five times the love. love me my child.
—— five times the love. @starquccn
un; the act of holding hands
It is one of their earliest memories, fumbling steps forwards sending them tumbling down onto grass that is neither here nor there, that is foreign and yet makes them feel at home. They barely have time to cry when their knees hit the dirt, for mother is quick to be by their side, pudgy hands going from clinging to grass to grasping at the ends of Mikoto’s skirt, to finally finding their way around her hand. The other hand is quick to cusp their face, thumbing away forming tears and they cannot help but smile when mother smiles at them.
duex; the kiss good morning
Tiny hands are curled up into fists, clutching onto the sheets as if for dear life. To a child barely five, their own room is a scary concept, all alone in the middle of the night. Still, they sleep peaceably, once they settle down, dreaming of differences, and they are shaken to the core; bubbles and a silk voice turning into a screech. Smoke becomes a fog, and slowly fog becomes the bleary tears of being awakened by light. Mikoto lingers over them, and they smile up at her. “ Good morning, momma! ” they cry out, and she kisses their nose, eliciting childish, innocent giggling.
Arguing seemed to go over their head, the hushed whispers of “ how on earth could you take them there? ” only responded with, “ but it’s good experience for the both of them. ” or another variation therefor of. Unaware, Kotaru takes Mikoto’s hand, turning her attention away from Sumeragi and their pointed words. A sweet smile is on their lips, a perfect picture of innocence, black hair disheveled and messy.
“ Momma, I’m gonna be doing adulty things! Aren’t I? ”
Mikoto cooed, “ Oh, of course you are! ” she adds under her breath, “ adults need to return safely. ”
quatre; the smile, welcome back.
Eleven years pass, and they feel as though Hoshido has become akin to another world, and they have since grown up far from the six year old they were. Every muscle is coiled, wound up tight and their back is horridly, strictly straight, head held incredibly high, a cry strangled back in the bottom of their throat. An execution seems to be weighing on their mind, it does not cross them that they have seen this room before.
Footsteps echo behind them, and Kotaru is quick to turn to face it, ready to see the cold, cut face that would cut them down. Instead, it is Mikoto they face, a disarming smile and sweet words meeting Kotaru ( and here they thought they would never be home )
cinq; the act of holding hands
The night is quiet, and they sit at the edge of the lake, feet circling back and forth in the water. Some sad sigh crosses their lips; they are homesick, but for what they are unsure. Mother’s steps echo, and they do not turn back to face her. Instead, they off her their hand, helping her down unto the edge of the dock, some joke about age slips past Mikoto’s lips. Kotaru keeps mother’s hand in theirs, and lays their head on her shoulder.
