the snow rages on — leaving you stuck at home with tengen. but maybe you've been staying home for too long...
ah, whatever— it's way too cold out there anyway!
you had promised tengen that you would mail his letters as soon as possible, planning to go to town the day after he had written them. you had set out right after breakfast, making sure that tengen would be comfortable during the hour or two you were gone.
well, that is before you saw the ongoing snowstorm outside your doorstep.
you can hear it rage before you even open the door; the wind howls as if it's sentient, snow swirling in tandem to create a white veil of haze that shrouds everything in front. you’ve barely made it past your doorstep, but you can feel yourself turn frigid.
but stubbornness inside makes you insist on making the journey. maybe it just looks worse than it is?
you shift your gaze downwards — the thick blanket of snow obscuring the ground made it clear to you that the storm had started much earlier than when you woke.
out of curiosity, you wearily step into the snow, only to watch your entire foot sink in— snow covering almost a quarter of your calf.
yeah, there’s no way you’re going out.
–
“you’re back so soon; did you forget something?” tengen calls out from your living room as soon as your front door thuds shut.
“there’s a storm,” you respond as you shed your coat, brushing off the snow that somehow managed to cling on despite how brief your excursion was. “i don’t think it’ll stop till tomorrow.”
you walk into your living room to see he’s right as you left him, snug under the kotatsu and a bit too focused on peeling a tangerine.
you stare at the sight as your skin still stings from your brief exposure to the air outside — you can’t help but feel slightly envious at how cozy he looks.
he’s still focused on getting rid of any straggly bits of pith off the fruit as you walk to the kotatsu, only looking up once he’s satisfied. “well, since you’re back, have a piece.” he pats at the cushion next to him, looking up at you expectantly.
“thank you,” you sit, making yourself comfortable. you hold out your hand — expecting him to hand it over — but you’re met with a grin.
“say aaa,” he holds a segment of the tangerine he painstakingly peeled an inch away from your face. you laugh, but he doesn’t move away.
“oh,” you say, taken aback. “you’re actually serious.”
“why wouldn't i be?” he quirks his brow, genuinely confused. “don’t keep me waiting, my hand hurts,” he practically whines, insistent on feeding you for whatever reason.
you hesitantly open your mouth, and he places a segment into your mouth, his fingers grazing your lips. you chew, trying to ignore the way he's practically studying your face. “thank you, uz—“
“tengen,” he corrects.
“thank you, tengen,” you adjust, and you don’t miss the way he smiles. he places the rest of the tangerine in your palm, and you look up at him confused. “won’t you have any?”
“i’ll peel another,” he says as he picks up another from the bowl in the center of the table. you watch him as you plop another piece in your mouth, and you’re amazed at how skillful he makes it seem. he’s quick yet precise — the tangerine has virtually no pith left sticking to it in a matter of what seemed to be less than a minute.
“how many have you peeled for you to be that quick?” you were already impressed to how clean the fruit was, but now you’re in awe of how quick the process truly was.
he laughs, amused by your bewilderment. “quite a lot actually, my wives are quite fond of them.”
“wife?” you freeze at the word, hoping you misheard.
“wives actually,” he corrects, as if it’s such a common thing. “three of them.”
you definitely misheard something.
the revelation makes you choke on the fruit in your mouth, spiraling into a coughing fit as you feel bits of it going the wrong way.
you can feel tengen pat your back in an attempt to help, clearly concerned by your erratic state. as your throat clears, you take a sharp breath, shutting your eyes out of embarrassment.
“are you o—”
“yes,” you say without looking up.
a silence grows between you two, but you can’t bear to say anything— or even look at him.
his laughter breaks the silence, and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut even tighter as your embarrassment grows.
“no, it’s okay— most people are surprised when they find out about my family.” you can tell he’s trying to stop laughing , but his voice falters at times.
“please, be quiet.”
“sorry.”
his desire to leave as soon as possible made a lot more sense now — the family he’s been yearning for were his wives, who were likely as beautiful as him. you get it — you would’ve rushed home for a wife, much less three.
but a part of you feels bitter, remembering yesterday’s events. the way he had grasped your hand, melted into your touch, and practically begged you to call out his name — did it mean nothing?
were they truly actions just born out of gratitude and nothing more? did he consider it all platonic? or were you an opportunity to have fun without his wives knowing?
“how does that even work?” you say without even thinking, voiced laced with confusion and shock. you can tell your growing confusion clearly amuses him — and it annoys you — but you can’t help but be curious.
“common practice in my clan actually,” he says as he eats. “more wives, more kids. numbers over nurture,” he says dryly, clearly holding disdain for the practice.
“but with my wives, it’s different. all three of them are precious to me — they bestow light upon my life. so i left with them, so we could have a life where we truly live for eachother.” his gaze softens and his hands falter, shutting his eyes as if recalling their image.
strangely enough, you feel your bitterness fade once you hear the genuine tenderness and love in his voice. you find yourself amazed at the love he holds for his wives, and just how apparent it is at the mere mention of them.
“how beautiful,” you say softly.
he lets out another laugh, but there’s something deeper behind it — like he knows something you don’t. “thank you.”
—
winter in the mountains only gets more treacherous each second.
you had thought if you waited a day or two, everything would settle enough to run your errands. but as if to mock you, the storm only continued to rage on. before you knew it, a week had passed without you being able to go down to town.
tengen was, luckily, very understanding, even going as far as encouraging you to wait until the snow had even slightly settled — but the delay still made you feel guilty. especially after learning who would be awaiting his letters.
you suppose the terrible weather had its perks — being bound inside has given you the chance to get to know your patient.
over the past year, much of your life had muddled into the same mundane routine— collecting herbs for the apothecary, maintaining your home, and the occasional visit to town for the sake of groceries and seeing patients— but tengen had thrown your solitary life off axis from the moment you found him unconscious and bloodied.
even while he was unconscious, your days centered around caring for him. but now that he’s awake, his presence in your life only seems to grow every passing second: sharing every meal with you, the playful banter shared when you would check on his injuries, and the bits of his life he’d share with you while sitting with you under the kotatsu as the storm raged on.
it left behind both copious amounts of snow and a realization: even if tengen healed before spring, he’d likely have to stay with you until the snow cleared; the journey would be far too strenuous on someone who had just managed to recover.
you had mulled over how you’d tell him, remembering how insistent he was to go back to his family right after walking up — would he insist on leaving as soon as he recovered? you had hesitantly relayed the message to him, but to your surprise, he seemed not to mind.
“i mean, if it’s what’s necessary,” he says rather casually. “who am i to argue with the doctor who saved my life!” he holds out his bare arm towards you, making it easier for you to wrap new bandages around his injured bicep.
you swear you see his lips curl up ever so slightly, a subtle smirk that you might’ve missed if you weren’t in such close proximity — almost as if he wants to be with you the whole of winter.
your hands temporarily falter at his words, quirking your brow in confusion. “...weren’t you the one who insisted on leaving despite not being able to stand by yourself?”
he grimaces at the mention of his actions shortly after waking up, smirk wiped clean off his face. “that— that’s different. i didn’t realize how bad it was.”
“how bad it is,” you correct, reaching for your scissors to cut off excess fabric. “i don’t think you’d last trying to get to town— okay, now for your abdomen. lean back for me, please.”
he does as you ask, albeit with a pout. “there’s no winning with you.”
you laugh without even realizing, “you’re so dramatic.”
his grin returns at the sound of your laugh, as if making you laugh were some achievement. “what can i say, it’s a part of my charm.”
“sure, we can call it that.”
“how mean.”
you roll your eyes before shifting your focus to the gash on his abdomen. you lean forward to wrap the bandage around his waist, eyes glued to your work site, even as you reach for the scissors again. you hum in satisfaction after you’ve finished, momentarily admiring your handiwork. “alright, i’m d— ”
it’s only when you look up that you realize how close the two of you are, his face merely centimeters away from yours. he’s looking at you with that burning gaze again, and you feel the words stay stuck in your throat the moment you make eye contact.
he doesn’t do or say anything at first; he just stares with a smile on his face. it’s different — not one of his smirks or mischievous grins — it’s soft. his gaze holds admiration, maybe even affection.
you don’t move away.
neither does he.
he wordlessly raises his hand, tucking away strands of hair that had gotten into your face without you even realize. he takes his time, you feel his fingertips graze your ear and skin; his touch is deliberate and gentle despite the calluses on his fingers.
you feel your brain helplessly turn into mush, again. it’s comforting and kind, you almost shut your eyes to savor the feeling, but you’re too enthralled by the look in his eyes.
“thank you,” he breaks the silence, but his words are as gentle as his touch.
a part of you wonders if he’d be this gentle if you were to close the distance between the two.
“you’re welcome,” you respond, trying not to give away the fact that your heart hammers in your chest.
his fingers curl around your hair, only breaking eye contact to watch how the tresses of your hair sway before bringing them forward and pressing a kiss to the strands in his hand.
oh god.
the act makes your stomach flip despite the fact that you’ve always seen it as cliché. maybe the issue was always the person behind the action.
he leans closer, close enough to wear you feel his breath on your skin, and you're sure he can feel yours — the small gap of a few centimeters narrowed down to only a centimeter.
you look up at him dazed, wondering if you should shove him away and tell him that this was inappropriate for so many reasons — such as the fact he’s married with not one but three wives, and that you’re his doctor.
but you’ve realized you don’t want to.
the past week you’ve forced yourself to ignore the growing tensions between the two of you. the way his gaze follows you, his touch lingering for a second too long for it to be nothing, the way he’s been gradually sitting closer to you until you’ve realized there's no longer even a centimeter between the two of you — you’ve convinced yourself to reduce it all to nothing.
you can’t deny it anymore; neither can you convince yourself you don’t want it.
you shut your eyes— your way of giving in— and you consequently feel his uninjured arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to feel his chest press against yours. his lips brush against your cheek, and the sweetness of the action almost makes you want to laugh. he’s more romantic than you thought he would be — savoring the moment rather than rushing towards what he wants.
you feel his hand rest on the same cheek, feeling him inch closer and closer—
the sound of frantic knocking and someone crying out your name practically jolts you out of your skin. you’re up and running before you even realize it, leaving tengen behind with little explanation as dread builds in your stomach.
no one bangs on a doctor's door for the sake of festivities.
–
“i’m here!” you yell, practically breaking the doors down. “what happened — where’s the patient?” you’re already pulling up your sleeves to deal with the worst-case scenarios running through your head, but you’re met with two people staring at you dumbfounded.
“you’re…okay?” you can’t even blink before you feel your cheek being pinched, consequently letting out a yelp.
“what the hell, yuusuke?” you slap his hand away, rubbing your cheek. you glare at him, only to be met with a genuine sigh of relief.
“sorry, it’s just— i thought you were dead.” he exclaims, looking you up and down like he can’t believe you’re in one piece.
“dead?” you repeat the word incredulously, and he nods. “what— why would you think i was dead?” you question him, bewildered by the idea. you look past him, staring at his mother who’s been silently standing behind him. “and why would you drag her up here at this age? auntie, did you think i was dead too—”
“yes!” she grasps your shoulders, as if she’s scared you’ll disappear into thin air. you’re taken aback at how emotional she is, looking into her tearful eyes. you grasp her arms as an attempt to soothe her despite your confusion, but all she does is cry.
“you’re late,” she cries out. you flinch at the accusation, confused— until it clicks. you never did end up going on your monthly grocery trip.
“it’s the tenth, you always come on the first of the month to stock up— you’re never late!” you can tell she wants to scold you, but her words come out as sobs. “you’re never late,” she repeats the words, as if it’s an unbreakable rule. she stares at you with tears in her eyes despite you always thinking she want the type of woman to cry.
“the last time you were late—“ she starts shakily, but the words seem to not come out. “the only time you were late was when—” she starts again, but cannot bear to finish as she falls into your arms sobbing.
your eyes widen at the mention before quickly softening, and you rub her back. “i’m sorry for worrying you.”
she doesn’t say anything, sniffling as her head rests against your shoulder. you can feel yuusuke wrap one arm around your shoulder and his other around his mother's. despite the freezing winds, you feel warm like this.
but the sound of your door creaking and your name being called out breaks you out of your musings.
fuck, you forgot about tengen.
“oh my,” you hear yuusuke begin to chuckle and you can already begin to feel the embarrassment bubble up inside you. “is this why— is he why you haven’t come down?”
“no!” you deny a bit too quickly, trying to get rid of what was being implied. ‘well, yes— b-but not in the way you’re thinking!” you stammer, trying to explain yourself, but the laughter coming from your childhood friends makes it evident your attempts are futile.
“well,” auntie peers over your shoulder at the confused man on your doorstep. “he is handsome, i can’t blame her.”
“it’s not like that!”
–
the four of you sit in silence, the atmosphere feeling increasingly awkward by the second. you clear your throat, calling everyone’s attention. “tengen,” you point to the two sitting in front of you. “this is tanaka mito and her son, yuusuke. they farm and sell rice down in the village. she was very close with my parents, so i consider her my aunt.”
“and this is my patient, uzui tengen.” you awkwardly gesture to the white-haired man sitting to your right. “i found him unconscious in the nearby forest, injured from a hunt. i’ve been taking care of him since.”
you watch as he flashes your guests a charming smile, and it works as intended on your aunt. “nice to meet the both of you! sorry for intruding earlier, i was just worried something had happened.”
“ah, don’t be!” your aunt’s tone seems a little too enthusiastic, you would hardly think she sobbing in your arms less than five minutes ago. “i did make a bit of a scene, ahaha!”
you stare at the woman in front of you — is she really the same person you were scared of for half your childhood?
her eyes keep shifting between you and tengen— the grin on her face getting larger. you look at her with pleading eyes, but you know she won’t back down — all you can do is brace yourself for impact.
“say, uzui-kun, are you married?”
you shut your eyes as soon as the question leaves her mouth, you can’t help but cringe. but she doesn’t stop there — despite the desperation on your face.
“i think my niece and you are about the same age, the two of you sh—“
“i am married,” he responds with a polite smile, but you can tell he’s trying not to laugh.
“ah,” your aunt is noticeably deflated. “i see…”
the room falls into silence again— but this time you’re saved by the whistle of the kettle.
“i’ll go get the tea ready!” you announce a bit too eagerly, practically springing up the ground.
“i’ll help!” yuusuke practically runs behind you before you can even refuse. it’s only when the kitchen door shuts do the two of you feel as though you can breathe.
you pour tea leaves into the kettle, while he brings out the teacups from the cupboard. the two of you have always been synchronous — yuusuke is the closest thing to a sibling and best friend you have.
“so,” he starts as he watches you pour the tea. “is he really just a patient?”
“of course he is,” you roll your eyes as you set down the kettle. “what else would he be?”
“i don’t know— i was hoping you got yourself a lover or something.”
the words make you freeze, putting the tray down onto the counter again. “..what?” you’re bursting out laughing before you even realize it. “first, it’s your mom and then you — oh my god, is this your guys' way of telling me i’m old and i need to get married?”
“no! it’s not that,” he quickly deflects. he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “it’s just, we get scared. you’re here, all alone.”
“and i’m more than capable of protecting myself, you know that. i’ve beat up grown men double my size, and i hunt-”
“we’re not scared of bears or bandits.” the sudden somber tone makes shivers run up your spine. you look up at him, seeing the solemn look in his eyes.
“...what are you implying?”
“things have been different the past year — you’ve been different, and that’s to be expected. no one would be the same if they went through what you did.” he opens his mouth to continue, but he hesitates. he breathes in, as if bracing himself. “...but you never come by anymore—and even when you do, you don’t feel like you’re all there. it feels like you’re just going to fade away.”
he goes silent, and so do you. you look back, finally noticing the tears in his eyes. the sight is shocking — throughout your shared childhood and even adulthood, you’ve never seen him cry.
“oh my god, yuu,” a wave of guilt crashes over you as you rush to wipe his eyes with the sleeve of your kimono. “i’m sorry, i didn’t realize how worried you guys have been."
“you don’t have to be sorry,” he sniffles. “i just want you to know we care and that you aren’t alone.”
you nod, smiling. “i’ll keep that in mind.”
–
you watch as your aunt and yuusuke follow the path down to the village from your doorstep, their figures get smaller and smaller as they walk further away. tengen watches beside you, even though you all insisted he didn’t have to come see them off as well.
“yuusuke, was it?” tengen asks. you nod in confirmation. “the two of you seem close,” he smiles as he speaks, but the smile doesn’t seem to completely reach his eyes.
“we were born in the same year so our parents forced us to be best friends,” you laugh as you recount. “i guess it worked.”
“hm, i see.” his response is brief, but his voice seems colder than usual — and you’re not sure why. “are the two of you just friends?”
“ew!” your response is instinctive, your body cringing before you even realize it. “god, no! he’s like a brother.
tengen bursts out laughing at your rather visceral reaction, loud and boisterous. “brother,” he repeats, seeming rather satisfied. “good to know.”
a/n:
hey.... how y'all doing...
did not mean to make you guys wait longer than a month for an update, oops! you would think i'd be writing more because i have no school work, but apparently i start procrastinating things i like when i have no work.
can't lie, i didn't properly proofread the second half.
but anyways, thank you so much for the love the first chapter has received! truly thought i'd get at max one reader, but you guys saw the vision.
likes, reposts and comments are much appreciated! i read every single comment, they genuinely make my day. please let me know if you enjoyed it, or even if you hated it lolol, constructive criticism is also appreciated.
the snow rages on — leaving you stuck at home with tengen. but maybe you've been staying home for too long...
ah, whatever— it's way too cold out there anyway!
you had promised tengen that you would mail his letters as soon as possible, planning to go to town the day after he had written them. you had set out right after breakfast, making sure that tengen would be comfortable during the hour or two you were gone.
well, that is before you saw the ongoing snowstorm outside your doorstep.
you can hear it rage before you even open the door; the wind howls as if it's sentient, snow swirling in tandem to create a white veil of haze that shrouds everything in front. you’ve barely made it past your doorstep, but you can feel yourself turn frigid.
but stubbornness inside makes you insist on making the journey. maybe it just looks worse than it is?
you shift your gaze downwards — the thick blanket of snow obscuring the ground made it clear to you that the storm had started much earlier than when you woke.
out of curiosity, you wearily step into the snow, only to watch your entire foot sink in— snow covering almost a quarter of your calf.
yeah, there’s no way you’re going out.
–
“you’re back so soon; did you forget something?” tengen calls out from your living room as soon as your front door thuds shut.
“there’s a storm,” you respond as you shed your coat, brushing off the snow that somehow managed to cling on despite how brief your excursion was. “i don’t think it’ll stop till tomorrow.”
you walk into your living room to see he’s right as you left him, snug under the kotatsu and a bit too focused on peeling a tangerine.
you stare at the sight as your skin still stings from your brief exposure to the air outside — you can’t help but feel slightly envious at how cozy he looks.
he’s still focused on getting rid of any straggly bits of pith off the fruit as you walk to the kotatsu, only looking up once he’s satisfied. “well, since you’re back, have a piece.” he pats at the cushion next to him, looking up at you expectantly.
“thank you,” you sit, making yourself comfortable. you hold out your hand — expecting him to hand it over — but you’re met with a grin.
“say aaa,” he holds a segment of the tangerine he painstakingly peeled an inch away from your face. you laugh, but he doesn’t move away.
“oh,” you say, taken aback. “you’re actually serious.”
“why wouldn't i be?” he quirks his brow, genuinely confused. “don’t keep me waiting, my hand hurts,” he practically whines, insistent on feeding you for whatever reason.
you hesitantly open your mouth, and he places a segment into your mouth, his fingers grazing your lips. you chew, trying to ignore the way he's practically studying your face. “thank you, uz—“
“tengen,” he corrects.
“thank you, tengen,” you adjust, and you don’t miss the way he smiles. he places the rest of the tangerine in your palm, and you look up at him confused. “won’t you have any?”
“i’ll peel another,” he says as he picks up another from the bowl in the center of the table. you watch him as you plop another piece in your mouth, and you’re amazed at how skillful he makes it seem. he’s quick yet precise — the tangerine has virtually no pith left sticking to it in a matter of what seemed to be less than a minute.
“how many have you peeled for you to be that quick?” you were already impressed to how clean the fruit was, but now you’re in awe of how quick the process truly was.
he laughs, amused by your bewilderment. “quite a lot actually, my wives are quite fond of them.”
“wife?” you freeze at the word, hoping you misheard.
“wives actually,” he corrects, as if it’s such a common thing. “three of them.”
you definitely misheard something.
the revelation makes you choke on the fruit in your mouth, spiraling into a coughing fit as you feel bits of it going the wrong way.
you can feel tengen pat your back in an attempt to help, clearly concerned by your erratic state. as your throat clears, you take a sharp breath, shutting your eyes out of embarrassment.
“are you o—”
“yes,” you say without looking up.
a silence grows between you two, but you can’t bear to say anything— or even look at him.
his laughter breaks the silence, and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut even tighter as your embarrassment grows.
“no, it’s okay— most people are surprised when they find out about my family.” you can tell he’s trying to stop laughing , but his voice falters at times.
“please, be quiet.”
“sorry.”
his desire to leave as soon as possible made a lot more sense now — the family he’s been yearning for were his wives, who were likely as beautiful as him. you get it — you would’ve rushed home for a wife, much less three.
but a part of you feels bitter, remembering yesterday’s events. the way he had grasped your hand, melted into your touch, and practically begged you to call out his name — did it mean nothing?
were they truly actions just born out of gratitude and nothing more? did he consider it all platonic? or were you an opportunity to have fun without his wives knowing?
“how does that even work?” you say without even thinking, voiced laced with confusion and shock. you can tell your growing confusion clearly amuses him — and it annoys you — but you can’t help but be curious.
“common practice in my clan actually,” he says as he eats. “more wives, more kids. numbers over nurture,” he says dryly, clearly holding disdain for the practice.
“but with my wives, it’s different. all three of them are precious to me — they bestow light upon my life. so i left with them, so we could have a life where we truly live for eachother.” his gaze softens and his hands falter, shutting his eyes as if recalling their image.
strangely enough, you feel your bitterness fade once you hear the genuine tenderness and love in his voice. you find yourself amazed at the love he holds for his wives, and just how apparent it is at the mere mention of them.
“how beautiful,” you say softly.
he lets out another laugh, but there’s something deeper behind it — like he knows something you don’t. “thank you.”
—
winter in the mountains only gets more treacherous each second.
you had thought if you waited a day or two, everything would settle enough to run your errands. but as if to mock you, the storm only continued to rage on. before you knew it, a week had passed without you being able to go down to town.
tengen was, luckily, very understanding, even going as far as encouraging you to wait until the snow had even slightly settled — but the delay still made you feel guilty. especially after learning who would be awaiting his letters.
you suppose the terrible weather had its perks — being bound inside has given you the chance to get to know your patient.
over the past year, much of your life had muddled into the same mundane routine— collecting herbs for the apothecary, maintaining your home, and the occasional visit to town for the sake of groceries and seeing patients— but tengen had thrown your solitary life off axis from the moment you found him unconscious and bloodied.
even while he was unconscious, your days centered around caring for him. but now that he’s awake, his presence in your life only seems to grow every passing second: sharing every meal with you, the playful banter shared when you would check on his injuries, and the bits of his life he’d share with you while sitting with you under the kotatsu as the storm raged on.
it left behind both copious amounts of snow and a realization: even if tengen healed before spring, he’d likely have to stay with you until the snow cleared; the journey would be far too strenuous on someone who had just managed to recover.
you had mulled over how you’d tell him, remembering how insistent he was to go back to his family right after walking up — would he insist on leaving as soon as he recovered? you had hesitantly relayed the message to him, but to your surprise, he seemed not to mind.
“i mean, if it’s what’s necessary,” he says rather casually. “who am i to argue with the doctor who saved my life!” he holds out his bare arm towards you, making it easier for you to wrap new bandages around his injured bicep.
you swear you see his lips curl up ever so slightly, a subtle smirk that you might’ve missed if you weren’t in such close proximity — almost as if he wants to be with you the whole of winter.
your hands temporarily falter at his words, quirking your brow in confusion. “...weren’t you the one who insisted on leaving despite not being able to stand by yourself?”
he grimaces at the mention of his actions shortly after waking up, smirk wiped clean off his face. “that— that’s different. i didn’t realize how bad it was.”
“how bad it is,” you correct, reaching for your scissors to cut off excess fabric. “i don’t think you’d last trying to get to town— okay, now for your abdomen. lean back for me, please.”
he does as you ask, albeit with a pout. “there’s no winning with you.”
you laugh without even realizing, “you’re so dramatic.”
his grin returns at the sound of your laugh, as if making you laugh were some achievement. “what can i say, it’s a part of my charm.”
“sure, we can call it that.”
“how mean.”
you roll your eyes before shifting your focus to the gash on his abdomen. you lean forward to wrap the bandage around his waist, eyes glued to your work site, even as you reach for the scissors again. you hum in satisfaction after you’ve finished, momentarily admiring your handiwork. “alright, i’m d— ”
it’s only when you look up that you realize how close the two of you are, his face merely centimeters away from yours. he’s looking at you with that burning gaze again, and you feel the words stay stuck in your throat the moment you make eye contact.
he doesn’t do or say anything at first; he just stares with a smile on his face. it’s different — not one of his smirks or mischievous grins — it’s soft. his gaze holds admiration, maybe even affection.
you don’t move away.
neither does he.
he wordlessly raises his hand, tucking away strands of hair that had gotten into your face without you even realize. he takes his time, you feel his fingertips graze your ear and skin; his touch is deliberate and gentle despite the calluses on his fingers.
you feel your brain helplessly turn into mush, again. it’s comforting and kind, you almost shut your eyes to savor the feeling, but you’re too enthralled by the look in his eyes.
“thank you,” he breaks the silence, but his words are as gentle as his touch.
a part of you wonders if he’d be this gentle if you were to close the distance between the two.
“you’re welcome,” you respond, trying not to give away the fact that your heart hammers in your chest.
his fingers curl around your hair, only breaking eye contact to watch how the tresses of your hair sway before bringing them forward and pressing a kiss to the strands in his hand.
oh god.
the act makes your stomach flip despite the fact that you’ve always seen it as cliché. maybe the issue was always the person behind the action.
he leans closer, close enough to wear you feel his breath on your skin, and you're sure he can feel yours — the small gap of a few centimeters narrowed down to only a centimeter.
you look up at him dazed, wondering if you should shove him away and tell him that this was inappropriate for so many reasons — such as the fact he’s married with not one but three wives, and that you’re his doctor.
but you’ve realized you don’t want to.
the past week you’ve forced yourself to ignore the growing tensions between the two of you. the way his gaze follows you, his touch lingering for a second too long for it to be nothing, the way he’s been gradually sitting closer to you until you’ve realized there's no longer even a centimeter between the two of you — you’ve convinced yourself to reduce it all to nothing.
you can’t deny it anymore; neither can you convince yourself you don’t want it.
you shut your eyes— your way of giving in— and you consequently feel his uninjured arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to feel his chest press against yours. his lips brush against your cheek, and the sweetness of the action almost makes you want to laugh. he’s more romantic than you thought he would be — savoring the moment rather than rushing towards what he wants.
you feel his hand rest on the same cheek, feeling him inch closer and closer—
the sound of frantic knocking and someone crying out your name practically jolts you out of your skin. you’re up and running before you even realize it, leaving tengen behind with little explanation as dread builds in your stomach.
no one bangs on a doctor's door for the sake of festivities.
–
“i’m here!” you yell, practically breaking the doors down. “what happened — where’s the patient?” you’re already pulling up your sleeves to deal with the worst-case scenarios running through your head, but you’re met with two people staring at you dumbfounded.
“you’re…okay?” you can’t even blink before you feel your cheek being pinched, consequently letting out a yelp.
“what the hell, yuusuke?” you slap his hand away, rubbing your cheek. you glare at him, only to be met with a genuine sigh of relief.
“sorry, it’s just— i thought you were dead.” he exclaims, looking you up and down like he can’t believe you’re in one piece.
“dead?” you repeat the word incredulously, and he nods. “what— why would you think i was dead?” you question him, bewildered by the idea. you look past him, staring at his mother who’s been silently standing behind him. “and why would you drag her up here at this age? auntie, did you think i was dead too—”
“yes!” she grasps your shoulders, as if she’s scared you’ll disappear into thin air. you’re taken aback at how emotional she is, looking into her tearful eyes. you grasp her arms as an attempt to soothe her despite your confusion, but all she does is cry.
“you’re late,” she cries out. you flinch at the accusation, confused— until it clicks. you never did end up going on your monthly grocery trip.
“it’s the tenth, you always come on the first of the month to stock up— you’re never late!” you can tell she wants to scold you, but her words come out as sobs. “you’re never late,” she repeats the words, as if it’s an unbreakable rule. she stares at you with tears in her eyes despite you always thinking she want the type of woman to cry.
“the last time you were late—“ she starts shakily, but the words seem to not come out. “the only time you were late was when—” she starts again, but cannot bear to finish as she falls into your arms sobbing.
your eyes widen at the mention before quickly softening, and you rub her back. “i’m sorry for worrying you.”
she doesn’t say anything, sniffling as her head rests against your shoulder. you can feel yuusuke wrap one arm around your shoulder and his other around his mother's. despite the freezing winds, you feel warm like this.
but the sound of your door creaking and your name being called out breaks you out of your musings.
fuck, you forgot about tengen.
“oh my,” you hear yuusuke begin to chuckle and you can already begin to feel the embarrassment bubble up inside you. “is this why— is he why you haven’t come down?”
“no!” you deny a bit too quickly, trying to get rid of what was being implied. ‘well, yes— b-but not in the way you’re thinking!” you stammer, trying to explain yourself, but the laughter coming from your childhood friends makes it evident your attempts are futile.
“well,” auntie peers over your shoulder at the confused man on your doorstep. “he is handsome, i can’t blame her.”
“it’s not like that!”
–
the four of you sit in silence, the atmosphere feeling increasingly awkward by the second. you clear your throat, calling everyone’s attention. “tengen,” you point to the two sitting in front of you. “this is tanaka mito and her son, yuusuke. they farm and sell rice down in the village. she was very close with my parents, so i consider her my aunt.”
“and this is my patient, uzui tengen.” you awkwardly gesture to the white-haired man sitting to your right. “i found him unconscious in the nearby forest, injured from a hunt. i’ve been taking care of him since.”
you watch as he flashes your guests a charming smile, and it works as intended on your aunt. “nice to meet the both of you! sorry for intruding earlier, i was just worried something had happened.”
“ah, don’t be!” your aunt’s tone seems a little too enthusiastic, you would hardly think she sobbing in your arms less than five minutes ago. “i did make a bit of a scene, ahaha!”
you stare at the woman in front of you — is she really the same person you were scared of for half your childhood?
her eyes keep shifting between you and tengen— the grin on her face getting larger. you look at her with pleading eyes, but you know she won’t back down — all you can do is brace yourself for impact.
“say, uzui-kun, are you married?”
you shut your eyes as soon as the question leaves her mouth, you can’t help but cringe. but she doesn’t stop there — despite the desperation on your face.
“i think my niece and you are about the same age, the two of you sh—“
“i am married,” he responds with a polite smile, but you can tell he’s trying not to laugh.
“ah,” your aunt is noticeably deflated. “i see…”
the room falls into silence again— but this time you’re saved by the whistle of the kettle.
“i’ll go get the tea ready!” you announce a bit too eagerly, practically springing up the ground.
“i’ll help!” yuusuke practically runs behind you before you can even refuse. it’s only when the kitchen door shuts do the two of you feel as though you can breathe.
you pour tea leaves into the kettle, while he brings out the teacups from the cupboard. the two of you have always been synchronous — yuusuke is the closest thing to a sibling and best friend you have.
“so,” he starts as he watches you pour the tea. “is he really just a patient?”
“of course he is,” you roll your eyes as you set down the kettle. “what else would he be?”
“i don’t know— i was hoping you got yourself a lover or something.”
the words make you freeze, putting the tray down onto the counter again. “..what?” you’re bursting out laughing before you even realize it. “first, it’s your mom and then you — oh my god, is this your guys' way of telling me i’m old and i need to get married?”
“no! it’s not that,” he quickly deflects. he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “it’s just, we get scared. you’re here, all alone.”
“and i’m more than capable of protecting myself, you know that. i’ve beat up grown men double my size, and i hunt-”
“we’re not scared of bears or bandits.” the sudden somber tone makes shivers run up your spine. you look up at him, seeing the solemn look in his eyes.
“...what are you implying?”
“things have been different the past year — you’ve been different, and that’s to be expected. no one would be the same if they went through what you did.” he opens his mouth to continue, but he hesitates. he breathes in, as if bracing himself. “...but you never come by anymore—and even when you do, you don’t feel like you’re all there. it feels like you’re just going to fade away.”
he goes silent, and so do you. you look back, finally noticing the tears in his eyes. the sight is shocking — throughout your shared childhood and even adulthood, you’ve never seen him cry.
“oh my god, yuu,” a wave of guilt crashes over you as you rush to wipe his eyes with the sleeve of your kimono. “i’m sorry, i didn’t realize how worried you guys have been."
“you don’t have to be sorry,” he sniffles. “i just want you to know we care and that you aren’t alone.”
you nod, smiling. “i’ll keep that in mind.”
–
you watch as your aunt and yuusuke follow the path down to the village from your doorstep, their figures get smaller and smaller as they walk further away. tengen watches beside you, even though you all insisted he didn’t have to come see them off as well.
“yuusuke, was it?” tengen asks. you nod in confirmation. “the two of you seem close,” he smiles as he speaks, but the smile doesn’t seem to completely reach his eyes.
“we were born in the same year so our parents forced us to be best friends,” you laugh as you recount. “i guess it worked.”
“hm, i see.” his response is brief, but his voice seems colder than usual — and you’re not sure why. “are the two of you just friends?”
“ew!” your response is instinctive, your body cringing before you even realize it. “god, no! he’s like a brother.
tengen bursts out laughing at your rather visceral reaction, loud and boisterous. “brother,” he repeats, seeming rather satisfied. “good to know.”
a/n:
hey.... how y'all doing...
did not mean to make you guys wait longer than a month for an update, oops! you would think i'd be writing more because i have no school work, but apparently i start procrastinating things i like when i have no work.
can't lie, i didn't properly proofread the second half.
but anyways, thank you so much for the love the first chapter has received! truly thought i'd get at max one reader, but you guys saw the vision.
likes, reposts and comments are much appreciated! i read every single comment, they genuinely make my day. please let me know if you enjoyed it, or even if you hated it lolol, constructive criticism is also appreciated.
the snow rages on — leaving you stuck at home with tengen. but maybe you've been staying home for too long...
ah, whatever— it's way too cold out there anyway!
you had promised tengen that you would mail his letters as soon as possible, planning to go to town the day after he had written them. you had set out right after breakfast, making sure that tengen would be comfortable during the hour or two you were gone.
well, that is before you saw the ongoing snowstorm outside your doorstep.
you can hear it rage before you even open the door; the wind howls as if it's sentient, snow swirling in tandem to create a white veil of haze that shrouds everything in front. you’ve barely made it past your doorstep, but you can feel yourself turn frigid.
but stubbornness inside makes you insist on making the journey. maybe it just looks worse than it is?
you shift your gaze downwards — the thick blanket of snow obscuring the ground made it clear to you that the storm had started much earlier than when you woke.
out of curiosity, you wearily step into the snow, only to watch your entire foot sink in— snow covering almost a quarter of your calf.
yeah, there’s no way you’re going out.
–
“you’re back so soon; did you forget something?” tengen calls out from your living room as soon as your front door thuds shut.
“there’s a storm,” you respond as you shed your coat, brushing off the snow that somehow managed to cling on despite how brief your excursion was. “i don’t think it’ll stop till tomorrow.”
you walk into your living room to see he’s right as you left him, snug under the kotatsu and a bit too focused on peeling a tangerine.
you stare at the sight as your skin still stings from your brief exposure to the air outside — you can’t help but feel slightly envious at how cozy he looks.
he’s still focused on getting rid of any straggly bits of pith off the fruit as you walk to the kotatsu, only looking up once he’s satisfied. “well, since you’re back, have a piece.” he pats at the cushion next to him, looking up at you expectantly.
“thank you,” you sit, making yourself comfortable. you hold out your hand — expecting him to hand it over — but you’re met with a grin.
“say aaa,” he holds a segment of the tangerine he painstakingly peeled an inch away from your face. you laugh, but he doesn’t move away.
“oh,” you say, taken aback. “you’re actually serious.”
“why wouldn't i be?” he quirks his brow, genuinely confused. “don’t keep me waiting, my hand hurts,” he practically whines, insistent on feeding you for whatever reason.
you hesitantly open your mouth, and he places a segment into your mouth, his fingers grazing your lips. you chew, trying to ignore the way he's practically studying your face. “thank you, uz—“
“tengen,” he corrects.
“thank you, tengen,” you adjust, and you don’t miss the way he smiles. he places the rest of the tangerine in your palm, and you look up at him confused. “won’t you have any?”
“i’ll peel another,” he says as he picks up another from the bowl in the center of the table. you watch him as you plop another piece in your mouth, and you’re amazed at how skillful he makes it seem. he’s quick yet precise — the tangerine has virtually no pith left sticking to it in a matter of what seemed to be less than a minute.
“how many have you peeled for you to be that quick?” you were already impressed to how clean the fruit was, but now you’re in awe of how quick the process truly was.
he laughs, amused by your bewilderment. “quite a lot actually, my wives are quite fond of them.”
“wife?” you freeze at the word, hoping you misheard.
“wives actually,” he corrects, as if it’s such a common thing. “three of them.”
you definitely misheard something.
the revelation makes you choke on the fruit in your mouth, spiraling into a coughing fit as you feel bits of it going the wrong way.
you can feel tengen pat your back in an attempt to help, clearly concerned by your erratic state. as your throat clears, you take a sharp breath, shutting your eyes out of embarrassment.
“are you o—”
“yes,” you say without looking up.
a silence grows between you two, but you can’t bear to say anything— or even look at him.
his laughter breaks the silence, and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut even tighter as your embarrassment grows.
“no, it’s okay— most people are surprised when they find out about my family.” you can tell he’s trying to stop laughing , but his voice falters at times.
“please, be quiet.”
“sorry.”
his desire to leave as soon as possible made a lot more sense now — the family he’s been yearning for were his wives, who were likely as beautiful as him. you get it — you would’ve rushed home for a wife, much less three.
but a part of you feels bitter, remembering yesterday’s events. the way he had grasped your hand, melted into your touch, and practically begged you to call out his name — did it mean nothing?
were they truly actions just born out of gratitude and nothing more? did he consider it all platonic? or were you an opportunity to have fun without his wives knowing?
“how does that even work?” you say without even thinking, voiced laced with confusion and shock. you can tell your growing confusion clearly amuses him — and it annoys you — but you can’t help but be curious.
“common practice in my clan actually,” he says as he eats. “more wives, more kids. numbers over nurture,” he says dryly, clearly holding disdain for the practice.
“but with my wives, it’s different. all three of them are precious to me — they bestow light upon my life. so i left with them, so we could have a life where we truly live for eachother.” his gaze softens and his hands falter, shutting his eyes as if recalling their image.
strangely enough, you feel your bitterness fade once you hear the genuine tenderness and love in his voice. you find yourself amazed at the love he holds for his wives, and just how apparent it is at the mere mention of them.
“how beautiful,” you say softly.
he lets out another laugh, but there’s something deeper behind it — like he knows something you don’t. “thank you.”
—
winter in the mountains only gets more treacherous each second.
you had thought if you waited a day or two, everything would settle enough to run your errands. but as if to mock you, the storm only continued to rage on. before you knew it, a week had passed without you being able to go down to town.
tengen was, luckily, very understanding, even going as far as encouraging you to wait until the snow had even slightly settled — but the delay still made you feel guilty. especially after learning who would be awaiting his letters.
you suppose the terrible weather had its perks — being bound inside has given you the chance to get to know your patient.
over the past year, much of your life had muddled into the same mundane routine— collecting herbs for the apothecary, maintaining your home, and the occasional visit to town for the sake of groceries and seeing patients— but tengen had thrown your solitary life off axis from the moment you found him unconscious and bloodied.
even while he was unconscious, your days centered around caring for him. but now that he’s awake, his presence in your life only seems to grow every passing second: sharing every meal with you, the playful banter shared when you would check on his injuries, and the bits of his life he’d share with you while sitting with you under the kotatsu as the storm raged on.
it left behind both copious amounts of snow and a realization: even if tengen healed before spring, he’d likely have to stay with you until the snow cleared; the journey would be far too strenuous on someone who had just managed to recover.
you had mulled over how you’d tell him, remembering how insistent he was to go back to his family right after walking up — would he insist on leaving as soon as he recovered? you had hesitantly relayed the message to him, but to your surprise, he seemed not to mind.
“i mean, if it’s what’s necessary,” he says rather casually. “who am i to argue with the doctor who saved my life!” he holds out his bare arm towards you, making it easier for you to wrap new bandages around his injured bicep.
you swear you see his lips curl up ever so slightly, a subtle smirk that you might’ve missed if you weren’t in such close proximity — almost as if he wants to be with you the whole of winter.
your hands temporarily falter at his words, quirking your brow in confusion. “...weren’t you the one who insisted on leaving despite not being able to stand by yourself?”
he grimaces at the mention of his actions shortly after waking up, smirk wiped clean off his face. “that— that’s different. i didn’t realize how bad it was.”
“how bad it is,” you correct, reaching for your scissors to cut off excess fabric. “i don’t think you’d last trying to get to town— okay, now for your abdomen. lean back for me, please.”
he does as you ask, albeit with a pout. “there’s no winning with you.”
you laugh without even realizing, “you’re so dramatic.”
his grin returns at the sound of your laugh, as if making you laugh were some achievement. “what can i say, it’s a part of my charm.”
“sure, we can call it that.”
“how mean.”
you roll your eyes before shifting your focus to the gash on his abdomen. you lean forward to wrap the bandage around his waist, eyes glued to your work site, even as you reach for the scissors again. you hum in satisfaction after you’ve finished, momentarily admiring your handiwork. “alright, i’m d— ”
it’s only when you look up that you realize how close the two of you are, his face merely centimeters away from yours. he’s looking at you with that burning gaze again, and you feel the words stay stuck in your throat the moment you make eye contact.
he doesn’t do or say anything at first; he just stares with a smile on his face. it’s different — not one of his smirks or mischievous grins — it’s soft. his gaze holds admiration, maybe even affection.
you don’t move away.
neither does he.
he wordlessly raises his hand, tucking away strands of hair that had gotten into your face without you even realize. he takes his time, you feel his fingertips graze your ear and skin; his touch is deliberate and gentle despite the calluses on his fingers.
you feel your brain helplessly turn into mush, again. it’s comforting and kind, you almost shut your eyes to savor the feeling, but you’re too enthralled by the look in his eyes.
“thank you,” he breaks the silence, but his words are as gentle as his touch.
a part of you wonders if he’d be this gentle if you were to close the distance between the two.
“you’re welcome,” you respond, trying not to give away the fact that your heart hammers in your chest.
his fingers curl around your hair, only breaking eye contact to watch how the tresses of your hair sway before bringing them forward and pressing a kiss to the strands in his hand.
oh god.
the act makes your stomach flip despite the fact that you’ve always seen it as cliché. maybe the issue was always the person behind the action.
he leans closer, close enough to wear you feel his breath on your skin, and you're sure he can feel yours — the small gap of a few centimeters narrowed down to only a centimeter.
you look up at him dazed, wondering if you should shove him away and tell him that this was inappropriate for so many reasons — such as the fact he’s married with not one but three wives, and that you’re his doctor.
but you’ve realized you don’t want to.
the past week you’ve forced yourself to ignore the growing tensions between the two of you. the way his gaze follows you, his touch lingering for a second too long for it to be nothing, the way he’s been gradually sitting closer to you until you’ve realized there's no longer even a centimeter between the two of you — you’ve convinced yourself to reduce it all to nothing.
you can’t deny it anymore; neither can you convince yourself you don’t want it.
you shut your eyes— your way of giving in— and you consequently feel his uninjured arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to feel his chest press against yours. his lips brush against your cheek, and the sweetness of the action almost makes you want to laugh. he’s more romantic than you thought he would be — savoring the moment rather than rushing towards what he wants.
you feel his hand rest on the same cheek, feeling him inch closer and closer—
the sound of frantic knocking and someone crying out your name practically jolts you out of your skin. you’re up and running before you even realize it, leaving tengen behind with little explanation as dread builds in your stomach.
no one bangs on a doctor's door for the sake of festivities.
–
“i’m here!” you yell, practically breaking the doors down. “what happened — where’s the patient?” you’re already pulling up your sleeves to deal with the worst-case scenarios running through your head, but you’re met with two people staring at you dumbfounded.
“you’re…okay?” you can’t even blink before you feel your cheek being pinched, consequently letting out a yelp.
“what the hell, yuusuke?” you slap his hand away, rubbing your cheek. you glare at him, only to be met with a genuine sigh of relief.
“sorry, it’s just— i thought you were dead.” he exclaims, looking you up and down like he can’t believe you’re in one piece.
“dead?” you repeat the word incredulously, and he nods. “what— why would you think i was dead?” you question him, bewildered by the idea. you look past him, staring at his mother who’s been silently standing behind him. “and why would you drag her up here at this age? auntie, did you think i was dead too—”
“yes!” she grasps your shoulders, as if she’s scared you’ll disappear into thin air. you’re taken aback at how emotional she is, looking into her tearful eyes. you grasp her arms as an attempt to soothe her despite your confusion, but all she does is cry.
“you’re late,” she cries out. you flinch at the accusation, confused— until it clicks. you never did end up going on your monthly grocery trip.
“it’s the tenth, you always come on the first of the month to stock up— you’re never late!” you can tell she wants to scold you, but her words come out as sobs. “you’re never late,” she repeats the words, as if it’s an unbreakable rule. she stares at you with tears in her eyes despite you always thinking she want the type of woman to cry.
“the last time you were late—“ she starts shakily, but the words seem to not come out. “the only time you were late was when—” she starts again, but cannot bear to finish as she falls into your arms sobbing.
your eyes widen at the mention before quickly softening, and you rub her back. “i’m sorry for worrying you.”
she doesn’t say anything, sniffling as her head rests against your shoulder. you can feel yuusuke wrap one arm around your shoulder and his other around his mother's. despite the freezing winds, you feel warm like this.
but the sound of your door creaking and your name being called out breaks you out of your musings.
fuck, you forgot about tengen.
“oh my,” you hear yuusuke begin to chuckle and you can already begin to feel the embarrassment bubble up inside you. “is this why— is he why you haven’t come down?”
“no!” you deny a bit too quickly, trying to get rid of what was being implied. ‘well, yes— b-but not in the way you’re thinking!” you stammer, trying to explain yourself, but the laughter coming from your childhood friends makes it evident your attempts are futile.
“well,” auntie peers over your shoulder at the confused man on your doorstep. “he is handsome, i can’t blame her.”
“it’s not like that!”
–
the four of you sit in silence, the atmosphere feeling increasingly awkward by the second. you clear your throat, calling everyone’s attention. “tengen,” you point to the two sitting in front of you. “this is tanaka mito and her son, yuusuke. they farm and sell rice down in the village. she was very close with my parents, so i consider her my aunt.”
“and this is my patient, uzui tengen.” you awkwardly gesture to the white-haired man sitting to your right. “i found him unconscious in the nearby forest, injured from a hunt. i’ve been taking care of him since.”
you watch as he flashes your guests a charming smile, and it works as intended on your aunt. “nice to meet the both of you! sorry for intruding earlier, i was just worried something had happened.”
“ah, don’t be!” your aunt’s tone seems a little too enthusiastic, you would hardly think she sobbing in your arms less than five minutes ago. “i did make a bit of a scene, ahaha!”
you stare at the woman in front of you — is she really the same person you were scared of for half your childhood?
her eyes keep shifting between you and tengen— the grin on her face getting larger. you look at her with pleading eyes, but you know she won’t back down — all you can do is brace yourself for impact.
“say, uzui-kun, are you married?”
you shut your eyes as soon as the question leaves her mouth, you can’t help but cringe. but she doesn’t stop there — despite the desperation on your face.
“i think my niece and you are about the same age, the two of you sh—“
“i am married,” he responds with a polite smile, but you can tell he’s trying not to laugh.
“ah,” your aunt is noticeably deflated. “i see…”
the room falls into silence again— but this time you’re saved by the whistle of the kettle.
“i’ll go get the tea ready!” you announce a bit too eagerly, practically springing up the ground.
“i’ll help!” yuusuke practically runs behind you before you can even refuse. it’s only when the kitchen door shuts do the two of you feel as though you can breathe.
you pour tea leaves into the kettle, while he brings out the teacups from the cupboard. the two of you have always been synchronous — yuusuke is the closest thing to a sibling and best friend you have.
“so,” he starts as he watches you pour the tea. “is he really just a patient?”
“of course he is,” you roll your eyes as you set down the kettle. “what else would he be?”
“i don’t know— i was hoping you got yourself a lover or something.”
the words make you freeze, putting the tray down onto the counter again. “..what?” you’re bursting out laughing before you even realize it. “first, it’s your mom and then you — oh my god, is this your guys' way of telling me i’m old and i need to get married?”
“no! it’s not that,” he quickly deflects. he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “it’s just, we get scared. you’re here, all alone.”
“and i’m more than capable of protecting myself, you know that. i’ve beat up grown men double my size, and i hunt-”
“we’re not scared of bears or bandits.” the sudden somber tone makes shivers run up your spine. you look up at him, seeing the solemn look in his eyes.
“...what are you implying?”
“things have been different the past year — you’ve been different, and that’s to be expected. no one would be the same if they went through what you did.” he opens his mouth to continue, but he hesitates. he breathes in, as if bracing himself. “...but you never come by anymore—and even when you do, you don’t feel like you’re all there. it feels like you’re just going to fade away.”
he goes silent, and so do you. you look back, finally noticing the tears in his eyes. the sight is shocking — throughout your shared childhood and even adulthood, you’ve never seen him cry.
“oh my god, yuu,” a wave of guilt crashes over you as you rush to wipe his eyes with the sleeve of your kimono. “i’m sorry, i didn’t realize how worried you guys have been."
“you don’t have to be sorry,” he sniffles. “i just want you to know we care and that you aren’t alone.”
you nod, smiling. “i’ll keep that in mind.”
–
you watch as your aunt and yuusuke follow the path down to the village from your doorstep, their figures get smaller and smaller as they walk further away. tengen watches beside you, even though you all insisted he didn’t have to come see them off as well.
“yuusuke, was it?” tengen asks. you nod in confirmation. “the two of you seem close,” he smiles as he speaks, but the smile doesn’t seem to completely reach his eyes.
“we were born in the same year so our parents forced us to be best friends,” you laugh as you recount. “i guess it worked.”
“hm, i see.” his response is brief, but his voice seems colder than usual — and you’re not sure why. “are the two of you just friends?”
“ew!” your response is instinctive, your body cringing before you even realize it. “god, no! he’s like a brother.
tengen bursts out laughing at your rather visceral reaction, loud and boisterous. “brother,” he repeats, seeming rather satisfied. “good to know.”
a/n:
hey.... how y'all doing...
did not mean to make you guys wait longer than a month for an update, oops! you would think i'd be writing more because i have no school work, but apparently i start procrastinating things i like when i have no work.
can't lie, i didn't properly proofread the second half.
but anyways, thank you so much for the love the first chapter has received! truly thought i'd get at max one reader, but you guys saw the vision.
likes, reposts and comments are much appreciated! i read every single comment, they genuinely make my day. please let me know if you enjoyed it, or even if you hated it lolol, constructive criticism is also appreciated.
you find a mysterious man bleeding out on the snow less than a meter away from your home when trying to venture down the mountain. what a good omen!
it had been just another day for you — heading to town to stock up on food for the winter — nothing out of the ordinary.
until you found an injured man on your way down the mountain.
you stare at the unconscious man at your feet: a wide slash across his left bicep and blood smeared across his abdomen — there’s so much of it that it’s staining the snow around him, you can’t tell if all of it is his or if he’s even alive.
you can’t help but wonder who this bloodied stranger was and why he was near your house, but you hesitantly reach down, placing your fingers on the side of his neck to check he was alive.
you feel his heart beat resiliently; it almost amazes you how strong his pulse is despite him seemingly losing so much blood. but the winter has started to rage on — if he were to be left here for even an hour longer, he would die of hypothermia.
all your apprehension disappears at the thought, and you move to haul this man to your home — he is nearly twice your size, but you’d rather die yourself than leave a patient to die.
groceries would have to wait for another day.
——
it’s been a full day since you found him.
it doesn’t surprise you that he hasn’t stirred awake yet; the severity of the injuries he had would leave most people dead instantly. to be honest, it’s more surprising that this man is alive.
you still have very little idea of who your patient was, and the bits of information you had only managed to puzzle you.
whatever he fought was not human.
that fact was glaringly clear when you began his care. the wounds on him were too jagged to be from a sword or any type of blade, something like an animal’s claws had dug into him — but there was no animal in this mountain who could do this.
the wounds he held weren’t the only unique thing about him. vibrantly painted nails, eye paint, gold armbands, a bejeweled head band, and the enormous blades: it all screamed of flamboyancy.
a noble perhaps? it would have also explained his pretty face — you didn’t know a man could be so pleasing to look at. he still stood out even with his adornment stripped away: strong facial structure, tanned skin that contrasted with his snow-like hair, and a muscular build that was more than ideal for a warrior.
you tear your gaze away from the patient himself to stare at his gathered belongings placed on the table, trying to piece together his identity. you stare at the uniform you scrubbed blood off of — it was torn, but you still felt compelled to at least try and salvage it.
it looked out of place next to the rest of his flashy belongings — but it still caught your eye. strangely enough, it looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where you had seen it before. and then it clicked.
demon slayer.
you know of them — your father was an esteemed enough doctor to have worked with them. you weren’t sure you would ever meet one again because of their secrecy, but you somehow managed to find one a few feet away from your house on the verge of dying.
the last time you had ventured down the mountain, the townspeople had told you of rumors of people disappearing from nearby villages.
missing people.
a demon slayer on the verge of death at your doorstep.
the connection makes a shiver run down your spine.
–
it has been about three days since you found the demon slayer.
he was still bound to the bed you managed to haul him into, still unconscious — but he groans when you change the dressings of his wounds, and you can’t help but mumble soft apologies for causing him discomfort, even if he can’t hear you. even though he remains unconscious, the responses are a good sign — he might be able to swallow food and water.
you stand in front of your stove, waiting for the congee to boil, when you hear a loud thud. your mind can not help but spiral to the worst-case scenarios that even you admit are absurd— but you’re still running to his room before you even realize it.
you slide the door open to find him hunched over next to the futon he was lying on, clutching his abdomen but still stubbornly attempting to get up. before you can even run to his side, his head snaps towards you.
“i must leave” he manages to mutter through gritted teeth, still holding to his side, very obviously in pain. “my family, i must — i must get back to them. or else they will think i’m dead,” he says with conviction. all you can do is sigh.
“i have no intention of stopping you,” you shrug. “if you can get up, you’re free to go.” you motion for him to try and stand up by himself. he seems momentarily dumbfounded by your nonchalance, but quickly snaps out of it.
he attempts to push himself again, but he lets out a sharp hiss once he puts pressure on his left arm. “that’s what i thought would happen,” you mutter under your breath as you walk towards him.
“i don’t know what it is with you warrior types, always insisting on leaving when you can’t even walk out the door.” you voice your complaints as you help him adjust to sit up.
you’ve seen many men act the same throughout your and your father’s time as doctors: low-rate mercenaries, shinobis, and even other demon slayers.
“just trying to act cool when you can’t even stand,” you huff as you place a pillow behind his back to make him more comfortable. you notice he turns his head away from you, almost as if he’s embarrassed by your words.
“...how long have i been here?” he says quietly, still not making eye contact. you can’t help but notice the tips of his ears are flushed.
“i found you three days ago, you’ve been unconscious since,” you say before moving to get up. you look down at him, and can’t help but feel a little bad about your impulsive scolding.
“I understand you’d like to leave, but i’m sure your family would rather you fully recover,” you say softly, a hint of remorse in your voice.
there’s silence that makes you feel increasingly awkward and worse about scolding him, and you wonder if you should directly apologize — maybe you were too insensitive.
“thank you,” his apology unexpectedly breaks the silence. you look down to meet his gaze, and you find your earlier observations glaringly apparent now: he’s beautiful. his eyes are a deep fuschia — a detail previously hidden from you while he was unconscious. his eyes are so rich in color they remind you of gemstones.
“it’s nothing,” now you’re the one to look away, feeling strangely sheepish. you clear your throat, “i’ll be back with a bowl of congee, eat as much as you can.” you leave the room rather abruptly, but you can’t miss the laugh he lets out when you stumble out.
—
the morning after, you got stationery ready for him to write his letter. despite his earlier determination to get home and his concern for his family, he only blankly stares at the supplies on the desk you provided.
“whats wrong?” you ask him as you sit down next to him. “not in the mood to write?” you lean forward to peer at the blank paper.
“no — it’s just — ” he shifts to look at you. “i’m just really grateful,” a smile spreads across his face. the sudden sincerity in his voice, now you’re fidgeting under his gaze.
“for… stationary?” you almost cringe at your own response — it was so obvious what he meant, why would he just thank you for stationary?
as a doctor, you’ve had countless patients thank you and your father for saving their lives but you’ve never felt this flustered by it before. his gratitude is so different — too enthusiastic, too intimate.
were your years of solitude getting to you? it felt so unprofessional to be so bashful because a patient was so handsome, but you couldn’t help it.
the sound of his laugh breaks you out of mental self-scolding, “not just the stationary — you saved my life.”
you shake your head, dismissing the need to thank you. “i’m a doctor, i did what i had to.”
“i don't think many doctors would have even tried to help me in that state — even i thought it was the end.” he gestures to the bandages peaking out his haori.
“you fought to survive, i just brought you inside.”
he lets out an exasperated sigh, “you know, all you have to say is ‘you’re welcome.’”
“yeah, yeah,” you can’t help but laugh at the drama of his antics. “you’re welcome. happy?”
his eyes slightly widen at the sound of your laughter, almost as if he didn’t expect you to be able to — but he quickly grins instead. “very.”
his eyes briefly drift from meeting yours to your hands resting on the desk , so quick you barely catch it.
“you know,” he starts innocently. you hum in response, signaling for him to go on. “i never caught your name,” and before you realize he’s taken one of your hands, grasping it in both of his and placing it on his chest, refusing to break eye contact.
“may i have the honor of knowing my savior?” his tone of voice is so sweet, almost seductive — and it renders your brain to mush.
what the hell is happening?
you blink at the sight before you, trying to process if it’s real and not a fever dream. you want to say something — let out a sound of confusion at least — but your throat seems to have to shut tight and you’re painfully aware of how firm his chest is.
this was obviously much too intimate of an interaction between two people who barely know each other, much less a doctor and patient. it’s unprofessional and unlike yourself to be taken by a man — but you find yourself unable to pull away, as if you’re under a trance. sure, you’ve had the occasional patient try to flirt with you, but they’ve never been this bold — or attractive, for that matter.
“you — ” you finally start to speak, but the way he’s looking at you makes you fumble with your words. you find yourself trying to avert eye contact without even realizing, but you can feel his burning gaze on you still, and his grasp is noticeably firm. “you don’t have to refer to me as your savior, it’s too—”
“if you won’t allow that,” his hands squeeze yours almost as if urging you to look back at him, and you can’t help but oblige. “then at least allow me to know your name.”
as soon as you utter it, he says your name like it’s something precious, something he treasures dearly. you feel your stomach flip, and you hope it’s just acid reflux— it’d be less embarrassing than admitting it was because of a man you barely know.
“don’t you think it’s time for you to introduce yourself as well?” you find it in yourself to retaliate, attempting to pull your hand away but his grasp stays firm.
“ah, where are my manners?” he grins as he looks down on you. “tengen, uzui tengen.” he guides your hand away from his chest, resting your hand on his cheek instead. he nuzzles his face into your palm, eyes shutting as if trying to savor the feeling of your touch.
“please, call out my name.” his gemstone-like eyes flutter open, a soft smile forming on his face, almost as if beckoning you to call out his name.
“tengen uzui,” you can’t help but oblige him, his name rolls off your tongue easily — almost too easily.
his smile grows into an even wider grin, very clearly pleased. he takes your hands away from his cheek, just to stare at it briefly. he moves your hands slowly towards himself again, grip noticeably looser, giving you the opportunity to take back your hand if you wish to.
he seems even more pleased that you don’t.
he kisses the back of your hand softly, and the feeling lingers even after. he's still fixated on the back of your hands, watching as his thumb caresses the area he just kissed. he gives your hands one final squeeze before letting go, looking up at you with a playful glint in his eyes. “i suppose i should start writing now, shouldn’t i?”
the words break you out of whatever trance he had you in, and you feel embarrassed that a part of you wishes it hadn’t.
you laugh, partially at yourself and partially at his words. “ah, then i suppose i should start with breakfast then.” your heart pounds in your chest as you stand, but you don’t let it show — you’ve embarrassed yourself enough.
“i’ll leave you to it,” you say as you reach the doorframe, you look back to smile at him — your way of trying to not let him know he had you wrapped around his finger.
you shut the door behind you, and it’s only when you reach the kitchen that you feel like you can finally breathe again.
—
tengen’s eyes can’t help but follow your retreating figure; the sight nearly makes him regret letting go of your hand and letting you leave. he has to remind himself not to be hasty — as receptive as you were to his boldness, he would hate to scare you away. once the door shuts behind you and he can no longer hear your footsteps, he can’t help but let out a wistful sigh.
he sits in silence before finally taking up the brush you provided, putting ink to paper. the first letter was for the corps: letting them know he was alive, the demon was killed, and that he was currently being cared for by you. another letter for his wives with mostly the same contents, but with the additional details of how he’s thinking of them and how he wishes to be back home as soon as possible.
although, he wasn’t sure how true the latter was for now.
he momentarily puts the brush down, shutting his eyes to reminisce about you despite it being only minutes since you were gone. perhaps you haven’t realized how you’ve already managed to creep into his heart.
he can still recall your sweet voice assuring him he’d be okay. despite being at the crossroads of life and death, your voice managed to reach him.
when he finally laid his eyes upon you, he knew it had been you. the voice that kept him alive, the hands that had cared for him, they all belonged to you — and you were more beautiful than he could have imagined.
he rushes for the brush again before even opening his eyes, writing a new paragraph about you to his wives. he stares at what he’s written, reading over the details of how you’ve cared for him so attentively. as he puts the brush back onto paper, he can feel the corner of his lips curl up involuntarily as he reads over his final sentence.
“would you three like another wife?”
--
a/n: first-time posting fanfic on a public domain, very nervous, eek! likes, comments, or even criticism is much obliged!
you find a man covered in blood amongst the winter snow, you save his life only to become ensnared in it. he’s yours, and so is everything that belongs to him.
or in less flowery terms, you save tengen’s life and end up married to him and his wives!
the snow rages on — leaving you stuck at home with tengen. but maybe you've been staying home for too long...
ah, whatever— it's way too cold out there anyway!
you had promised tengen that you would mail his letters as soon as possible, planning to go to town the day after he had written them. you had set out right after breakfast, making sure that tengen would be comfortable during the hour or two you were gone.
well, that is before you saw the ongoing snowstorm outside your doorstep.
you can hear it rage before you even open the door; the wind howls as if it's sentient, snow swirling in tandem to create a white veil of haze that shrouds everything in front. you’ve barely made it past your doorstep, but you can feel yourself turn frigid.
but stubbornness inside makes you insist on making the journey. maybe it just looks worse than it is?
you shift your gaze downwards — the thick blanket of snow obscuring the ground made it clear to you that the storm had started much earlier than when you woke.
out of curiosity, you wearily step into the snow, only to watch your entire foot sink in— snow covering almost a quarter of your calf.
yeah, there’s no way you’re going out.
–
“you’re back so soon; did you forget something?” tengen calls out from your living room as soon as your front door thuds shut.
“there’s a storm,” you respond as you shed your coat, brushing off the snow that somehow managed to cling on despite how brief your excursion was. “i don’t think it’ll stop till tomorrow.”
you walk into your living room to see he’s right as you left him, snug under the kotatsu and a bit too focused on peeling a tangerine.
you stare at the sight as your skin still stings from your brief exposure to the air outside — you can’t help but feel slightly envious at how cozy he looks.
he’s still focused on getting rid of any straggly bits of pith off the fruit as you walk to the kotatsu, only looking up once he’s satisfied. “well, since you’re back, have a piece.” he pats at the cushion next to him, looking up at you expectantly.
“thank you,” you sit, making yourself comfortable. you hold out your hand — expecting him to hand it over — but you’re met with a grin.
“say aaa,” he holds a segment of the tangerine he painstakingly peeled an inch away from your face. you laugh, but he doesn’t move away.
“oh,” you say, taken aback. “you’re actually serious.”
“why wouldn't i be?” he quirks his brow, genuinely confused. “don’t keep me waiting, my hand hurts,” he practically whines, insistent on feeding you for whatever reason.
you hesitantly open your mouth, and he places a segment into your mouth, his fingers grazing your lips. you chew, trying to ignore the way he's practically studying your face. “thank you, uz—“
“tengen,” he corrects.
“thank you, tengen,” you adjust, and you don’t miss the way he smiles. he places the rest of the tangerine in your palm, and you look up at him confused. “won’t you have any?”
“i’ll peel another,” he says as he picks up another from the bowl in the center of the table. you watch him as you plop another piece in your mouth, and you’re amazed at how skillful he makes it seem. he’s quick yet precise — the tangerine has virtually no pith left sticking to it in a matter of what seemed to be less than a minute.
“how many have you peeled for you to be that quick?” you were already impressed to how clean the fruit was, but now you’re in awe of how quick the process truly was.
he laughs, amused by your bewilderment. “quite a lot actually, my wives are quite fond of them.”
“wife?” you freeze at the word, hoping you misheard.
“wives actually,” he corrects, as if it’s such a common thing. “three of them.”
you definitely misheard something.
the revelation makes you choke on the fruit in your mouth, spiraling into a coughing fit as you feel bits of it going the wrong way.
you can feel tengen pat your back in an attempt to help, clearly concerned by your erratic state. as your throat clears, you take a sharp breath, shutting your eyes out of embarrassment.
“are you o—”
“yes,” you say without looking up.
a silence grows between you two, but you can’t bear to say anything— or even look at him.
his laughter breaks the silence, and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut even tighter as your embarrassment grows.
“no, it’s okay— most people are surprised when they find out about my family.” you can tell he’s trying to stop laughing , but his voice falters at times.
“please, be quiet.”
“sorry.”
his desire to leave as soon as possible made a lot more sense now — the family he’s been yearning for were his wives, who were likely as beautiful as him. you get it — you would’ve rushed home for a wife, much less three.
but a part of you feels bitter, remembering yesterday’s events. the way he had grasped your hand, melted into your touch, and practically begged you to call out his name — did it mean nothing?
were they truly actions just born out of gratitude and nothing more? did he consider it all platonic? or were you an opportunity to have fun without his wives knowing?
“how does that even work?” you say without even thinking, voiced laced with confusion and shock. you can tell your growing confusion clearly amuses him — and it annoys you — but you can’t help but be curious.
“common practice in my clan actually,” he says as he eats. “more wives, more kids. numbers over nurture,” he says dryly, clearly holding disdain for the practice.
“but with my wives, it’s different. all three of them are precious to me — they bestow light upon my life. so i left with them, so we could have a life where we truly live for eachother.” his gaze softens and his hands falter, shutting his eyes as if recalling their image.
strangely enough, you feel your bitterness fade once you hear the genuine tenderness and love in his voice. you find yourself amazed at the love he holds for his wives, and just how apparent it is at the mere mention of them.
“how beautiful,” you say softly.
he lets out another laugh, but there’s something deeper behind it — like he knows something you don’t. “thank you.”
—
winter in the mountains only gets more treacherous each second.
you had thought if you waited a day or two, everything would settle enough to run your errands. but as if to mock you, the storm only continued to rage on. before you knew it, a week had passed without you being able to go down to town.
tengen was, luckily, very understanding, even going as far as encouraging you to wait until the snow had even slightly settled — but the delay still made you feel guilty. especially after learning who would be awaiting his letters.
you suppose the terrible weather had its perks — being bound inside has given you the chance to get to know your patient.
over the past year, much of your life had muddled into the same mundane routine— collecting herbs for the apothecary, maintaining your home, and the occasional visit to town for the sake of groceries and seeing patients— but tengen had thrown your solitary life off axis from the moment you found him unconscious and bloodied.
even while he was unconscious, your days centered around caring for him. but now that he’s awake, his presence in your life only seems to grow every passing second: sharing every meal with you, the playful banter shared when you would check on his injuries, and the bits of his life he’d share with you while sitting with you under the kotatsu as the storm raged on.
it left behind both copious amounts of snow and a realization: even if tengen healed before spring, he’d likely have to stay with you until the snow cleared; the journey would be far too strenuous on someone who had just managed to recover.
you had mulled over how you’d tell him, remembering how insistent he was to go back to his family right after walking up — would he insist on leaving as soon as he recovered? you had hesitantly relayed the message to him, but to your surprise, he seemed not to mind.
“i mean, if it’s what’s necessary,” he says rather casually. “who am i to argue with the doctor who saved my life!” he holds out his bare arm towards you, making it easier for you to wrap new bandages around his injured bicep.
you swear you see his lips curl up ever so slightly, a subtle smirk that you might’ve missed if you weren’t in such close proximity — almost as if he wants to be with you the whole of winter.
your hands temporarily falter at his words, quirking your brow in confusion. “...weren’t you the one who insisted on leaving despite not being able to stand by yourself?”
he grimaces at the mention of his actions shortly after waking up, smirk wiped clean off his face. “that— that’s different. i didn’t realize how bad it was.”
“how bad it is,” you correct, reaching for your scissors to cut off excess fabric. “i don’t think you’d last trying to get to town— okay, now for your abdomen. lean back for me, please.”
he does as you ask, albeit with a pout. “there’s no winning with you.”
you laugh without even realizing, “you’re so dramatic.”
his grin returns at the sound of your laugh, as if making you laugh were some achievement. “what can i say, it’s a part of my charm.”
“sure, we can call it that.”
“how mean.”
you roll your eyes before shifting your focus to the gash on his abdomen. you lean forward to wrap the bandage around his waist, eyes glued to your work site, even as you reach for the scissors again. you hum in satisfaction after you’ve finished, momentarily admiring your handiwork. “alright, i’m d— ”
it’s only when you look up that you realize how close the two of you are, his face merely centimeters away from yours. he’s looking at you with that burning gaze again, and you feel the words stay stuck in your throat the moment you make eye contact.
he doesn’t do or say anything at first; he just stares with a smile on his face. it’s different — not one of his smirks or mischievous grins — it’s soft. his gaze holds admiration, maybe even affection.
you don’t move away.
neither does he.
he wordlessly raises his hand, tucking away strands of hair that had gotten into your face without you even realize. he takes his time, you feel his fingertips graze your ear and skin; his touch is deliberate and gentle despite the calluses on his fingers.
you feel your brain helplessly turn into mush, again. it’s comforting and kind, you almost shut your eyes to savor the feeling, but you’re too enthralled by the look in his eyes.
“thank you,” he breaks the silence, but his words are as gentle as his touch.
a part of you wonders if he’d be this gentle if you were to close the distance between the two.
“you’re welcome,” you respond, trying not to give away the fact that your heart hammers in your chest.
his fingers curl around your hair, only breaking eye contact to watch how the tresses of your hair sway before bringing them forward and pressing a kiss to the strands in his hand.
oh god.
the act makes your stomach flip despite the fact that you’ve always seen it as cliché. maybe the issue was always the person behind the action.
he leans closer, close enough to wear you feel his breath on your skin, and you're sure he can feel yours — the small gap of a few centimeters narrowed down to only a centimeter.
you look up at him dazed, wondering if you should shove him away and tell him that this was inappropriate for so many reasons — such as the fact he’s married with not one but three wives, and that you’re his doctor.
but you’ve realized you don’t want to.
the past week you’ve forced yourself to ignore the growing tensions between the two of you. the way his gaze follows you, his touch lingering for a second too long for it to be nothing, the way he’s been gradually sitting closer to you until you’ve realized there's no longer even a centimeter between the two of you — you’ve convinced yourself to reduce it all to nothing.
you can’t deny it anymore; neither can you convince yourself you don’t want it.
you shut your eyes— your way of giving in— and you consequently feel his uninjured arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to feel his chest press against yours. his lips brush against your cheek, and the sweetness of the action almost makes you want to laugh. he’s more romantic than you thought he would be — savoring the moment rather than rushing towards what he wants.
you feel his hand rest on the same cheek, feeling him inch closer and closer—
the sound of frantic knocking and someone crying out your name practically jolts you out of your skin. you’re up and running before you even realize it, leaving tengen behind with little explanation as dread builds in your stomach.
no one bangs on a doctor's door for the sake of festivities.
–
“i’m here!” you yell, practically breaking the doors down. “what happened — where’s the patient?” you’re already pulling up your sleeves to deal with the worst-case scenarios running through your head, but you’re met with two people staring at you dumbfounded.
“you’re…okay?” you can’t even blink before you feel your cheek being pinched, consequently letting out a yelp.
“what the hell, yuusuke?” you slap his hand away, rubbing your cheek. you glare at him, only to be met with a genuine sigh of relief.
“sorry, it’s just— i thought you were dead.” he exclaims, looking you up and down like he can’t believe you’re in one piece.
“dead?” you repeat the word incredulously, and he nods. “what— why would you think i was dead?” you question him, bewildered by the idea. you look past him, staring at his mother who’s been silently standing behind him. “and why would you drag her up here at this age? auntie, did you think i was dead too—”
“yes!” she grasps your shoulders, as if she’s scared you’ll disappear into thin air. you’re taken aback at how emotional she is, looking into her tearful eyes. you grasp her arms as an attempt to soothe her despite your confusion, but all she does is cry.
“you’re late,” she cries out. you flinch at the accusation, confused— until it clicks. you never did end up going on your monthly grocery trip.
“it’s the tenth, you always come on the first of the month to stock up— you’re never late!” you can tell she wants to scold you, but her words come out as sobs. “you’re never late,” she repeats the words, as if it’s an unbreakable rule. she stares at you with tears in her eyes despite you always thinking she want the type of woman to cry.
“the last time you were late—“ she starts shakily, but the words seem to not come out. “the only time you were late was when—” she starts again, but cannot bear to finish as she falls into your arms sobbing.
your eyes widen at the mention before quickly softening, and you rub her back. “i’m sorry for worrying you.”
she doesn’t say anything, sniffling as her head rests against your shoulder. you can feel yuusuke wrap one arm around your shoulder and his other around his mother's. despite the freezing winds, you feel warm like this.
but the sound of your door creaking and your name being called out breaks you out of your musings.
fuck, you forgot about tengen.
“oh my,” you hear yuusuke begin to chuckle and you can already begin to feel the embarrassment bubble up inside you. “is this why— is he why you haven’t come down?”
“no!” you deny a bit too quickly, trying to get rid of what was being implied. ‘well, yes— b-but not in the way you’re thinking!” you stammer, trying to explain yourself, but the laughter coming from your childhood friends makes it evident your attempts are futile.
“well,” auntie peers over your shoulder at the confused man on your doorstep. “he is handsome, i can’t blame her.”
“it’s not like that!”
–
the four of you sit in silence, the atmosphere feeling increasingly awkward by the second. you clear your throat, calling everyone’s attention. “tengen,” you point to the two sitting in front of you. “this is tanaka mito and her son, yuusuke. they farm and sell rice down in the village. she was very close with my parents, so i consider her my aunt.”
“and this is my patient, uzui tengen.” you awkwardly gesture to the white-haired man sitting to your right. “i found him unconscious in the nearby forest, injured from a hunt. i’ve been taking care of him since.”
you watch as he flashes your guests a charming smile, and it works as intended on your aunt. “nice to meet the both of you! sorry for intruding earlier, i was just worried something had happened.”
“ah, don’t be!” your aunt’s tone seems a little too enthusiastic, you would hardly think she sobbing in your arms less than five minutes ago. “i did make a bit of a scene, ahaha!”
you stare at the woman in front of you — is she really the same person you were scared of for half your childhood?
her eyes keep shifting between you and tengen— the grin on her face getting larger. you look at her with pleading eyes, but you know she won’t back down — all you can do is brace yourself for impact.
“say, uzui-kun, are you married?”
you shut your eyes as soon as the question leaves her mouth, you can’t help but cringe. but she doesn’t stop there — despite the desperation on your face.
“i think my niece and you are about the same age, the two of you sh—“
“i am married,” he responds with a polite smile, but you can tell he’s trying not to laugh.
“ah,” your aunt is noticeably deflated. “i see…”
the room falls into silence again— but this time you’re saved by the whistle of the kettle.
“i’ll go get the tea ready!” you announce a bit too eagerly, practically springing up the ground.
“i’ll help!” yuusuke practically runs behind you before you can even refuse. it’s only when the kitchen door shuts do the two of you feel as though you can breathe.
you pour tea leaves into the kettle, while he brings out the teacups from the cupboard. the two of you have always been synchronous — yuusuke is the closest thing to a sibling and best friend you have.
“so,” he starts as he watches you pour the tea. “is he really just a patient?”
“of course he is,” you roll your eyes as you set down the kettle. “what else would he be?”
“i don’t know— i was hoping you got yourself a lover or something.”
the words make you freeze, putting the tray down onto the counter again. “..what?” you’re bursting out laughing before you even realize it. “first, it’s your mom and then you — oh my god, is this your guys' way of telling me i’m old and i need to get married?”
“no! it’s not that,” he quickly deflects. he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “it’s just, we get scared. you’re here, all alone.”
“and i’m more than capable of protecting myself, you know that. i’ve beat up grown men double my size, and i hunt-”
“we’re not scared of bears or bandits.” the sudden somber tone makes shivers run up your spine. you look up at him, seeing the solemn look in his eyes.
“...what are you implying?”
“things have been different the past year — you’ve been different, and that’s to be expected. no one would be the same if they went through what you did.” he opens his mouth to continue, but he hesitates. he breathes in, as if bracing himself. “...but you never come by anymore—and even when you do, you don’t feel like you’re all there. it feels like you’re just going to fade away.”
he goes silent, and so do you. you look back, finally noticing the tears in his eyes. the sight is shocking — throughout your shared childhood and even adulthood, you’ve never seen him cry.
“oh my god, yuu,” a wave of guilt crashes over you as you rush to wipe his eyes with the sleeve of your kimono. “i’m sorry, i didn’t realize how worried you guys have been."
“you don’t have to be sorry,” he sniffles. “i just want you to know we care and that you aren’t alone.”
you nod, smiling. “i’ll keep that in mind.”
–
you watch as your aunt and yuusuke follow the path down to the village from your doorstep, their figures get smaller and smaller as they walk further away. tengen watches beside you, even though you all insisted he didn’t have to come see them off as well.
“yuusuke, was it?” tengen asks. you nod in confirmation. “the two of you seem close,” he smiles as he speaks, but the smile doesn’t seem to completely reach his eyes.
“we were born in the same year so our parents forced us to be best friends,” you laugh as you recount. “i guess it worked.”
“hm, i see.” his response is brief, but his voice seems colder than usual — and you’re not sure why. “are the two of you just friends?”
“ew!” your response is instinctive, your body cringing before you even realize it. “god, no! he’s like a brother.
tengen bursts out laughing at your rather visceral reaction, loud and boisterous. “brother,” he repeats, seeming rather satisfied. “good to know.”
a/n:
hey.... how y'all doing...
did not mean to make you guys wait longer than a month for an update, oops! you would think i'd be writing more because i have no school work, but apparently i start procrastinating things i like when i have no work.
can't lie, i didn't properly proofread the second half.
but anyways, thank you so much for the love the first chapter has received! truly thought i'd get at max one reader, but you guys saw the vision.
likes, reposts and comments are much appreciated! i read every single comment, they genuinely make my day. please let me know if you enjoyed it, or even if you hated it lolol, constructive criticism is also appreciated.
the snow rages on — leaving you stuck at home with tengen. but maybe you've been staying home for too long...
ah, whatever— it's way too cold out there anyway!
you had promised tengen that you would mail his letters as soon as possible, planning to go to town the day after he had written them. you had set out right after breakfast, making sure that tengen would be comfortable during the hour or two you were gone.
well, that is before you saw the ongoing snowstorm outside your doorstep.
you can hear it rage before you even open the door; the wind howls as if it's sentient, snow swirling in tandem to create a white veil of haze that shrouds everything in front. you’ve barely made it past your doorstep, but you can feel yourself turn frigid.
but stubbornness inside makes you insist on making the journey. maybe it just looks worse than it is?
you shift your gaze downwards — the thick blanket of snow obscuring the ground made it clear to you that the storm had started much earlier than when you woke.
out of curiosity, you wearily step into the snow, only to watch your entire foot sink in— snow covering almost a quarter of your calf.
yeah, there’s no way you’re going out.
–
“you’re back so soon; did you forget something?” tengen calls out from your living room as soon as your front door thuds shut.
“there’s a storm,” you respond as you shed your coat, brushing off the snow that somehow managed to cling on despite how brief your excursion was. “i don’t think it’ll stop till tomorrow.”
you walk into your living room to see he’s right as you left him, snug under the kotatsu and a bit too focused on peeling a tangerine.
you stare at the sight as your skin still stings from your brief exposure to the air outside — you can’t help but feel slightly envious at how cozy he looks.
he’s still focused on getting rid of any straggly bits of pith off the fruit as you walk to the kotatsu, only looking up once he’s satisfied. “well, since you’re back, have a piece.” he pats at the cushion next to him, looking up at you expectantly.
“thank you,” you sit, making yourself comfortable. you hold out your hand — expecting him to hand it over — but you’re met with a grin.
“say aaa,” he holds a segment of the tangerine he painstakingly peeled an inch away from your face. you laugh, but he doesn’t move away.
“oh,” you say, taken aback. “you’re actually serious.”
“why wouldn't i be?” he quirks his brow, genuinely confused. “don’t keep me waiting, my hand hurts,” he practically whines, insistent on feeding you for whatever reason.
you hesitantly open your mouth, and he places a segment into your mouth, his fingers grazing your lips. you chew, trying to ignore the way he's practically studying your face. “thank you, uz—“
“tengen,” he corrects.
“thank you, tengen,” you adjust, and you don’t miss the way he smiles. he places the rest of the tangerine in your palm, and you look up at him confused. “won’t you have any?”
“i’ll peel another,” he says as he picks up another from the bowl in the center of the table. you watch him as you plop another piece in your mouth, and you’re amazed at how skillful he makes it seem. he’s quick yet precise — the tangerine has virtually no pith left sticking to it in a matter of what seemed to be less than a minute.
“how many have you peeled for you to be that quick?” you were already impressed to how clean the fruit was, but now you’re in awe of how quick the process truly was.
he laughs, amused by your bewilderment. “quite a lot actually, my wives are quite fond of them.”
“wife?” you freeze at the word, hoping you misheard.
“wives actually,” he corrects, as if it’s such a common thing. “three of them.”
you definitely misheard something.
the revelation makes you choke on the fruit in your mouth, spiraling into a coughing fit as you feel bits of it going the wrong way.
you can feel tengen pat your back in an attempt to help, clearly concerned by your erratic state. as your throat clears, you take a sharp breath, shutting your eyes out of embarrassment.
“are you o—”
“yes,” you say without looking up.
a silence grows between you two, but you can’t bear to say anything— or even look at him.
his laughter breaks the silence, and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut even tighter as your embarrassment grows.
“no, it’s okay— most people are surprised when they find out about my family.” you can tell he’s trying to stop laughing , but his voice falters at times.
“please, be quiet.”
“sorry.”
his desire to leave as soon as possible made a lot more sense now — the family he’s been yearning for were his wives, who were likely as beautiful as him. you get it — you would’ve rushed home for a wife, much less three.
but a part of you feels bitter, remembering yesterday’s events. the way he had grasped your hand, melted into your touch, and practically begged you to call out his name — did it mean nothing?
were they truly actions just born out of gratitude and nothing more? did he consider it all platonic? or were you an opportunity to have fun without his wives knowing?
“how does that even work?” you say without even thinking, voiced laced with confusion and shock. you can tell your growing confusion clearly amuses him — and it annoys you — but you can’t help but be curious.
“common practice in my clan actually,” he says as he eats. “more wives, more kids. numbers over nurture,” he says dryly, clearly holding disdain for the practice.
“but with my wives, it’s different. all three of them are precious to me — they bestow light upon my life. so i left with them, so we could have a life where we truly live for eachother.” his gaze softens and his hands falter, shutting his eyes as if recalling their image.
strangely enough, you feel your bitterness fade once you hear the genuine tenderness and love in his voice. you find yourself amazed at the love he holds for his wives, and just how apparent it is at the mere mention of them.
“how beautiful,” you say softly.
he lets out another laugh, but there’s something deeper behind it — like he knows something you don’t. “thank you.”
—
winter in the mountains only gets more treacherous each second.
you had thought if you waited a day or two, everything would settle enough to run your errands. but as if to mock you, the storm only continued to rage on. before you knew it, a week had passed without you being able to go down to town.
tengen was, luckily, very understanding, even going as far as encouraging you to wait until the snow had even slightly settled — but the delay still made you feel guilty. especially after learning who would be awaiting his letters.
you suppose the terrible weather had its perks — being bound inside has given you the chance to get to know your patient.
over the past year, much of your life had muddled into the same mundane routine— collecting herbs for the apothecary, maintaining your home, and the occasional visit to town for the sake of groceries and seeing patients— but tengen had thrown your solitary life off axis from the moment you found him unconscious and bloodied.
even while he was unconscious, your days centered around caring for him. but now that he’s awake, his presence in your life only seems to grow every passing second: sharing every meal with you, the playful banter shared when you would check on his injuries, and the bits of his life he’d share with you while sitting with you under the kotatsu as the storm raged on.
it left behind both copious amounts of snow and a realization: even if tengen healed before spring, he’d likely have to stay with you until the snow cleared; the journey would be far too strenuous on someone who had just managed to recover.
you had mulled over how you’d tell him, remembering how insistent he was to go back to his family right after walking up — would he insist on leaving as soon as he recovered? you had hesitantly relayed the message to him, but to your surprise, he seemed not to mind.
“i mean, if it’s what’s necessary,” he says rather casually. “who am i to argue with the doctor who saved my life!” he holds out his bare arm towards you, making it easier for you to wrap new bandages around his injured bicep.
you swear you see his lips curl up ever so slightly, a subtle smirk that you might’ve missed if you weren’t in such close proximity — almost as if he wants to be with you the whole of winter.
your hands temporarily falter at his words, quirking your brow in confusion. “...weren’t you the one who insisted on leaving despite not being able to stand by yourself?”
he grimaces at the mention of his actions shortly after waking up, smirk wiped clean off his face. “that— that’s different. i didn’t realize how bad it was.”
“how bad it is,” you correct, reaching for your scissors to cut off excess fabric. “i don’t think you’d last trying to get to town— okay, now for your abdomen. lean back for me, please.”
he does as you ask, albeit with a pout. “there’s no winning with you.”
you laugh without even realizing, “you’re so dramatic.”
his grin returns at the sound of your laugh, as if making you laugh were some achievement. “what can i say, it’s a part of my charm.”
“sure, we can call it that.”
“how mean.”
you roll your eyes before shifting your focus to the gash on his abdomen. you lean forward to wrap the bandage around his waist, eyes glued to your work site, even as you reach for the scissors again. you hum in satisfaction after you’ve finished, momentarily admiring your handiwork. “alright, i’m d— ”
it’s only when you look up that you realize how close the two of you are, his face merely centimeters away from yours. he’s looking at you with that burning gaze again, and you feel the words stay stuck in your throat the moment you make eye contact.
he doesn’t do or say anything at first; he just stares with a smile on his face. it’s different — not one of his smirks or mischievous grins — it’s soft. his gaze holds admiration, maybe even affection.
you don’t move away.
neither does he.
he wordlessly raises his hand, tucking away strands of hair that had gotten into your face without you even realize. he takes his time, you feel his fingertips graze your ear and skin; his touch is deliberate and gentle despite the calluses on his fingers.
you feel your brain helplessly turn into mush, again. it’s comforting and kind, you almost shut your eyes to savor the feeling, but you’re too enthralled by the look in his eyes.
“thank you,” he breaks the silence, but his words are as gentle as his touch.
a part of you wonders if he’d be this gentle if you were to close the distance between the two.
“you’re welcome,” you respond, trying not to give away the fact that your heart hammers in your chest.
his fingers curl around your hair, only breaking eye contact to watch how the tresses of your hair sway before bringing them forward and pressing a kiss to the strands in his hand.
oh god.
the act makes your stomach flip despite the fact that you’ve always seen it as cliché. maybe the issue was always the person behind the action.
he leans closer, close enough to wear you feel his breath on your skin, and you're sure he can feel yours — the small gap of a few centimeters narrowed down to only a centimeter.
you look up at him dazed, wondering if you should shove him away and tell him that this was inappropriate for so many reasons — such as the fact he’s married with not one but three wives, and that you’re his doctor.
but you’ve realized you don’t want to.
the past week you’ve forced yourself to ignore the growing tensions between the two of you. the way his gaze follows you, his touch lingering for a second too long for it to be nothing, the way he’s been gradually sitting closer to you until you’ve realized there's no longer even a centimeter between the two of you — you’ve convinced yourself to reduce it all to nothing.
you can’t deny it anymore; neither can you convince yourself you don’t want it.
you shut your eyes— your way of giving in— and you consequently feel his uninjured arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to feel his chest press against yours. his lips brush against your cheek, and the sweetness of the action almost makes you want to laugh. he’s more romantic than you thought he would be — savoring the moment rather than rushing towards what he wants.
you feel his hand rest on the same cheek, feeling him inch closer and closer—
the sound of frantic knocking and someone crying out your name practically jolts you out of your skin. you’re up and running before you even realize it, leaving tengen behind with little explanation as dread builds in your stomach.
no one bangs on a doctor's door for the sake of festivities.
–
“i’m here!” you yell, practically breaking the doors down. “what happened — where’s the patient?” you’re already pulling up your sleeves to deal with the worst-case scenarios running through your head, but you’re met with two people staring at you dumbfounded.
“you’re…okay?” you can’t even blink before you feel your cheek being pinched, consequently letting out a yelp.
“what the hell, yuusuke?” you slap his hand away, rubbing your cheek. you glare at him, only to be met with a genuine sigh of relief.
“sorry, it’s just— i thought you were dead.” he exclaims, looking you up and down like he can’t believe you’re in one piece.
“dead?” you repeat the word incredulously, and he nods. “what— why would you think i was dead?” you question him, bewildered by the idea. you look past him, staring at his mother who’s been silently standing behind him. “and why would you drag her up here at this age? auntie, did you think i was dead too—”
“yes!” she grasps your shoulders, as if she’s scared you’ll disappear into thin air. you’re taken aback at how emotional she is, looking into her tearful eyes. you grasp her arms as an attempt to soothe her despite your confusion, but all she does is cry.
“you’re late,” she cries out. you flinch at the accusation, confused— until it clicks. you never did end up going on your monthly grocery trip.
“it’s the tenth, you always come on the first of the month to stock up— you’re never late!” you can tell she wants to scold you, but her words come out as sobs. “you’re never late,” she repeats the words, as if it’s an unbreakable rule. she stares at you with tears in her eyes despite you always thinking she want the type of woman to cry.
“the last time you were late—“ she starts shakily, but the words seem to not come out. “the only time you were late was when—” she starts again, but cannot bear to finish as she falls into your arms sobbing.
your eyes widen at the mention before quickly softening, and you rub her back. “i’m sorry for worrying you.”
she doesn’t say anything, sniffling as her head rests against your shoulder. you can feel yuusuke wrap one arm around your shoulder and his other around his mother's. despite the freezing winds, you feel warm like this.
but the sound of your door creaking and your name being called out breaks you out of your musings.
fuck, you forgot about tengen.
“oh my,” you hear yuusuke begin to chuckle and you can already begin to feel the embarrassment bubble up inside you. “is this why— is he why you haven’t come down?”
“no!” you deny a bit too quickly, trying to get rid of what was being implied. ‘well, yes— b-but not in the way you’re thinking!” you stammer, trying to explain yourself, but the laughter coming from your childhood friends makes it evident your attempts are futile.
“well,” auntie peers over your shoulder at the confused man on your doorstep. “he is handsome, i can’t blame her.”
“it’s not like that!”
–
the four of you sit in silence, the atmosphere feeling increasingly awkward by the second. you clear your throat, calling everyone’s attention. “tengen,” you point to the two sitting in front of you. “this is tanaka mito and her son, yuusuke. they farm and sell rice down in the village. she was very close with my parents, so i consider her my aunt.”
“and this is my patient, uzui tengen.” you awkwardly gesture to the white-haired man sitting to your right. “i found him unconscious in the nearby forest, injured from a hunt. i’ve been taking care of him since.”
you watch as he flashes your guests a charming smile, and it works as intended on your aunt. “nice to meet the both of you! sorry for intruding earlier, i was just worried something had happened.”
“ah, don’t be!” your aunt’s tone seems a little too enthusiastic, you would hardly think she sobbing in your arms less than five minutes ago. “i did make a bit of a scene, ahaha!”
you stare at the woman in front of you — is she really the same person you were scared of for half your childhood?
her eyes keep shifting between you and tengen— the grin on her face getting larger. you look at her with pleading eyes, but you know she won’t back down — all you can do is brace yourself for impact.
“say, uzui-kun, are you married?”
you shut your eyes as soon as the question leaves her mouth, you can’t help but cringe. but she doesn’t stop there — despite the desperation on your face.
“i think my niece and you are about the same age, the two of you sh—“
“i am married,” he responds with a polite smile, but you can tell he’s trying not to laugh.
“ah,” your aunt is noticeably deflated. “i see…”
the room falls into silence again— but this time you’re saved by the whistle of the kettle.
“i’ll go get the tea ready!” you announce a bit too eagerly, practically springing up the ground.
“i’ll help!” yuusuke practically runs behind you before you can even refuse. it’s only when the kitchen door shuts do the two of you feel as though you can breathe.
you pour tea leaves into the kettle, while he brings out the teacups from the cupboard. the two of you have always been synchronous — yuusuke is the closest thing to a sibling and best friend you have.
“so,” he starts as he watches you pour the tea. “is he really just a patient?”
“of course he is,” you roll your eyes as you set down the kettle. “what else would he be?”
“i don’t know— i was hoping you got yourself a lover or something.”
the words make you freeze, putting the tray down onto the counter again. “..what?” you’re bursting out laughing before you even realize it. “first, it’s your mom and then you — oh my god, is this your guys' way of telling me i’m old and i need to get married?”
“no! it’s not that,” he quickly deflects. he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “it’s just, we get scared. you’re here, all alone.”
“and i’m more than capable of protecting myself, you know that. i’ve beat up grown men double my size, and i hunt-”
“we’re not scared of bears or bandits.” the sudden somber tone makes shivers run up your spine. you look up at him, seeing the solemn look in his eyes.
“...what are you implying?”
“things have been different the past year — you’ve been different, and that’s to be expected. no one would be the same if they went through what you did.” he opens his mouth to continue, but he hesitates. he breathes in, as if bracing himself. “...but you never come by anymore—and even when you do, you don’t feel like you’re all there. it feels like you’re just going to fade away.”
he goes silent, and so do you. you look back, finally noticing the tears in his eyes. the sight is shocking — throughout your shared childhood and even adulthood, you’ve never seen him cry.
“oh my god, yuu,” a wave of guilt crashes over you as you rush to wipe his eyes with the sleeve of your kimono. “i’m sorry, i didn’t realize how worried you guys have been."
“you don’t have to be sorry,” he sniffles. “i just want you to know we care and that you aren’t alone.”
you nod, smiling. “i’ll keep that in mind.”
–
you watch as your aunt and yuusuke follow the path down to the village from your doorstep, their figures get smaller and smaller as they walk further away. tengen watches beside you, even though you all insisted he didn’t have to come see them off as well.
“yuusuke, was it?” tengen asks. you nod in confirmation. “the two of you seem close,” he smiles as he speaks, but the smile doesn’t seem to completely reach his eyes.
“we were born in the same year so our parents forced us to be best friends,” you laugh as you recount. “i guess it worked.”
“hm, i see.” his response is brief, but his voice seems colder than usual — and you’re not sure why. “are the two of you just friends?”
“ew!” your response is instinctive, your body cringing before you even realize it. “god, no! he’s like a brother.
tengen bursts out laughing at your rather visceral reaction, loud and boisterous. “brother,” he repeats, seeming rather satisfied. “good to know.”
a/n:
hey.... how y'all doing...
did not mean to make you guys wait longer than a month for an update, oops! you would think i'd be writing more because i have no school work, but apparently i start procrastinating things i like when i have no work.
can't lie, i didn't properly proofread the second half.
but anyways, thank you so much for the love the first chapter has received! truly thought i'd get at max one reader, but you guys saw the vision.
likes, reposts and comments are much appreciated! i read every single comment, they genuinely make my day. please let me know if you enjoyed it, or even if you hated it lolol, constructive criticism is also appreciated.
you find a mysterious man bleeding out on the snow less than a meter away from your home when trying to venture down the mountain. what a good omen!
it had been just another day for you — heading to town to stock up on food for the winter — nothing out of the ordinary.
until you found an injured man on your way down the mountain.
you stare at the unconscious man at your feet: a wide slash across his left bicep and blood smeared across his abdomen — there’s so much of it that it’s staining the snow around him, you can’t tell if all of it is his or if he’s even alive.
you can’t help but wonder who this bloodied stranger was and why he was near your house, but you hesitantly reach down, placing your fingers on the side of his neck to check he was alive.
you feel his heart beat resiliently; it almost amazes you how strong his pulse is despite him seemingly losing so much blood. but the winter has started to rage on — if he were to be left here for even an hour longer, he would die of hypothermia.
all your apprehension disappears at the thought, and you move to haul this man to your home — he is nearly twice your size, but you’d rather die yourself than leave a patient to die.
groceries would have to wait for another day.
——
it’s been a full day since you found him.
it doesn’t surprise you that he hasn’t stirred awake yet; the severity of the injuries he had would leave most people dead instantly. to be honest, it’s more surprising that this man is alive.
you still have very little idea of who your patient was, and the bits of information you had only managed to puzzle you.
whatever he fought was not human.
that fact was glaringly clear when you began his care. the wounds on him were too jagged to be from a sword or any type of blade, something like an animal’s claws had dug into him — but there was no animal in this mountain who could do this.
the wounds he held weren’t the only unique thing about him. vibrantly painted nails, eye paint, gold armbands, a bejeweled head band, and the enormous blades: it all screamed of flamboyancy.
a noble perhaps? it would have also explained his pretty face — you didn’t know a man could be so pleasing to look at. he still stood out even with his adornment stripped away: strong facial structure, tanned skin that contrasted with his snow-like hair, and a muscular build that was more than ideal for a warrior.
you tear your gaze away from the patient himself to stare at his gathered belongings placed on the table, trying to piece together his identity. you stare at the uniform you scrubbed blood off of — it was torn, but you still felt compelled to at least try and salvage it.
it looked out of place next to the rest of his flashy belongings — but it still caught your eye. strangely enough, it looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where you had seen it before. and then it clicked.
demon slayer.
you know of them — your father was an esteemed enough doctor to have worked with them. you weren’t sure you would ever meet one again because of their secrecy, but you somehow managed to find one a few feet away from your house on the verge of dying.
the last time you had ventured down the mountain, the townspeople had told you of rumors of people disappearing from nearby villages.
missing people.
a demon slayer on the verge of death at your doorstep.
the connection makes a shiver run down your spine.
–
it has been about three days since you found the demon slayer.
he was still bound to the bed you managed to haul him into, still unconscious — but he groans when you change the dressings of his wounds, and you can’t help but mumble soft apologies for causing him discomfort, even if he can’t hear you. even though he remains unconscious, the responses are a good sign — he might be able to swallow food and water.
you stand in front of your stove, waiting for the congee to boil, when you hear a loud thud. your mind can not help but spiral to the worst-case scenarios that even you admit are absurd— but you’re still running to his room before you even realize it.
you slide the door open to find him hunched over next to the futon he was lying on, clutching his abdomen but still stubbornly attempting to get up. before you can even run to his side, his head snaps towards you.
“i must leave” he manages to mutter through gritted teeth, still holding to his side, very obviously in pain. “my family, i must — i must get back to them. or else they will think i’m dead,” he says with conviction. all you can do is sigh.
“i have no intention of stopping you,” you shrug. “if you can get up, you’re free to go.” you motion for him to try and stand up by himself. he seems momentarily dumbfounded by your nonchalance, but quickly snaps out of it.
he attempts to push himself again, but he lets out a sharp hiss once he puts pressure on his left arm. “that’s what i thought would happen,” you mutter under your breath as you walk towards him.
“i don’t know what it is with you warrior types, always insisting on leaving when you can’t even walk out the door.” you voice your complaints as you help him adjust to sit up.
you’ve seen many men act the same throughout your and your father’s time as doctors: low-rate mercenaries, shinobis, and even other demon slayers.
“just trying to act cool when you can’t even stand,” you huff as you place a pillow behind his back to make him more comfortable. you notice he turns his head away from you, almost as if he’s embarrassed by your words.
“...how long have i been here?” he says quietly, still not making eye contact. you can’t help but notice the tips of his ears are flushed.
“i found you three days ago, you’ve been unconscious since,” you say before moving to get up. you look down at him, and can’t help but feel a little bad about your impulsive scolding.
“I understand you’d like to leave, but i’m sure your family would rather you fully recover,” you say softly, a hint of remorse in your voice.
there’s silence that makes you feel increasingly awkward and worse about scolding him, and you wonder if you should directly apologize — maybe you were too insensitive.
“thank you,” his apology unexpectedly breaks the silence. you look down to meet his gaze, and you find your earlier observations glaringly apparent now: he’s beautiful. his eyes are a deep fuschia — a detail previously hidden from you while he was unconscious. his eyes are so rich in color they remind you of gemstones.
“it’s nothing,” now you’re the one to look away, feeling strangely sheepish. you clear your throat, “i’ll be back with a bowl of congee, eat as much as you can.” you leave the room rather abruptly, but you can’t miss the laugh he lets out when you stumble out.
—
the morning after, you got stationery ready for him to write his letter. despite his earlier determination to get home and his concern for his family, he only blankly stares at the supplies on the desk you provided.
“whats wrong?” you ask him as you sit down next to him. “not in the mood to write?” you lean forward to peer at the blank paper.
“no — it’s just — ” he shifts to look at you. “i’m just really grateful,” a smile spreads across his face. the sudden sincerity in his voice, now you’re fidgeting under his gaze.
“for… stationary?” you almost cringe at your own response — it was so obvious what he meant, why would he just thank you for stationary?
as a doctor, you’ve had countless patients thank you and your father for saving their lives but you’ve never felt this flustered by it before. his gratitude is so different — too enthusiastic, too intimate.
were your years of solitude getting to you? it felt so unprofessional to be so bashful because a patient was so handsome, but you couldn’t help it.
the sound of his laugh breaks you out of mental self-scolding, “not just the stationary — you saved my life.”
you shake your head, dismissing the need to thank you. “i’m a doctor, i did what i had to.”
“i don't think many doctors would have even tried to help me in that state — even i thought it was the end.” he gestures to the bandages peaking out his haori.
“you fought to survive, i just brought you inside.”
he lets out an exasperated sigh, “you know, all you have to say is ‘you’re welcome.’”
“yeah, yeah,” you can’t help but laugh at the drama of his antics. “you’re welcome. happy?”
his eyes slightly widen at the sound of your laughter, almost as if he didn’t expect you to be able to — but he quickly grins instead. “very.”
his eyes briefly drift from meeting yours to your hands resting on the desk , so quick you barely catch it.
“you know,” he starts innocently. you hum in response, signaling for him to go on. “i never caught your name,” and before you realize he’s taken one of your hands, grasping it in both of his and placing it on his chest, refusing to break eye contact.
“may i have the honor of knowing my savior?” his tone of voice is so sweet, almost seductive — and it renders your brain to mush.
what the hell is happening?
you blink at the sight before you, trying to process if it’s real and not a fever dream. you want to say something — let out a sound of confusion at least — but your throat seems to have to shut tight and you’re painfully aware of how firm his chest is.
this was obviously much too intimate of an interaction between two people who barely know each other, much less a doctor and patient. it’s unprofessional and unlike yourself to be taken by a man — but you find yourself unable to pull away, as if you’re under a trance. sure, you’ve had the occasional patient try to flirt with you, but they’ve never been this bold — or attractive, for that matter.
“you — ” you finally start to speak, but the way he’s looking at you makes you fumble with your words. you find yourself trying to avert eye contact without even realizing, but you can feel his burning gaze on you still, and his grasp is noticeably firm. “you don’t have to refer to me as your savior, it’s too—”
“if you won’t allow that,” his hands squeeze yours almost as if urging you to look back at him, and you can’t help but oblige. “then at least allow me to know your name.”
as soon as you utter it, he says your name like it’s something precious, something he treasures dearly. you feel your stomach flip, and you hope it’s just acid reflux— it’d be less embarrassing than admitting it was because of a man you barely know.
“don’t you think it’s time for you to introduce yourself as well?” you find it in yourself to retaliate, attempting to pull your hand away but his grasp stays firm.
“ah, where are my manners?” he grins as he looks down on you. “tengen, uzui tengen.” he guides your hand away from his chest, resting your hand on his cheek instead. he nuzzles his face into your palm, eyes shutting as if trying to savor the feeling of your touch.
“please, call out my name.” his gemstone-like eyes flutter open, a soft smile forming on his face, almost as if beckoning you to call out his name.
“tengen uzui,” you can’t help but oblige him, his name rolls off your tongue easily — almost too easily.
his smile grows into an even wider grin, very clearly pleased. he takes your hands away from his cheek, just to stare at it briefly. he moves your hands slowly towards himself again, grip noticeably looser, giving you the opportunity to take back your hand if you wish to.
he seems even more pleased that you don’t.
he kisses the back of your hand softly, and the feeling lingers even after. he's still fixated on the back of your hands, watching as his thumb caresses the area he just kissed. he gives your hands one final squeeze before letting go, looking up at you with a playful glint in his eyes. “i suppose i should start writing now, shouldn’t i?”
the words break you out of whatever trance he had you in, and you feel embarrassed that a part of you wishes it hadn’t.
you laugh, partially at yourself and partially at his words. “ah, then i suppose i should start with breakfast then.” your heart pounds in your chest as you stand, but you don’t let it show — you’ve embarrassed yourself enough.
“i’ll leave you to it,” you say as you reach the doorframe, you look back to smile at him — your way of trying to not let him know he had you wrapped around his finger.
you shut the door behind you, and it’s only when you reach the kitchen that you feel like you can finally breathe again.
—
tengen’s eyes can’t help but follow your retreating figure; the sight nearly makes him regret letting go of your hand and letting you leave. he has to remind himself not to be hasty — as receptive as you were to his boldness, he would hate to scare you away. once the door shuts behind you and he can no longer hear your footsteps, he can’t help but let out a wistful sigh.
he sits in silence before finally taking up the brush you provided, putting ink to paper. the first letter was for the corps: letting them know he was alive, the demon was killed, and that he was currently being cared for by you. another letter for his wives with mostly the same contents, but with the additional details of how he’s thinking of them and how he wishes to be back home as soon as possible.
although, he wasn’t sure how true the latter was for now.
he momentarily puts the brush down, shutting his eyes to reminisce about you despite it being only minutes since you were gone. perhaps you haven’t realized how you’ve already managed to creep into his heart.
he can still recall your sweet voice assuring him he’d be okay. despite being at the crossroads of life and death, your voice managed to reach him.
when he finally laid his eyes upon you, he knew it had been you. the voice that kept him alive, the hands that had cared for him, they all belonged to you — and you were more beautiful than he could have imagined.
he rushes for the brush again before even opening his eyes, writing a new paragraph about you to his wives. he stares at what he’s written, reading over the details of how you’ve cared for him so attentively. as he puts the brush back onto paper, he can feel the corner of his lips curl up involuntarily as he reads over his final sentence.
“would you three like another wife?”
--
a/n: first-time posting fanfic on a public domain, very nervous, eek! likes, comments, or even criticism is much obliged!
snowghoul
izzy806
pixelskylines
origamiaround
yousharknotpass
stormborns
titsay
