Parfum Obsession: Part I

Rorudesu-chan

Not yet, not now, she couldn't go home without yet completing her mission. Her nose itched. Her insides were aflame until she found what her senses craved most. That perfect scent. That unique, indescribable fragrance of the Yatogami.

The signage seemed to blare at her: Flight 918 Tokyo, Japan. Now boarding. Her mother was holding her gently by the sleeve. Her father had taken the carry-in luggage off her hands. Her feet wanted to run to the other direction.

"Okaa-san, please," said Hiyori. "Can we stay here a little longer?" She pouted and pleaded with puppy dog eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Hiyori-chan," said mother.

"We know you love Paris so much," said father.

"But your father has a hospital to run and patients to look after," Hiyori's mother continued.

"Some other time, darling." Hiyori's father stroke her long brown hair.

"Maybe next summer?" her mother suggested.

"Yes. Paris is good even in the summer."

Mrs. Iki's hold on Hiyori suddenly grew heavier. She looked behind and found that she was literally dragging her daughter along. "Not again," said Mrs. Iki. This was the nth time that Hiyori passed out during their vacation.

Mrs. Iki did not scream, much like she used to, but she quickly called for help from any airport medics on standby. Mr. Iki went with his usual routine: lay Hiyori on a flat surface, check her pulse, and keep her body safe and warm until she regains consciousness. A small crowd of boarding passengers began to huddle around them in an apparent mix of concern and curiosity. They could only conclude that the poor Asian girl was worn out by all the sightseeing. France had so much to offer.

Iki Hiyori travelled North to a small village just outside the city of Paris. She remembered passing by this part of the region in one of the local tours spent with her parents. As soon as her phantom feet landed on one of the village house's roofs, she started sniffing the air for that perfume shop their tour guide had told them about. It was one of those establishments built since the early 1900s. The owner, who was a travelling merchant, was said to have journeyed across many different lands, collecting fragrances of every kind.

Hiyori jumped from one chimney to another, hoping to be led to that place, and being careful at the same time not to run into any ayakashi. She spotted a small group of ayakashis floating around the base of the Eiffel Tower during the city tour. It was a good thing she wasn't in her half-phantom form then. Yato or Yukine were no longer by her side to protect her from those creatures.

But at least she would have something to remember them by. She hoped to acquire Yato's scent very soon.

Hiyori took a deep breath and then another. Apart from a few, tiny ayakashis flying in the sky along with the birds, the entire village itself looked peacefully tucked away from the bustling city life of Paris. In the corner of her eye, Hiyori noticed a huge track of greenery. Grazing on its field were about a dozen sheep. A blue barn towered next to the flock. A cottage sat not far from the barn. Smoke gently rose out of the chimney and completed the farm's picturesque beauty. Hiyori's heart sank. She inhaled once more to take in the rural splendor of the scene.

Her head whipped to the left. "I found it!" she exclaimed. Her ethereal tail wagged in delight.

Hiyori jumped down from the roof and started running on the street. She did not mind the people that were passing by, or rather, passing through her. The townsfolk went about their business, unmindful that a girl was rushing opposite their direction, entering and exiting through them like a ghost. Hiyori was nearing her destination. Her nose tingled. At the corner of a street, a cottage-like house gave off such pleasant fragrance, a spirit form like Hiyori could actually believe she had completely crossed over to heaven.

It felt like a huge blast of wind hit her when she opened the door. She was sure that her olfactory senses were working very hard at that moment, trying to identify every fragrance that her nose picked up. To her left were several wooden shelves that lined up the wall. Each shelf displayed jars and bottles and glass boxes that contained different types of substances: from twigs and dried leaves to powder and oil. But as soon as Hiyori recognized the labels, it registered to her that the substances must be the basic ingredients to start creating perfume. Jasmine, mint, red and white roses, cinnamon, peach, chamomile, citronella, lavender, rosemary, tuberose, sandalwood; the index of fragrances went on and on from top shelf row to bottom.

Hiyori thought about the perfume merchant who used to own the place. She thought about how fortunate she was that such place even existed. And then she realized that the shop was empty. She seemed to be the only person there; no customers, no visitors, not even a shopkeeper. She should've noticed earlier on the absence of any human scent. The mixed aroma of this place must've been that strong that it overpowered the lesser smells. "Hello?" she said in English, mindful of the foreigners. "Hello?"

There was a door behind the cash register. Hiyori did not think twice and leapt to her feet. She passed through the door and found herself in a narrow hallway. It was dimly lit, but she could see a faint light at the end. The hallway was filled with portraits that hung on both walls. As she moved forward, Hiyori took glimpses. The pictures seem to have been taken from different places around the world. The backdrop differed from landscapes to cityscapes, but it was consistent of the presence of one person. It was a bearded man with a paunch belly. In every picture, his face bore an awkward smile. He seemed to always carry a jar or a bottle in his right hand.

Hiyori reached the end of the hallway and felt a shiver run down her spine. She looked over her shoulder upon hearing light footsteps against the wooden floor. She heard whispers too, but quickly dismissed that. "Must be the wind," she muttered to herself. "Has to be the wind." Caressing her tail, Hiyori leapt once more through another door.

Hiyori gaped and marveled at the machinery and tools that surround the place. It was like one of those science labs in school back home. There were test tubes, Petri dishes, and beakers on a table. In one corner was a huge, rusty vat that was attached by a tube to a smaller tank. Steam and rust were coming off its sides. The working table on the other side of the room was occupied with all sorts of ingredients she had seen earlier upstairs in the shelves. The scent came off strongly in this area. And from the look of this entire room, someone had been working here.

She stood corrected. This wasn't a lab. It was a miniature factory of its own. Hiyori grinned and her tail wagged in delight. The Yatogami's smell was within her reach. Who needed a god to grant her wish when she could make one happen on her own in this very perfume shop?

She stepped out of the room. She rushed through the hallway and bounced back upstairs to where the shelves were. She gathered every bottle, jar, and glass box that she could carry with her two hands. Meanwhile her tail curled around a large container of vanilla extract. (There was a delicate hint of vanilla in Yato's scent, after all.) Hiyori passed by the hall again and felt something breeze past behind her. She ran, took shelter in the perfume shop's factory, and quickly set to work.

The night had settled in; Hiyori saw the darkened sky through a small window. She wondered about her body, about her mom and her dad. They must be on their way back home to Tokyo onboard the airplane. Surely her parents had carried her home, thinking that their daughter was just sleeping through it all. They were unaware she was actually ten thousand miles away, in a village somewhere in France. Hiyori wished she could just teleport back into her body, but she didn't exactly know how. Plus it was too late stop now.

She chopped, grinded, and blended the ingredients together. Boiled them like stew over fire, and took a whiff of the concoction the moment it cooled off. For every test, her features contorted and not once did it make her feel like she was in heaven. One mixture smelled like weed and mud. Another smelled like garden soil, but with a weird, sugary after-scent.

What was she thinking? She didn't know the first thing about how to make a perfume, let alone make lavender smell like lavender on her freshly-laundered clothes, or strawberry smell like strawberry in ice cream. She paused and took off her gloves. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what Yato really smelled like. She seemed to be forgetting already.

The last time she was with him, she reminisced, Yato was on his way to the Far Shore with Yukine. After a long time of cutting up ayakashis, cleaning old women's bathroom floors, and taking up part-time jobs at convenience stores, Yato had finally gained a godly reputation for himself. He took one request after another. His Twitter followers increased. But most of all he was remembered. I'm so happy for you, Yato. Hiyori took the god by surprise by embracing him so tightly for the last time. She held back the tears as she buried her face in his neck.

It took only one try. A proper reading of the second kanji of his name—"Ya-boku"—and there he was. On top of her. Yato was back from Yomi, bloodied and wounded. He was safe at last and he landed right on top of her. Bishamonten and the others released a heavy sigh of relief. But not Hiyori. Her breathing became erratic as she fought the urge to wrap her arms around him in exhilaration, a feeling more profound than just being relieved. Yato was alive and had come back after his long absence. Yato was with her and had returned to her. She breathed him in. Which was pretty much like hugging.

Their first meeting was as strange as it could be. Hiyori thought that a boy was about to get run over by a bus, so she jumped right in the middle of the road and forcefully pushed him aside. At least that's how the story went around. What nobody really knew it was also the first time she was acquainted with the Yato god's distinct scent. It was a compelling fragrance like no other. One could say it was another thing which magnetically pulled her to the middle of the road and get "hit" by a bus. She could never be sorry it happened though. In that split second she thought that boy was about to die, she thought her own life was about to end as well. And in that moment she threw him aside to safety, Iki Hiyori had never felt more alive.

Hiyori kept her eyes closed as she reveled in her memories. Oh kami. How she missed him. She supposed it was her fault. She made herself this desperate.

If only she hadn't thrown in all those five-yen coins for each day of the year.

If only she hadn't been so eager in secretly visiting the shrines of every known god in Japan and wish for Yatogami's long life.

If only she believed in Yato. And in Yukine too. Then perhaps all the other gods wouldn't have conspired to fulfill her wish and help the Yatogami attain his pedestal in the Far Shore by acquiring so many devout followers.

She drove him away and he was never coming back. Yato was happy at last. Shouldn't she be happy too?

To console herself of the Yatogami's absence, she chanced on that trip to Paris that her parents had been planning for quite some time. She'd always known Paris was a city of fragrance. All of the perfume products her mother bought were exported from that place. Hiyori considered it was for vanity's sake. But later on she realized how powerful and irresistible and wonderful a good scent could be. It puts anyone under its spell.

At least that's how she felt whenever she was around Yato. His scent was pleasant to her in every way.

Yato smelled like the first rain in spring after a long and dry winter.

Yato smelled like a piping hot cup of matcha she enjoyed most during tea ceremonies.

He smelled like hard work after a day she spent sparring with the Judo club members at her school.

Yato smelled like the crisp, salty air of the beach and sweet vanilla ice cream at the same time.

She could smell a little bit of her brother's aftershave in him too. Whenever she happened to touch Yato's jersey, a million memories of an elder sibling she hadn't seen in years come flooding back.

And once, Hiyori thought she smelled her own body scent on him. For all of these scents to coalesce into one unique smell was inherently Yato. Yato was like the air she needed to breathe to live.

Scratching noises finally caught Hiyori's attention and she resurfaced. Her nose twitched. An all-too familiar scent filled the air she was breathing. Her eyes flew open. What greeted her was a pair of ocean blue eyes staring back at her.

With a huge ear-to-ear grin, the god sing-sang her name. "Hi~yo~ri~"

Hiyori bolted back. Her phantom feet landed against the wall and her tail straightened in its ethereal length.

"What is the matter with you, Hiyori? Do you know how hard it was looking for you?"

"W-what are y-you—you shouldn't be here, Yato!" She was positively embarrassed now.

The god put both hands on his hips. "Oh? And where should I be then?"

"In the Far Shore of course! With Yukine!" Hiyori looked around. "Where is Yukine?"

"With Kazuma."

"What's he doing with Kazuma?"

"Some blessed shinki training conference thing. He's an elite member now so he has to attend that stuff." Yato smirked. "Don't change the subject."

Hiyori landed back on the floor. She was wary in keeping the distance between her and the god. "How did you find me?"

"You didn't think I'd let you run off like that, did you? You blocked and unfollowed me on Twitter. You stopped visiting my shrine." Yato glared at her accusingly with his bright blue eyes. "I understand you don't have to keep giving me your five-yen's because you'll always be firstamong the others—but then you stopped making wishes in my name too!" the Yato god caught his breath. "Hiyori, how am I suppose to make you the happiest girl in the world?!"

Hiyori's cheeks colored considerably. Yato couldn't see it, but he could be so careless with his words.

"What the hell are you doing in a place like this anyway?" he asked. "Didn't you hear they shut this place down seventy-five years ago?"

A familiar chill ran down Hiyori's spine. Thoughts of wanting to throw herself at him right at that moment popped like a bubble in the wind.

"Hiyori, this place is haunted."

She almost laughed. "What?"

"Yeah," said Yato coolly. "Old Pop's been standing right over there and you were too occupied to even notice."

Hiyori spun on her heels. She craned her neck and at first she couldn't believe what she was looking at. It was the bearded man with the paunch belly in the pictures she saw in the hallway. She recognized his awkward smile and something more. Something large and terrible was moving in the shadows by the tank.

"Smells nice."

(to be continued)

a/n: Please don't forget to review! :) See you in the next and final chapter!