#shirori

[emeraldoodles]

For the YH Revival Create-a-Thon! Event I did some fanart for Sewerskeleton fanfic. I drew Shirori in her wedding dress.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/86214201/chapters/228014991

[rhies]

Day 13 junenji and Shiori

[hatsumishinogu]

Kaerimichi wa zutto kimi to [Last Volume]

[ka-go-me]

Kagome, do you ever see Jinenji and Shiori anymore? I hope things have been good for them. And all hanyo.

「巫女」::                                                                            “I see Jinenji once in a blue moon–He’s doing a lot better then he was before we met him. He’s got plenty of friends now! And he’s like the protector of his village! 

                                                                                                “I haven’t seen Shiori-chan in a long time however. It’s difficult to go out so far to see her with the responsibilities I have at home now~ heh…I hope she’s doing well too~! I’m sure she is. She was a strong minded little girl.”

[badlydrawndedkidz]

[hatsumishinogu]

Kaerimichi wa zutto kimi to [First Volume]

[conceptofzero]

prompt: postseries juri x shiori. alternatively, postseries juri x not shiori.

The first time, they are still at the Academy. There is a dance, or a ball - Juri no longer remembers what it was, or who it was for. There were always events when it was deemed necessary. What she remembers is that she needed to take someone. What she remembers is that Shiori asked her first, asked her again when Juri turned her down, kept asking until she turned up at Juri’s door the night before and all but begged to take her. 

She wore white. Juri had a wine colored dress that made her look pale. They drank and danced as gold dust fell from the air, as the Chairman’s voice grew more and more melancholy as the night wore on. The dance floor was crowded between all the people and the trees that had grown through the ballroom floor. They danced until their feet were tired, and they walked through the greenery and the grass, losing their shoes in the roots on the walk home. 

Shiori was cold and Juri put her jacket around her, just like in the films they’d both seen. Wine and white, and her lipstick so perfect and dark. They kiss just the once when they reach Shiori’s door and though Juri knows she can have more, she doesn’t want it. Not yet. There is something poisonous about this place and though her lips sing for more, she takes her jacket from Shiori and lets her slip into her dark room alone. 

The second time, it is three years later. Her memories of the Academy are already starting to fade and she’s taken to writing them down. Juri doesn’t want to forget it all, not like she forgot the name of the boy who drowned so long ago. But the words never stay and when she opens her notebooks, she finds them all smeared, as if water has gotten into them and washed the words away while she stepped out to the store to buy dinner. 

Not all the words though. Shiori stays. Those memories are firm and fresh, her face constant. Juri does not always think of her - does not even regularly think of her - but she comes to mind every few months. 

The second time, it’s late in the evening. She’s tired after a day of teaching and she has no energy to cook, no energy to go anywhere more than two blocks away from her apartment. There’s a Jonathan’s at the other end of the block and though she’s never stepped inside, she goes in today. It’s like every other Jonathan’s, though she’s never been inside of one before. There is something about it that feels strange and familiar all at once. It feels somewhat like the Academy, some strange waystation where the agreed upon rules of the world are temporarily set aside and replaced with modified ones where a castle may live in the sky and miracles might happen. 

A waystation where you might see the first girl you loved in a green, stripped waitress uniform. Shiori is beautiful as she firmly removed a drunken patron, his hand twisted behind his back, leading him out the front door and right by Juri. Her eyes look over, and she pauses, and there is a moment when the world goes still. There’s music playing over the speakers, something Juri can’t remember the name of, but the piano climbs up and she remembers so vividly that once, she wanted to prove that miracles weren’t real to prove Shiori wrong. 

The drunk wiggles free and escapes, but he leaves through the front door, which is where Shirori wanted him to go. “Juri?” She asks. Her eyes go from steel to soft and Juri’s something in her chest awakens for a moment, the flutter of long-forgotten sharpness. 

“Shirori.” She says. There should be something else to say. There should be more words. The lights are harsh in here, the smell of antiseptic and grease strong, and Juri knows that this is what she was waiting for. This is not like it is in the movies. There is no white suit jacket, no wine coloured dress, no midnight tree-lined walk. 

She reaches out and Shirori moves and they are in each other’s arms. Shirori has no lipstick on when they kiss. Juri wraps her arms tight around her and falls in love all over again. This won’t end well, can’t end well. There are no such things as miracles. But maybe, maybe, there are places in the world where you don’t need a miracle. Maybe something you just need a Jonathan’s and a willingness to live in a world that follows its own rules. 

[crazed-brain]