Setsugekka, Kurenai, Desire
A missing scene commissioned by @rwbypro featuring Tsubaki and his sublcass post reuniting after the hospital attack. Thank you so much, this was fun to write! Enjoy Tsubaki's weird headspace in this lol
Setsugekka: a snow white camellia cultivar with dark green, slightly matte foliage. Named for the Japanese expression of snow, moon, and flowers, embodying the three whites of the winter, autumn, and spring seasons. Satsuma Kurenai: as the name suggests, the bright red blooms of the kurenai camellia are approximately the size of a satsuma orange. Blooms show a small hint of yellow stamen, making it the true rose of winter Desire: A flashy and showy camellia which features large, up to four inch wide, double flowers in a formal style. Counting up to sixty petals, this pink to white camellia is sure to impress.
Black. White. Red.
Black. White. Red.
Black. White. Red.
The colors of the city at night, illuminated by his lanterns. The ethereal glow reflects off puddles, water, spilled beer, spilled stomachs, dancing on their surface in an eerie parade that would never be seen by mortal eye. Really, no matter how advanced humans became… The squalor of an inner city never changed. Trash. Forgotten, dirty corners. Forgotten, dirty people.
Thousands, at any given time, just out of sight. Abandoned. Betrayed.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Black. White. Red.
Black. White. Red.
Black. White. Red.
Black like bile. White like snow. Red like the camellia, which dies so gracefully. Without a single complaint. Without any inconvenient ugliness.
“I’m taking this city hostage.”
Black. White. Red.
Black. White. Red.
Pink?
Three figures.
A black apron. A white uniform. Red, red eyes, just like his own.
Immediately, his heart lifts.
Someone with a melancholy heart is speaking to him. Someone with a love like fresh snow is telling him something. Someone with hands stained is touching him.
He dislikes this man. But he can’t fault him.
“There! ☆”
What matters the most… Is that his family is safe.
What matters the most is that they’re alive.
“Shamrock won’t be coming. It’s alright, though. Don’t worry about him.”
“Let’s go.”
He’s no longer sure who is following who.
He does know this. He could give a thousand apologies, carefully folded in his mouth like cranes… And it wouldn’t be enough. For the risk he took. For what he put them through. For…
Belkia brushes shoulders with him, energetic and bouncy as ever, and the thought flees from his mind.
The guilt remains, but it gives him perspective.
Black, white, red.
A single wish.
He wonders if that makes him selfish.
***
“You’re quiet. It’s a problem.”
“Is it?”
Otogiri peers at him, sitting with her knees drawn to her chest, fingers wiggling between her bare toes. He really wishes she’d wear shoes more often. There’s too much broken glass around, not just here, in their temporary base as they await the coming of the red moon… But everywhere in Tokyo. Glass, nails, rust…
“You’re spacing out again. Tsubaki-san.”
Her voice, soft and mellow, cuts through his thoughts once more.
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to zone out.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Without regard for decorum or room for him to posture, she pierces right to the heart of the matter of what had been plaguing him.
“I know that,” he lies even so, and immediately regrets it. She only continues to stare at him. She’s making an effort, he can tell. To hold his gaze. She’s not really one to look directly at others for long periods. Like Lilac, she prefers for attention to slip harmlessly past her, to direct it anywhere else but herself.
“Tsubaki-san is an idiot.” Super blunt!
She sighs and adjusts her position to rest her chin on her knees, one pale, doughy cheek squishing up and doing absolutely nothing to degrade the elegant beauty of her features. His heart aches for her and how far she’s come. “To us. It was more important for you to not go back to that place.” That place of black, and white, and red. “We knew we would be fine. We’re strong, after all.”
“... Yes. You all are.”
“Good. If you understand that… Then please stop pitying us. It’s a problem.”
“Haha… Of course.”
***
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Tsubaki stares blankly up at his second in command. Higan only continues to look down at him, one arm, the sleeve rolled up to reveal more muscle than you’d expect from an artsy type, and about as much hair as you’d guess for an Italian, pressed against the dirty concrete wall of their little dilapidated parking garage. There’s a quirk to his mouth that says he’s aching for a cigarette. It might be a strange thought, but…
“Was just thinking about how good it is that you were born after opium fell out of fashion.”
Higan coughs on a laugh, shoulders shaking, and Tsubaki watches, distantly hypnotized, as his red hair sways with his movements. It’s beautifully glossy, even in the dim light of flickering overheads, broken and sparking occasionally with their disuse. How he misses their home, not just for its creature comforts, but for the safety it gave, and the bright, warm tinged light of shaded bulbs which cast everything and everyone precious to him in their glow.
“Hoo boy. You really know how to catch this old man off guard, even now.” Higan pushes away and slides to sit next to him instead. Tsubaki can’t help but reach for that cascade, red as fire, and draw it into his lap, just to make sure it doesn’t touch the dirty floor.
Higan smiles and puts his arm around him in turn. “Glad to have you back again, Tsubaki-san.”
The silence is comfortable, and the love unspoken.
***
Belkia finds him shortly before dawn. Well. Find is a strong word. It’s not like he was particularly trying to hide. He wasn’t, really.
It’s just.
This particular corner was very comfortable. Yes. That was it.
“They took my goddamn glasses.” There’s such an exaggerated pout on Belkia’s face about that, he can’t help but crack a smile.
“That’s very rude. Don’t they have any respect at all?”
“Exactly! Who takes a guy’s glasses?! I’m not at aaaall like that Greed guy! I need these!”
They’d discussed, of course, the practicality of contact lenses, laser eye surgery, you know. Cosmetic things like that. And it was cosmetic, to Belkia at least, just like those see through braces had been (not Invisalign. Some other brand), because in the end it had all come down to style. Belkia simply liked his glasses. Said they gave him an air of intelligent mischief, which had made Tsubaki laugh so hard he’d cried because Bel, his Bel, had been pulling such a serious face with such a silly pose, like an idol or something, or maybe a daytime drama actor. It was, in a word, goofy.
The very same kind of look he was pulling now, actually, head turned every so slightly and eyes narrowed somewhere between a scowl and some attempt at a smoldering gaze.
“A great magician needs to maintain his iconic appearance.”
“PFFFT.” That was it. He was done for. A single line, in a dramatically gravelly voice, pushed him over the edge. Echoing off the walls around them and into the faint glimmer of the Tokyo sunrise, Tsubaki felt his guilt wash away like ash, melt like snow, doused like flames.
Truly, Belkia knew the best magic in the world.