Today, though, was not one of those days that Makoto could slip away to take solace in the shrine.

Instead, they were seated amongst their family - their aunts, uncles, and cousins, who were murmuring amongst each other. The atmosphere was somber and morose on the surface, as those present spoke of Nezuko and her passing - speaking of it was though it was a tragedy to overcome, and that they were gathered here to remember her, but...

... Makoto could hear the whispers that were snuck about - in-between words of shared condolences. Insidious gossip, like the hisses of Seviper.

They spoke of desire for the belongings that Nezuko left behind, in her passing. With how sudden and young her death was, she had no will to speak of - and now there were those claiming that Nezuko, in life, had promised them something. Be it claiming that she meant to give one some of her beautiful jewelery, or that she had mentioned wanting to share her beautiful outfits with another.

Like Mightyena - scavengers - Makoto realized, their throat briefly tightening as they looked down at their lap. Much as they feared, a good portion of the family were not as upset at Nezuko's passing as they had made themselves out to be. It was all a facade, for appearances. They were more worried about who would inherit what, now that their mother's things were up for grabs.

But... Why did things have to be this way? Why...?

Hiccuping softly, Makoto didn't realize that they were crying until the gossip and talking amongst the others fell silent. Almost immediately, the young child stiffened - trying to wipe away their tears on the back of their sleeves, trying to relax their jaw, trying to shove down the crying...

... But despite their efforts, the pointed words came all the same.

"Are you still crying, Makoto?" Their aunt - seated to their left - questioned, her tone sounding impatient.

"For shame, child." Another scolded, shaking their head slowly. "You've had plenty of time to grieve and collect yourself."

"Have some composure; would your mother really want to see you sobbing over her like this?"

Their words were like knives, and Makoto briefly struggled to gather themself under the pressure of the others' gazes. They had to be good - they had to be Composed, as any Kurumi should be. They wanted to take these words with all the same grace as Mom would've, even despire the fact that they were such a soft-hearted child...

... But, even as they suck in a deep breath through their teeth and wipe their face clean... Something like-yet-unlike whispers to them, at the back of their mind.

'... Is there any point, to playing by their rules? They won't accept us, no matter how much of a 'good' child we are.'

As Makoto does their best to calm themself, the older woman to their right - their grandmother - sighed audibly, reaching over to pat them on the head. A quiet bit of praise, a bit of comfort that Makoto couldn't help but find that they had been craving, ever since Nezuko's passing. Makoto wouldn't dare ask their other 'family' members for comfort, though - not when they were sure that they'd be told to grow up already.

Their mother was the only one they felt comfortable approaching for such things. And she was gone.

Makoto forced themself to maintain their composure, as the attention on them began to fade; the other Kurumis being far more interested in their own selfishness. Noone paid any mind to Makoto once they returned to being quiet and 'well behaved'; not even the head of the family, a man graying with age, paid them or the scolding much mind...

... But, perhaps it was the best. Because they could now pay some proper thought, to the strange thought that had crossed the back of their mind. Where had it come from? Was it a conscious or impulsive thought of theirs?

They'd recieve no direct answer - but... Once more, there was that soft murmur.

'No matter how 'good' we are, we're... The odd one out. The black wooloo, who noone will pay any mind unless we do something that inconveniences them.'

And yet, wouldn't acting out be bad, they wondered? Wouldn't making a scene get them in trouble?

'You aren't happy - and won't ever be happy - here. Mother was the only one who made it worth it. There's nothing they can do, that'd matter in the long term, if you wanted to speak out or leave.'

There are a number of feelings that seem to be conveyed in these words, even if Makoto cannot see the other's expression. Resignation at the situation, kindness and sympathy towards them, spite (and perhaps even hate) towards the others around them...

... And Makoto would be lying, if those words didn't strike a chord of sorts in them. No matter how good they'd been in the past, their family didn't acknowledge them - why would they start now?

'There's no reason to play by their rules.'

In the moment... They felt bold. Or perhaps just impulsive. When they'd look back on it later, they wouldn't be sure which one was more apt. But as those greedy whispers resumed, anger - a righteous one, but anger nonetheless - rose in Makoto's heart. They gripped at where their clothing layered on their lap - fingers knotting tight at the fabric.

Originally, Makoto would have simply let this pass. To simply allow themself to hide under everyone's radar by the sheer fact that their 'family' did not consider them worthy of that attention. But instead, this feeling built - bit by bit...

... Until it suddenly boiled over. "How could you?!" They blurted out, unable to hold these words back. The room fell into silence - but this silence did not longer for long, before Makoto was continuing "Mom's gone! She's dead! But... None of you care about her- All you... All you care about is her things!"

"Makoto!" One of the other women spoke, sounding scandalized.

But before she could continue, Makoto interrupted her. "NO! Th-this... This isn't okay! None of this is!" They were on their feet now, eyes filled with tears, cheeks flushed with emotion, hands clenched tight at their sounds. "Are you just... G-gonna forget about Mom, once you have what you want?! Are you just-"

"Enough." The family head raised his hand - and the room fell silent was once more. He glanced first to the others, then to Makoto. His brows furrowed as he looked them up and down - as if they had become someone completely different, in this moment. "... Return to your room, Makoto. We will discuss this later."

And at first, Makoto wanted to keep fighting - to keep speaking their mind - but...

'... Let's go. Unless you want to stay, there's much to be done...'

... At the advice of that like-unlike voice, Makoto would decide to follow his instructions. They sniffled, wiped their eyes on their sleeve, before turning away to leave the room.

They weren't sure what the plan was, but... Surely, it'd be better than having to stay here, where they weren't wanted...

. . .

... It'd be the morning after - after the Patriarch had scolded Makoto, and sent them to bed without dinner - that the Kurumi family would realize that a number of things had gone missing.

No longer was Tsume lingering near the family shrine, where Nezuko's ashes were kept. The fox was nowhere to be seen, and his pokeball had gone missing.

In another time, Makoto had stolen his pokeball when he was sleeping within. This had caused some friction between the duo - as Tsume had expected that he'd simply spend his years in quiet 'retirement', only to end up yoinked away from it all.

Here, they had spoken to him. Told him how they felt, how they desired to leave; and in hearing his charge out... He'd willingly follow after them, and help them prepare in leaving. He cared deeply for his master's only child, even if he tended to be stern in nature.

That was not all, however. Nezuko's room had clearly been ransacked; drawers opened, objects strewn about. A number of belongings were missing as well - jewelery, a few dresses, a prized statuette and the like.

In another time, Makoto didn't know the value of some of Nezuko's belongings, beyond that of sentimentality. And as a lone child, there was only so much that they could carry - so much that they could fit in their bag. They had only really taken the things that most reminded them of Mother, and a number of these things - though Makoto did not ever regret taking with them - had no real worth in surviving on one's own.

This time, however, Makoto was not alone. There was always that voice at the back of their head, helping nudge them to the things that were valuable. The things that they could bear to lose, in exchange for security. And with Tsume's help, they could still take the things that were sentimental to them. They could even better prepare, for the road ahead.

And finally, was the fact that Makoto was nowhere to be found. Though they always had a number of hiding spots around the estate, they never did show themself - even as lunch and then dinner came around.

The signs were clear, that they had left home with everything they could.

And they were all the more prepared for it, this time. Of course, the streets were no place for a child - and there would always be some hardship ahead. But, they started off on a far better foot this time around. They had more money, more food... And Tsume was far more cooperative as well, now that he knew their side of all of this.

Perhaps, this time around... Things could go a bit differently? Perhaps they could find someplace better. Someplace... Other than Hoenn?

At the very least, that was the hope that the Makoto of Now had, for this past self. . .

. . . . .

. . .

... Makoto blinks, as they suddenly awaken in their bed - jolting upright. The same apartment, in the same Sootopolis, in the same Hoenn. How long, was this dream that they had dreamt? Of another time, another place, where they nudged another 'them' on a better path?

They weren't sure. Really, only bits and pieces of it remained in their recollection.

But they glance to the clock on the nightstand, and see that it is still the middle of the night. They feel something shift next to them - Kama, his head resting on their lap.

It's quiet. It's peaceful...

... Petting their sneasel's head, Makoto decides to lay back down. They could sort these strange thoughts out another time...