Beneath the Wisteria Blooms ✾ — tengen x black!f!reader x rengoku
warnings; none for this part! this is all introduction/world-building stuff :D there are original characters in this fic and this chapter has some ~language~ but that’s it ~
a/n; uh wtf lmao i added notes and everything got deleted... anyway lol fair warning this chapter mentions rengoku and tengen but they don’t get into the fray until next chapter! this was at [5.4k words] already so i decided to split it in half. here's the mood/vision board for this fic [here] if you're interested in a visual. song i wrote this to [here]. the reader is meant to be black but like always, anyone can read my stuff (as long as you’re 18+ and respectful). okay... that’s it lol enjoy ~ [ch one; ch two, ch three, ch four, ch five] ~
Two hundred and eighty-six days have passed since the last time your household hosted a hashira. Many soldiers have passed through in the time between—beckoned to the wisteria crest on your gates like moths to a flame practically daily, knowing they would be safe under your care. Mizunoe, hinoto, even some kinoe-ranked demon slayers have entered your doors and healed beneath the care of your hands in the weeks, then months, that have passed—but finally, that long wait has come to an end.
“Mistress. Mistress!” you yelled, your voice shaking. “There are two crows here requesting access to the home.”
The crows flew overhead, squawking their message down at you on a loop as you waited for the head of your household to dismiss their alarm. The small middle-aged woman appeared soon after, walking up from your left on bare feet in a perfectly wrinkle-free yukata. Her feet thudded lightly against the wooden flooring as she approached, sliding beside you to look up at the birds.
“So?” she said, scrunching her slim upturned nose in annoyance. “We’ve housed more than two guests at a time, and we have no visitors here for the night. Let them come. There’s plenty of space and I hear some of the girls preparing things already.”
Though your Mistress happily did her duty without complaint, you could see that the woman was irritated at the early-evening interruption. Her long dark hair was loose from its typical bun, and the late-spring air moved the pin-straight strands around her face beautifully, though it didn’t hide how sunken her light amber eyes looked with exhaustion against her pale skin.
In the wake of the last large fight with a higher-ranked demon, your home had been void of visitors for the first night in ages. All was quiet as mostly all of the home’s inhabitants—girls and young women, just like you, plucked from the streets and taken in to support and build up the diverse home—were also excited to have some downtime, so they’d all planned to turn in a bit early as well. Alas, as you both basked in the moonlight’s glow from where you stood in the open doorway, that dream was quickly dashed. The words interlaced within the crows' caws rid all thoughts of sleep from your mind.
“Mistress Miya, the crows both belong to a hashira—two different hashira,” you said, widening your eyes to punctuate your words.
The woman was speechless for a moment as she processed what you’d said, but sure enough, her tired eyes took on a soft sparkle under the night stars, and her dull skin regained its flush of rosy-pink color. “Two?” she said, placing her hands on your shoulders. “For nearly a year, there hasn’t even been one, and now there are two?” She nearly yelled the words, her breaths growing quicker as she turned around to face the crows.
She kneeled, whistling up at the crows to dismiss their loud caws. She guided them down to the sizeable station made for them to rest their wings beside the home’s large shoji doors. Both birds landed gracefully, fluffing their wings and dipping their bodies in the wide bird bath imbued with lavender-scented oils and wisteria blossom petals. The Mistress shuffled her feet, squatting in front of the onyx-feathered birds’ perch to put her body at their eye level.
“Can you tell us your names?” she asked, her moderately age-withered skin stretching and exposing fine lines as she broadened her smile. You stood behind her in the home’s doorway, looking fondly at the birds as they balanced on their sturdy wooden perch beneath the wisteria vines.
*caw caw* the birds sang, notably speaking over each other as they rushed to tell you their introductions. You focused in your ears on them both but caught more of what the smaller crow of the two had to say—which was plenty.
“Child, what did this little one say?” she asked, beckoning you forward to polish your skills with decoding the crows’ language. “Every word.”
You giggled as you approached the birds, crouching down like your Mistress to put yourself at their level. You glanced at the larger bird before speaking, but the tangibly humanlike irritation radiating from him had already commenced due to what his counterpart had to say.
“Okay, every word.” You cleared your throat, looking politely at the bird as you repeated her statement. “Well, this one on the left is called Manju,” you said, motioning to the petite crow with a smile. “She said first and foremost that her master, Rengoku Kyojuro, is mostly unharmed—having only suffered some mild bruising despite multiple days of battle. She wanted it to be known that she is a lady, wholly unlike the tacky brute perched next to her, and that she would appreciate it if we added seeds mixed with dried corn to the feeder for her tonight, as she hasn’t had the chance to eat in two days due to their tumultuous schedule.”
As you wrapped up your summary of Manju’s introduction, you noticed the larger crow of the two shuffling closer to her, not so subtly attempting to knock her off of their perch while he said his peace in retaliation, though Manju elegantly dodged the petty swipes at her feet that the other crow made with his talons.
*caw caw caw caw caw* he said, so loudly in the still night air that you heard the last of the girls housed on the second-floor stirring, triggered by the second wave of loud birdsong that made them get up out of bed. You sputtered, an unladylike laugh escaping your lips as you processed what the male bird was saying. Not only taken aback by how loud and brash the jewelry-laden crow was but also how much petty malevolence the small avian animal managed to pack into mere sounds.
Your mistress turned her head, looking at you with eyes that would have marked you dead had they physically been able to shoot daggers. “Mind your manners,” she whispered, nodding her head towards the crows as if she were completely unphased by their bickering.
“Sorry, Mistress Miya,” you said, wiping the budding tears welling along your lower lash line as you stifled your giggles. “Do I have to translate everything he said or only the important bits?”
The older woman shook her head, motioning for you to continue with her hands. “ Every word. I can’t judge your accuracy if you don’t repeat it all back. Besides, we can’t miss a single thing regarding their messages for everyone’s safety, no matter how many curses the messages contain. Go on.”
You nodded, clearing your throat as you recounted the crow’s words. “This dashing, handsome, flashy crow on the right is named Nijimaru. He says that his superior master Uzui Tengen is also unharmed besides a few minor cuts and scrapes. He would like nuts and berries cut flamboyantly for dinner, if possible. He also says that “useless bitch Manju” should watch her words since his crown’s jewels have more value than her “full of shit” existence. Also, he said she wouldn’t know fashion if a demon sliced her down the beak with it, so we should disregard her childish, shitty insults.”
The female crow made a high-pitched squawk, insulted again after hearing the words through your mouth. Then, she extended her wing in one swift movement, hitting Nijimaru hard enough to disrupt his balance on the skinny wooden landing pole, knocking him off.
*caw caw caw* Manju said before flying after the retreating male bird, following him into the bath as he tried to escape her presence—muttering something along the lines of, “stupid pea-brained woman, besting me? Ha! Never.”
Your Mistress whipped around toward you in surprise, panic blooming on the delicate features of her rounded face as you both processed what Manju said. “They’ll be here in twelve minutes?” she yelled, corralling you into the house while shouting for all the other girls to make haste.
Once you entered the genkan—the home’s large entrance foyer—you were met with the pleasant sight of all of your housemates already busy at work, tidying and cleaning whatever their hands could reach. The smell of freshly steamed rice, grilled meats, and cooked vegetables wafted up into your nose, and your mouth began to water. The youngest of the girls walked around the home, skipping and holding hands as they hung talismans for good fortune and flowers for both virility and muliebrity all over the place; while the older girls who were outside of the kitchen took charge of dressing and grooming each other, while simultaneously darting around to get the items sorted and prepared for their hallowed guests.
You couldn’t help but smile watching them. You took a moment to pat their heads and place quick kisses against their cheeks as you walked by, whispering ‘thank you’ in each of their ears as you did so. Your household had done this a million times, but seeing the girls get quicker and quicker with it every night felt rewarding—to see your small family coming together to make your home a safe space for the men and women who kept you alive made your heart swell.
“Ayra!” your Mistress yelled, snapping you back into focus as she called out for the second oldest of the girls—at nineteen—under you.
“Back here!” she yelled, her voice carrying into the home from the spacious forest-protected garden nestled beyond your back porch.
You walked around the side of the large house, careening down the long stone pathway, until you felt the temperature in the air shift where the path forked. Both you and your Mistress easily navigated yourselves down to the trail's end, stopping once you reached the sizeable hot spring shrouded thinly in dense steam.
Ayra was there kneeling, hunched over with her arm plunged into the lantern-lined hot spring. Had her soft grunts from her efforts not been louder, you might have missed her slim figure hunched over into the large spring of water. It was half-hidden by the home's awning and the immaculately gardened flowers and shrubbery and could only easily be seen when the wind blew south, and the steam cleared.
“Is it hot?” the Mistress asked, squinting her eyes to look on as the olive-toned young woman fiddled with the thick layer of rocks on the very bottom of the spring, using—what you could only assume—was a very long stick.
“Yes,” she quipped, groaning as she flipped over what must have been a hefty rock, “it is now. I just need to move a few more stones out of the way to make the temperature perfect. Did I hear the crows correctly? Are we hosting two hashiras? Master Tengen and Master Kyojuro?”
You nodded, though you quickly followed with verbal confirmation. “Yes, you heard right. I wonder what sort of temperament they’ll be. Normal men find it within themselves to be cruel and flippant. I can’t imagine how men with their power will be.”
You heard Ayra chuckle before the water sloshed violently again as she moved another rock.
“I’ll be frank; I do wonder the same. I’ve never met these two before,” your Mistress said, pursing her lips. “Though, the corps soldiers do tend to be pleasant enough to us—some a little more fervidly than others,” she said with a knowing hint to her tone that you ignored. “It’s true that men with power seemingly can’t help but abuse it; however, you will give them your grace. Maintain your self-respect, but be kind to them. They deserve that much from us.”
You nodded, a hushed ‘yes Mistress,’ leaving your lips as the tall girl removed her arm from the hot spring—along with her stick—and stood, straightening her back to wipe her damp hands and dust off her knees.
“The last hashira we had was a woman,” Ayra said, hiding her stick in the nearby bushes as she jogged up to you from the cloud of steam. “What a curious thing she was with that wild watermelon hair. I wonder if the men will differ much from her. I’ve heard all the hashira are strange in their own ways.”
Your Mistress tsked, darting her arm out quickly to smack Ayra firmly against her forehead with the small fan she kept hidden in her kimono sleeve. Then she turned on you, popping you swiftly on the arm by proxy of Ayra’s comment. “Mind your tongues,” she warned, staring at both of you sternly. “Every person has their proclivities; the hashira are no different. If you notice anything off about them, at least have the good sense not to mention it.”
Your Mistress rolled her eyes, ignoring your giggles as she turned on her heels. She yelled into the side corridor of the house, telling the other girls to make sure they were doing their best work since your guests were especially superordinate.
“We have nothing if not our good sense, Mistress. We take care of our guests just fine,” Ayra teased, sharing a look—and a wink—with you. “I’ve heard the town girls speaking about that ‘Master Tengen’. Allegedly, he’s dashingly handsome and courted three wives.”
“Three?” you asked, fiddling with the sleeve of your yukata. “And what of the other one? Rengoku?"
Ayra pouted, huffing in frustration as she shared her knowledge—or lack thereof. “I’ve heard no rumors about him that will do us any good, unfortunately. He deeply loves gyunabe bento, and his hair looks like a sunset. That’s all I know.”
Your Mistress rolled her eyes again, sliding her arms back into her sleeves. “Ayra, you should focus more on your chores or reading and less on gossiping.”
“Oh, please, Mistress. As if my gossip isn’t why you came running back here as soon as you got word that the men were hashira,” Ayra said, mischief alight behind her hazel-brown eyes. “Besides, I made sure the girls are on it. Sopheary and Yua are putting down all the bedding for the men in the big guesthouse. Prisha and Lucía are getting fresh samue for the pillars to wear once they’ve bathed, and they’ve already heated the bath meant for cleansing. Himari and Dorothea are cooking up those premium meats that charming hinoe-ranked boy dropped off last week. I smelled sukiyaki nabe, sashimi, aloo gobi, kafta, plenty of rice, and…” she hummed, placing her hands on her hips as she let the train in her brain run. “I think that’s it. That should be enough for just two of them. Don’t you think?”
You smiled, pleased with your friend’s leadership and efforts. “You have no idea how much I appreciate you, Ayra,” you said, scooping her up by her waist into a crushing hug. “That should be perfect—and if it isn’t, we’ll just have to make do.”
Once you placed her back down, you found yourself sniffing in her direction, realizing that her scent slightly mirrored the weight of her efforts, and you told her as much.
“Gods, Ayra. Bathe. And take your sister with you,” your Mistress said, scrunching her nose even though she was too far away to smell the girl. “Dunk into the lake behind the treeline with soap and haste! You have eight minutes. Ayra, coil your sister’s curls with pomade and let her do braids in your hair once you’re finished with hers. I’ll arrange the crows' food and double-check the children’s work.”
With that she turned on the balls of her feet, leaving the two of you alone under the bright glow of the moon. Ayra sprinted behind her into the home, coming back to you with supplies in hand. She cradled a wooden pail filled with a boar's hair bristle brush, soap, cloth for cleansing and drying, two beautifully detailed kimonos, and a small chest that housed all the tools and accessories for your hair balanced on top. You reached for the items as she walked up by your side, but the younger girl refused, shaking her head softly before she started walking down the stone path.
“Hey,” you whispered, leaning in close to her ear, “let’s use the stream on the west bank. The water is so much warmer there at this time of night you know, and it’s closer,” you said, placing your hand gently on her back to guide her down the warmly lit pathway.
Ayra chuckled, her mischievous smile coming back full force due to your words. “I thought the Mistress said we had to bathe behind the treeline, sister. What should happen if a demon were to see us? Or, worse, a man—or two?” she teased, feigning horror—much to your humor. “Our propriety would be ruined if we were seen in the nude. What would dear mother Miya say?”
You rolled your eyes, continuing down the path lined with large coniferous trees that kissed the clouds in the sky. “Wisteria lives abundantly in these woods and along the water’s shores, and bushels of the stuff steep the water’s whole body. So, there are no demons out here to spy on us."
“And the men?” Ayra smirked, holding on to you tighter.
“Should the hashira come from the west, then I suppose they’ll get an intimate peek into our preparations for their visit. But, of course, what the Mistress doesn’t know in detail won’t hurt her.”
“Oh really?” Ayra chuckled, shoving you gently with her shoulder. “I suppose that’s true. I suppose it is better that she not find out just how much of a salacious trollop her second in command is. For shame, dear sister—her heart couldn’t take the knowledge of all your “tending” to our frontline soldiers.”
You shoved Ayra back, taking the wash pail from her before skipping a few steps down the pathway. “Boo. You make me sound like a whore. I only entertain the soldiers I see fit, not just any old mizunoto who thinks himself to be a hero simply by existing and holding a sword,” you said, tilting your head back to look at her. “We are a rejuvenation home, not a brothel.”
Ayra grinned, skipping to catch up and stand by your side. “Yes, yes, my apologies. I did not mean to insinuate anything of the sort, sister. Besides, if I were to call you a whore, I would be pointing one finger only to have the rest pointing back at me. I’m still too sore to retake a man after that hinoe-rank,” she smirked. “I didn’t know men from the city could be so… hung.”
You smacked her arm, laughing off the ridiculousness of your conversation. “Gods, you’re so crude. Who’ll marry you with that mouth?”
“The same type of person who’ll marry you with yours.”
The sound of your laughs echoed through the dense trees for a while as you neared the edge of the forest—the chirps and caws that resounded alongside them were clear indications of the animals lurking around you.
“You don’t think Mistress would actually be mad if she knew what we get up to, right?” Ayra said, glancing over at you. “With the slayers, I mean.”
You hummed in contemplation, though the answer came to mind quickly. “Frankly, no, not really. I’m sure she’s heard some murmurs about our occasional activities by now, and we aren’t exactly the most subtle about it. The Mistress is a lot of things, but being clueless is not one of them. If she had a problem with either of us having fun with the men, you know she would’ve said something about it by now.”
Ayra nodded, sighing deeply as you continued down the wooded path. Although to be fair, your Mistress had never genuinely seemed concerned for your purity. She nagged, and fussed, and sang her woes often about the lack of a permanent male fixture in the home and her hopes and dreams for her girls, but neither of you truly aspired to be docile, submissive, untouched wives, and despite her hopes for you all, she seemed aware of that fact. Still, despite her goals for all of you to be given away eventually, she never took on requests from your guests that demanded any of her girls perform sex for any man, primarily when their requests targeted the youngest of your home.
She’d worked hard for many years to provide you with an environment where you could embrace the fun of your youth without having to play ‘oiran’ like the less fortunate girls did in the cities. She gave you a space to enjoy the small moments of passion and joy that life offered amid all the chaos beyond your wisteria-filled trees. You had a secure—good—home and family that filled your hearts to the brim. In the times at hand, that was all you could hope for.
“Fair point, harlot,” Ayra said, blowing raspberries at you before taking off in a sprint. “The last one to the lake has to clean the baths tomorrow.”
Your protests rang through the night air as you picked up your pace, holding the wooden bucket tight to your chest as you skipped to catch up with Ayra. You met her at her side as you reached the end of the path, skidding to a halt once you cleared the lining of the trees and looked out at the vast lake before you. The lake’s noise met your ears as the steady tide rolled on, lit well by the shining full moon peeking over the backdrop of tall winding mountains and the scattered lanterns glowing along the water bank.
Neither of you dawdled then; you undressed from your garments quickly as you walked down to the lake’s edge—laying your kimonos down neatly on the dry rocks away from the calm waters.
“I’ll never get tired of seeing this,” you said, looking up at the full moon in the sky. Nude and warm from the late-summer air blowing against your bare skin.
Ayra hummed, reaching out her hand to grab hold of yours as you waded into the calm waters—going deeper into the lake until the water wrapped around your hips. Ayra was taller, but she stayed near you in the shallower end to keep you from slipping on the smooth rocks beneath your feet. You kept your hold on her hand as you dunked your body beneath the surface, dousing your skin and hair in the lukewarm stream. Ayra did the same, not letting go of your hand for a moment as she laid herself backward to soak.
“This is lovely, sister,” Ayra said, closing her eyes as her body floated on the surface. “We should come out and swim more often. During the day next time, maybe? It’s beautiful here.”
You chuckled, splashing water in her direction, which caused the brunette to shoot up onto her feet in surprise. “Mistress is more patient than she lets on, but she would hang both of our heads out as snacks for the demons if she found us nude in the daylight—for any lowly passing merchant or coal miner to see.”
Ayra scoffed, splashing water back at you and landing a big smack against your face with the waves. “Okay, you make a fair point. Now hush up and bathe,” she grinned, rolling her eyes as she walked you back into the shallower end.
She reached up to the layers of rock where you left your bathing items stacked around the lake and grabbed a small bottle from the open chest that housed your hair products.
“Here you go,” she said, squeezing some of the cleansing funori mixture into her hands before handing it over to you.
You both quickly scrubbed your scalps, pulling apart any knots you felt tangling around your coily strands, while Ayra did much of the same—running her fingers and a wide-toothed tokigushi comb through her lengthy, thick, wavy locks.
“How much longer do we have?” you asked, joining hands with your friend again as you shuffled back into the deeper section of the water. You plugged your nose, dunked your head beneath the surface to rid your hair of the cleansing balm, and came back up with a small gasp.
“Not long,” Ayra said, swapping out the cleansing balm for some soap.
She gave you a towel and the bar made from milk fat and rice bran to cleanse with while she turned your back to face hers. She tilted your head slightly to ring out the excess water in your hair while you scrubbed your skin, scrunching the curls from the bottom to solidify the shape. She rubbed some pomade into her palms and raked her hands through it, twisting the messy small sections with her fingers to define the strands.
You closed your eyes and leaned into her hands, pressed against your scalp to prevent pain from her tugging. Though she’d done your hair a million times, she always ensured that the process was painless for you. Her years of practice with your locks showed, since she finished your hair in less than three minutes. She scrunched again with her slightly sticky hands, then clapped down on your shoulders.
“Gross,” you giggled, scrubbing where her hands had touched before rinsing the soap mixture. You tossed the towel you used away into the wooden bucket nearby, then repeated the same process with Ayra. The tall, tanned girl squatted to accommodate your height, her muscular thighs and long limbs sliding into the position easily.
In comparison, doing her hair took no time at all; your hands were practiced too—not only from doing Ayra’s hair but also from helping the younger girls with their myriad of different hair textures. First, your fingers moved quickly to form two thick braids that met in the middle of the back of her head, laying down flat against the loose bottom section of her dark—nearly black—hair. Next, you lifted her hair from underneath to allow the girl easy access to her own back, not wanting to get the soap into it as she rinsed.
“You’d make a great mother one day,” Ayra whispered, the words nearly lost over the sound of the water.
You chuckled, cupping water in your hand to rinse the stray suds off her torso's slightly fuzzy expanse. “Gods. Between you and the girls and Mistress? Please. You all keep me busy enough!” you said, softly smacking her back. “Copulation is fun, very much so, but I have no intentions of being anyone’s mother soon. I have you all. My heart’s full enough.”
Ayra grinned, turning to face you again now that she had thoroughly cleaned the soap. “Fair point. Copulation with no consequences it is,” she said, holding her hand in the air as if she were holding a glass to cheers.
You rolled your eyes but mimicked the c-shape of her hand anyway. “Hear-hear!” you said, smacking your hand against your friend’s.
Ayra threw her soiled towel into the bucket with yours, then grabbed your hand again to pull you both out of the water. You jogged up over the bank of the lake back onto dry land, beelining over to your clean clothes and dry towels that were safe and untouched by the water.
“I got the white kimono for you and a black one for me,” Arya said, giving you a dry cloth to pat down your body as she smoothed the clothing. “We can at least attempt to make you look the part of virginal innocence. Men as strong as they tend to have quite the thing for dominance.”
You rolled your eyes at the young woman, smacking her backside with the towel. “Hurry and dry so we can get dressed. The wind is starting to bite and the smell of the food is starting to entice my stomach.”
Ayra heeded your words, quickly drying her skin and slipping into her own kimono with ease. She took a small jar out from the little chest she’d brought and waltzed over to you, looking down at you as she dipped her finger into the pot.
“Don’t forget this,” she said, running her lithe finger down the line of your neck, leaving a light trail of scented wisteria oil on your skin as her hand moved downward; across your collarbones, down the line of your armpits, and around the swell of your breasts. “There,” she said, eyeing her handiwork. “Now, if you decide to play with the hashira—should they be handsome and worthy of you—they’ll be just as intoxicated by your scent as they will be by your beauty.”
The warmth of a blush bloomed beneath your skin, goosebumps rising on your arms as you slipped into your kimono.
You grinned, pulling your friend into a tight hug. “You flatter me, Ayra,” you muttered against her chest. “Are you sure you don’t want to engage? What if the rumors are true about that Tengen? Do you not wish to see how he managed to woo three wives?”
Ayra sucked her teeth, scrunching her face in contemplation before she shook her head, pulling away from you as a quick “no” rushed from her lips.
“And why not?” you scoffed, looking at the admitted harlot in surprise.
“Well… because there’s one more little rumor I’ve heard about him that I dared not mention in front of Mistress… and a rumor about his dear comrade Rengoku.”
You stared her down as you tied the large sash belt on your outfit into a bow—cinching in your waist and giving the look of definition in the shape of your hips.
“And what might that be?”
“Well,” she whispered, leaning in close to your ear despite no one around you besides the squirrels in the trees. “I hear they’re both huge men, in both height and in length, so the rumors say. Even more so than that hinoe fellow, who I fear may have ruined my insides.”
Your mouth fell slack, gaping as you blinked incredulously at your housemate. “What?”
She laughed, waving her hand in the air as if it could dissipate your worries. “Oh, don’t fret dear sister, you’ll do well. I’ll be there in spirit, living vicariously through you. You’ve taken more than one man before, have you not?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts! It will be fun, and you will live to tell the tale. Besides, rumors passed through grapevine after grapevine are almost always exaggerated. The girl at the fruit stall couldn’t possibly have meant ‘cocks like horses’ literally.”
“Ayra!”
The girl ignored you, giggling to herself as she gathered your things, rushing you along to start your trek back up to the main home.
You bent down to grab your wooden pale off of the rocks, and a ping of something rang in your heart that made the muscle’s pace quicken. You turned, squinting your eyes as you looked out past the water, and up into the mountains. The cloud cover was low, and the mountains were tall and sturdy, nearly touching the sky. Still, there in the distance were the faintest dots of yellow and pink, shining as they reflected the light from the moon.
“Come on, slowpoke!” Ayra yelled, distracting you. “I hear the crows cawing. Their masters are close. We need to be there to welcome them.”
You nodded, turning your head quickly to look up at the mountains again, but there was nothing. As quickly as you thought you’d seen something, it was gone.
Ayra groaned, complaining about the heavy weight of the items balanced in her hands. You sighed—exhaling the breath trapped in your lungs as you turned slowly away from the lake, shaking away the thought of those intense blurs of color that glared predatorily at you from off in the distance. You grabbed hands with your friend, dashing back down the path through the trees again with smiles on your faces as you went to welcome the two men—the two pillars of hope for your futures—into your home.
tyty for reading! see you in the next one || crossposted on ao3 — here || taglist — here || tags: @bokuroskitten @rosesandtoshi @murdereddaydreams @crystal-lilac @mxgenderbender