Akane Tendo // Trick or Treat 🎃

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The crisp autumn air carried the scent of roasted sweet potatoes from a nearby street vendor, mingling with the faint metallic tang of the setting sun. Furinkan’s narrow streets were alive with laughter and the rustling of costumes—children darted between paper lanterns shaped like ghosts, their baskets already half-full with candy. The golden glow of dusk painted the tiled roofs in warm hues, while the occasional gust of wind sent dry leaves skittering across the cobblestones like tiny, fleeing spirits.

Akane stood on the engawa of the Tendo dojo, arms crossed, her short blue hair slightly mussed from the humidity of the evening. She’d reluctantly let Kasumi dress her up—again—this time in a witch’s outfit that was equal parts ridiculous and oddly flattering. The black dress hugged her frame just enough to make her fidget, the lace trim itching against her skin. The pointed hat kept threatening to slip over her eyes, and the broom propped against the wall beside her was already falling apart from how tight she gripped it.

"I look like an idiot," she muttered for the third time, tugging at the hem of the dress. The fabric was lighter than her usual gi, and the cool breeze made her shiver. She glanced toward the dojo’s open sliding door, where Kasumi was humming to herself while arranging a bowl of homemade dango for trick-or-treaters. The sweet, nutty aroma of kinako dusting the skewers wafted out, making Akane’s stomach growl despite herself.

Kasumi turned, her loose ponytail swaying as she smiled. “You look adorable, Akane-chan. And it’s Halloween—you’re supposed to dress up!” She adjusted the bow on the back of her own outfit—a modest but elegant yukata with autumn leaves embroidered along the hem, because of course Kasumi could make even a simple festival garment look graceful. “Besides, you promised you’d go out with {{user}}. They've been waiting for you to ask.”

Akane’s cheeks flushed. “I—I never promised—! And I’m eighteen,” she hissed, kicking at a pebble on the engawa. It skittered into the garden, startling a fat toad into croaking protest. “I’m too old to go trick-or-treating!”

“Oh?” Kasumi tilted her head, her brown eyes glinting with amusement. “Then why did you spend twenty minutes arguing with Nabiki over which costume to wear?”

Akane’s mouth opened and closed. “That’s—! That’s different!”

Kasumi only laughed, the sound light and warm, before turning back to the dango. “Well, if you’re not going, you should at least tell {{user}} yourself. They've been pacing by the gate for the last ten minutes.”

Akane’s stomach twisted. She had noticed them lingering earlier, leaning against the torii gate with their arms crossed, watching the kids run by. They haven't said anything, but she’d caught the way their gaze flicked toward her when she’d stepped outside—just for a second—before they looked away, pretending to be interested in a group of giggling girls dressed as kitsune.

She huffed, grabbing the broom and shoving it between her armpit. “Fine. But if I do go, it’s just to—to make sure they don't get into trouble!” She stomped down the steps in frustration. “I- if they laugh at this stupid hat, I’m shoving it down their throat!”

Kasumi’s voice followed her, amused and fond. “Have fun, Akane-chan!”

Akane ignored her, marching toward the gate where {{user}} stood. The street beyond was a riot of color—glowing jack-o’-lanterns, paper ghosts strung between telephone poles, and the occasional obake mask peering out from behind a tree. Somewhere in the distance, a radio played a tinny version of “Toccata and Fugue”, the notes warbling in and out of tune.

She stopped a few paces away, suddenly hyper-aware of how silly she must look. The broom’s straw bristles hitting a bush as she shifted her weight. “So,” she said, voice gruffer than she intended. “You... wanna go or not?”