Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It was Gyftmas Eve, and the Underground’s collective excitement was palpable.

A group of carolers had gathered around the tree, entertaining a small group of children with songs, a strange amalgamation of human and monster music creating songs that, from an outside perspective, sounded wrong. But to Monsterkind, this was their music, their yearly tradition. Adults with coffee from the nearby resort stood watching, taking a much-needed break from it all, only to be hit with a snowball from some unruly nearby teens.

The celebration was always biggest in Snowdin; due mostly to it being the only part of the Underground that resembled what winter would be like on the surface. Though ever since the ‘Snowdin Incident’, as it had been dubbed, the monsters of Snowdin seemed to celebrate especially hard.

In the late afternoon, the glow of Gyftmas lights illuminated the area, brightening the dim cavern Snowdin rested in. Most, salvaged from the dump, were haphazardly repaired, now powered by magic to suit the Underground better. But not so far away from the bustling centre of Snowdin town, was a small, darkened shop. Those who walked past it shuddered, the shop looking so out of place it was eerie. Though this place had no physical difference from the rest of the town; it fit into the architecture quite well, a testament to the owner's craftsmanship. However, one aspect set this place aside from everything else: it had none of the lights commonplace this time of year. In terms of Gyftmas spirit, it was a barren, empty husk among the lively town.

Mind, the shop itself wasn't empty; far from it actually. Inside was cluttered and messy; as much wood scattered about the two workbenches as there was inhabiting the shelves. Too many unfinished projects to count were strewn across the workshop, nails and tools littering every surface. Inside looked incredibly lived in, for how dead the shop looked outwardly. Even the air in the shop felt dead, lacking any of the hustle and bustle of the rest of the town. It was, without a doubt, out of place.

Instead of a wreath or lights, a simple sign hung upon the door, with the names 'Chujin and Martlet.' The shop’s only two employees, and the only two in the building now. Though, technically, speaking, Martlet was the sole employee. Chujin was the owner and had built the place from the ground up himself. Folks around town would say he put her name there as some sort of consolation, praising him for being so very kind to the scatterbrained bird monster.

It's safe to say Chujin was a well-liked monster, both around Snowdin and his hometown. In recent times, however, a change had been noted in those close to him. The fox monster had become colder, harsher, and more rough-around-the-edges. The clearest example was the treatment of his employee, Martlet. While her name was on the door, like she had authority in this place, she was pushed hard by the other monster. Overworked, and terribly underpaid. Not entirely Chujin's fault, of course; the emptiness of the shop on what should be the busiest night of the year is evidence enough of how the finances were.

And so, this is where the tale begins; Gyftmas Eve, in a very dead-looking shop, the only sounds being a pen scratching against paper as Chujin filled out some sort of paperwork with the finances, and Martlet-

"Ow! Damnit, damnit, damnit!" The bird monster cursed, rapidly shaking her wing. Chujin simply raised his eyebrows, not even looking up from his work.

“What is it this time?” He sighed, pinching his nose in annoyance. There was a half-hearted laugh from the other, and the all too familiar sound of rustling and a packet tearing open.

"Caught my wing is all," Martlet responded around a mouthful of what Chujin knew was trail mix, "nothing to worry about."

Chujin looked up at the bird monster, disappointment clear on his face. "We really can't afford any mistakes, Martlet. The finances of this place are rough as it is without you messing up like usual."

Martlet shrunk in on herself, looking away and swallowing. "R-right. Yeah, you're right, I should stop being so scatterbrained, heh. Sorry, Chujin."

The fox monster almost felt bad; Martlet was still his mentee, even if she had grown into a business partner. But no, he was right to criticize her, he reassured himself. He was well aware Martlet could do this stuff without screwing up, and yet she continued to do so. And it wasn't like his argument was invalid, they were in a rough situation, to put it lightly. Hell, if it weren't for his wife working too Chujin would be unable to support his family at this point, and Martlet lived alone. She needed this job to support herself.

Chujin took his glasses off, rubbing at his eyes. “It's fine, just…try, ok? For both our sakes.”

Before the fox monster can see or hear her response, a bell rings out in the quiet of the shop, accompanied by the cold, bitter air from outside. A shudder runs through him as his glasses are placed back on his face, before–

“Daddy!” A voice calls, and even if Chujin didn’t immediately recognise the voice (a notion so unfathomable even the thought is laughable), the bundle of brown fur that collides into his side is a dead giveaway. The only thing more shocking than her being here was the impact nearly causing Chujin to fall off of the stool he was currently sitting on.

“K-Kanako! Be careful!” Another voice scolds, and Chujin looks up to see his wife, Ceroba rushing forward, looking apologetic. “I told her to stick close, but you know how she gets.”

“Sorry Mommy!” Kanako tries to say, but it comes out barely audible with her face still pressed firmly into Chujin’s side. The grey fox pats her head slightly, and she finally looks up at him, arms still firm around him. “I’m just super-duper excited! You can’t blame me, right…?”

Kanako was right, of course; seeing her massive smile beaming up at him, eyes practically sparkling with excitement, Chujin felt any harsh feelings melt away. “Of course not, Kanako.” He says, patting her head again.

With that, she pulls away and moves to stand by Ceroba who was now leveling her gaze at Chujin. “You pushover.” But any semblance of harshness gives way to the affectionate smile Chujin is so used to, and yet would never tire of seeing. Ceroba bobs down to whisper in Kanako’s ear, who nods enthusiastically and grabs a wicker basket filled with various foods from the floor, calling after ‘Miss Martlet’.

The second their child disappears around the backside of the workbench, Ceroba all but collapses in the stool next to Chujin. “Rough day?” He asks, but already knows the answer when she lets out a massive groan.

“Don't even get me started. We should have had more staff on today, but no. That stupid cafe can’t do a single thing right.” Ceroba runs a paw down her face, and Chujin places a comforting paw on her thigh. “The only good thing that came from today is I was able to leave and collect Kanako from Star early. She insisted on coming here to visit you, and, well, I needed to give Martlet her gift anyway, so…”

Of course, giving Martlet her gift was a cover to hide that she had been unable to refuse Kanako’s wishes just as much as Chujin. He would never let it slip that he knew though. An odd secret to take to the grave, but one he would nonetheless.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here regardless. Not like there’s much going on here other than doing more paperwork.” Chujin huffed, looking again at the sheets of paper strewn across his table, removing his paw and sorting the papers into a much neater pile.

“Why don’t you leave early?”

Ceroba’s words catch Chujin off guard, and he falters slightly, looking at her again. “Sorry?”

She takes his paws in hers, forcing both of them to twist so they’re actually facing each other. “You said it yourself; there’s not much going on here. So, come home early.” Ceroba looks at him, so much hope and anticipation hidden in her eyes it almost puts Kanako to shame. Something twists uncomfortably inside of him, and he avoids her eyes like the plague. That simple action is all it takes for any hope in the air to be dashed, and he can practically feel her deflate.

“You know I can’t do that, Ceroba.” Chujin answers after a pause, still not looking at his wife.

“Why not? It’s Gyftmas eve–don’t roll your eyes–” Chujin stiffens at that, and looks at Ceroba guiltily, only to find himself wishing he didn’t at the frustration in her expression; frustration he had caused, “and we should be together, celebrating. As a family.”

Chujin looks at his wife, really looks at her. The subtle way her brows furrowed, the stray lock of unruly hair she always had to brush out of her eyes, her lips pursed and that frustrated disappointment clear in her eyes. It was the face of the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, looking at every subtle detail that made her beautiful until they were both dust. And yet–“You know how I feel about this…holiday, Ceroba. And this paperwork needs to get done, quickly.”–he still refused.

“It doesn’t matter how you feel, Chujin. Think of Kanako–”

“I am! I am thinking of her! Without this job, we’d be living off of your income only, and that's hardly enough to get by.”

“That's–!” Ceroba stands up, drawing her paws away from where she had still been holding Chujin’s, and Chujin found himself immediately missing the warmth they provided. “Fine. Do what you want. I just…I can’t do this with you today.”

Chujin doesn’t look at her, staring resolutely at the paperwork. He doesn’t look as she walks away. Doesn’t look as she moves to the front of the store, and calls for Kanako to come with her so they can go home.

“Merry Gyftmas Miss Martlet! Bye Daddy!” Kanako calls as the bell rings, the cold seeping in from outside again as Ceroba opens the door.

“Happy Holidays, Martlet,” Ceroba says.

“Bye! Thank you for the gift basket!” Martlet calls as they leave.

Chujin says nothing.

It’s silent for a while, the only noise coming from Martlet hammering away at some project or another. Chujin sits, not writing, not doing anything but seething quietly. Ceroba didn’t understand, that was the issue. Sure, he was a little harsh, but what he said was undeniably true; with the drain the estate had been on their savings and Ceroba working only part-time, it would be tough to get by in the long run without either him working too, or her working at the Dunes Cafe full-time. And she hated working there as it was; there was no way he could force her to do that.

The light in the room dims as minutes turn to hours, and the late afternoon slowly crawls into the evening. Chujin sighs as he finishes another sheet of paperwork (just how there had gotten to be so much baffled him), and moves on to the next, about three-quarters of the way through the stack. Martlet had finished her woodworking a little ago and was now drawing up schematics for…something. Chujin didn’t care enough to ask.

A sharp rapping on the door breaks the ambience of the shop, and Martlet practically shoots up to go answer it, calling out an ‘I got it!’ as she does. The bell rings as the door is opened, and the sound of singing floods the shop.

Chujin groans, loudly, before clutching his head in his hands, hoping that the idiotic carolers will grant him some small mercy and disappear quickly. Because of course, after that disaster with Ceroba earlier, he couldn’t be granted any sense of peace. Of course it was Gyftmas Eve, a celebration based on human traditions. Of course he had to be in the place where the celebration was by far the biggest.

Especially with just how close the anniversary of that day was. After something like that, it would be easy to expect that any semblance of human traditions was avoided like the plague, and yet every monster seemed to celebrate harder. How they could even stand the thought of it anymore Chujin had no idea; his distaste for the holiday had only soured further after the incident, even though years had passed.

After much too long in Chujin’s eyes, the carolers leave, and Martlet waves them off with a few G. She shuts the door and leans against it, sighing, before immediately bouncing back and stretching as she makes her way to her stool again. Chujin stares absently at her, getting lost in thought, until…

“Earth to Chujin?” A blue wing waves in front of his face, and he startles, eyes snapping up to Martlet looking at him, concerned. “Are you ok? I’ve been calling your name for a while now.”

“I’m fine.” Chujin brushes off, looking at the wooden clock on the wall. “Heading home?”

The bird monster nods, walking back to her work area, and Chujin stands, stretching. “I suppose I should be off too.”

It’s quiet as he gathers his things, shrugging on a probably excessive winter coat for the walk back. Chujin falters, looking at Martlet, who is standing watching him, silent. “…Are you ok Martlet? You’ve hardly said a word.”

With that, she jolts out of whatever trance she was in. “Right! Sorry, I kinda got lost in thought. Though that’s getting pretty common, huh…” She trails off, before launching back into talking. “Well, since tomorrow is Gyftmas and all, and I know you said already the shop is opening, and I really don’t want to put any extra stress on you so it's A-OK if you say no, but…couldImaybehavethedayoffifthatsok?” She blurts out, and it takes a second for Chujin to figure out what exactly she is asking.

"You…want tomorrow off to celebrate this…thing?" Martlet nods emphatically. "...why?"

"I mean, c'mon! All the food, the good spirit: it's the best! Plus now I haaa–" She trails off, looking positively petrified at what she was about to say. "Family. I'm seeing the rest of my family this year! Yeah, that's what I meant to say. Nothing else." Martlet glances hopefully up at Chujin, who can only roll his eyes at her poor attempt to save face.

“I suppose that’s fine.” He acquiesces, and Martlet beams.

“Thank you so much! And don’t worry, I’ll be right here the next day, and I'll even show up early!” With that, she rushes out of the door, calling out a ‘Merry Gyftmas’ as an afterthought before she disappears into the now dark street.

Chujin takes his time locking up, delivering a basket of corn to that door in Lower Snowdin, before starting the long trek back. Most of the length was self-imposed; as easier as it would be to do so, he still couldn’t walk through Waterfall–

A child’s face. Blood, tears, dust. Kanako's cries. The heat from Axis’ attack. The screams of monsters and human alike.

–after everything.

Scenery passes by, and Chujin takes it in as he walks from area to area, if only to distract himself. As much of a drag as work was, at least it served as a good distraction, to the point where he dreaded every moment not fully immersed in a task. At least working on his research gave him plenty of distraction; a distraction not even his family could provide.

All too quickly, the large Ketsukane estate comes into view. While just a year ago Chujin would have been thrilled to make it home, to get back to his family again after a long day of work in the Steamworks, that feeling had been replaced with an odd sense of dread.

Especially after his argument with Ceroba earlier. But he was right, Chujin reassured himself; they would talk about it, Chujin would apologise for being harsh, and the family would move on.

At least until he told them about his plan to work tomorrow.

Feeling reassured (and somewhat nervous), the fox monster began to walk up the sandy path to his home. Sand always got into his sandals while walking around the Dunes and the Wild East, a fact that made him understand his wife’s choice to wear those boots more and more every day. It was also why he chose to pave the path closer to his home, though the surprisingly harsh wind made that decision pointless more often than not. There was no wind today thankfully. At the very least, he wouldn’t have to carefully brush his fur to make sure no irritating grains remained; while it was a time-consuming task the alternative was to get sand in his bed, which Ceroba would certainly not be happy about. And–

There’s a childish giggle from behind him.

Chujin turns, startled from his train of thought, but…nothing. There’s no sign of any monsters anywhere. No movement, no faint sounds…

Just him. Alone.

The fox has half a mind to turn back, go and fully check. But, no, that would be useless. He knew there was no one there. Huffing, Chujin began to walk again. Maybe he would get an early night tonight, instead of hiding away in his office until the early hours.

Upon walking into the estate, Chujin was greeted by…

“Ceroba?”

Said fox turned around, startled. Upon seeing Chujin, she at least had the decency to look guilty. Or some approximation of it anyway, Chujin couldn’t quite tell. “You’re back earlier than usual.”

It’s not a question, but Chujin answers anyway. “I walked a bit faster, I suppose. What’s the occasion?”

Her gaze shifted to the suitcase resting next to her. The family all had matching ones, albeit they were rarely used. “…I’m staying at Star’s folks place. They were kind enough to let me and Kanako crash there even with such short notice.”

Chujin’s mouth goes dry. “L-listen, if this is about earlier–”

“It’s not–” Ceroba sighs. “It's not just that, Chujin. You've…changed.” She moves towards him, looking at him with pity.

“Look. I know this year has been rough, it has been on all of us. But that’s no excuse for this. Plus, Kanako misses us. What she needs is all of us, together as one big happy family. And if you can’t even manage that, then maybe it’s best if we just don’t stay here for a bit.”

Chujin doesn’t know what to say. So he doesn't. He doesn’t say a word as Ceroba calls Kanako down. He doesn’t say a word as she struggles to lug along a suitcase much too big for her. He doesn’t say a word as Ceroba brushes past, opening the door.

“Daddy?” He doesn’t respond. “Are you gonna come to see Uncle Star too?”

“…Come on, Kanako. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t say anything, even as Kanako stares at him with big, watery eyes as she’s tugged out of the door by Ceroba.

And then he’s alone. This is what he wanted, right? Time alone to work, to properly distract himself. So why does it feel so…hollow?

There’s some leftover corn chowder in the fridge. Chujin heats it up and eats in silence. He rinses his plate, opting to wash it later, before heading into his hidden office beneath the kotatsu.

He works on his research for a while. The blue glow of the soul, trapped in its container, taunts him all the while, as is usual. He groans, loudly, head hitting the desk. It had been years of non-stop research, and yet there was nothing. No big breakthrough, no clear path forward, nothing. The only other avenue was experimenting, but…

At some point, the words on his paper begin blurring together, and Chujin desperately rubs at his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up. It was likely time to head to bed, but he couldn’t. Not yet, with more work to do.

There’s a childish giggle from behind him.

Now successfully startled awake, Chujin whips around. “Who’s there?”

No response.

“I know you’re there. Show yourself!”

No response.

Chujin pushes his chair back and stands, finally resolving to give in to sleep. Maybe all this work is driving him crazy, making him hear things. That has to be it.

The bookshelves begin to shake. They shift and tilt pitch, violently throwing the books stacked on them to the floor, forcing the fox to move from his desk hurriedly. They continue to do so for what could be seconds or a minute but feels like an hour to Chujin, who can only stare at the shelves in abject horror. Then, just as suddenly as it started, the shelves stop.

If Chujin had skin he was sure it would have paled by now, like what happened to humans in their literature that he used to enjoy. But what on earth could have caused it? There were old folk tales of some sort of ghosts being able to move furniture, but that was just humans' perception of ghost monsters becoming corporeal diluted, twisted and spun into what they believed. And there were no ghost monsters in the Dunes anyway.

The more likely explanation (and the one Chujin chose to believe) was that an earthquake had struck. A tiny earthquake, right here, right now, localised entirely within his hidden office.

The giggling starts again. And it swells, turning into laughing, then cackling, that reverberates around the room, almost causing the shelves to begin shaking again. Chujin slams his paws over his ears, trying in vain to block out the racket. But it doesn't quiet, doesn't muffle, doesn't stop.

"You know, I always believed it would be interesting to be a ghost. To go anywhere, do anything you please.”

Chujin's head whips around, searching desperately for the source of the voice. "Who's there?”

The giggling starts again, reverberating around his head. “Interrupting, are we? That isn't very nice.” Chujin feels a breeze run through the room, and he shudders as the large screen at the centre of the room flickers to life. “But, if you truly want to know…”

Chujin can feel his pulse racing as the static of the old monitor stutters, flickering to an image of…a child? The figure's brown hair hangs in front of its face, obscuring any identifiable features. The fox moves closer, trying to see the screen better, but the image is replaced by static before he can see anything. He reaches a paw out to tap the screen, before letting out a yelp, tripping over the stool and landing harshly on the floor.

As he tapped the screen, the image came back, the figure now closer than before. Chujin remains on the floor as the obscured figure flickers off-screen again, chest heaving with terrified breaths. The figure flickers back into existence, closer again.

And closer.

And closer.

And closer.

The screen flickers back to the static one more, and Chujin can only stare, paralyzed, at the screen.

Then a hand shoots out.

Chujin screams. A second hand shoots out, and pale fingers grip the sides of the screen. A head follows, still obscured by hair, and finally, the body, tumbling out of the screen and falling into a great heap on the floor.

The fox monster’s gaze remains locked on the figure, as it stands again…

And its head turns one hundred and eighty degrees to face him. Finally, the figure’s face is revealed, and Chujin wishes with all his soul that it had remained hidden. Because instead of eyes or a mouth, the figure has huge, gaping holes.

He scrambles back as the figure's body twists and contorts, what should be limbs bending at horrible angles. And the figure begins to laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

Now with his back pressed against the wall, Chujin buries his head in his hands and squeezes his eyes shut, praying, begging the Angel for everything to stop.

And, it does. The laughing is gone, and after a moment the fox finally lifts his head out of his hands to see the figure staring at him. No gaping holes for eyes, no void in place of a mouth. Just a regular, human face. The human tilts their head slightly, and it's only then that Chujin notices their body floating in mid-air, as they lay on their stomach, legs kicked up behind them.

The human stares as Chujin slowly recovers his breath and calms slightly. As much as one can calm down with the ghost of a human in front of them.

Still panicked, Chujin barely manages to pull himself together enough to stutter out a single sentence. “I-I know you. Y-You're–”

“I am many things:” The ghost interrupts, “a curse, a blessing; a saviour, a villain; a demon, an angel. What I am to you though,” The ghost moves closer, “is a chance.”

“A-a chance?”

The ghost moves to imitate standing, their arms crossed behind their back. “A chance.” They reiterate. Still, they stare, their expression unreadable. “I know your fate, Chujin Ketsukane, and the impact your misdeeds have on those you surround yourself with. Even in death, you bring nothing but pain and suffering to your loved ones and their loved ones.”

The ghost states it as a fact as if what they said was something mundane like a shopping list. But as the spectre utters these words, pure, unadulterated dread seeps through Chujin’s very being. “Their fate is undeserved, no? Being doomed by your actions from when you lived, haunting their every moment in the form of bad news and heartache?”

The grey fox can only shake his head dumbly. Was that…really him? Was that what he was doomed to become?

“So.” The ghost continues, beginning to pace in front of the fox. “You will be haunted by three spirits.” Chujin begins to shake his head, but the ghost glares at him, hard. The change in facial expression alone is enough to make him stop, staring at the child as they move back and forth, back and forth.

“The first shall arrive tomorrow, when the clock strikes one. The next on the second night, at the same hour. The third will arrive on the next night, when the clock strikes twelve.”

“T-three nights? Couldn't they all come on the same night?” He dares to ask but immediately wilts under the child's gaze.

“This is your last chance, Chujin. Do not waste it.” The spectre warns, and Chujin–

Chujin opens his eyes, lifting his head from his desk. “That was…was that all just a dream?” He wonders aloud as if saying it will cement it as fact.

All of that, the ghost in that damned green striped sweater, the bookshelves and that gaping face; all of it had to be a dream, there was no other explanation. The result of the corn chowder being off, Chujin is sure. He sighs, standing up and deciding to head to bed, to tidy up the papers left strewn about later.

As he leaves, he willfully ignores the books scattered about the floor.