“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.
