@st4rwitness , from mariko, to kaoru. cont from.
𝗷𝘂𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘁 𝗽𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁. either that, or grass baking in the midday sun. it reminds him of the persimmon leaf tea they would brew in the ward. half - hidden under the shade of the elm, the heat remains at bay, though it burns his calves when the sun breaks through the interstice. sweat slips over a bare thigh. ‘ my life, ’ kaoru thinks, ‘ is going to end. ’
it will come back, or takehiko will. maybe both, because he is very unlucky. mariko doesn’t know the half of it. “ a nun? ” he laughs. “ i can’t imagine you in a habit. ”
that curled black hair under the hood, with over - bitten lips, which remain the single point on her face where his eyes return again and again. bright eyes give mariko a look that is half - appraising, half - teasing. she is everything but chaste. even with her spindly legs pulled to her chest, her small face clouded with emotion, there is an impishness to her. it’s hard to think of her swaddled and pledging herself to god. frankly, she’s too selfish. kaoru knows her well enough. this is not an admonishment of her character, because there is something to be said of putting yourself first, he thinks. too many pieces of himself are stuck in the teeth of others, of rei’s. he’ll never get those back.
his legs cross, butterfly - style, with elbows propped on either knee. a lazy grin makes its way onto his face, which finally has gotten some color back in it. he remembers laying face - up in the hospital with a hand mirror above him. the hair crowning the sheet - white face had lost its color, too. it looked grey as the winter twigs in a sparrow’s nest. today, it curls around his cheekbones and temples. like a rose, kaoru is in a second flush, however brief. his voice warms over. “ what about me? do you think i could pull it off? ”
kaoru’s lunch was small, and nothing remains. his appetite has returned, albeit slowly. treatment had left food a hurdle; everything too hard on her suddenly sensitive stomach, or, all at once, the taste of well - known foods was unbearable. now, he can eat a whole bowl of rice now without his stomach emptying itself. the same can’t be said of shinobu, who picks around her food with deft strokes, taking only the small bits of meat hidden under deep green leaves. still sixteen. holding herself hostage hadn’t changed her, not very much, if at all. “ you’re a picky eater. ” he says, matter - of - fact. ‘ you’re still a child, ’ is another way of saying this. children: he is surrounded by them. never does kaoru stop to consider that he has been forced to grow up too fast. takehiko took his hand and told him that he is mature and lovely and it is all he ever wanted to hear.
then, to the wind, “ you’re right, though. i could never be a wife. ”