“I’ll make some tea,” Mitsunari sounded pleasant enough, but even though he spoke in “Saki’s” soft, lilting voice, it was through teeth half-clenched in nervous anxiety. As he put his hands on the tatami to push himself up, he could feel his palms begin to sweat, and the heel of his hand slipped a little when he put his weight on it to get to his knees.
Closing the door behind him, Mitsunari regarded his mother with a quick smile and a nod, giving his blessing for the two women to continue their conversation in his absence.
Sliding the door toward the jamb, he cast one last look at his “new friend,” and scowled pointedly at her in a meaningful ‘don’t mess this up’way.
Alone in the hallway, Mitsunari had taken a few steps toward the kitchen, but stopped abruptly and leaned heavily against the wall, to collect himself.
With careful attention not to smear his makeup, Mitsunari first wiped his palms on his thighs before bringing his hands up to cover his face, as he leaned his head back on the wall near the door.
He hadn’t ever defied his mother, but when she suggested that “Saki” should bring over “the girl I head you talking with,” a refusal flew out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
The day that Mitsunari had revealed his secret to Hideyoshi’s newcomer, who turned out to be cross-dressing herself, he had felt a sort of understanding between them. It was nothing especially deep, but it had been so very long since he had come across someone who could at least sympathize with him.
It also crossed his mind that maybe she would pity him just enough to consider their debt settled, if she only realized that he had enough on his plate already, but there he was not long after, asking her to meet his mother as a favor.
It would never end at this rate. Mitsunari blew out a slow, measured breath through his fingers as they rested across his face. A small part of him wondered if his makeup was smudging and he allowed himself a sardonic smile, shaking his head at how absurd a life like this was.
Squeezing his eyes closed, he tried his hardest to just disappear, to become invisible, to just notbe.He could still hear them talking, even with the door closed, and his heart pinched with the joy of listening to his mother’s tinkling laughter for the first time in so long– a reminder that this was a world that still wanted him in it after all, no matter how he tried to run away.
Oh Amalthea! I DREAD OUR DREADFUL TIMEZONES. How can I ever keep up with you? You weren’t kidding when you said this made people cry. My heart cried. My feels cried. My soul cried. And while the gif above is an accurate representation of what your writing does to me and what this specific fic did to me, it’s not nearly enough to convey what a beautiful exercise in introspection and interior dialogue this was. What a killer fic, in every sense of the word, pulling me both ways towards misery of the best kind and sweet elevation; you’ve got the two most important women in Mitsunari’s life meeting at the crossroads between his seperate personas, and gurl, it’s exactly what you said to me. Hit me like a freight train. And then for you to pull it off with such aplomb, exploring how he’s torn two ways but perseveres with the tearing out of love, sweet love, purest love, prickly love, love with a noose around its neck– needles to say I was overwhelmed by the end. What an amazing exercise in sympathy. Thank you for sharing this with me. It’s a piece that expands what I know of him as a character and teaches my fanfiction heart to tremble. Eff these time zones so hard, man. Link me, tag me, please do whatever you have to from now so I don’t miss another one of these again.
WARNING: discussion of suicide, blood, bruising, etc.
This is based on the Slavic folklore, specifically the Rusalka, a beautiful river spirit that lures people to their death (this is a more recent mythological development, before the 19th century the Rusalka was actually a benevolent spirit).
This is an anon request from quite a while ago. This, I suppose, a continuation of Important Lessons? Because I can’t seem to quit it.
It’s just a little drabble.
Hope y’all enjoy.
When Saizo returns home from the university he’s met with the stark silence of his apartment, an odd dissonance from the usual bustle he returns to, followed by the very discernable sound of sniffling.
Dear oh dear.
He loosens his tie, dropping his work onto the counter, quietly following the sound into their bedroom.
No, not in there, he gives the empty bed a once over before turning to the bathroom.
He grabs the handle, twisting it.
Locked
His frown deepens, especially when he hears the uptick in her crying.
“Little Lady,” He begins, his voice concealing the concern he feels. “What’s going on?”
He hears her muffled response and for a moment he feels his entire world off kilter. The blood in his veins turns to ice.
Then he hears her again, her voice teary and pained.
“I’m sorry-I’m really sorry” She sounds so lost, so scared. What irony, since the only one who can really be blamed is him.
“Why are you sorry? It takes two to tango” He chuckles, a forced sound, his knuckles turned white from clutching at the handle. “Just let me in, little lady.”
Saizo never thought he’d be a father, actively attempted to not be a father, even.
But of course, of course with her he wasn’t careful. She always made him forget a piece of himself.
Still, being with her, he has learned to expect more of himself than he could imagine.
Especially when she looked at him, with those burning, loving eyes.
He had told himself he wouldn’t fall in love, wouldn’t settle down.
Thus far she’d proven both of those points wrong.
Perhaps with her, he could be a father.
She proves him wrong (or maybe right) when he is holding his son in his arms, her familiar eyes shining under the starkness of hair that so resembles his own.
A perfectly imperfect little being, prone to wailing unless he rested in the arms of one of his parents.
Twisting the fresh spring blossoms and vines into intricate styles, the light of early morning painting everything in sunrise.
She braids flowers into your hair and tells you stories of her mother.
She listens, with rapt, watching eyes, as you open up like the blooms she gives you, telling her about your family, wiping your tears when you talk about your father.
Perhaps that is all she would have done.
But you can’t stop yourself, no. Not with her sparkling eyes and her fingers, twining with yours.
You seek her out.
Finding her every morning.
Helping her with the chores, letting her brush her fingers down your neck.
You, even, are the one to pull her out deep into the garden, before anyone else is awake.
But even then, with flowers in your hair, and your hand holding hers.
She’s still the one that kisses you first.
Soft inspired by @buddy-anon and the post about MC and Umeko being cute girlfriends <3
All he heard were the caw of crows. These stretches of time swept passed underneath their wings. Laying there on the futon he could see their black bodies dancing and fluttering. Even with his cloudy vision he could make out their shapes dotting the branches like splotches of ink perched above his head. Only these splotches cried out. A warning. Then came the sound of rain, the smell of wet earth carried in through the open door by a spring breeze that triggered an ache in his wounds.
“Sorry!” he heard her shout as she entered the room. Heard her light, familiar footsteps. Felt the rhythmic vibrations in the floor underneath him as she ran on the balls of her bare feet to the open shoji, abruptly sliding it closed.
She was kneeling at his side now. “Did the cold wake you? That really swept through fast…” She shivered slightly in the shoulders, a grossly apologetic look on her face. “I would have shut the door sooner. I know how you hate the rain. You get this deep crease above your nose.” She brushed a finger lightly between his brows, like smoothing a wrinkle in a cloth. “Right there, and your jaw tightens a bit.” In truth, she found this expression of his to be a bit handsome.
“I’ll make some tea,” Mitsunari sounded pleasant enough, but even though he spoke in “Saki’s” soft, lilting voice, it was through teeth half-clenched in nervous anxiety. As he put his hands on the tatami to push himself up, he could feel his palms begin to sweat, and the heel of his hand slipped a little when he put his weight on it to get to his knees.
Closing the door behind him, Mitsunari regarded his mother with a quick smile and a nod, giving his blessing for the two women to continue their conversation in his absence.
Sliding the door toward the jamb, he cast one last look at his “new friend,” and scowled pointedly at her in a meaningful ‘don’t mess this up’way.
Alone in the hallway, Mitsunari had taken a few steps toward the kitchen, but stopped abruptly and leaned heavily against the wall, to collect himself.
With careful attention not to smear his makeup, Mitsunari first wiped his palms on his thighs before bringing his hands up to cover his face, as he leaned his head back on the wall near the door.
He hadn’t ever defied his mother, but when she suggested that “Saki” should bring over “the girl I head you talking with,” a refusal flew out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
The day that Mitsunari had revealed his secret to Hideyoshi’s newcomer, who turned out to be cross-dressing herself, he had felt a sort of understanding between them. It was nothing especially deep, but it had been so very long since he had come across someone who could at least sympathize with him.
It also crossed his mind that maybe she would pity him just enough to consider their debt settled, if she only realized that he had enough on his plate already, but there he was not long after, asking her to meet his mother as a favor.
It would never end at this rate. Mitsunari blew out a slow, measured breath through his fingers as they rested across his face. A small part of him wondered if his makeup was smudging and he allowed himself a sardonic smile, shaking his head at how absurd a life like this was.
Squeezing his eyes closed, he tried his hardest to just disappear, to become invisible, to just notbe.He could still hear them talking, even with the door closed, and his heart pinched with the joy of listening to his mother’s tinkling laughter for the first time in so long– a reminder that this was a world that still wanted him in it after all, no matter how he tried to run away.
Without thinking he tried to run to her, but he was too far away. She was already surrounded by people.
People she didn’t know. People who weren’t him.
“It’s probably nothing serious, Mr. Yugiri.”
“It’s so good of you to be worried about your injured fans, Mr. Yugiri.”
“Mr. Yugiri, you’ll get a cold if you stay in the rain.”
As soon as he could pay any attention to the voices around him, he realized he was being spoken to. He let his impassive mask fall into place, his voice devoid of emotion, “I should look after my fans. You all should hurry along now. Nothing to see here.”
Somehow, he had made it to the bottom of the stairs. The rain hit him harder, the crowd getting thinner every passing minute.
He could now see she had opened her eyes, the young woman in front of her telling her to stay still. When he stepped closer, his shoe hit something. It was her phone, the screen shattered from the fall. He hurriedly picked it up and stuffed it in his pocket before anyone else could see.
Every fibre of his being hated this. Hated he couldn’t go to her. Hated he couldn’t touch her. Hated he couldn’t comfort her. But he needed to keep her safe. He would go to the hospital afterwards.
But right at that moment, he hated himself.
Hated that she had to be alone, in a foreign city, surrounded by strangers.
When the ambulance doors closed after her, he was left on the street, staring at the small puddle of blood that was slowly dissolving in the rain.
He felt a hand on his shoulder.
“I have a cab waiting for you.” Kiyohiro’s voice was calm and steady, the exact opposite of how Saizo felt. He pushed Kiyohiro’s hand away irritated and walked to the cab, ignoring the rest of his fans.
She lied on the hospital bed, her eyes closed, but as soon as she felt his touch she opened her eyes.
“Saizo… you came.” She smiled and curled her fingers around his hand.
“… So it seems.” His smile seemed to ease her and she gave his hand a squeeze.
“Sorry… I… didn’t mean to disrupt your tour…”
“It doesn’t matter. Kiyohiro is already taking care of everything.”
“But…” He silenced her with a kiss on her forehead.
“I’ll get you home as soon as possible.”
“…Okay…” She fell silent, closing her eyes. He examined her, the bandages around her head and hands, her pale face, her body clad in an ugly hospital gown.
“What happened, hm?”
She opened her eyes and stared at him for a few moments before she spoke. “Um… I… I’m not sure… My memory’s kinda fuzzy…” She kept a short break as if trying to find the right words. “But the doctor said I was very lucky. I only broke some ribs and an arm, they didn’t even have to shave my head. Apparently, there’s some glue in there somewhere.” She tried to smile, but he could tell by her laboured short breaths she was in pain. He smiled back at her despite the coldness gripping his chest and stroked her head gently.
She had been lucky.
Lucky to be lying in a hospital bed.
He didn’t even want to think what else could have happened to her. She shouldn’t even have been here. But he had forced her to come.
Was this his punishment for wanting to keep the woman he loved close to him? A way for the universe to tell him everything he touched would be drenched in blood. That his hands would never be clean. Clean from her blood.
She would be better off without him.
Without his influence on her, without him ruining her life.
She could have died.
Oh god, she could have died…
Her blood had spilt on the street. The blood of the one person he wished to love and cherish with all his might. To love and cherish with such a desperation he sometimes felt like it might drown him.
He stroked her hair one last time before he pulled his hand back. She had fallen asleep, probably due to the painkillers she had been given. He turned away to leave, his fingers lingering still a while longer on her hand before he could finally let go.
“Mmm… Saizo…?” she murmured, her eyes cracking open, “Saizo… don’t leave…” Her eyes drooped closed again for a moment but she looked at him again, reaching for him, “Saizo… I need you…”
“Aren’t we needy today.” He smiled and brushed at the back of her hand. Her eyes blinked slowly, unfocused, but on him. He took a chair and sat by her bed taking her hand on his. “Does it hurt?”
“Only when I breathe,” she joked, but he knew she was serious. He saw how she winced every time she tried to move, heard the small whimpers leaving her lips every now and then. Despite all that, she smiled and her eyes closed again.
“Saizo…” she whispered her eyes opening and closing once as if she was making sure he was really there.
“Hm?”
“Promise you won’t leave…”
Any other day, he would have brushed her demand off. Any other day. But not today, he just couldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t make any promises to her. Not now, not ever. But even the idea of losing her felt so horrible it lurched his insides, made his heart freeze, his chest tight with fear. He had to give her something.
“I promise, little lady. Go to sleep now.”
After only a few seconds, her breath came out in calm breaths as sleep claimed her.
He wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t.
She was here and she was alive, that’s all that mattered now.
*****
“But Mr. Kirigakure, you can’t go in there! She quite clearly stated she didn’t wish to see you.” The nurse’s voice stopped him in his tracks. The hand he had already lifted to reach for the door handle dropped to his side and he silently stared at the door.
The nurse put a hand on his shoulder and guided him to sit on one of the chairs in the hallway.
“She’s been through a lot. Go home, take a shower. Get some sleep and come back in the afternoon. I’m sure she’ll want to see you then.”
Suddenly he felt exhausted. He buried his face in his hands, a sigh escaping his lips. The anxiety from the day before and the sleepless night were getting at him. Like the mask he was always wearing was suddenly crumbling to dust a bit by bit, revealing his inner self to the whole world to see.
“She’ll probably want this…” His voice sounded weird even in his own ears. Too much emotion was leaking through. He should have this under control by now.
But somehow, he wasn’t in control when it came to her.
Somehow, he was so lost.
He pushed her phone to the nurse and stood up. He fiddled with his own phone, ordering a cab for himself before he managed to school his face in an impassive mask again. “I’ll come back later. Please call me if anything comes up.” He looked at the nurse, who had a slight frown between his brows when he peered at him. The nurse looked concerned, ready to listen if he wanted to talk. He didn’t. He just wanted to see her.
When he stepped outside it was still raining. The raindrops landed heavy on his face, on his hair, soaked through his clothes chilling him to the bone. All the people around him pulled their coats tighter around them, held their umbrellas against the wind blowing in gusts, tried to avoid puddles while hurrying away from the rain.
