Hi Ninni! @my-day6 This is my gift for you! There were so many good tropes that you picked that I decided on the concept of slice of life and Coffee AU featuring Sasuke, Mitsunari, Nobunaga and Kenshin. They are definitely fighting over which has the best coffee. I hope you enjoy it!
Thank you as well to @pond-lilies and @lorei-writes for organizing this, especially helping me out with support, certainly been a hectic year.
I love this AU 😂 I'd like to imagine their coffee shops are across the street from each other. Depending on who's on barista duty, they're either glaring or waving at each other. The wavers get reprimanded.
Also, I would like to take a moment to appreciate your backgrounds. I love the vibes of the coffee shops and there's so much detail!! I feel like I notice something new every time I look
Modern AU, Mitsunari and Katsuko (OC of @the12thnightproject )
2100 words
Trope Prompt: Blind Date
My entry for Top Tier! Creative Exchange hosted by @lorei-writes and @pond-lilies. I am such a fan of the Katsu-verse! Imagine my surprise when I found out Impromptu was my giftee. I wanted a setting where I could combine her OC's interests of parkour, Star Wars, and Marvel.
It was a fun opportunity to create a little AU moment, imagining “what if the IkeSen guys were in the modern world, and Mitsunari bumped into Katsuko?” So I made them bump into each other one, two, three times. Finally, they set up a time to meet on purpose.
I had orignally selected a bunch of Impromptu's top tropes to include, especially 'Idiots in Love', but the 2000 word limit reminded me that narrowing my scope would be best with just one trope as the focus.
Even though those two are the stars of the story, I couldn’t resist a nod to the unrequited love Mitsuhide has for Mai while she’s dating Hideyoshi. I need just a touch of angst in my fluff, LOL
I hope I did credit to Katsuko. I've read almost all of the Katsu-verse stories so far (still making my way through 'Twelve Lies I Told Shingen Takeda'). I'm almost certain Mockingbird is one of the few Marvel characters she would feel simpatico with, but I'm less sure about the use of finger guns. I use finger guns when talking with strangers; it lessens/masks my anxiety. Since Katsuko also dislikes small talk, I thought it might be a good pressure valve for her, too.
After placing her order at Lettuce Eat food truck, Katsuko stood by the delivery window next to a guy dressed as Mr. Fantastic.
(He’s in cosplay. And he looks fit. This is a good opportunity to try out my sales pitch for the photoshoot.)
The idea had come to her when she was prepping for ‘Fandom-Con’. What could be cooler than capturing kickass superhero action poses while doing urban parkour? It was the perfect combination of her interests. There had to be others out there who felt the same. A convention was the perfect place to find them.
“Can’t believe our luck in finding vegetarian options here at the con. Pretty great, right? Or should I say … Fantastic?”
The man turned around when she started speaking, head swiveling to see who she was addressing. It was just the two of them at the food truck. He pointed to his chest as if to ask ‘Are you talking to me?’ with a quizzical expression.
“Oh! Because of my costume for Reed Richards? That’s a good pun!” A joyful smile broke out.
(Well, damn. That face contained the heat of a thousand suns. He should have dressed as Johnny Storm with a 500-killowatt smile like that, not Reed.)
The man continued, “Oh, I’m not vegetarian. But this one had the shortest line of all the food trucks, so my chances of getting back inside for the next panel were statistically better.”
Well, that was disappointing. Regardless, she was undeterred in her mission: Find out if he does parkour.
“Oh, that’s valid. Totally. But I gotta say that costume really is…” she mimed finger guns at him, “...Fantastic! The spandex fits so well; you’re like, really fit, too. What kind of training do you do to stay in shape?”
The minute the words were out of her mouth, she cringed inwardly so hard it felt like a blackhole had opened inside her gut. She wanted to crawl into it and disappear.
(That is such an obvious pickup line! I should have practiced in front of a mirror. I hate talking to new people.)
She wished her Mockingbird eyemask was large enough to hide her discomfort.
If the man had noticed it sounded like flirting, he gave no indication. In fact, it appeared as if he was oblivious of the connotation as he replied with an earnest smile, “Thank you! I don’t do much, but I do have an elliptical in my apartment that I use when I’m reading.”
They were interrupted by the window opening next to them, as hands held out take-out boxes. The man accepted one, she took the other.
“Ugh! Mushrooms?!?” came from her, at the same time he groaned, “Carrots? Whyyyy…..?”
The forlorn pout on his face was too cute. The food in his container looked like the stir fry she ordered. And hers? There was no way she would have asked for this many mushrooms.
“I think our meals got mixed up. Here.”
The change on his face was instant, clouds clearing away to bright sunshine once more. He reacted as if she was doing him a huge favor. “Oh! You really don’t mind trading with me? I can’t thank you enough. You’re so nice!”
She would have argued that they were handed each other’s orders by accident, but he had already started jogging away.
(Shoot, I never got a chance to finish trying out my parkour photoshoot questions.)
Would this line ever move? The long queue in the autograph area snaked back and forth. Katsuko had been standing for an hour before being told that she was in the wrong line for her favorite celebrity.
After finding the correct line and being at the very back of it, time stood still.
The line crept forward inch by inch.
Another glance at the clock on her phone.
(Aughhhhhh! If this line doesn’t start moving faster, I’ll never get to the Star Wars panel!)
Besides this autograph session, that panel was the one thing that made her sign up for the convention. Why did they have to be back-to-back on the schedule?
Her feet were falling asleep,; her legs were killing her.
What a find! The vendor room had been crowded and over-stimulating, but at least Mitsunari had found something worth reading at the rare book dealer’s booth. A first edition printing of the schematics of the vehicles in the Star Wars trilogy! Now all he needed was a quiet place to read it.
Every square foot of wall space was occupied by bodies, and there wasn’t one open chair in the food court. After peeking into the large rooms, he found one that was empty. Taking a seat at the front, he began to read. The world around him disappeared as his brain absorbed the technical diagrams.
Katsuko sprinted from the autograph area to the Star Wars panel at the other end of the convention center. Legs on fire, ankles still numb, dreaming of the chair she would finally sit on.
She opened the doors, only to be met with a room full of people. Every seat taken. Even the wall was packed. Exhaustion made it difficult to mask her frustration.
(No-no-nooo… Could this day get any worse?)
As if on cue, her left calf spasmed with a cramp. A little cry of pain escaped Katsuko, to her chagrin.
(Why did I ask that question? I jinxed myself.)
Putting her weight on the right leg, Katsuko hobbled forward as she scanned the packed room for any place to sit down, even on the floor.
Mitsunari closed the cover and returned to the real world with all the smells and heat of a hundred people crammed around him. His nose wrinkled as Mitsunari noticed the empty room was now filled to the brim.
His ears picked up a tiny sound of distress in front of him, seeing a woman favoring one leg and looking miserable. Oh no! He had to help her.
“Miss? Ma’am?” What was the appropriate thing to say in this situation? He gestured to the limping lady as he stood up, indicating his chair, “You, with the pretty turquoise and brown hair? Please have my seat!”
He was oblivious to the grumbles of the crowd that had been standing for the past hour as this newcomer was given a chair. After seeing that she was comfortably seated, Mitsunari smiled at her and left.
“Give it a try? Please?” Hideyoshi had cornered Mitsunari, taken away his new book, and was now begging him.
(Why did he have to grab my book? He better not damage it!)
Mitsunari couldn’t focus fully on what Hideyoshi was asking, as his mind was on his precious rare book. Purple eyes were tracking the hand holding it, which was making erratic gestures.
“You want me to do something for you and Mai, correct? Yes, of course I’ll help if I can. Now please give me my book. You’re creasing the cover.”
“...I don’t believe he heard all of your request. Allow me,” Mitsuhide’s smooth voice preemptively cut off Hideyoshi’s frustrated reply. “Hideyoshi is asking you to attend a speed dating activity to get a girlfriend so the two of you can go on a double date with him and Mai. It starts in one hour. It’s not a simple errand. You’re trying to find a date. Is that what you really want to do?” The sardonic tone suggested it should be the last thing anyone should do to help their friend.
Mitsunari processed that for a second, gears whirring in his brain. He weighed the concern for his friends and wanting to fulfill their wishes against the impossibility of convincing a woman to go out with him. Yes, he wanted to help, but was he able?
(Surely Mitsuhide was better at flirting than me.)
He looked between his two friends, the concern written on his face, “Me? Why not Mitsuhide? He’s more popular with the ladies.”
The words were barely out of his mouth before Mitsuhide closed in, wearing that scimitar smile and pointing a warning finger at Mitsunari, whispering a deadly “NO.”
At the same time, Hideyoshi gave an uncomfortable laugh, looking off to the side, “Yeah, no. Mai would rather it be you, Mitsunari.”
“But I have no ‘game’,” Mitsunari repeated something he had heard one of Mai’s friends say about him.
Hideyoshi sighed, “Yeah, buddy. I get it. It’s a lot to ask. I just wanted to make her happy…”
Guilt gnawed at Mitsunari, shoulders slumping.
“What if I sweetened the deal, hm?” Mitsuhide’s good humor had returned, “A $50 gift card to your favorite bookstore if you get a woman’s number. I’ll bump it up to $100 if you manage to secure a date.”
Hideyoshi, scandalized at the mercenary turn this conversation had taken, spun on his white-haired friend. “What? No! I don’t want to buy his agreement. I wanted him to actually make an honest effort in getting a girl. Mitsuhide, that’s … unconscionable.”
“Oh, but you’re not the one asking him to do it for a wager. I am. So you can keep your intentions pure. And I get to have a fun stake in it.” He turned his gleaming gold gaze on Mitsunari. ”What do you say? You can make an honest go of it for the sake of friendship, and you get books out of it. That’s a deal too good to pass up, Nari.”
(Those are all excellent points…)
“I’ll do it. When and where?” He was already pulling out his phone to add the event to his schedule.
The room looked exactly like Katsuko expected it to: small tables with a numbered placard and two chairs facing each other. A coordinator directed her to sit at table 17. Waiting for the first round to start, she mentally prepared her speech to make the most of the 5 minute time limit.
Mitsunari almost walked into the wrong room, but noticed the sign said Speed Friending. Close call! Next door was the sign for Speed Dating. Inside he was told to wait along the wall with the men. He looked at his number: 16. The girl sitting at table 16 was wearing a yellow wig. Then he looked to table 17.
(Oh! It’s the limping woman! I hope she’s feeling better now.)
The first man to sit down at table 17 only wanted to ask about what Katsuko’s ‘type’ was. Whenever she steered the conversation towards her photoshoot goal, he seemed confused, and then was finally sullen by the time he left his chair. She rolled her eyes, thinking it would have been more efficient and less frustrating if she had made a sign announcing her intentions.
Meanwhile, the bubbly personality seated across from Mitsunari was trying way too hard to sell herself. It was two minutes before she took a breath. He grabbed his opportunity to ask for her number. She produced her phone instantly with a high-pitched giggle, exchanging contact info with supernatural speed. Mitsunari was stunned at how easy it was. That gift card was as good as his!
Soon the time limit was called, and the men were told to move to the table to their left.
Katsuko hid her dismay at seeing yet another man sit down, but soon recognized him from the Star Wars panel.
“Thanks again for letting me sit down,” she started at the same time he asked, “How is your leg now?”
She was the first to recover, giving him finger guns and a grateful smile, “Fantastic, now, thanks to you.”
Mitsunari grinned at their simultaneous talking, his mind flitting back to a similar situation at the food trucks.
The finger guns and the word ‘Fantastic’ triggered enough similarities for him, while his solar-flare smile was unforgettable to Katsuko. They both leaned forward inquisitively, their movement mirror images.
“Were you dressed as Mr. Fantastic yesterday?” she asked – almost nearly at the same time as Mitsunari exclaimed, “You were the one cosplaying Mockingbird!”
They both chuckled at talking over each other again.
Katsuko asked, “Are you into parkour?”
“...What?” Came his reply with polite confusion.
She explained the sport, hopeful when recognition dawned on his face. Turns out a friend of his, Sasuke, did that. And why yes, he would consider trying it some time. In costume, even. And take photos. He simply kept nodding and agreeing to every suggestion. So cute.
Keeping her cool, she pulled out her phone, “Great. Let’s schedule something. I’ll get your email address.”
Mtisunari’s eyes widened. Wait – were they setting up a date? Had he fulfilled both Hideyoshi’s and Mitsuhide’s requirements without even meaning to? “I never thought the Speed Dating event would be this easy,” he hummed cheerfully.
“Speed Dating? No, this is Speed Friending,” she replied absently, opening her calendar app.
He shook his head gently, “Ah, that event is next door. The sign on this room definitely said Dating.”
Katsu: *breaks the fourth wall, looking at the camera with deadpan disappointment*
This was a fun read. I can tell a lot of love was put into this AU. Sometimes AUs can feel a bit skin deep. Like the characters have been placed into another world but they don't feel like they truly live in that world. That is not the case here. Everyone was so modern and so silly. I think my favorite line was Mistunari saying, "But I have no game" 😂 I was not expecting that but that's totally something people would tell him
Hi hi @lorei-writes! I'm your gifter for the Top Tier Gift Exchange!
Caught in the Rain was also one of my listed top tropes, so I couldn't resist doing a scene depicting just that. And when you don't have a umbrella and it starts pouring buckets? A big cape will do in a pinch!
I did take some liberties with the clothing (sorry if Esther's cape doesn't drape that way but it's how it worked in my mind if she raised her arm :'D) (hope the improv'd flower details make up for it tho, I added them because Chev's little details were irritating me and I needed to redirect myself to something more calming)
Thanks for having me Lorei and @pond-lilies! I had fun with this!
I've already told you this but I love the details of your piece. Chev and tbh, Cybird characters in general are so hard to draw cuz of all the little details but you nailed it. Its fun looking at all the little designs present in your piece 👀
If anyone was meant to be a father, it's hands down this man. I love the way you drew Hideyoshi's expression. He is practically radiating love and affection for that baby. Definitely one of the event's softest pieces 🥹
Hi @katriniac! I am the person in charge of your gift and I hope you enjoy this writing I did for your OC, Kate, with Sasuke in a College AU! Originally, I didn't know what to write for them so I decided to go with this, hopefully it is sweet enough for you to enjoy!
Thank you @lorei-writes and @pond-lilies for hosting this event!
–
“I will always find you, across the galaxies.”
A new year for everyone. It was an average Monday morning, which means that Kate has to get up for her classes. Ever since she started attending Kyoto University, life has gradually become part of her regular schedule—walking around campus, taking a detour, buying supplies, and all those moments present in university — it still hadn’t become mundane to her, not yet. Her social skills are quite lacking but understandable.
Taking her usual route to her first class in the morning, she couldn’t help but spot someone in the distance wearing a lab coat — clearly occupied constantly with whatever he was researching — yet it caught her interest far more than any of her current obsessions.
Maybe I should go and talk to him later if I ever come across him again.
–
“That wouldn’t be the formula nor the variable to allow it to manifest again." Sasuke tapped his pencil to the table while deep in thought.
“Sasuke, you are overthinking this too much." Yukimura stared at his best friend, who probably did all-nighters for the past three days.
“I know, yet there is something missing—"
“Take a break. You need it at this point. You're going to lose sleep, which means you lose some brain cells." Yukimura sipped his morning smoothie he made in their dorm.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
The two stared at each other. In Sasuke’s defense, this was the first time that Yukimura, in all their history, actually made sense, somewhat. With a heavy sigh, Sasuke decided he definitely needed a break; he can just come back to it at a later date.
Standing up, Sasuke turned to Yukimura. “So, shall we head to our class?”
That caught Yukimura off guard, and he spit his smoothie out in response. “Wait… WE HAVE CLASS THIS EARLY!?”
“Yes…?”
“OH WE GOTTA GO! WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE!”
Thus, Yukimura made a sprint for it while Sasuke casually went for a detour. He didn't tell Yukimura about it.
–
Kate arrived at the lecture hall before taking a seat near the middle, taking her supplies out to take notes before reviewing them later on in the day. Minutes later, Sasuke arrived with Yukimura barely arriving in time before the professor came into the room. The two took a seat near Kate, as the majority of the seats were taken by others who arrived earlier.
“Why didn’t you tell me there was a detour… Sasuke…?” Yukimura placed his head down on the desk, exhausted.
“You never asked."
Yukimura could only stare at Sasuke out of disbelief. In their two years of friendship, this is how Sasuke treats him??? If he weren't in class, he would definitely smack Sasuke in the head for such behavior.
For Kate, she looked at their exchange with fascination. Despite so many eyes looking at them, they never bothered to acknowledge the eyes—just each other. Especially how, despite their banter may be to others, they understand each other.
Maybe… I could try to be friends with them.
–
Two hours. Two hours is how long the class lasted, with the professor talking about a group project to understand at the end, which… many wailed about with reasons that are understandable — they witnessed the horrors of assigned group projects in their high school years. Kate ended up being in a group with the two people that happened to be next to her.
"So… where do we start?” Yukimura asked, clearly not used to talking to the opposite gender.
“We can start with a layout, especially where we want to focus." Kate responded.
“Great idea. But where should we focus on, literature, movies, or games?” Sasuke asked, The topic is focused on the themes of how one conveys it.
“I say we should focus on literature; they have themes that are executed very well. Compared to… modern literature that seems to not be focused on anything,” Kate scratched her face, trying to not talk too much knowing how much she loves those three.
“Great idea. Let’s exchange contact info." Sasuke took his phone out and asked Kate to put her info in, which Yukimura copied onto his.
The first message from them in the group chat was a hello and a boar emoji from Yukimura.
“...boar emoji…?”
"Well, you look like–”
“Yuki, let’s not talk about that, especially in front of her,” Sasuke cut his best friend off to prevent him from making a bad decision.
“Alright,” Yukimura raised his hand up as an act of surrender.
Despite that hiccup that was caused by Yukimura, the three started off with a good start. Over time as the project went by, the three became quite close friends. With Kate showing a side of herself to them where she rambles about her obsessions with Sasuke following up on his love of astronomy. Yukimura was forced to listen to their rambling, but he never bothered to interrupt them, as, hey, they are his friends now — best friends. Kate wouldn’t ask for a better start of the year with new friends who then introduced them to their group. Belonging is what Kate felt, and safe as time went on. With her and Sasuke dating months later, idiots in love, their friends call them but couldn’t ask for more. Except for one request, for them to be Sasuke’s wingmen when they end up getting married in the near future.
–
A year passed. A year flew by when they first started going out with one another. With it being their anniversary since they started dating, they decided to head to a spot that is secluded from most eyes on campus.
“I’m glad I met you, Sasuke,” Kate said as her fingers intertwined with Sasuke's.
“I too am glad to have met you. Not even the universe nor fate will make me want to leave you,” Sasuke said, squeezing Kate’s hand in hopes that he isn’t dreaming about this moment — a chapter of their life.
Petals from the cherry blossom trees flew past them. To them, it is another year that they are together. Even if their majors may be different, they will always find a way to spend time with each other – they will always find each other in some way in every world or timeline.
No matter the era, Sasuke and Yukimura will never change, loved their interactions in the beginning. They're such idiots xD. I'm not super familiar with this OC but I liked the balance she brought to the guys. And the ending was so sweet 😖
Dear @oda-princess - happy giftee day! You had so many tropes you liked, that I went with a couple of them. I went with a bit of angst, and a bit of grumpy/sunshine, and I added in your OC Marie.
Thank you @lorei-writes and @pond-lilies for hosting this exchange! I always love participating in these events.
Title: Kenjutsu
Ikemen Sengoku
Characters: Kenshin, Marie, Mitsunari
Word count: 1800
An unfinished letter, never intended to be sent, never meant for anyone’s eyes. Hardly a letter at all, simply a few scrawled sentences as a heartsick strategist attempted to make sense of his confused emotions. Mitsunari had put his tangled thoughts on the page, hoping that once written down they would be understood…
Organized…
Exorcised.
Dear Lady Marie,
Are you well? I miss seeing your smile. Something inside me hurts when I think I will never see your smile again. That the smile is brighter when you look at Kenshin. If he ever makes your smile fade, please come back to Azuchi and I will-
The letter had been abandoned at that point. Mitsunari gave up, realizing whether the words were on the page or locked in his head, they were only words. Because whatever emotions prompted this letter still had the power to cloud his mind, cramp his stomach, and stab at his heart. What was the use of writing them down?
It would have ended there. But Mitsunari was interrupted and in his absentminded way, he forgot all about that wayward piece of paper.
It should have ended there.
Then a new threat coming from the Mori clan, the resurrection of Motonari, and a message delivered by the ninja Sasuke invited the Oda forces to a summit, to a camp in neutral territory, to meet with the Uesugi-Takeda forces for a strategic discussion. Of course, as Nobunaga’s rising strategist, Mitsunari’s presence was necessary.
And because in his haste to gather his notebooks, references and papers, Mitsunari accidentally swept the forgotten letter into his pile, it did not end there.
Even then, disaster might have been avoided if the letter had stayed hidden amongst the scattered diagrams of formations, or if anyone else had been the one to notice the letter. Anyone but the one person who absolutely should not have found it.
Anyone but Kenshin….
There had been an internal battle within himself when Kenshin had allowed – no, not ‘allowed,’ for that suggested that she would have agreed if he had even hinted that he wanted to leave her behind at Kasugayama. He’d asked her to come from the start and bathed in her smile when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and whispered, “I know how much it cost you to ask that. Thank you.”
He knew she thought he had conquered his easily roused jealousy, allowed the embers to fade on his fear of loss. It wasn’t true, but he’d allowed her praise to settle around him like a warm cloak.
He’d pretended.
Pretended it didn’t hurt to see her bow to Nobunaga and call him ‘Ani,’ to be swung into a spinning hug with Masamune, to see her clasp hands and smile with affection toward Mitsunari. Still, he had tried to push past his jealousy when he’d seen how happily Marie was to be with her “Azuchi family.”
But he couldn’t push away that still simmering fire, a fire that had been banked by her daily affection but not extinguished completely.
Thus, when he and Mitsunari sat down to exchange strategic theories, Kenshin’s neat journals lined up against the young man’s explosion of papers, Kenshin had already been primed. Primed by his previous dislike of the man who everyone else described as human sunshine.
Hmph. As if that was something to be aspired to.
The genius, yes, Kenshin could see it. Also, he saw the waste. Why was such a mind bestowed on this clumsy, smiley, boy?
As if to immediately give example to Kenshin’s internal critique, Mitsunari clunked a large rock on top of his pile when the wind ruffled the papers, threatening to scatter them to all corners of the camp. “Oops!”
“How do you find anything?” Even if he hadn’t had Kanetsugu to help organize his days, Kenshin would have kept his papers and reports in order. This chaos was not acceptable.
Of course, all Mitsunari did was smile. “It doesn’t matter. I know where everything is.” To demonstrate, he shut his eyes, touched the stack of papers, thumbed part way down, and retrieved a diagram of the formation that they’d planned to discuss. “Here. See?”
He saw…
He saw more than Mitsunari realized. Underneath the page Mitsunari had retrieved had been a piece of paper with the name ‘Marie.’
Yes, he saw.
Kenshin slapped his hand on top of the papers and under Mitsunari’s confused gaze, he dove into them until he pulled out the errant letter.
Read it.
He wants to steal her away from me.
It took a moment for Mitsunari to recognize what Kenshin had in his hands. A moment for him to understand that this time, he had not known exactly where everything was. His blush… the shame, followed immediately after. “I thought I burned that. I only needed… I never planned for anyone… anyone at all… to ever see it.” The explanation was jumbled, stammering, honest.
Kenshin wasn’t listening. Could hear nothing beyond the roaring of a fire that swept through him as he read a letter meant for nobody. “We will spar.”
Mitsunari looked down at the letter that was now crumpled in Kenshin’s white knuckled fist. “Of course, that is your right, Lord Kenshin.”
“Until death.” And he would kill the boy. Kill him and any other who got in the way.
“I understand.” Mitsunari placed his hand on the grip of his sword, taking a deep breath.
“You understand, then, that I will kill you.” Daily, Kenshin threatened to kill his vassals, his ninja, his friends, and that Yoshimoto. This was not the same type of threat. This was a promise. The beast inside him roared for blood. The fear of loss blocked every other sound.
Amethyst eyes finally met his own. “You can try.”
His blood lust combined with battle lust. In recent years, there was only one person Kenshin had failed to best in battle. Mitsunari. They’d fought before, Kenshin and this boy. A battle that had lasted longer than expected. Neither had won. The fight had been stopped by his ninja, who had claimed, in his odd Sasuke dialect, that he could tell the fight would end in a draw.
We’ll see about that now.
In grim agreement, they marched to a flower decked meadow far enough away from the camp to attract attention. A meadow more known for peace, not battle. A flower filled meadow suitable for a grave. Kenshin’s internal vow – only one of us will return.
Underneath the roar of the dragon in his soul, he wondered if this had been Mitsunari’s plan after all? To lure him out, then finish him off in private. Was even now a team of archers or riflemen hiding beyond that cluster of trees? Just as that cheerful exterior masked the most complex strategic mind Kenshin had ever encountered, did that sunshine also hide a streak of hate? Behind the smile was there someone planning to murder for love?
You shall not have her.
They bowed to each other deeply, then ritual satisfied, there came the sinister whistle as two swords unsheathed. Kenshin struck out first, though Himetsuru Ichimonji was immediately greeted by Mitsunari’s nameless weapon. Their gazes met over the crossed swords.
For a moment, neither was able to push forward, as the strikes had equal strength, powered by equal determination.
Then finally, Mitsunari whirled away, his weapon already primed to meet the next attack.
As with that past battle, this match began slowly, increasing in intensity as the strategist anticipated his every move. Strike met strike, tempered steel met its counterpart in a deadly dance.
The sun reached its zenith then slowly reversed toward the horizon.
Something is different this time. The moves were no longer academic. Yes, Mitsunari anticipated Kenshin’s every movement, his sword in place almost before Kenshin’s, his body ducking and spinning away from every potential hit, but this time there was more strength and skill behind the moves.
He’s been practicing.
No matter. Kenshin was different too. He had someone he could not, would not lose.
Neither warrior faltered, even as it neared sunset and lanterns began glowing from the distant camp.
They fought on. Grimly. No words had been spoken since they began. The only sounds were the clang of swords and the grunts of effort. Kenshin smelled the sweat rising from both of them, a scent mixing with the scent of summer grasses. The taste of blood in his mouth as he bit his own cheek in determination. He felt the heaviness of Himetsuru Ichimonji in his hand, a comforting, familiar weight.
Panting breaths… his… the boy’s. His own heart drumming in his ears.
Then a scream. “Kenshin!” Marie rushed out into the flower-covered field.
“Stay back!” He turned his face to her. It was only a fraction of inattention to the fight. But it was enough.
Mitsunari saw the opportunity and swung his sword—
Only at the last moment did he alter the trajectory and step back, adopting a defensive position, waiting until Kenshin was ready to resume.
He could have killed me.
With a scowl, Kenshin paused. “You had an opening. Why didn’t you take it?”
“She will be sad.” MItsunari’s voice was a hushed whisper, and Kenshin had had to strain to hear him.
Kenshin looked over at Marie, her face a mixture of confusion and worry. “If you weren’t going to kill me, why bother to fight?”
“I did not want to die.” Mitsunari stated it as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.
Seeing that their fight had paused, Marie strode between them, holding her arms out as if to become a physical barrier. “What happened? Why were you fighting?”
He pulled her to his side, slinging his arm around her. Mine. “Sparring. It was a good day for a fight.” The look he gave Mitsunari dared him to correct that statement. When no contradiction appeared, he added. “We’re done now. I’ll kill you tomorrow. Go!”
Mitsunari bowed. Kenshin wasn’t sure if it was an apology or a thank you. Or… with this strange boy, it could have been acknowledgement of a good fight. Then he turned and walked away, his smile dimming as he left Marie by Kenshin’s side.
As Kenshin and Marie ambled back to camp, she rested her head on his shoulder. “That didn’t look like a sparring match.”
He contemplated the truth, then decided that his love for Marie aside, Mitsunari did not pose a threat to him. Kenshin realized he ought to have known that all along. “It was a misunderstanding. Now we have sorted things out.”
“Mmm.” Marie side-eyed him, the single syllable and her skeptical expression conveying the extent of the belief she had in his explanation, but that she chose not to press him further. As they entered the camp, she took his hand, leading him past the warriors enjoying their evening meal, and to the tent they shared.
I'm someone who always catches a case of second male lead syndrome and dang it, I'm rooting for Mitsunari 😭 I haven't played ikesen in a while but IIRC, Mitsunari was used a lot for comedy bits. I liked that you explored the more serious side of Mitsunari. I really enjoyed reading this ^^
hii hii @lorei-writes and @pond-lilies!! thank you so much for hosting the event and I was very honored to participate!!
My giftee was... @dicenete!!!! yay!!! Honestly when I saw your tierlist I was like "huh.. i don't usually write any of these tropes..." so it was a real but good challenge for me to go outside my comfort zone and write a trope I don't typically write.
Now go enjoy some good fluff with a hint of idiots in love!! :D
It was a beautiful summer day in Rhodolite; around the time the roses fully bloomed in the country. Lady Aino had visited the country under the pretext of a political visit, which happened quite often to keep up relations with Rhodolite.
Today, Aino sat in the garden of the grand palace of Rhodolite where their renowned flower grew in masses. The flowers lined the hedges; some hedges short, some tall, and even some trimmed into intricate designs such as birds and deer. The leaves rustled in the slight breeze of the day, which carried the smell of fragrant floral along with it. To some, this was a wonderful place to enjoy a tea party; this weather was perfect for this sort of occasion after all.
However, to Aino, she felt terribly out of place.
It wasn't that she hated the outdoors; quite the opposite actually. It was the fact that a garden with beautiful roses was elegant; she however didn’t share this sentiment. Elegance was an unfamiliarity for her; spending days on a battlefield teaches you to be tough, not proper and poised like a delicate flower.
Yet, here she was sitting before Licht Klein, the Sixth born Prince of Rhodolite, and the man she was betrothed to on a date-of-sorts that his older brother Yves had set up for the two of them under the guise of “spending more time together”.
She was impartial to being here on this date. On one hand, this was to the man she was supposed to be with out of duty for the safety of her country. On the other hand… she knew quite little about the Prince, despite her many attempts to get to know him.
Now here they were, sitting in front of each other drinking tea scented like bergamot and peppermint with an array of freshly baked good made with love from the Fifth Prince of Rhodolite on three-tiered dessert towers, and Aino, figuring out if she should tuck her pinky inward or leave it out when drinking the tea and making sure not to chew too loudly or with her mouth open.
“Hold your pinky out, like this.” Lichi explained in his ever monotone voice as he raised the hand that held the teacup to demonstrate how it was to be held, bringing the liquid to his mouth, enjoying its contents.
“Ah, thank you.” Aino replied as she then followed suit, copying the movements shown before her, bringing the liquid to her mouth as well. The tea was warm, minty and slightly sour, but was quite a refreshing beverage to have on a sunny day.
Bringing the teacup down she quietly placed it back on the plate as a silence passed between the two of them.
“I’m sorry, I’m not the best at casual tea time banter,” she adds as an apology.
“It’s fine. I appreciate that.”
He then reached over to the first tier of sweets tower to grab one of the many darioles scattered on the tray.
“Is that your favorite?”
The man before her answered with a nod grabbing another from the tower. Instead of eating it, he extended his hand over to her, offering the sweet treat.
“Here, take it. They’re good.”
Extending a hand forward to grab the small pastry, she raised the dariole to her lips, taking a bite from the velvety delicacy. The pastry had a rich creamy texture on the inside that simply melted in her mouth as the second passed.
Finishing the pastry, she made contact with his red eyes.
“You know Prince Licht, you’re kind of like a Rose; prickly to the touch, but you’re quite kind even when you’re trying to distance yourself,” She absentmindedly blurts between bites of the delectable pastry.
“Ah…” he let out as his eyes averted from hers, pink dusting his cheeks. Then, her own eyes looking away due to his lack of a reply.
Yet another bout of silence fell over the two royals. This time it was an awkward silence as they looked at the surroundings pretending a hedge was far more interesting than each other's presence.
“I’m sorry if that offended you.” Aino let out an apology for the awkward air that was created between them, hand reaching behind her neck; a physical display of the discomfort of the difficult social situation.
“No. I appreciate that you felt comfortable enough to speak your mind.” A blunt, fast, yet honest reply from the Sixth Prince.
“You don’t think that it was unnecessary?”
Her eyes traveled back to meet his, already looking back at her own eyes.
“I do not. I honestly prefer that you’re honest with me.”
A small smile formed on the Prince's lips, the first she had ever seen from him in the years she had known him. Her lips then formed into a small smile as well, mirroring the exact one he was adorning.
Elegance was never Aino’s strong suit. However, it is most certainly not her weakness.
special thanks to my beta readers @lorei-writes and @elysieverie for their last minute beta reading of my fic!!
For something you don't usually write, I think you did a fantastic job! You perfectly captured that awkward "getting to know you" vibe. I loved that Aino made Licht blush, they're so silly together 😂
I can't decide what's sweeter, the cake or them 🤭 I loved watching the creation of this piece and the final drawing is sooo cute. This has to be around the beginning of their relationship, they're so shy and blushy 😖
Here we are! The gift exchange hosted by @lorei-writes and @pond-lilies is here! And we can finally reveal our gifts! :3
My giftee is @crimsonchili ! I just saw the Secret Relationship trope in your S-tier and I ran with it xd Especially since I love how it would fit between Nokto and Mavis. A little handholding even at a public party, even if invested in different conversations, they would still know the other is near. I hope you like it, Chili!! ^^
The sparkles are giving this major shoujo manga vibes. 10/10, I would read this manga. The hand holding, the way Nokto is glancing at Mavis, argh, this scene is too cute 😖
Thank you @lorei-writes and @pond-lilies for hosting the gift exchange! I love seeing everyone’s work and I’m always for gifting art and writing to others :33
My giftee this time is @evil-quartett !! The moment I saw “caught in the rain” as your S-tier trope I know that’s what I’d like to go for. I love a good taking-shelter-from-the-rain-and-laughing-at-how-silly-they-look moment, and I want to lean more into Lacrimă’s sweeter and more teasing side! I hope you like it 💖💖
They're so soggy 😂 I love the way you draw lines. They curve, they're a little wiggly in places, never perfect straight. It gives your drawing a sense of motion despite being well, a drawing lol.
Also, on a side note, you handwriting is so good?? You can do different fonts :O
Here is my gift for dear @shonenkun309! I hope you enjoy my gift for you about Vernard! I went after a fluffy one shot with Vernard and reader.
This event was hosted by @lorei-writes and @pond-lilies
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𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓼 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓣
Ship: Vernard x reader
Themes: Fluffy, pre-relationship, he is slowly falling in love
Warnings: None
----------------------
The night has fallen upon Rhodolite, as its residents were sleeping. Well, maybe not all..
You were turning around in your bed, not even being able to find the most comfortable position to sleep in. You have been trying to sleep now for three hours, but nothing has worked out for you.
You don't know what the cause is, but just lying in bed is boring. So, you decided to take a walk through the castle, hoping a reading session in the library will tire you out enough. The bright moon is shining through the windows, wrapping you halfway in its light.
You soon reached the library, but you were surprised to see the door being slightly open. In the middle of the room, there sat a man in his late twenties at a table. The light on his table was on -not very bright though- and he was reading a book.
His emerald green eyes were gazing down onto the book he was reading. This man was so focused on reading, it felt like he was tuning out the world around him.
You immediately recognized him. It was Vernard. You were confused though, because why was he here? Couldn't he sleep either? Or does he just enjoy reading at night?
A surge of hesitation filled your body. Should you call out to him? Should you ask what he is doing here? Maybe he wants his own peace right now?
But without realizing it, you did. You called out to him. “Vernard?” Due to time of the day, your voice was automatically quiet. But it was loud enough for him to hear you.
Vernard looked up from his book and his gaze wandered to you, who was still standing at the door. He seemed surprised… Probably because he didn't expect someone to walk into the library.
“Shouldn't you be in bed?" He asked, his gaze wandering back to the book in his hands.
“I could say the same to you." You replied, approaching him to where he was sitting.
“But to answer your question, I couldn't sleep well… So I decided to go to the library to read a book.” You replied to him, trying to see what he was reading. “And you are here why, Vernard?"
“I just simply like reading at night.” Was all he said, before returning back to his book.
His short and dry sentences made you think he wants to be alone. Maybe it is better if you leave. “I’m sorry.. If you want, I can leave.” You stood up and were about to leave, but his next words surprised you.
“No… You can stay. I don't mind…” His words have surprised you. He actually wants you to stay? Is he just being kind? No.. He sounds sincere...
You stayed seated onto your chair. And so, around three minutes have already passed…
The atmosphere was a bit awkward. Neither of you two were speaking. He was focused on his book, while you were staring down onto your hands.
You finally decided to break the silence.
“The moon is very beautiful, right? It seems nice reading a book, while the moon shines through the windows.” You commented, looking at the windows with a smile. The moon was shining onto Vernard, lightning his hair with its enchanting light up.
Vernard looked again up from his book at her. “It is nice…” He added in a short sentence.
“... You also like books. Why not get one too?”
You thought that this is a good idea, afrer all, it is the same reason why you even walked to the library. Mayhaps you forgot about the book, since Vernard distracted you. You left your seat and went to the shelves, to take one of your preferred books.
You sat back down next to him, opening your book and starting to read.
The silence between you two was more comfortable this time. It wasn't like any of you were trying to force a conversation or forcing yourself to be quiet. You two were simply enjoying reading in silence.
You were so invested in your book, you didn't even notice Vernard sometimes looking up from his book to look at you. He also saw how the moon lightened onto your beautiful hair. He saw how focused your eyes were on the book in your hands.
Vernard couldn't explain it… But something about you was enchanting for him. You just… Looked so beautiful in that very much moment… And it wasn't just because of the moon. No, very deep down, he knew it wasn't just because of the moon.
After Vernard finished yet another chapter, he closed the book and stood up. “I’m going back to my room.” He announced, turning to the door.
“Oh, I’m going with you! I finally feel tired.." You yawned and repeated the same movements as him.
“Let me accompany you to your room.” Vernard suggested, walking out of the library with you. You two weren't talking much, but it wasn't awkward again. It was the nice silence from before again.
Vernard saw your tired expression. When he was sure you wouldn't notice it, he had a slight smile on his face as he admired your adorable expression. It wasn't clear, whether Vernard was already accepting the fact he was falling in love with you. But perhaps one day, he will admit it.
This was so cheesy but in a good way 🤭 I don't often see suitor OCs. Usually, if something is x reader then the reader is the main focus. It was really interesting to see the balance of reader to Vernard moments :D
The library was supposed to be empty at this hour.
That was precisely why you had chosen it.
The candles had burned low by the time you slipped inside, pulling the heavy oak door shut behind you with both hands so it would not make a sound. The smell of old paper and woodsmoke wrapped around you immediately — familiar, almost kind — and for a moment you simply stood there in the dim amber light, pressing your back against the door and breathing. Just breathing. Trying to remember how.
It had been a small thing, in the grand scheme of a royal court where small things were weaponized into art. A duchess, her smile too sweet and her words too precise, leaning close during supper to murmur exactly the right observation about exactly the right wound. *You don't belong here, do you? It must be exhausting, pretending otherwise.* And then she had laughed — a light, pretty laugh — and turned away, as though she had said nothing at all.
You had smiled. You had kept eating. You had excused yourself at the first polite opportunity, walked calmly down three corridors, and then the calm had run out entirely.
You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth now, eyes burning. You're being ridiculous, you told yourself firmly, the way you had been telling yourself for the past twenty minutes, and it was working about as well as it had been working for the past twenty minutes.
The library blurred softly at the edges.
"If you are going to weep, at least do it somewhere that doesn't echo."
You spun around.
Chevalier sat in the high-backed chair nearest the far window — your eyes had simply slid over him in the dark — a book open across one knee, his pale gaze lifting from the page with the mild irritation of someone whose evening had been interrupted. He looked as immaculate as ever. Platinum hair. Sharp jaw. The particular expression he wore when he was cataloguing you, which was most of the time.
"I — " Your voice came out wrong. You stopped. Tried again. "I didn't know you were here."
"Evidently." He turned a page. "You made quite an entrance for someone attempting to be invisible."
"I'll go." You were already reaching for the door handle. Your throat ached with the effort of keeping your voice level. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to intrude on your —"
"I didn't tell you to leave."
You paused.
Chevalier had not looked up from his book. The firelight caught the edge of his profile, the downward cast of his pale lashes, the faint tension in his jaw that you had only learned to read after months of careful study. He turned another page, deliberate and unhurried, and said nothing further.
Which was, you had come to understand, his way of saying stay.
You let go of the door handle.
The silence stretched between you, not uncomfortably — or at least, not in the way silence usually was. You crossed to the window seat on the opposite side of the room, tucking yourself into the corner of it, pulling your knees up slightly and staring out at the dark garden below. The moon was high and cold. The tears that had been threatening to spill simply sat behind your eyes like unwanted guests who had nowhere else to go.
Several minutes passed.
"Who was it."
It wasn't a question, precisely. His voice was even, almost disinterested, the way it always was when he was paying the most attention.
You glanced at him. He still had not looked up from the book.
"It doesn't matter," you said quietly.
"That is not an answer."
"Chevalier —"
"You came into my library at half past ten with red eyes and the particular expression of someone who has been told something they didn't know how to refute." He finally turned to look at you then, and the steadiness of his gaze was almost unbearable. "So. Who was it."
You looked back at the window. The garden. The cold, indifferent moon.
"The Duchess of Varell," you admitted, after a moment. "She said —" You stopped. The words felt embarrassing to repeat out loud, here, in front of him. "It was nothing important. She's right, anyway. It's nothing I hadn't already thought myself."
A pause.
"What did she say."
"That I don't belong here." You laughed quietly, and it came out slightly broken at the edges. "Hardly an original observation. I know that. I *know* that, I just —" You pressed your fingers to your mouth briefly. "I couldn't stop thinking about it. Which is absurd. I don't even particularly like the court."
The fire crackled. Somewhere in the walls, the old palace settled with a low groan.
Then there was the soft sound of a book being closed.
You looked up, startled. Chevalier had set it aside on the arm of the chair — carefully, with the kind of precision he applied to everything — and was watching you with an expression you didn't immediately have a name for. Not soft. It was never soft, with him. But there was something in the set of his mouth, in the quality of his attention, that was different from the usual cold appraisal.
"Come here," he said.
You stared at him.
"Chevalier, I'm fine —"
"You are visibly not fine, and you have been sitting across the room being not fine for the better part of ten minutes." He held your gaze with the particular kind of calm that brooked no argument. "I won't repeat myself."
Slowly, you uncurled from the window seat.
You crossed the room and stood before him, feeling somewhat ridiculous, and he reached out without ceremony and took your wrist, pulling you down until you were sitting on the footstool in front of his chair, close enough that his knee nearly touched yours. He studied your face the way he studied everything — thoroughly, without sentiment, missing nothing.
"She is a duchess," he said, at last. "She has spent thirty years learning to locate the precise fault line in a person and apply pressure to it in company. The fact that she succeeded tells me nothing about you and everything about her investment in keeping you diminished."
You blinked. "That's — that's not —"
"You are also catastrophically poor at distinguishing between a statement designed to wound and a statement that is true." He said it flatly, without cruelty. "They are not the same thing. Conflating them is a habit you should correct."
"So you think she's wrong," you said slowly.
Chevalier's eyes moved over your face — unhurried, precise. "I think," he said, "that belonging is a question of utility and competence, and you have demonstrated both. Repeatedly. To anyone with the capacity to observe it." A faint pause. "The duchess is not, from what I have seen, a particularly observant woman."
Something loosened in your chest. Just a little. Just enough.
"That's almost a compliment," you said.
"It is an accurate assessment. Don't romanticize it."
A surprised laugh escaped you — a real one, slightly watery at the edges, but real. Chevalier's expression didn't change exactly, but something shifted in his eyes, something almost imperceptibly warmer, gone before you could be certain you had seen it.
"You're terrible at this," you told him softly.
"I am not attempting to be anything," he said. "I am telling you the truth. The two of you are not equivalent. Stop treating her words as though they carry any authority over what you are."
The tears that had been waiting all evening finally made up their minds. You felt one slip down your cheek before you could catch it, and you turned your face away, embarrassed, pressing your fingers to your eyes.
"Sorry," you murmured. "Sorry, I'm not —"
"Stop apologizing." His voice was lower now. Not softer, exactly, but lower. More deliberate.
You felt his hand — cool, dry, unhesitant — come to rest at the back of your head, a careful weight, and then with the same measured precision with which he did everything, he drew you forward until your forehead rested against his knee. He didn't say anything. He simply rested his hand against your hair, and let you.
You breathed.
The fire burned low and golden beside you. The library smelled of old pages and candle smoke and something underneath it that was simply, irreducibly *him.* The tears came quietly, without drama, and he did not comment on them or try to stop them or offer you hollow words about how everything would be all right. He simply stayed exactly where he was, his hand a steady and unmoving anchor, and let the silence do the work that words were never quite built for.
After a while — you couldn't have said how long — you exhaled slowly, and sat back, and found that the unbearable weight behind your ribs had diminished to something manageable.
Chevalier looked down at you. His expression was still composed, still unreadable in the way that had once intimidated you and now, after all this time, simply felt like his particular version of peace.
"Better," he said. Not asked.
"Better," you agreed quietly.
He retrieved his book from the arm of the chair. Opened it to where he had left off, as precisely as though no time had passed at all. But he didn't move back — he stayed exactly as he was, close, your shoulder nearly against his leg, and the hand that had been in your hair settled instead at your shoulder. Light. Present.
"You may stay," he said, to the page. "If you intend to be quiet about it."
You leaned your head back against the arm of the chair. Looked up at the candle-shadowed ceiling.
"I'm always quiet," you said.
"You are, in fact, almost never quiet." He turned a page. "But I find that I don't particularly object to it."
You smiled — small, tired, genuine — and closed your eyes.
The fire crackled. The palace settled around you. And Chevalier read on in silence, his hand never leaving your shoulder, steady as everything he refused to say out loud.
Such a good read!!! I can't remember which actor said it but there's a quote that's like "if a character tries not to cry, the audience will" and ugh, the scene with the MC trying not to cry was perfectly executed 😫 Obviously, Ikepri is an otome game so the focus are the hot guys but I wish the game would show how being Belle effects the MC a bit more. This scratches that itch
Thank you @lorei-writes and @pond-lilies for organizing this lovely event ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡
My giftee is Tia - @missgirlicous, so here's a little drawing of your OC - Sanya. I took very personally what you said about possible AU where Sanya is with both Seth and Alice XD. So, here they are, enjoying a date in the park. I hope you like it (￣▽￣*)ゞ
Characters: Sanya Lambert x Seth Hyde x Alice
Trope: Slice of life - A date in the park
(once again I'm reminded I could use a good scanner 🙈)
I love anything Ikerev related so no surprise I love this. It feels like the viewer accidently stumbled onto a private moment. The atmosphere is so gentle and they're so happy 🥺
🙀 Leonardo da Vinci x OC (Leanna); a gift for @rinaririr , made as a part of Top Tier! Gift Exchange hosted by myself and @pond-lilies; Fluff, Angst, Slice of Life -- a little bit of everything; Reincarnation; Soulmates; Red String of Fate; Cofee Shop; Cats 🙀
Soft sunlight weaves itself through Leonardo’s hair, strokes the contours of his face while feathering kisses over his eyelids. Overzealous in its affection, it earns itself a grumble and then a yawn, a stretch of his arms. A cat reconsidering a nap, Leonardo turns onto his side. Long, dark hair scattered across the pillows tickles his face. His nose scrunches up.
“Five more minutes…” a voice beside him mumbles.
“Scusa…”
His arm wrapped around her waist, Leanna releases a pleased sigh. If he could, he’d freeze the moment, preserve it in time… Just this once, just for her, just because of her. Before the well of years they have left to share fully dries out. Leonardo nuzzles against his love, lips hot on her neck. Her pulse is still strong, and it lures out his fangs, something inside of him begging to turn her seconds ironclad.
His stomach drops.
He shouldn’t.
“Leonardo?” Leanna asks, turning onto her back to better see him. He’d rather she didn’t. “Why so early?”
He can’t.
“It seems your pull on me is stronger than expected, cara mia. Couldn’t help myself.”
Crow’s feet appear around her eyes as she smiles, and she is just as radiant as when he’s first met her. Leonardo cups her face, his thumb stroking the dark circles underneath her eyes. How very selfish of him to disturb her rest; as if to apologise, he kisses her forehead, to then draw her against his chest, their limbs tangled as they strive not to fall off the piece of furniture he generously calls “his bed”.
“Hey!” she protests, but without any real spirit behind the sentiment.
“Five more minutes,” Leonardo murmurs against the crown of her head. Five more minutes is reasonable. That much he is allowed. His eyes close to shut off any hesitation, the warmth pressed against his heart lulling him into the most pleasant of temporary dreams.
Days turn into weeks, which in turn become months, years, decades… No more than decades. Leonardo runs his hands over the duvet to smooth any folds in it, rather unsure whether his life hasn’t been just a particularly long nap. It hasn’t felt real for a good while. The door to their bedroom opens, and Leanna joins him with an armload of fresh linens.
“Laundry duty?” he asks.
“Laundry duty,” she echoes, rather tired by the looks of it. “Sebastian said there was no room left in the closet and that we should store them here. Open the chest for me? I can hardly see where—”
The globe – his favourite – spins just as his world does, slamming against a stack of books right when his back hits the floor. Leonardo tries to look around, but a fallen sheet obscures his vision. A weight presses him down, a sharp elbow turning against his ribs, and after a moment he is no longer blind. Leanna peers down at him, her brows knitted together in a lovely frown. Spread half on the floor, half over his torso, she does not appear to be particularly pleased with the present state of affairs.
“I thought it was your favourite,” she remarks. “Weren’t you supposed to put it away? Three days ago?”
“Oh? So it wasn’t months this time. I told you, dolcezza, I would improve.”
“I should have left you below that bedsheet.” Leanna glares at him, but he can see amusement glimmer in the depths of her eyes. In either case, she averts her gaze soon enough.
“Well, we could still fix that.”
Her face turns towards him, surprise flashing though her features lightning-fast. That moment he, too, will cherish. Leonardo catalogues her expression in his memory to later sketch it out, and it is only the silver woven into her hair that worries him.
Time.
He needs more time.
It moves on too fast. He won’t be ready to let go.
“Cara mia!” Leonardo announces upon entering their bedroom. “I wound your watch.”
“Was it a nice walk?”
Leonardo sits on the edge of their bed – a proper one, for the old couch has long proved to be insufficient. Leanna lay on her back, snow-white hair spread over an equally pristine pillow, eyes expectant, dim, yet not fully devoid of light. Wrinkled as they may be, her hands still belong to her, and he craves them all the more now that they are approaching the end. Leonardo entwines their fingers. He hasn’t changed, aged for even a second, never mind a day.
“Yes. Next time, I will carry you along.”
“People are going to think I’m your grandma. Again,” she complains, although with a hint of humour in her tone.
“Let them think whatever they want.”
“There is no other choice.”
Silence falls, heavy and too thick to swallow. Leonardo shuffles his feet against the carpet; if he wanted to, he’d distract her with another story or play for her until his fingers grew numb. Perhaps that would be the right thing to do, however, he stalls.
“Soon—”
“We’ll start again,” he assures, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I won’t stop looking until I meet you again, Leanna.”
***
Leonardo lacks a compass or a map, the path he seeks remaining stubbornly uncharted, obscured even from his very own eyes. Minutes have become a century and a half, the memories of affection now bitter-sweet, the rotten heart in his chest still daring to instruct his actions. Leanna is gone. Has been for a long, long while. Yet… Yet that ridiculous, wretched organ holds an eternal hope. Leonardo clutches his suitcase to then set it down on the conveyor belt. Onto another country. This time, this time surely, he will find her.
Cheap airlines have never been the height of Leonardo’s dreams, but it is what the moderate remains of le Comte’s fortune can afford him. The digital age has not been particularly kind to their kin — one can only transfer assets so many times without raising any suspicions, although the word has it Queen Elizabeth XVIII of England has tasted the eternity. One day, Leonardo will have to pay her a visit and inquire about that personally; currently, however, he has more pressing matters to attend to. A child seated beside him breaks into a healthy cry. The plane takes off. Five hours to go.
Four and a half.
Three and three quarters.
Three…
Two.
One and a half.
One.
A half.
A quarter.
Ten minutes…
At last, the plane lands, and it takes all of Leonardo’s patience not to burst through the emergency door. None of his ploys have worked, all his genius rendered fully inconsequential in the face of inaccessibility of the MelonNana TV channel. Nevertheless, he is tactful enough to exit it as a normal person would, even going as far as to collect his luggage. His looks must have alerted the taxi driver. The man doesn’t strike a chat. That suits Leonardo just well, his head turning towards the window, although he can hardly see the buildings they pass. They stop in front of his hotel sooner than he would have expected.
The reception, his suitcase hitting the floor, the rustling of the bedsheets as he drops among them, all thoughts fade out of his head. Leonardo closes his eyes. A cat nap wouldn’t hurt, but the persistent meowing outside pounces on his consciousness whenever it is about to dissipate and release him into the ether. His brow furrowed, Leonardo gets up to his feet and walks up to the window. He glances out of it, but he cannot see anything. He grabs the handle.
“Meow!”
A cat looks at him from the ground, its black fur shimmering in the setting sun. Red ribbon tied around his neck, it holds its chin high, golden eyes filled with pure, unfiltered disdain.
“Hey, you there! Tone it down a little, hm?”
“MEOOOW!”
“Some of us are trying to sleep.”
“ROOOWR!” The cat bristles. “MEOW! MEOW! MEOW!”
Leonardo runs his hand down his face. His options are numbered, so… He takes a note out of Dazai’s book and leaps out the window. The creature doesn’t seem affected. It simply begins to walk away.
“You’re a rather cold furball.”
The cat glances over its shoulder.
“If you don’t like that, you should change your attitude.”
The cat takes a few steps. Again, it looks over its shoulder. Leonardo needs no further instruction – he follows after the pet.
They cross busy, four-lane roads, march through bridges, cross all sorts of neighbourhoods (some more than once). Leonardo has begun to question his sanity, however, a part of him enjoys the walk. The watch he’s been ordered to take care of also appears rather pleased, the mechanism inside of it heating from excitement. Sweet ragoon creeper climbs up fences and walls.
“Where are you taking me, gattino?”
The cat opts to remain silent, as per its right.
The door to a building opens as a man exits onto the street; seizing the opportunity, the cat plunges inside. Leonardo stands still on the pavement for just a moment. He looks up to investigate the sign.
BLACK CAT
It tells him precisely nothing, but he does enter the establishment.
Dark eyes settle on him the moment his foot passes the threshold. The watch on his wrist stops together with his heart.
“How may I help you?” Leanna asks from behind the counter, the black cat stretching besides the register. She is exactly as he has remembered her, from her tired eyes, to the charming air of awkwardness, and her dearly beloved hands.
“Scusa… I followed the cat,” Leonardo blurts out after a short while.
Her eyebrows shot up at the remark. “It’s a coffee shop, sir.”
“One espresso then.” Leonardo sits down in the nearest chair. “What’s the name?”
“I’m Leanna.”
He smirks at her. He’s known that much for far longer than she has. “I meant the cat.”
“Lux.”
Light. Yes, the light has returned.
🙀🙀🙀
Dear Rina,
As you know by now, you were my giftee. I hope you like the story I've prepared and that I did Leanna justice. I gave it my all.
Truth be told... When it was greenlit that I would prepare something for you, it made me really happy. Sure, sure, I joke that I'm your fangirl, but it isn't wholly incorrect -- I do appreciate you a lot as an artist and a person. So... >:) In a way, this is also a revenge story for all the nice things you've made for me.
Keep warm,
Lorei
PS
I had to read Leonardo's route specifically for this story and I was so uncertain about my characterisation choices I ended up asking 5 people to verify them -- so I owe major thanks to Shao-wei @youngshaowei1991, Venulus @venulus, Chisa @cheese-ception, Lily @pond-lilies, and Eli @cottonfluffballofdoom.
Have a laugh at how bad I overthought things, please, hahaha.
I've already told you how good I thought this was but it doesn't hurt to say it again. It's so good (>w<) I love when we get to see things from the suitors perspective and it's so cute seeing how smitten Leonardo is no matter what form Leanna takes
Yves and @kaizoku-musume's Aurelia, the kingdom's most professional yearners ♡
This piece is my submission for the Top Tier! Gift Exchange, hosted by @lorei-writes and @pond-lilies.
I had an absolute blast with it and it was positively delightful to get to participate (and hang out with everyone on discord too).
Let's do this again sometime, hmmm?
Beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Your art style is sooo pretty. Your lines feel so delicate and makes this scene feel like a fleeting moment. You perfectly captured yearning (˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)
