, the sound of her gum popping loud in the small store. “Called in sick.”

“That’s bullshit. He ain’t sick, he never calls in sick.”

“Well I don’t know what to tell you man, he called in sick so he’s not here today.”

“Still bullshit.”

The cashier sighed. “Give the guy a break, he came in with cigarette burns on his arm last week. He deserves a sick day.”

“Damn him.” The redhead huffed. “He probably gave himself those burns, his parents are too religious t’ smoke.”

“Parents or himself or whoever doesn’t matter. If you see him just don’t out him. I don’t know if his parents physically abuse him or not but I certainly don’t want them to if they find out Wyatt’s been smoking.”

“Then he should quit.”

“Addiction isn’t that easy. You of all people should know that.”

A beat of silence.

“Yeah, what-fuckin’-ever,” said the redhead. “Wyatt’s a funny one. I’mma come back and bother him when he’s here, ‘kay? Y’all take care.”

The bell dinged upon the redhead’s leaving, and Nate grabbed something random off the shelf before walking over to checkout.

As the cashier scanned the item and gave the total, she looked Nate up and down. “You’re really obvious when it comes to eavesdropping, y’know that?”

Nate’s face went red. “Oh…I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “S’cool. No one else here anyway and that guy’s a loudmouth.” She gave Nate a hard look. “I’d steer clear of him, by the way.”

“Why?”

The cashier didn’t answer right away, instead glancing at the door as if expecting the redhead to come waltzing back in. Then she turned back to Nate and said, “His name’s Buck. Calls himself Buckshot but that nickname is hella stupid, so don’t call him that. But his deal? He’s mean. Like, really mean. Will throw a punch if you even look at him wrong. His friends? At least half of them do hard drugs and think breaking the law is a sport. He is not the kind of guy you want to mess with. Shit, don’t even try to talk to him. I’m serious man, he’s not a good person.”

Nate swallowed thickly, taking the chips he bought on impulse and wrapping his fingers tightly around the seal. “Yeah, okay,” he replied. He didn’t really know what else to say. “I don’t think he likes me anyway, I bumped into him.”

“Welp, you’re screwed.”

“What?”

“He’s like a landmine. Come in contact and he’s explosive. Well, okay, not all the time but pretty close.” The cashier sat back in her chair and popped her gum between her teeth. “Just don’t think you have a chance at being his friend. You don’t.”

Nate only nodded and walked out of the Everymart.

He wanted nothing else but to go back to Springdale.

Chapter Text

“There’s a watch shop down in Eastpine,” Whisper told Nate as he scrolled his Yo-Pad. “Would you like to go?”

Nate shook his head, glancing at the Yokai Watch he kept wrapped around his wrist. He didn’t use it much anymore, it was only there so he didn’t forget about Whisper or Jibanyan. He barely kept track of his medallion anymore—the only times he’s ever thought about it was when he would see Whisper cleaning the dust off of it.

Jibanyan purred against Nate’s hip, his head resting on his thigh. The nekomata had been doing that a lot more recently. Nate wondered if yokai ever grew old and Jibanyan was too tired for anything anymore, or maybe his feline companion sensed his decline in mental health and felt the need to comfort Nate all the time.

Nate didn’t think he was depressed.

Okay, well, that wasn’t really it. Nate just…didn’t care? Sort of. It wasn’t that big of a deal to him at the moment.

“Nate! Come down for dinner!” called Mrs. Adams.

Nate stood from his mattress and left the room, giving Jibanyan a scritch beneath his chin before leaving. The smell of grilled chicken and beef wafted from downstairs as Nate descended the steps, his stomach rumbling with hunger. Whatever his parents were cooking made Nate realize how hungry he was. He didn’t even eat the random chips he’d bought from the Everymart.

“We made American kebabs!” Mr. Adams announced when Nate entered the kitchen, holding up two thin wooden sticks. “There’s chicken, steak, vegetables, fruit—”

Nate snorted. “Fruit? With meat?”

Mrs. Adams smiled and shook her head. “For fruit kebabs,” she explained. “They’ll be good. I went out to the local grocery store and grabbed a fruit tray, it’s got a lot of good options.”

Nate looked at the assortment of fruit—kiwis, grapes, strawberries, pineapple, banana—and felt a small pang of nausea, causing him to lose his appetite. It wasn’t the kind of fruit, not exactly. It was the thought of eating that made him feel disgusting. But he swallowed that disgust down and ignored the sting of bile in his throat. He would not skip dinner and upset his parents.

Sitting down, Nate got one meat kebab and one fruit kebab, setting them a good distance apart on his plate so their flavors didn’t get mixed. Steak seasoning didn’t sound appetizing on banana.

“So!” Mr. Adams smiled at his son, taking a bite of chicken off of his kebab. He chewed before speaking again, “How was your day? Find anything interesting around town?”

Nate shrugged, taking a bite of his kebab to avoid talking. But the sound of chewing filled the silence and it made him cringe. Why couldn’t his parents talk to each other? He didn’t want to hear them eat and make the gross mouth noises that happened all the time when eating because it made him sick—

“Can I be excused?” Nate asked suddenly after practically swallowing the bite of his kebab whole. “I don’t feel good.”

His parents exchanged a look that almost sent Nate spiraling.

“Of course. It’s been a long day,” Mrs. Adams said, giving her son a smile. Nate could see it was a sad smile.

Nate nodded once and walked out of the dining room, not bothering with his plate as he left it sitting there on the table. He rushed up the stairs and shut himself away in the bathroom, bent over the toilet, and proceeded to vomit up almost nothing but spit and un-chewed meat.

Nate felt a soft, pillowy-like hand pat his back. “Are you okay?” asked Whisper, sounding concerned for his human companion.

Something in Nate snapped.

“Can you just leave me the fuck alone for one second?” Nate spat, glaring at Whisper. He turned his head quickly to dry heave into the toilet, a small dribble of spit hanging from his bottom lip. “I don’t need you, Whisper. Just go away, for one fucking second.”

Whisper pulled away carefully, as if any sudden movements would trigger something in Nate. He sighed heavily, looking hurt.

Jibanyan had come in at some point without Nate’s knowledge until he felt the nekomata nudge his arm to try and bring him comfort.

“You too, Jibanyan,” Nate snapped at the yokai, but suddenly felt guilty when Jibanyan flinched. “I don’t need you hanging around me all the time, go be lazy elsewhere.”

Nate didn’t watch either of his yokai companions leave, instead keeping his head above the toilet and looking down at his own vomit. He dry heaved again before sticking two fingers down his throat to force himself to heave again. Nothing but spit dribbled down his chin.

“Quit acting stupid Nate,” the boy scolded himself, voice quiet. “Quit being stupid. Quit it. I’m not stupid. I’m not I’m not I’m not…”

Nate sat there and sobbed until he no longer could, flushing his mistakes down the toilet and splashing water on his face from the sink. He went to bed early that night for the first time in a while.