Kintsugi (1)
: "to repair with gold"
Scaramouche / Wanderer x First Puppet Reader
Based off of this plot with major alterations; After his third betrayal, he stumbles upon the one thing that would never deceive him. Not a god, not a human; a broken puppet, discarded just like him. Part 2.
He had heard of this tale multiple times by now, all in different versions and walks of life.
From his bladesmith friend who recounted the tale of a statue that guards a sakura tree in a faraway village in Tatarasuna, and that those who dare harm either of the two meet a fate most foul. But he remembered it only as a made up story, ever spoken to him once as a bedtime story and forgotten soon after.
Another iteration the puppet heard was of a beautiful ghost, who had died by the tree and lingered since then as a spirit awaiting its lover. Its doll-like feature had left many humans falling for the specter, while some find it tradition to leave offerings for love and fortune. He remembered shaking his head as he turned away from the intoxicated villager, focusing on bringing the lavender melons back home.
And the last one came from someone old, with a wrinkled smile shy of teeth, and eyes perpetually closed. When the elder heard of the versions he had recounted, he could not help but laugh, despite the scathing glare sent his way.
"None of those versions are true." But how can he be so sure? "There is one more, while we cannot verify its authenticity, it is at least the first one to ever exist." And he with his straw hat followed after the mortal as they walked.
The guardian of eternal slumber, is a tale of a puppet (to this, he perked up) who wondered into the village in search of something. Upon seeing the sakura tree, they made home at its roots, dutifully waiting. Generations came and went, but neither of its visitors could ever sway it to leave.
Soon enough, the villagers began leaving items in sympathy of the lonely puppet. And if it is up to its unspoken standards, the puppet would open its eyes. Zealots began to view that gaze as divine, and preached that those who were to see it are blessed.
Gifts became offerings, and visitors all over Inazuma went out of their way for a chance to be blessed with fortune.
He and the old man found themselves in a scarce village, of rundown houses and deathly silence. "But in the greed of desperate devotees, one group decided to steal the puppet one night in hopes of monopolizing the blessings." They passed by the only house that looked functional. "Lightning struck our sakura tree and the village's lands began to lose life. The criminals were never found."
The puppet only comprehended the darkened grass flattening under their steps, dried out and crumbling from the pressure. But he could not pay it any more mind as they reached a staircase, leading up a hill where a sakura tree in full bloom resides.
"You are like them." His violet gaze turned sharp and his attempts to climb the steps stopped. "May you both find what you're looking for."
"Musings of an old man." His moves forward, fingers clenching his sleeves in contempt and anticipation. "What I'm looking for is beyond your understanding." There is no reply.
When the base of the tree slowly appeared over the horizon, the sakura tree began shedding its leaves in with the gust of the wind. And he found himself stopping at the last step upon meeting eyes with a visage.
Never had he felt such hopeful and wide gaze on him before, framed by the pink shower of sakura petals both old and new where they sat, pulling one's attention away from the dead vines and clinging dust.
But as quickly as it came, the smile on their face slowly fades.
And those eyes once brimming with hope turned to hate so searing, it burned him more than the hate in his empty chest.
"Have we truly exhausted all our options?" A passing wind felt like a gentle caress, swaying the pink petals above to a comforting, simple melody.
The sakura tree stands tall and beautiful, gaze unable to look away, its color flooding your vision successfully.
"Quell your doubts now, the proof is already in your arms." The soft cloth cradling you moves, prompting your gaze to look up, from pink to purple hues.
"It is nothing short of miraculous." She's more beautiful than the sakura tree. You blink at her, she smiles. And warm too, even more so when she cradles you closer, the softness of her embrace and kimono lulling you to sleep. "The proof of eternity."
Your face was half-buried by the silken cloths as you simply watched closely, your creator and another person's conversation passing. At one point, you reached out to take a petal that landed on your creator's sleeve. She smiles again.
"Then I shall be in your care." You curl your fingers around the petal as a soft hand covers your eyes.
"It is my duty, Ei."
Stumbling out of the dark room into an empty world shrouded by the night, you clutched the pink petal close to your chest as you set out for your creator.
Blindly stumbling in the dark, in your haste and desperation, you find your feet take you to a familiar sight. A pretty sakura tree, just as beautiful as the one you've seen. And so you sat between roots, waiting for your mother.
You haven't heard footsteps in a long time, was the first thing that came into your mind as you rubbed at your eyes with your haori. How long has it been since you last woke up?
Yet despite your tired eyes and blurry vision, that familiar shade of purple began to climb the stairs.
Could it be? After all this time, she's finally -
The weakness in your knees were more than the fatigue, as your smile fell in realization that it wasn't her.
But those eyes, that hair - that faltering smile.
There is emptiness, no purchase, no purpose - to your steps as your legs carried you to walk away from the tree, down the steps, away from here. Anywhere, anywhere else but here.
The puppet sputters as he turns to your retreating form, only for his attention to be divided as the old man found his way over to the tree, sitting on the root where he had seen you perched on.
"The sakura tree has shed its last leaf." The old man looks up at the empty branches before looking at him. "Go after them, there is nothing left here to see." And closed his eyes.
He turns to follow and never looked back.
She left you. She abandoned you. She's forgotten you. She replaced you.
It doesn't take a child to come to that conclusion and they echo in your mind repeatedly in every waking moment.
"Where are we going?" You dug your foot harshly in the sand before turning around, watching his eyes that scanned the area to land on you.
"Why are you still following me?" You watched his curious eyes widen to perplexity, lips parting and closing as he scrambles to find the right answer. Only a few seconds pass before you turn again and resume your walk.
You wouldn't be able to answer him either.
Your desire to get away from him was never answered either, opting to follow the footprints in the sand for hours upon hours. At times, you'd find yourself stumbling when your joints struggled to follow orders. You'd hear him mumble, make noise, but they stop after you brush off the incident and continue.
This was the first time he addressed you, and this was the first time you talked.
That was also the only time you looked at him - and nothing had changed. He still looked like her, the same presence, the same energy.
She replaced you?
Looking over your shoulder, you chanced another glance to see his gaze elsewhere again, as if looking out for something. Only then did you notice a transparent cloth folded, hung, and tucked beneath an arm.
"Are you certain you are fine with that attire?" His attention was on you again, looking over your form. At your glare, he seemed to backtrack after realizing the misunderstanding. "I mean no harm, I'm simply mentioning due to your... Exposed joints and the petals hanging on your form."
If you could only see yourself in his perspective. Perhaps it was due to being divine creations but despite the unsightly details that clung to you (no doubt due to time), there is still a magnificence to you that made you look ethereal.
He supposes that would make sense, as you are worthy of folklore and tales.
He watched as you gingerly rubbed at your left wrist's joint (he had yet to see you ease your curled up left hand) while his eyes lingered on the pink sakura blooms that's found home in your hair and the folds of your clothes.
Whenever he closed his eyes, it feels like he's still standing next to the sakura tree, the sweet scent permanently lingering so long as you're nearby. It's soothing.
With a raised brow, you looked at him with questioning eyes. A good sign, and he finds that you looked much better without a glare.
"Not all humans are open to the concepts of our existence." The gloom fading the light in his eyes doesn't sit right with you. "It would be best to cover up."
It was only then that you noticed the black arm guards conveniently covering his wrists. But what can you use to hide them here?
Watching your eyes scan the area for something, the second puppet stepped close and unfolded the cloth in arm to reveal a very long but beautiful veil. "While it's still transparent, it should be good enough to at least camouflage it." What a beautiful shade of purple. "May I?"
You do not miss the eagerness in his eyes, hands clutching the cloth in waiting. It's the best you can do for now, you thought as you bowed your head.
He was expecting a glare, a refusal, anything to dispel his suggestion. But the moment the agreement registered in his head, he quickly but carefully draped the veil over your head like he had worn before.
You gasped when the cloth almost slipped off when you straightened up, only for his hands to pull it over again. "Careful, perhaps we can find pins to keep it in place."
Your gaze lingered at the hands close to you. Porcelain white and perfectly unharmed. You reached up - with a hand littered with cuts and creaky movement - before pushing his hands off as you turn to walk again.
You hear him gasp, pause, and his footsteps follows behind you again.
She may have replaced you.
But she abandoned you both.
He doesn't miss the way you pull the veil over your face whenever you look at him.
Even now when you accept the lavender melon slice to eat. At one point, he had forgotten that puppets need not eat, but before he could fix his mistake you took the food and ate like normal.
Perhaps you had gotten used to the offerings given to you back at the village, just like how you carried the mora you received despite not knowing how to use it. Something you easily lent him at the promise of necessities.
His eyes lingered on your wrists and ankles where the black guards now cover it. And then to the veil that had lost its purpose, or at least, its initial purpose. (With his kasa, he also sees no purpose to take it back.)
He also bought you a new yukata to replace your old one but - "It's still not fully dried, it seems." His eyes lingered on the damp purple haori he had hanged on one of the branches, the only clothing you refused to part with. He took the liberty to wash it seeing as he knew how to, and he was more than estatic when he realized the scent of the sakura blooms still stuck to it.
That, and there's not much one can do with just one hand.
Sitting next to you, he watches as the hand resting on the grassy floor hides underneath the veil. Still clenched to a fist, still hiding.
He must have been staring obviously when you finally spoke. "I can't open it."
His eyes met your veiled ones before looking back to your hand - and then he quickly looks away despite his gaze still glancing in the corner of his eyes. He's flustered for being caught, you recognize the shyness.
"Then... Can I try and help with prying it open?" He is too curious for his own good.
Despite your nod, you make no move to pull your hand from under the veil. More so, you simply looked back to watching the clouds pass. Alright, it's up to him then.
Mumbling a please excuse me, he swipes the veil away to take your hand. He feels a slight flinch but continued on without any other sign of discomfort.
Your fingers are stuck close. He knows it's not intentional when there's no tension in your arm that indicates you're forcing it closed. So you weren't lying, he pursed his lips as he began nudging and uncurling each finger.
For each digit he takes time to flex each section to alleviate the jagged, mechanical movement. Before he could lose himself to the tender proximity, something on your finally open palm catches his eyes.
A sakura petal. Creased on some places but still looking fresh.
"Mother..." He sees you mouth before the fingers slowly curled around the pink blossom.
He doesn't ask anything further. Not when his feather necklace weighs heavily in his own pocket.
"Why are you still here?" You ask again. This time, he does not miss the question you wanted to ask.
This time he speaks. "I would never abandon you." Because you only have each other now.
It was your turn to become quiet.
Only the wind through the leaves dared to break the silence.
Sora. Sakura. Aoi. Haru. Hana. Kami.
You bow your head to look at the black fan in your hand. Sensu.
Feeling the gaze of someone's attention on you, your furrowed brows deepened as you unfolded the fan to cover the lower half of your face, turning to the other puppet sitting by the hill with you.
His purple gaze took time to register the eye contact that told him he was caught staring, and when he did his small smile faded in his fluster, turning to hide in the open book he was supposed to be reading. Was he basking in your frustrations? Perhaps he was, especially since it was his own doing that caused this turmoil to begin with.
In your wandering, you came across a bustling small town that he decided to walk through instead of around for once. Mostly because of the approaching rain clouds that threatens to soak your perfectly dry selves, and through your joints and cracks - there was an incident before that he didn't want to deal with again, didn't want to be careless of your condition when it not only deterred you from properly functioning but from also looking at him with kinder eyes.
But the pretty stalls, the whispers and shouts, it was all drawing your attention. He learned from the long trips you two had done that there was a lot of things you have yet to discover, see for yourself, after staying by the Sakura tree for hundreds of years. A festival seems to be one of those.
He took note of the way your eyes lingered on interesting things, familiar objects, counted your pocket money and bought what might look cheap enough to spare. Like a kanzashi that you used to fasten the veil to your haori, a stick of tricolor dango that he gently blew on when he thought it was still too hot.
And lastly - he watched your gaze linger on a black folding fan in display, eyes solemn in comparison to the other many things that caught your eye. He can tell why, simply because he knows what it meant too. His memories with her are far and few but he remembers them in full detail, they haunt his dreams every night, after all. "We should -"
"I... want that fan."
Only when you finally looked at him with furrowed brows (mayhaps due to impatience) did he finally make his way forward to address the vendor. "Only 300 mora." More than what he wanted but he it won't be a huge loss. "If you add 100 mora, I can also write on the fan. Do you want your name on it?"
His grip on the pouch tightened, sending a glare to the vendor that she conveniently misses in her sole attention focused on you. Still that same sales lady smile, how irritating she lacked the common sense to read the room.
"Ah, perhaps you didn't want to share your name, you two do seem like you're not from around here. How about -"
"We only need the fan, you annoying hag." Throwing the coins on the stall, the pristine puppet roughly snatched the fan away and pulled you away, far from the village and far from any stupid human who might catch on to the hateful sneer hidden by the shadow of his hat.
That was hours ago, and the moon replaced the sun by now. Tsuki.
It was time for rest, if you can call it that. Carefully folding the fan close, you lean back against the tree trunk as the stars above began to shine, a familiar sight you've seen more times than you can count. You close your eyes all the same.
You never sleep. It was something that he had discovered only some time ago when nightmares would find him instead, and his frazzled mind would notice your eyes on him every time he awakens. And many times he wonders if you simply do not trust him to be vulnerable in his presence.
Yet you would always answer when he tests the waters, and the one time he tried to sneak up on you, a tight grip on his wrist immediately pulled him away. He remembers the fear and the pain, the same ones reflected in your eyes that followed him in his unfortunate nights.
He thought he would never be able to sleep too when the fear of finding out that his dreams were true when he wakes up kept him from dozing off.
But one night when he thought the long silence of the night would accompany him once again, a comforting melody slowly coaxed him to the land of dreams so easily. When he turned to you with barely open eyes, you barely moved, the expressions on your face only privy to the moon and the stars and the veil that hides you.
That was the only time he wished he could take it away from you.
That same lullaby echoed tonight and you opened your eyes, turning to the other puppet to see his lids closed, concentrated on recreating that same melody he had only heard briefly. Somehow, you mused as your eyelids slowly started to droop, his voice soothed the nightly song more. So peaceful.
And it would turn softer in your dreams, as soft as the silk that wraps around you, as soft as the petals that lands on you, as soft as the woman that calls for you.
When he woke up, he saw the start of the beautiful sakura shower, the blooms finally cascading to color the sea of green he laid on. He sees why you can never look away when they are in full bloom, just as he couldn't look away from your form that watched on with eyes full of life.
"What's your name?"
His hand brushes against the book he took from the village as he sits up. "Kunikuzushi." The rustling leaves made your mutters incoherent, but his eyes do not betray him when he saw your lips move to test out the syllables.
"What about yours?" Your gaze slowly left the sakura tree to watch 'Kunikuzushi' make his way over. "Have you made up your mind?" Despite looking forward, his purple hues would occasionally flicker to you in obvious anticipation.
The dream in a thousand restless nights speaks to you clearer now, and you mimic that word, that name.
"(Y/N)." He let it roll off his tongue in a deliberate manner, with such wonder and awe so child-like the first time you met. 'Kunikuzushi' dropped the facade to hide his elation and smiled freely this time. You turn your head to look back at the Sakura tree. "It sounds pleasant, it suits you."
You pull the veil over your face for good measure.
Only when the last petal fell from the tree did you finally step away with purpose, hand in crumbling hand with Kunikuzushi, never looking back.
Too sleep-deprived and sick to write anything else so you get this early. Part 2 releases either the next day or the day after that.
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