BEAUTY AND THE BEAST Ft. RYOMEN SUKUNA
SYNOPSIS! what do you do when you fall in love with someone the whole world has decided isn't worth loving? if you're the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the province, apparently you do it anyway. it doesn't start with a grand declaration. it starts with pink hair and a game of hide and seek and a twelve year old who decided, completely without permission, that a boy with four eyes and four arms and a permanent scowl was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. the rest, as they say, is history. messy, complicated, wonderful history.
AUTHOR NOTE! okay so this is my first long fic, i hope you guys like it. i got the pictures on the top from pinterest btw. I did my research and tried my best to make a believable and respectful representation or like description ig of the Heian era. i am not Japanese nor was i alive at the time so its not perfect and i did add things just for the story's plot like the offering scene. I hope its not all over the place, i tried changing writing syles when the mood changes or to match the person. so like i.e. when reader is the focus i tried to make the style more whimsy and fun ig and then when its sukuna or her dad the writing is more serious. idk tell me if it worked. but other than that please enjoy! (word count: 12.1K ) PART 2
~ Now playing: FROM THE START by LAUFEY ~
810 AD, Spring, 10:09 A.M.
Sixteen, furious at the world and absolutely no one's sweetheart- Sukuna was, to put it plainly, a bear waiting to be poked. The abandonment issues and the judgment he caught for the way he looked didn't help matters either.
That's exactly why your father never understood your obsession with the little freak. The boy was poor and- well. four eyes. four arms. your father shuddered just thinking about it. no daughter of a Dainagon would so much as glance at something like that, let alone lose sleep over it
So, what does any loving and overprotective father do? He gets his men to discreetly execute the boy. obviously.
One cool night when the sun had long set and moon sat high and mighty- your father, an elegant noble man who loved you very dearly, picked up his pen and jotted instructions down on a paper.
He'd keep you safe. he always has, your pretty little head was too full of butterflies and fuji petals to know any better.
In two days, my daughter’s birthday will be held. You, my most trusted soldiers, will go and and capture Ryomen Sukuna. Do not return without success.
wait wait wait. i almost forgot! i should probably give some background about this whole crush on the village outcast thing huh?
806 AD, Spring, 3:12 P.M.
it all started when you were twelve.
afternoon sun filtered through the trees and the cool breeze provided some relief to the frenzied children. they took hide and seek very seriously.
"one...two...three..."
Hotaru counted to one hundred facing an old sakura tree. you and your friend Ume decided to hide together, so giggling and sweaty the both of you beelined it to the abandoned shed at the end of the meadow. usually you'd be too scared to hide there, but Ume was with you and in your eyes she was fearless or in your friend Masanori's, words 'badass'
why would you be scared exactly? well there was a rumor that the ghost of a young monster lived in the shed. the kids at school said his mother had been cursed and turned into a sakura tree. the woman was pregnant when it happened and when she, or more so the tree, gave birth, the child came out hideous. to protect her son from any danger the woman used the last of her strength to turn him into a ghost so that no one would ever be able to harm him.
stupid story right? that's what you'd always thought. it hardly made any sense. but still- the thought of a lonely child just wandering around made you feel something more than fear or sadness. you could never quite name what it was.
"Ready or not here i come, LOSERS!!!!" Hotaru screamed loud enough that the whole town must have heard, she was always so overly competitive. Ume shoved you behind the shed and flopped right next to you, both of you heaving.
"there's no way Hotaru will find us." Ume said between breaths. "she's too much of a scaredy cat to come here. she just pretends to be all tuff."
the two of you camped for a while till the sun hung lazy and low. you'd need to be heading home in the next twenty minutes. Ume had slipped away from her spot to go take a tinkle.
crunch.
you flinched, head whipping around. "Ume is that you?"
silence.
"if you're playing one of your pranks on me it's not funny. i don't want to be by this shed anymore, let's move spots. Ume?"
oh flip.
now you were getting scared. you stood up and like a complete horror movie character, started walking toward the noise anyway. found yourself stepping inside the shed before you'd even made the decision to.
the sight greeting you was a small back facing you, fluffy pink hair, and- wait. did he have four arms?
stepping away your back hit the wall and your breath caught in your throat. the person was short so it must've been a boy. oh gosh the stories were true. it's the little ghost boy. you expected to see the ugliest creature ever (like full on E.T. or smth) when he turned around- instead you were met with two pairs of scarlet eyes staring straight into yours.
"you are beautiful."
the words escaped your mouth before you even knew you'd formed them. you couldn't help it, truly. just looking at him made you want to melt into the shed floor, your limbs felt all gooey, your cheeks and the tips of your ears warm. something about him made your twelve year old heart do things it had absolutely no business doing.
the boy looked taken aback, all four of his eyes going wide for just a fraction of a second, and then his expression slammed shut like a door. the scowl that replaced it was practiced. comfortable. like a thing he wore so often it had shaped itself to his face. his very pretty face. he pulled the dagger from his belt and took a step forward, slow and deliberate, the kind of step that was meant to make you stumble backward.
"What was that you dared utter?" his voice was low and careful, the way someone is careful when they are trying very hard to be frightening. "Do you truly believe flattery will spare your life, child? Your lies are as worthless as you are."
the light was on but absolutely nobody was home.
you heard none of it. not a single syllable. your eyes had found those four scarlet ones and simply refused to leave. up close they were even more extraordinary — deep and red like the inside of a pomegranate, ringed with the kind of thick dark lashes that girls at court spent hours trying to achieve with powder and brushes. every time he blinked they swept down slow and pretty and you felt your brain turn completely to soup. so this is love?
his hair was so fluffy. you wanted to touch it so badly it was actually painful, your fingers twitched helplessly by your sides.
"the hell are you staring at—"
"pink's my favourite colour."
the words came out dreamy and distant like you were half asleep. somewhere in the back of your mind you were aware this was perhaps not the ideal thing to say to someone holding a dagger. that part of your mind was unfortunately very far away right now.
the boy stared at you. a long, disbelieving stare, like he was waiting for the rest of the sentence that would make this make sense.
it did not come.
"What is this nonsense?" something almost offended flickered across his face. "You truly must be insane. i do not care about your favourite anything, girl!"
at this point your irises had absolutely turned into literal hearts. he talked all funny. How cute!
"don't you see?" you breathed, gesturing between the two of you like you were explaining something very important and very obvious. "pink is my favourite colour and your hair is pink. it must be a sign from the Gods." a dreamy little sigh escaped your lips before you could stop it.
then you introduced yourself.
you announced your name with the kind of bright toothy smile normally reserved for festival days, one hand pressed politely to your chest the way your etiquette tutors had taught you. something in the way you said it- the cadence of it, the name itself - must have placed you immediately because two of his four eyes twitched at once. a noble's daughter. here. beaming at him like he was something wonderful.
your hand shot out between you, palm open and waiting.
in all honesty it wasn't entirely out of courtesy. you just wanted to feel his hand in yours. just once. he was so pretty it was making you feel a little insane. gosh you hoped your hands weren't clammy, that would be embarrassed but it would make a great story at your wedding.
he looked at your hand. then at your face. then at your hand again.
"You-" he seemed to be having some difficulty. "I have a dagger."
"i know! you're left handed, that's so cool." you wiggled your outstretched fingers encouragingly. "i'm right handed myself, hence-"
he did not take your hand. you were not particularly deterred.
"what's your name?" you asked, retracting nothing, least of all your enthusiasm. "i bet it's really cute."
something behind those scarlet eyes short circuited visibly. he opened his mouth. closed it. the dagger had drifted down an inch — not on purpose, you suspected. more like his body had simply forgotten what it was supposed to be doing. he had clearly never encountered this specific problem before and had no tools for it.
he turned and walked away.
you followed him.
"hey wait! i didn't catch your name!"
"i did not give it." flat. not breaking stride.
"that's okay! i'll just come up with one." you fell into step beside him like this was a perfectly normal afternoon stroll and not a twelve year old chasing a ghost boy out of a haunted shed. you tapped your chin thoughtfully. "you look like a...Nao. are you a Ren? maybe a Takamori?"
he stopped walking.
his jaw was tight. a vein in his temple was having a genuinely terrible time. slowly he turned to look at you with an expression that had run completely out of patience.
"Leave. Me. Alone."
you gasped softly. even angry he was the prettiest thing you'd ever seen in your entire life.
"so you're not a Nao or Ren." you said solemnly. "noted. i'll figure it out."
Somehow you ended up loosing him. You followed him deeper into the meadow. Yapping his ears off about the most minute details of your life, and yes you knew it was unwise not to talk to strangers let alone tell them all your business but this boy was no stranger, you could feel that in your bones. He was your soulmate!
when you didn't here the occasional huff of annoyance any more you stood very still.
your hands found your cheeks. they were warm. embarrassingly warm. you could feel the heat radiating off them like you'd sat too close to a fire and honestly you had, just a different kind.
you spun around twice just to be sure, scanning the tree line with the desperate energy of someone who had just lost something very very precious and very very pink. nothing. he was simply gone, the way beautiful things sometimes are, cruelly and without warning.
you pressed your hands harder against your burning cheeks.
you didn't even get his name.
you had given him yours. you had told him your favourite colour, your favourite season, your feelings about plum blossom versus cherry blossom- cherry blossom obviously but plum blossom had a certain charm- your completely honest thoughts about your language tutor, the names you'd already been quietly saving up for your future children, and a fairly detailed description of where you imagined your wedding ceremony taking place as well as how you wanted your wedding robes to be the same shade as his hair.
and you didn't even know what to call him.
well.
you looked out at the tree line, lips pursed, thinking very hard for approximately four seconds.
Pinky Pie, you decided. you would call him Pinky Pie until further notice. it was perfect actually. it was him. you were incredibly good at this. the universe owed you a real name eventually but Pinky Pie would do for now.
it was fine. it was okay. this was not the end. the Gods had clearly put an enormous amount of effort into this afternoon and they were absolutely not done yet. you were going to see him again, you felt it in your fingers and your toes and somewhere deep behind your ribs where things just knew.
you also still had very important questions about the arms, like who needs so many-
"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!"
Ume appeared from thin air and seized your wrist, dragging you backward through the grass with the energy of someone who had converted a solid hour of worry into pure irritation.
"i've been looking for you EVERYWHERE. we won by the way, no thanks to you—" she stopped abruptly and squinted at your face. "why are you so red?!"
"i'm not red." you said, which was an enormous lie.
Ume opened her mouth. then closed it. then filed it away with the very efficient system she had for things you weren't telling her yet.
the others were calling and the sun was melting gold into the hills and she dragged you off through the grass before you could float any further away.
you looked back once at the meadow.
soon, Pinky Pie, you thought, with the complete unshakeable confidence of someone who had already decided how the story ended.
very very soon.
806 AD, Spring, 14:25pm
you had thought about him every single day.
not in a small manageable way either. in the way that had completely colonised the inside of your head and evicted everything else. #he was living rent free in your cranium. your calligraphy tutor had said your name three times last tuesday before you heard her. ume had waved her hand in front of your face at lunch and gotten nothing. your favourite attendant had given you a look that morning while fixing your hair.
you were unbothered. you were in love. these things happened.
three weeks and four days after the shed you went back to the meadow.
the long path home from calligraphy just happened to go past the edge of town. past the old shrine gate. past the place where the houses got quiet and the air got a little thick and strange and the birds stopped singing past a certain point for reasons nobody talked about openly.
most people found that part of town unsettling.
you found it had very nice afternoon light actually.
he wasn't at the shed when you got there. you stood in front of it with your hands clasped, considering, remembering the way he'd looked standing inside it three weeks ago. four scarlet eyes. fluffy pink hair. four arms. the dagger. the scowl. the way he'd said leave me alone like you were the most exhausting thing that had ever happened to him.
you sighed dreamily.
you turned around and he was already there, leaning against the ginkgo tree like he owned it, arms crossed, two of them anyway, watching you with the expression of someone who had been there a while and was deeply unimpressed by what they'd seen.
your heart did a full cartwheel.
"you're here!" you said, with exactly as much delight as you felt. which was an enormous amount.
"this is where i live." he said plainly, like girl duh.
"i know! i came to find you."
the look he gave you could have curdled milk. "why."
"because i wanted to." you sat down in the grass nearby, robes smoothed neatly beneath you, perfectly comfortable, completely unbothered by the fact that he was staring at you like you'd just announced something insane. which you hadn't. wanting to see someone was very normal. this was fine.
"what," he said slowly, "are you doing."
"sitting."
"why."
"my feet are tired." your feet were completely fine. "also you're here."
he stared at you for a long moment. then he looked away. his jaw did the tight thing you'd already started to recognise. the strange heavy feeling in the air around him shifted slightly, like something exhaling.
you had brought something from home, wrapped carefully in cloth and tucked in your sleeve all morning. you set it in the grass between you like a peace offering.
"i brought you something. sweet rice cake from the good place near the east gate, the old woman there uses proper red bean paste, not the thin watery kind, very important distinction-"
"i don't want it."
"okay!" you left it there anyway.
then you started talking.
about your calligraphy lesson. about the poem your literature tutor had made you memorise and what was specifically wrong with it. about the baby bird ume had hidden in her sleeve through an entire afternoon of lessons before it escaped during the quiet reading portion and pecked the teacher in the back of the neck.. about the dream you'd had where all your teeth fell out and whether that was an omen or just your brain being strange.
he said nothing.
he also didn't leave.
he stayed against his tree with the afternoon light coming through the ginkgo leaves above him, scarlet eyes somewhere in the middle distance, and you talked and talked and talked and he said absolutely nothing and somehow it was the nicest afternoon you'd had in a very long time.
at some point you noticed the cloth between you was empty.
you looked up at him. he was very busy looking at the tree line. very focused on it actually. extremely interested in those particular trees right now.
you looked back at the empty cloth.
you said nothing. you were twelve but you were not stupid. some things were better left alone. some things were like butterflies — you had to pretend not to see them or they'd fly away.
so you just kept talking, softer now, chin in your hand, watching the light go gold.
when it got low enough that you knew your attendant would be starting to pace you stood up, smoothed your robes, and said goodbye the same cheerful way you said everything.
"same time next week?" you asked.
"no." he said, not looking at you.
"perfect." you said. "see you then."
you were almost back to the path when you heard it. the tiniest sound. barely anything at all. somewhere between a scoff and something that didn't have a name yet.
you kept walking.
you smiled the whole way home.
that night you lay on your futon staring at the ceiling with your hands pressed to your cheeks, feet kicking slowly in the air behind you.
best. date. ever.
807 AD, Summer, 13:52pm
a year was a long time.
a year was also somehow not very long at all when you measured it in stolen afternoons and one sided conversations and a boy who never once told you to come back but never once told you to stay away either.
you had a system now. calligraphy on tuesdays meant the long way home. temple visits on thursdays meant a detour through the meadow. any other excuse your twelve, now thirteen, year old brain could manufacture meant a trip to the ginkgo tree where he was sometimes there and sometimes wasn't and when he wasn't you sat in the grass anyway and waited and approximately seventy percent of the time he showed up eventually pretending he hadn't been anywhere in particular. he was dependable or more so predictable, you liked that in a man.
you had never once pointed this out. butterfly rule.
ume was suspicious. ume was always suspicious. she had the instincts of a girl three times her age and the patience to wait you out and you were running out of deflections. but that was a problem for another day.
today you had something important to do.
you had been working up to it for weeks actually. the name had lived in your head for a full year now, warm and private, and something about keeping it only in there had started to feel insufficient. he deserved to know. it was a good name. you had put genuine thought into it.
he was at the tree when you arrived, which was the seventy percent. sitting this time rather than leaning, back against the bark, one of his four hands turning a stone over and over. he looked up when he heard you coming through the grass and his expression did the thing it always did. starting at something almost neutral before remembering it was supposed to be a scowl and correcting itself.
you found this absolutely precious. you had never told him that.
"you're here!" you said.
"you say that every time." he said. "as though it is surprising."
"it's always a little surprising." you sat down across from him, closer than you used to sit a year ago, close enough now that you could have reached out and touched the hem of his sleeve if you'd wanted to. you hadn't. yet. "good surprising though."
he looked at you for a moment with those four scarlet eyes and then looked back at his stone.
you had brought sweet rice cake again. you always brought sweet rice cake. you set it between you and he always said he didn't want it and it was always gone by the time you left and this had become so routine that neither of you even acknowledged the script anymore, you just set it down and moved on.
"i've been calling you something." you said, after a moment.
he didn't look up. "i am aware. you have called me several things. none of them my name."
"in my head i mean. i have a name for you. in my head." you paused. "i've decided to tell you what it is."
now he looked up. something cautious moved through his expression. "...why?"
"because you should know." you said, very reasonably. "it's yours after all."
he stared at you. the stone had stopped turning. "i already have a name."
"that you won't tell me." you pointed out.
his jaw tightened. he had no response to this because it was simply true and you both knew it.
you took a small breath.
"Pinky Pie." you said.
the silence that followed was very loud.
he looked at you with an expression you had never seen on his face before, which was impressive because you had catalogued quite a few of them by now. this one was new. this one was a specific kind of stillness that preceded something, like the air before lightning.
"what." he said. very quietly.
"Pinky Pie." you repeated, maintaining full eye contact, completely serene. "that's what i call you. in my head. and now out loud. i think it suits you."
"it." he stopped. started again. "it does not."
"it really does though."
"i am not—" he seemed to be having some difficulty locating the correct words for how wrong this was. one of his upper eyes was twitching. "i am not a Pinky Pie."
"you have pink hair." you said helpfully.
"i am aware of the colour of my own hair-"
"and you're sweet." you added.
the twitching stopped. everything stopped. he looked at you like you had just said something in a language he didn't speak and his brain was still working on the translation.
"i am," he said, very carefully, "not sweet."
"you ate my rice cake every single week for a whole year." you said. "and you never once actually made me leave." you tilted your head at him, chin in your hand. "that's pretty sweet Pinky Pie."
the expression that crossed his face in the next three seconds was genuinely extraordinary. you watched it move through him like weather- the outrage, the denial, the scramble for something cutting to say, and then underneath all of that, buried so fast you almost missed it, something small and flustered that he absolutely did not want you to see. did he have to be so adorable?
he looked away so quickly his hair moved.
"that name," he said, to the tree line, with great dignity, "will never leave this meadow."
"of course." you agreed very seriously.
"if you utter it anywhere near another living person—"
"i would never."
"i mean it."
"Pinky Pie i would never." you said, and the way you slipped the name in so naturally made him turn back with an expression of pure betrayal that you met with your most innocent smile.
he made a sound low in his throat. looked away again. one of his four hands had come up to push his pink hair out of his face in a gesture that felt almost — self conscious. almost. it was gone very quickly.
you watched him with your chin in your hand and felt that warm squeezing thing happen behind your ribs, bigger than usual, bigger than it had been a year ago when it had started.
it was getting harder to keep things butterfly-rule quiet.
"same time next week?" you asked, when the light started going low.
he picked his stone back up. turned it over once. "i make no such agreements."
"love you too Pinky Pie." you said cheerfully, standing and smoothing your robes.
the sound he made at that was truly spectacular. you were going to think about it all the way home.
you did.
best date ever, you thought, for the approximately three hundredth time.
number one still belonged to the sweet rice cake afternoon but this one was a very strong second.
807 AD, Autumn, 12:43pm
to be clear, you were not supposed to be at the market.
noble daughters of Dainagon did not wander the market ward unattended. this was a known and established fact that you were aware of and had chosen not to apply to yourself today because ume had described the new fabric stall near the east gate in such detail that you had simply needed to see it with your own eyes. your attendant thought you were in the garden. your father thought you were at your calligraphy lesson. everyone was happy.
you had your eye on a particularly beautiful bolt of silk, deep blue, the colour of the sky just before it decided to become night, when the person beside you made a sharp sound.
you turned.
a hooded figure. small. quick. already moving away through the crowd with something tucked under their arm before the merchant had even finished processing what had happened.
the merchant processed it.
"thief!"
now here is where a sensible person- a noble daughter, for instance, who was not supposed to be here- would have stepped back and let the matter sort itself out. you were already moving.
you were a fast runner. ume had always said so, usually while failing to keep up with you. you ducked under elbows and around baskets and through the crowd with a focus that would have impressed your physical tutors if they had known you possessed it, eyes fixed on the hooded figure weaving ahead.
they were fast too. but you were faster.
you caught up at the edge of the market where the stalls gave way to the quieter lane behind the old granary, and you grabbed the back of their hood without fully thinking through what came after the grabbing part.
the figure stopped.
turned around.
the hood fell back.
pink hair. four eyes. a look on his face that cycled through surprise, recognition, and extreme displeasure in about half a second.
oh.
"Pinky Pie." you said, slightly out of breath.
"you." the displeasure won out. "why are you-" he stopped. looked at your hand still clutching the back of his hood. looked at your face. "why did you chase me."
"you took something." you said.
"i am aware of what i did."
"from the person next to me."
"also aware."
you looked at him. he looked at you. you both looked at the thing tucked under two of his four arms which was, upon closer inspection, a small bundle of food. rice. a couple of wrapped portions of something. nothing extravagant.
something settled quietly in your chest.
"are you hungry?" you asked.
his expression did something complicated and fast that he shut down immediately. "that is none of your concern."
"it's a simple question."
"and i am choosing not to answer it." he pulled his hood back up with sharp dignity, which was impressive given the circumstances. "let go of my hood."
you let go of his hood.
he straightened himself up and looked at you with the expression of someone who would very much like for this interaction to be over. you looked back at him with the expression of someone who had just run halfway across the market ward and was not going anywhere.
"how much was it worth." you said.
"i told you it's none of—"
"how much Pinky Pie."
the vein in his temple. hello old friend.
he told you. grudgingly. like the words had to be pulled out one at a time.
you reached into your sleeve, produced the right amount, and held it out to him.
he stared at it. "what is that."
"it's the money. so you didn't steal it. so if anyone asks you paid for it." you said. "take it."
"i don't want your money."
"i know." you said. "take it anyway."
he looked at the money. then at you. then at the money again. his jaw was doing the tight thing. all four of his eyes had an expression in them that you couldn't entirely read, something tangled up and complicated that he was working very hard to keep off his face.
"i don't need your pity." he said. low and quiet and with an edge to it.
"it's not pity." you said, just as quiet. "it's just money. and you're just hungry. and i have enough." you kept your hand out steady between you. "just take it."
a long moment.
he took it.
he didn't say thank you. you didn't expect him to. he looked away down the lane, hood up, money tucked somewhere in his sleeve, food still under two of his arms.
"you shouldn't be at the market alone." he said, after a moment. still not looking at you. "noble daughters don't come here unattended."
"this one does apparently." something moved across his profile that might- very briefly, very quietly, have been the ghost of something almost warm.
"you're going to cause yourself trouble one day." he said.
"probably." you agreed happily.
he looked at you then. just for a moment. all four eyes. the complicated thing still in them but quieter now, settled. then he pulled his hood further up and turned to go.
"Pinky Pie." you called after him. he stopped but didn't turn around.
"same time tuesday." you said.
he walked away. you stood at the edge of the lane watching him disappear and felt that warm squeezing thing behind your ribs, bigger than usual. then you smoothed your robes and headed back into the market to find that silk.
you had completely forgotten about the silk.
807 AD, Winter, 10:47am
Freezing. it was cold enough to crack an egg and it would immediately freeze, like literally you were watching the chefs make breakfast and your egg froze before it even touched the pan.
so why were you currently layering you clothes and putting your boots on? well you had to go see your favourite guy of course! its been weeks or has it been a month since you've seen the grumpy chap? it was hard to tell with the increase in duties. Your father also started having more time for you suddenly which did play a role in distracting you.
in all honesty these past few days you've been really tired, bags under your eyes tired. why you might me thinking to yourself again? well because of the face he made that day. he looked so...sad. the thought of your Pinky pie going hungry all this time broke you. he probably needed those rice cakes more than you could imagine. how was he doing now? without them for so long.
you were going to go to him. maybe buy something new for him too try, but a part of you was a little scared.
its like hes been avoiding you after you gave him money which is weird because you were only trying to help, but it did kind of make sense i mean your mother told you about how men relied on dignity or whatever and that they were born with egos bigger than their heads. she says thats why your father is such a big selfish basta-
"Sweetheartttt! are you decent? i have something to show you!"
your father's cheerful voice rang through the door. you smiled and opened it. he practically skipped into the room with a small cherry wood box in his hands, holding it out to you with the energy of someone who had been waiting to do this for quite some time.
As you can see, you got your optimism from him.
"it was supposed to be your birthday present but it arrived early and i simply could not wait. open it up!"
you popped the box open and inside sat a gorgeous necklace.
oh the Gods are hilarious.
how creative they are, the gem in the center was the same hypnotic colour as Pinky pies hair, though nothing could ever compare to your- i mean his lushes locks. The way they stood up and defied gravity, every thing about him was just so magical.
"I LOVE IT!!! EEEEEEK!"
you were basically frothing at the mouth. the whole wing probably heard you. your father beamed and laughed the big warm laugh he saved for moments like this. "only the best for my little girl." he leaned forward and fastened it around your neck himself, careful and gentle. "you must promise to wear it at all times, my delicate one."
Your mother always scolded the man when he'd call you that. 'delicate'. she'd argue that it made you sound fragile when you were anything but. She felt that it was condescending, her words not yours.
you nodded so eagerly your vision got all grainy. Darn low iron. you were already thinking about showing Pinky Pie. he was going to see it and think of his own hair and realise it was a sign from the Gods and then the wedding planning could really begin.
"oh and my little blossom." your father paused at the door, turning back with a smile that was somehow both warm and careful at the same time. "i want to discuss something with you when you come home from your lessons."
you were already too busy admiring the necklace to notice the careful part.
Pinky Pie was at the tree. seventy percent. dependable.
he was sitting with his back against the bark, two arms crossed over his chest, the other two tucked into his sleeves against the cold. his pink hair was as aggressively fluffy as ever despite the weather. he looked up when he heard you coming through the frosted grass and did the thing. almost neutral, remembers the scowl, corrects itself.
you had missed that thing so much.
"Pinky Pie!" you dropped into your usual spot, pulling your layers tighter. "i've missed you. have you been avoiding me? you have haven't you. it's about the market isn't it, i want you to know i wasn't trying to-"
you stopped.
he wasn't looking at your face.
he was looking at your neck. at the necklace. and something in his expression had shifted in a way you couldn't immediately name. not the scowl, not the controlled nothing he usually wore. something else. something you had never seen on his face before in all these months.
"what?" you said.
he didn't answer.
"Pinky Pie."
nothing. his eyes stayed on the necklace and the look in them was doing something complicated that he hadn't managed to shut down yet. in all these months he had always been so quick about that. always got his face back before you could read it properly.
right now he wasn't managing.
"do you like it?" you touched the pendant, suddenly self conscious in a way you couldn't explain. "my father gave it to me this morning. look at the colour-" you held it out toward him so he could see the pink gem properly, leaning forward slightly.
he stepped back.
not dramatically. not storming off. just one step. then another. until there was a distance between you that had never existed before, not in all the months of sitting in the grass together with the rice cake between you and the afternoons going quiet around you both.
you lowered your hand slowly.
"what's wrong?" you asked.
"nothing." flat.
"you stepped back."
"i'm standing."
"you stepped back when you saw the necklace-"
"i said i'm standing."
his eyes had gone to the middle distance. you had learned enough about him by now to know that was where he went when something got too close. you looked at him standing there in the cold with all that careful nothing on his face and felt something uncomfortable growing in your chest.
"did i do something wrong?" you asked.
"no."
"then why-"
"nothing is wrong." quiet. final.
you sat in the frost and looked at him standing further away than he had ever stood and went through everything you could think of. the market. the money. the weeks of avoiding. and now this, all because of a necklace your father had given you this morning that you had loved immediately because it was pink like his hair.
it didn't make sense.
none of it made sense and he wasn't going to tell you why and you didn't know how to ask in a way that would reach him through whatever wall had gone up so fast you'd almost missed it happening.
so you just sat there. and he just stood there. and the cold sat between you like a third person neither of you had invited.
he stayed the whole afternoon. he always stayed. but it was different today and you felt the difference in a way you couldn't find words for yet. He didnt touch the dango skewers you brought.
when the light went grey he left without ceremony.
he didn't look back.
you sat in the frost alone and held the pendant in your palm and stared at it for a long time.
and somehow the most important question that sat on your heart was "is he hungry?"
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
your father was in the main room when you got home.
he looked up when you came in and smiled and something about the smile was warm and careful at the same time. you had been too distracted this morning by the necklace to notice the careful part.
"my little blossom. sit with me."
you sat. hands folded. waiting.
"i want to ask you something." he said, in the gentle voice he used when he wanted you to know he wasn't angry before he said the thing. "and i want you to be honest with me."
"of course father."
"you were at the market recently." he said. "unattended."
you kept your face very still. "i only wanted to see the new fabric stall..."
"you were seen." he said. "giving money to a boy."
the room felt smaller.
"someone near me had something taken. i was only trying to help!"
"the boy with the pink hair." your father said. and the way he said it, slowly, like he had been holding it all day, made something cold settle in your stomach. "you know who he is?"
"i've seen him around." carefully. "i don't really know him."
your father looked at you for a long moment. "do you know what they say about that boy." he said. not a question.
you said nothing.
"they say his mother was cursed." your father said. "that she wasn't even human by the end of it. that whatever came out of that isn't human either. four eyes, four arms..." he shook his head slowly. "the priests won't go near that part of town anymore. did you know that? the animals won't either. dogs won't even bark in that direction." he paused. "there is something deeply wrong with that boy. something that has been wrong since before he was born. and the whole town knows it."
you thought about the heavy air near the ginkgo tree. the way birds stopped singing past a certain point. the way the shrine road always sat emptier than it should.
you thought about him walking alone at night because the days belonged to people who had decided they didn't want him in them.
"he didn't seem wrong to me." you said, very quietly.
your father's expression shifted. not angry. something more concerned than angry, which almost felt worse. "that is exactly what worries me my little blossom." he said. "you are young and you are kind and that is a beautiful thing. but kindness without wisdom can lead you somewhere you don't want to go." he leaned forward. "that boy is not someone you help. not someone you speak to. not someone you go near. do you understand me?"
you looked at your hands. "yes father."
he was quiet for a moment. then, "starting tomorrow you will have two of my men with you when you go out. just for peace of mind." a small smile. like it was nothing. like it was simply a kindness. "a Dainagon's daughter shouldn't be wandering unattended anyway. i should have arranged it sooner."
your head came up before you could stop it. "that isn't necessary-"
"it's already arranged." gently. warmly. like a door being closed very softly so you almost don't hear the click.
you sat very still.
"go rest before dinner." he said. "my little blossom."
you went to your room.
you sat on your futon and stared at the wall and thought about all of it. the things your father had said. the things the town said. the priests. the animals. the heavy air and the empty streets.
then you thought about tuesday afternoons and sweet rice cake disappearing without acknowledgement. you thought about him stepping back today. the look on his face before he managed to put the nothing back.
you took the necklace off.
you folded it into the bottom of your robe chest under three layers of silk and closed the lid.
then you lay on your futon and stared at the ceiling and thought about two guards who would be standing behind you from tomorrow onwards and a ginkgo tree that was now going to be very hard to get to.
next tuesday felt very far away. and very complicated.
807 AD, Winter, 08:10 A.M.
You were half way dressed when the whispers started. your attendants had the habit of forgetting you were there when they dressed you. You never really minded because you honestly enjoyed the gossip, its not like it was ever about someone you knew. until now that is.
you stared at yourself in the mirror while they spoke. your fathers gift sat prettily on your neck. Pink gem glittering in the light.
Its been two days since you've seen him and the thought that he'd be skinnier when you saw him had next played on your mind all night. has he stolen food again? does he miss you like you miss him?
the chatter behind you pulled you from your thoughts. "I heard the lady is going to the festival. her and the Lord had a huge fight, she threw a a shoe at him. almost hit his head." one of your attendants whispered the other gasped and paused her ministrations on your robe. "The lady has always been remarkably feisty, i admire her strength even in times like these..."the other responded.
CLANK! BOOM! POW!
hairpins one the floor, accessories scattered in your wake as you ran out the room. Hair standing up in several places and robe going every which way, when you busted into your parents bedroom to see your mother styling her hair and your father impeccably dressed as always, pacing around the room, and a shoe laying on the floor. your mouth moved before your brain. "YOU CANT GO! YOU JUST CANT. I WONT ALLOW IT!"
"pffffft!"
one thing about your mother is she was not serious .her hand went up to cover her mouth as she snickered, she was always so effortlessly elegant. your father paused his pacing and looked at you. up then down. it was obvious what he was thinking i mean with the way you were looking?
he wanted to rip out his hair and just yell. say something on the lines of "girl. call yo fucking uber, look at your hAiR! you look an absolute mess and the hell do you mean 'allow'? im having a tough day as is with you're mother being stubborn and now i have to deal with my spawn doing the same thing. fuck my stupid fucking chungus life."
but lucky for you your father was a man of patients or at least he tried, he sided eyed your mother who was still giggling but had went back to doing her hair, he took a deep breath and walked over to you. he knelt down so he reached about eye level or at least he was closer to your eyes than he would be standing and took both your hands in his.
his eyes locked onto the necklace you were wearing. before they made their way to your eyes, "My jewel, you know why i gave you this necklace other than a birthday gift?" his voice was soft and soothing. you stayed silent for a moment, "No...i dont."
"I gave it to you to protect you. It was your mothers grandmothers. i had to import it from her village far away. it deters cursed spirits and oni. i love you so much that i will do anything in my power to protect you. the same goes for your mother, but id never clip her wings nor yours. this is her choice and there will be two physicians comming with us. now finished getting dressed and fix your hair, we are leaving in an hour and a half. do not forget to bring something to offer."
he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and stood up. your mother had watched the entire thing with a soft smile on her face. when she started coughing your father rushed to her side and your heart panged.
when you were back in your room, the ladies continuing their work on you after apologising profusely for their insolence, the only thing you could think of was the necklace.
did your father know more than he was letting on? why else would he give a necklace that protected you from cursed spirits unless he knew there was more to the story of you and the pink haired boy.
then your mind wandered to your mother, she was anything but fragile, well that's how she used to be at least. Now...now you don't know.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
Stepping out of the carriage, you had to stop yourself from petting the oxen, they were just so fluffy! you just wanted to hug their big chubby faces when they'd release little puffs of hair that looked like tiny clouds of smoke in the cold air. they were just too cute. (now i want a pet ox)
on the outskirts of the town, nobles gathered in front of the shrine, an offering in each of their hands, some a baby tooth, maybe a gold ornament, others a old family heirloom. the towns people watched, every year at the peek of winter when the cold itself had frostbite and wind could cut like a knife, a ceremony was held to honor the Gods and grant a safe rest of the season.
after the priests prayed and lit incense, one by one the people placed their offerings. when the time came to place yours, you set your antique hair pin down and bowed, when you rose up and turned to go back to your family you froze.
the crowed collectively gasped and some even cried out. There stood your father with a panicked look on his face as he held your mother, her face just a sliver away from hitting the ground. she fainted and he had caught her just in time.
Saying your mother was popular was an understatement, the woman could work a room. she could belittle you to filth and you'd ask for an autograph instead of crying. many treated her as though she were the a saint.
the family physicians came running and helped your father move her too the carriage. like any sensible daughter you ran after them.
"mother! mother!" you cried after them when you caught up, you climbed into the carriage behind them. your father was a mess, in between ordering the servant to take them back home and fussing over your mother, he didn't even notice you and when he did- he exploded. it was not a pretty sight.
harsh words were said by both parties and before you knew it you were running. you weren't sure where too, but your legs where moving as fast as they could. they carried you to the old Sakura tree, the one you and your friends used for hide and seek.
It was all too much. the emotions- they were just too many, floating in your heart and pounding in your head. when the tears came you made no attempt of fighting them, instead inviting the salty drops openly.
you weren't sure how long you sat curled against the tree crying when felt his presence. you knew he was a distance away without even looking up. your legs were tucked in and your arms wrapped around them securely, head buried in your knees.
"you sound like you could use a tissue. the noises you're making are disgusting." the little shit boy mumbled. you sniffled extra loud in response to which he scoffed. lifting your head and wiping your nose with the back of your hand, you grumbled, "im not in the mood, Pinky pie."
"Its Ryomen."
it took you a minute to process. your head tilting to the side, "huh?"
He sighed obnoxiously loud, probably regretted saying that but oh well too late. "My name. Its Ryomen Sukuna, dummy."
And just like that it felt like all your problems dissipated into thin air. the sparkle returning into your eyes. slowly you stood up. then you registered the distance between you two. oh yeah, you had this stupid necklace on. without a second thought you unhooked it and tossed it aside.
and at this point you didn't care, yeah maybe he'd try to shank you with his dagger but you needed this. maybe he did too.
He froze when he realised you were running towards him, he remained stiff or more so, steady, when you crashed into him. your arms roping around his waist and your head smooshing into his chest. was he always this tall?
"the hell are you doing ,weirdo." he made no move to push you off, instead his top two arms slowly wrapped around you awkwardly and the other pair remained limp by his sides. it was like he didn't know how to hug. its okay though, you'd be happy to give him lessons!
quiet yet not sombr, you melted into one another. right. it felt so right and so warm. all it took was his body cradling yours for that hurt in your heart to begin to slowly settle.
Then he began to talk. Not letting go.
Hey was it raining? Why was your hair getting wet?
"My father gave it to me, you know. My name." oh silly, it wasn't raining.
he sniffled before continuing, "He thought i was gift from the Spirits, that i was unique with all my uh... extra parts. He wanted to keep me, but he was weak. pathetic man really."
he held you tighter, "The scrutiny from the village and my mother was too much for him and they dumped me with the old man that used to live in the shed down in the meadow. he was blind. i was 6 when it happened."
you audibly gasped, you wanted to cry for him. you could imagine it now. A mini pinky pie, all soft cheeks and big eyes, crying for his parents as they abandoned him with some random old man. Ryomen continued, "it doesnt hurt anymore though, they died in a fire shortly after, along with their new baby. serves the bastards right."
that was the moment you knew. You'd do everything in your power to undo his hurt. no matter how long it took, decades or centuries, you would do it. you'd love him so much he'd suffocate on it.
okay maybe not that much, but you get the point. you were a very determined little thing.
the two of you stayed tangled in each others embrace until the evening washed over the meadow.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
across town your father sat beside the futon where your mother slept.
he had been holding her hand since they got back. she had argued the whole way home that she was perfectly fine and had only stopped when she ran out of energy for it, which told him everything the argument was trying not to.
he looked at her in the low lamp light and didn't say anything for a while.
"you scared me today." he said finally, quietly, to a woman who couldn't hear him. "you scare me all the time but today was a lot even for you."
he looked at her hand in his.
"she came running to me this morning with her hair half done. looking about nine years old." he shook his head. "too old to still look that young when she's worried. i don't know when that happened."
he was quiet for a moment.
"i snapped at her. at the ceremony. i'll fix that." a pause. "she disappeared after. guards lost her in the crowd, brilliant, very useful men i've got. came back before dark with red eyes and wouldn't look at me directly." he looked at the lamp. "i'm not a foolish man. i know my own daughter."
he sat back in his chair.
"teenagers." he said, like the word itself was exhausting. "she's thirteen and she's already keeping things from me. i can see it happening in real time and i can't do anything about it because the more i try to hold on the more she — " he stopped. "she has your eyes. that's the problem. she looks at things the way you look at things and i never know what she's going to decide is worth her time."
he thought about the market. the pink haired boy. the money.
"if it's him—" he started. stopped. shook his head slowly. "i don't know what i'll do if it's him."
your mother breathed slow and even in the quiet room.
807 AD, Winter, 07:00 A.M.
your father had been up before the sun herself. yes the sun is a female and no i want elaborate any further.
anyways...
this was not unusual when your mother was having the other kind of days. he moved through their bedroom quietly, the way he had learned to over the years, wringing out the cloth and folding it neatly before pressing it gently to her forehead. she didn't stir. she had slept through the night which the physician said was good and which your father had nodded and then spent the rest of the evening not quite believing. could you blame him?
he sat with her for a while in the early quiet. just sitting. the way he did when he thought nobody was watching and he didn't have to look like everything was handled.
then, after a while he stood, straightened himself, and became the Dainagon again. he had letters to write and men to see and the ordinary business of being an important person waited for nothing, including an unwell wife and a daughter who was giving him a headache.
he stopped at your room on the way out. the maids were inside tidying, moving around each other in that practiced quiet way, your futon already put away, your robes from yesterday folded neatly. the room had that particular emptiness that meant you had gone.
his eyes found the vanity.
the necklace sat right in the centre of it. not tucked away, not pushed aside. just placed there, neatly, the pink gem catching the weak morning light. like it had been put there purposely. with thought.
he stood in the doorway looking at it for a long moment.
then he turned and went to write his letters.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
safe to say your poetry tutor had the worst timing. not only did she not teach properly and expect you to get all the work right, she was never in class when you had questions.
she had given you your instructions, explained the form, said something about seasonal imagery and restraint in classical verse, and then announced she needed to step out briefly to fetch a reference text. all that happened in the span of eight minutes. like girl be so for real.
but whatever, she was doing you a solid even if she didn't know it.
you were up before the door finished closing.
you had peeped the guards positions at the main entrance when you walked in. meaning you couldn't just stroll out of this place. you'd have to get down and dirty. popping open the weirdly small window on the side of the room, you took a deep breath in and then exhaled every bit of air you could in hopes it would help you squeeze through. first was your head, then your shoulders which did hurt a little and before you knew it you were out in the garden. heck yeah, like a boss.
your hands smoothed your hair and then your robes, couldn't go seeing Pinky Pie all messy now could you?
It was weird knowing his name now. Ryomen Sukuna. Just saying it made the tips of your ears warm and your head all fuzzy. did everything about him have to be so handsome? You'd still call him Pinky pie though, at least sometimes, you decided. i mean you kinda got attached to the name. it was cute- like him.
With a surprising amount of stealth you weren't aware you possessed (or the security just sucked) you sneaked through the garden till you made it to a small gate the gardeners used, nobody ever guarded here. the place had a lot of blind spots okay.
you took a moment to catch your breath before moving to open the gate.
SMACK!
"ow! what the flip?" you hissed, you're hand had insistently pulled back from the sting. Ume snorted and stepped in front of you. "sneaking out,are we? tsk tsk tsk."
"i was um just taking a stroll. don't you have mathematics? how did you even escape Takeda-sensei?" Ume raised an eyebrow at your excuse and scoffed. rolling her eyes,
"firstly, i'm insulted you think id believe such a lame excuse, do i look like Hotaru to you? secondly, i invented the concept escape. now tell me what really going on because this whole keeping secrets thing is getting out of hand. i hardly see you anymore, the others are worried too. you never hang out with us after school and at lunch time ,you're daydreaming with this weird smile on your face. 'fess up dude."
you sighed, you knew this day would come, but confrontation was never your strong suit when it came to you being in the wrong.
"remember when we were twelve and everyone was into hide and seek? you started off quietly. Ume's eyebrows knitted in confusion for a second before she nodded. you continued, "Well, there was this one time when you and I hid behind that old shed. the one from the rumors."
she hummed in acknowledgement, "yeah, we won that day...that's...that's when you started acting all strange."
Ume grabbed your arm and pulled you over to this huge rock, sitting down and pulling you with so that you could talk freely without worrying about getting caught.
you went on to tell her everything.
from tiny details like the way his hair always stayed so shiny and fluffy, the length and thickness of his eyelashes even the amount of money you spent the past year and a half on Sweet rice cakes- all the way to the big things like the fear your father may be realising whats going on or how you decided your wedding theme would be pink and orange instead of the initial pink and green because Pinky pie (you told her about the nickname too, you couldnt help it) mentioned he liked the colour of your orange robes once.
Ume stayed silent threw it all, she gave the occasional hum or nod to convey she was listening, it was obvious she was soaking up every drop of info you gave her like a sponge.
when you were done she just sat staring at you silently. until she squealed. very loudly. she jumped onto you resulting in you both going into a frenzy of giggles and squeals.
she flopped onto her back and a dreamy sigh was pulled from her lips, "how romantic! forbidden love, A love never meant to exist, yet impossible to let go!" she screamed and kicked her legs. as you can see she obviously liked poetry more than you.
she sat up and stared at you, "i cant believe it. my own best friend and the towns freak. no offense to your bae, but its just so...wow! you were going to see him weren't you? that's why you sneaked out of Akio-sensei's class? go. ill keep the guards distracted, you have around two hours. go go go!"
you thanked her profusely and after one to many hugs you were off. sprinting down the quiet brick road and then trough the trees. when the meadow came into view you reduced to a slow jog.
you made it to the old shed.
he wasn't there. so you poked your head inside and still no luck.
there were a pile of sticks in the corner, a bunch of robes haphazardly thrown onto a stool, some looked brand new and others still fairly usable. yeah brodie defiantly stole this, as well as the three pairs of boots that sat beside the stool, each a different size. oh well, guys gotta do what hes gotta do.
there was also a small pot sitting on the table. you went over and lifted the lid. some kind of root vegetable stew, still faintly warm.
you put the lid back down and sighed so deeply your whole body deflated with it.
he was eating. he had food. he had made food. the relief was genuinely embarrassing, you were thirteen not his mother, and yet here you were feeling like you could cry over a pot of stew.
you left the shed and stepped back into the cold.
it was only then that you remembered you had completely forgotten the sweet rice cakes. oh poop. in all the chaos of windows and Ume's dramatic yet weirdly beautiful forbidden love speech you had not bought a single thing. you stood there for a moment feeling terrible about this and then made a very firm internal promise. next time. something new, something good. the fish skewers from the east gate vendor absolutely. the sweet potato dumplings from near the shrine road as well. actually both. he totally complain about it, that was fine, complaining was his love language.
the ginkgo tree was a few feet from the shed and he was there. seventy percent. dependable as ever.
he was sitting with his back against the bark, legs stretched out, looking unbothered by the cold in the way he always was, like the weather had simply decided he wasn't worth the effort.
cause he is like supes nonchalant.
there was a cloth laid out beside him with several pieces of mochi on it, the kind rolled in roasted soybean flour, a few already gone. he had something in each of his four hands and he looked up when you approached.
you walked straight past your usual spot and sat down directly in front of him. close. knees almost touching his.
he looked at where you had sat. then at your face. then back at where you had sat again with the expression of someone whose brain was buffering.
you reached over, grabbed a piece of mochi off his cloth, took an enormous bite, and launched into everything without so much as a hello. the window, the garden wall, the ornamental rock ambush, Ume being annoyingly perceptive as she always is, the whole story of telling her everything, even the nickname...which you apologized for telling coming out in one long breathless stream while you chewed enthusiastically.
Ryomen watched you eat his mochi with an expression of deep personal offence. "do you make a habit of taking food that doesn't belong to you?" he asked but it felt like more of a statement. "you eat like an ox. a large, noisy, inconsiderate ox."
"and how exactly do i know this is even your food." you said, reaching for another piece without breaking eye contact. your father did always say you had your mothers spunk at times
"it is on my cloth." he said through his teeth.
"could be anyone's cloth." you said pleasantly, and kept talking.
he scowled so hard it should have been physically painful but he did not move the cloth away. you both understood what that meant. butterfly.
the conversation had been easy the way it always was, drifting in and out of things without any particular destination, and then at some point without either of you doing anything to cause it, it just wasn't easy anymore.
it changed. cool refreshing air thickening. you both felt it at the same time, you could tell because he went quieter and you went quieter and the space between you, which was already smaller than it had ever been, started feeling very loud.
neither of you said anything for a moment.
you looked at the mochi on the cloth. at your hands. at a very interesting patch of grass near your knee.
"can i ask you something?" you quesitoned, too late to back out now champ. this was it.
"you never ask." he said. "you just start talking."
"i'm asking this time." you said.
he didn't say yes. he didn't say no. he waited, which for him had always been the same thing as yes.
you took a breath and looked up at him. "what am i to you?"
he looked at you.
"i know what you are to me." you said. "i've known for a while. probably since the shed honestly, which is a little embarrassing considering i was twelve and you had a dagger, but here we are." you picked at the grass beside you. "i just don't know what i am to you. and i think i need to. because it matters. you matter. to me. a lot."
he was quiet for so long you started to think he wasn't going to answer. he was looking at you with that direct look, the one he didn't give often, all four eyes, the kind that meant something had gotten through all the walls whether he had planned for it to or not.
then he looked away.
"you show up." he said. like he was starting somewhere and didn't know where it was going yet. "without warning. all the time. you talk constantly about random things and you bring me treats like i'm some pet and you gave me a name i will spend the rest of my life trying to forget."
"Ryomen." you said softly.
"and you sat in the frost." he said. quieter now. "for an entire afternoon. even when i put the distance between us. you just sat there and waited." he said it like it was something he had turned over many times and still couldn't fully account for. "nobody does that."
"i did." you said.
"i know." he said. "that's what i'm saying."
you looked at him. he was looking at his own hand, the one closest to you, turning it over slowly like it had done something without his permission.
"i don't have your words." he said finally. "i don't know how to say things the way you say them. i never have." a pause. "but you're not nothing to me. you have never been nothing to me. not once."
your heart was so loud. so embarrassingly loud.
"Ryomen." you said, and your voice came out smaller than you intended.
he looked up at you.
and then, slowly, like he was doing it before he could think better of it, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. just that. just one small thing. his hand was warm and the touch was careful, the kind of careful that meant something had been considered, and then his hand dropped back to his side and he looked away and his jaw was set and his ears were pink and he said nothing.
you said nothing either.
you sat in the winter afternoon with your heart doing its embarrassing thing and looked at the meadow and felt the shape of something enormous and gentle settling over everything like the first snow of the season, quiet and covering everything it touched.
"okay." you said eventually. just that.
"okay." he said.
and somehow that was everything.
you stayed until the light started going. when you finally stood and smoothed your robes you looked down at him still sitting against the tree and he was already looking at you and neither of you said anything about that either.
he picked up the last piece of mochi and held it out to you.
you took it. your fingers brushed his and neither of you moved for just a moment longer than necessary.
"eat on the way home." he said, looking away. "you're always forgetting."
"you notice that?" you said softly.
"it's hard not to notice things about you." he said. to the tree line. like he hadn't meant to say it quite like that.
you smiled at the mochi in your hand. "goodnight Ryomen."
he said nothing. but you felt him watching you walk away and you carried that the whole way home like something precious.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
the house was quiet by the time your father came to your room.
you were already asleep, or close enough to it, curled on your futon with the blanket pulled up and the lamp burned very low. he stood in the doorway for a moment just looking at you the way he only allowed himself when he thought no one could see it.
he came in quietly and sat down beside you. he reached out and smoothed your hair back from your face, slow and gentle, the way he had when you were very small and couldn't sleep.
"do you remember." he said softly. "when you were three years old and decided you were going to catch a firefly." a small smile crossed his face. "you chased that poor creature for a full hour. around the garden, through the kitchen, into the main hall. three years old and completely unstoppable. you cried when it got away." he paused. "and then the next evening you went back outside and tried again. and the evening after that. and the one after that." he shook his head slowly. "your mother said you got that from her. i said you got it from me. we argued about it for a week."
he was quiet for a moment, just looking at your face in the low light.
"you are my whole heart." he said quietly. "every stubborn impossible inch of you."
his hand stilled in your hair.
"and there is nothing in this world." he said, softer now, the warmth dropping into something lower and more certain. "nothing and no one, that i will allow to hurt you."
he sat with you a little longer.
then he stood, and straightened himself, and went back to his letters.
oop! looks like you've reached the end. oh no! fear not for this is only, dun dun dun PART ONE!?
Yay! (^o^)
so yeah when i did intended to make this just a one fic thing but as i kept writing i realized, hey. i talk to much and this becoming way to long and we are like just past half way... i hope you ate this fic up until now and are excited for the next part because its already cooking. PART 2 is out nowww!!
Tags: @emotionalsimpcore, @simpfor141, @st0ners4cho, @sugarplumluvr, @peachhiz, @man1cslut, @pepsicolacoochie , @s11nce31, @sanzslut2, @heartcandyslxt, @hottestadeienne
