cw… sub!uruha, dom!gn!reader, slight feminization, cock ring
uruha agreed, but he wasn’t sure why. maybe he was just curious; would he actually look as pretty as you say he is if he dressed up a bit? he’d find out soon enough, it was just getting really hard to sit still while he patiently waited for you to finish his makeup. a quiet bzzzt was all that could be heard—besides his occasional sighs and nghs—from the cock ring vibrating on the lowest setting. his knuckles were turning white gripping the edges of the chair, chanting “don’t move” in his head as you finished up the last few touches on his eyes.
dutiful as ever, he did his best to stay still so you wouldn't get distracted, but he winced once the cold damp spot on his skirt touched his tip, the fabric soiled from his pre just minutes before.
“uruha, baby, you must stay put.”
“y-yes, I know, ‘m trying…”
he truly is! he always gets a bit self-conscious if his eyeshadow isn't symmetrical, so of course he doesn't want to mess you up! but honestly, it was getting hard to resist uruha’s big green eyes looking up at you, as if silently pleading you to hurry up. it did pain you slightly, though, that not too long from now his makeup would be smeared after all your hard work, but the cutie doesn't realize he looks the prettiest when he's blissed out.
Now, this is normal for couples. Totally. 100%. Who would deny it? It's a way we're taught to show love. Uruha is no different. He lives for affection — but he'll take this a step further with public affection.
He may be covered in his own blood but your cheek just so happens to look soo squishy that he can't resist the big, fat smooch he gives you, "mmmmwwaahhhh!"
"Ughh." You groan as he dashes away before you could scold him.
He could be in the middle of a fight, his sword drawn out and his mind in a frenzy but as soon as he spots you, his body will melt into a puddle and he'll attack you with kisses.
"You're so cool," praises the man, his eyes softening as they stare at your deadpan expression.
"I didn't do anything." You don't have to. Uruha will always think you're neat! And he will always be there to steal a kiss.
His opponents often think he's messing around and not taking things seriously, fueling them with more hatred, they may even think he's stupid but no! That's not the case!
It's his favorite little habit.
A way to sneak up on observant, ol' [name].
You'd think you would see it coming but he is quick (or he just happens to lower your defenses, which makes more sense but he is extremely fast)...
You'll be in the middle of a speech with him by your side. You can feel his eager gaze on the side of your face, your expression is written with seriousness, he thinks you're so responsible — 'wow, you know how to talk so well.' 'woah, I like the way your teeth look. So cute.' 'Your voice is so nice and pleasant...'
He will wait patiently until you're done and he pecks your lips, never minding the presence of others.
(His lips are always warm. He keeps them extra soft and takes extra extra care of his oral hygiene hoping you'd notice and, maybe, let him kiss you more.
And when you do mention something, he'll flush far more than he should and he'll struggle to stay calm in your presence.)
This isn't fair. You have to control yourself and he can just jump on you at any given moment??
My boyfriend got drafted (willingly) into the military
Uruha Yoji x Fem! Reader
c/w: fluff, talks about marriage, reader is a math tutor for kids in elementary, lightly proofread (sorry lol)
a/n: fic is based off that one tumblr post about Uruha failing pre-calc. Also, don't know if I'm writing him correctly t-t
Timeline is kinda vagueee— think sometime before Uruha was given the Kumeyuri.
word count: 3.2k
“Ha! You don’t need school to be successful!”
Yoji scoffs, voice booming loudly on speaker, forgetting that the call can be heard by ten other students who all failed their basic maths.
You swear you could see one kid’s eyes light up at his words.
The students file in one by one, occupying their assigned seats. You can hear the scrapes of wooden chairs on the floor, and light laughter accompanying it, as a few of them bundle closely together, chatting away while the start of class draws near.
“I failed most of my pre-calc and geometry classes but that led to me meeting you, didn’t it? I’d say that's a fair pay-off for getting the hottest and smartest girlfriend in the world!”
You wet your lips, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose at his words— you stop yourself from letting out a deep sigh as your thumb hovers over the speaker on your phone.
“Yoji, please tone your voice down, there are ten other kids here…” you say, exasperated.
“Let them know! There’s other paths other than being a scholar! Sometimes the right path is through the military—“
“Okay, that’s great Yoji, I’ll see you later after work!”
“Wait!—“ you end the call, before he can finish speaking, shoving your phone back into your pocket. Only then do you realise the quiet chatter has died down, leaving your voice to echo through the tiny classroom. Your gaze sweeps across the students, a sea of small eyes looking at you in quiet wonder.
One of the kids raises his hand— Mizuki, displayed on his name tag.
“Miss (F/N), is that your boyfriend?” He asks.
The class erupts in loud “Ohhhhhs”, before breaking into chaos.
“D-does he work in the military?”
“Are you guys gonna get married?”
“Is he strong?”
“Did you meet him at school?”
You get bombarded with a plethora of questions, as their curious gaze falls onto you.
“Can we meet him?!” Is the loud declaration of Mizuki, who states his sentence more as a remark rather than a question.
You laugh lightly at their questions, a small flush on your cheeks. But now’s not the time, you have about four topics you need to go through before finishing your three hour session.
Although it wouldn’t be hard to speed through basic arithmetics, you’re working with students who had failed their math classes at least twice, some even three times in a row. Even if there’s only ten of them, you need to accommodate for each and every student’s weaknesses in the subject.
You promised them (their parents mostly) and yourself that you wouldn’t skimp out on their learning just because you’re doing this for your thesis paper.
These are their formative years! You remember being nine and disregarding fractions, only for it to bite you in the ass back in year eight.
You clap your hands together, sharpening your tone.
“We have a lot of material to go through this time! We’ll all talk about this later, bring out your worksheets!”
The voices quiet down, replaced by small murmurs of disappointment and the rustle of papers being taken out of zipped bags.
You can’t help but smile at their reaction, finding it slightly endearing despite their nosy attitudes.
“Fine. If we finish early today, I’ll let you guys ask him anything you want, does that sound good?”
Excited cheers can be heard from the small group of children.
The elementary you frequent for tutoring was only a few blocks away from your house.
Why Yoji thought it was a good idea to pick you up every shift despite his dojo being on the other side of your quaint town, you don’t know.
His insistence on walking with you as “protection”, in of itself was cute. Although completely unnecessary. You don’t want him to spend the majority of his break time walking you to and from home. He’s already tired from training, the least he can do is get some well needed rest!
You spot the familiar uniform of your boyfriend running excitedly towards you. The bright smile on his face draws your much gentler ones as your eyes soften when they meet his.
He comes to a short stop in front of you, hands already encircling your waist, one slipping onto your lower back, as the other moves to your face.
You share a small peck.
The children behind you erupt in small giggles, and Uruha pulls away quickly, you laugh alongside them at his reaction, motioning behind you to the line of students looking up at both of you in wonder.
“Oh… sorry, was that too much?” He asks, a bit mortified by the audience.
“They wanted to ask you a few questions, I sent you a text earlier, did you see it?” You ask, raising a brow.
You're briefly interrupted by a small hand that tugs at your pant leg.
You look down to see Mizuki staring brightly at Yoji, stars in his eyes, as if he just saw a celebrity.
“You!— you’re…” Mizuki points at him, “Do you work for Mr. Rokuhira?!” He blurts out, voice loud.
The mention of this ‘Mr. Rokuhira’ has Uruha perking up. Childlike wonder mirroring little Mizuki’s. Clearly happy to have heard the name.
“Of course I do!” He straightens his back, puffing up his chest in a proud stance, one hand pressed to his chest.
The sight is equally amusing as it is silly. You guess that sentiment fits Yoji very well.
“I’m his chosen—“ you pinch his cheek before he can continue, he yelps a small ‘ouch!’ as you turn to face the children.
“He’s his chosen apprentice, a very prestigious title indeed. He’s very accomplished!” You finish his words for him, fingers still holding onto his cheek.
You turn towards Yoji, patting the cheek you just squished, worried you might have pinched too hard.
He doesn’t seem to mind, holding onto your arm as he leans in instinctively to your touch. He pulls your hand to his mouth, placing it close to his lips, he pauses— eyeing the group of children behind you, his eyes narrow, settling for having your hand on his cheek instead, making him recheck his stance on PDA.
“Do you have time, Yoji?” You whisper, “It’s okay if you don’t, I told them your time is limited.”
He nods his head, “Yeah, I think I do! We finished training early today, I was going to ask you if we can eat out.”, he answers, beaming at you.
You smile at his words, before rummaging through your pocket, fishing out a folded scrap paper, and unfolding it before him.
“They wrote some questions on this piece of paper, nothing too specific, I checked it after all. They were just curious about you and your job.” You explain.
Uruha takes the paper from your hands, eyeing the contents half-heartedly.
“But,” you raise a finger at him, “No talking about how math is bad, or why they shouldn’t be in school, got it?” You whisper, tone firm as you give him a hard stare.
Uruha hums in reply, placing a hand to his forehead and another behind his back in a mock salute.
You let out a deep breath at the action, although you don’t bother hiding the smile that tugs itself on your lips soon after.
You usher both Uruha and the kids inside the classroom.
The discussion quickly grows lively, questions overlapping each other as Uruha matches their energy, the children become too excited to wait for their turn, asking him questions about his work, his hobbies, and whatever curious thing they feel like asking him about.
You think one of them even asked whether he still had his parents? (He does, you would have clocked it, if it was anything too sensitive)
You don’t expect the kids to ask him anything invasive, you’ve already prepped them on what they can, and can’t ask your boyfriend. Listing out very specific examples, as anything vague can potentially have them break said rules unintentionally.
To be clear you put in place these exact ground rules—
No questions about:
-Fighting or hurting people
-Names of specific people or people that he works with (although Mizuki already broke this by Asking about Mr. Rokuhira)
-Where he works
-Any mentions of weapons
-Anything that might be scary or private
You remember Mizuki raising his hand as you were writing this on the board.
“Miss (F/N), how do we know if something is private?”
You beam at the question, “Good question Mizuki! By private, I mean anything that might make someone feel uncomfortable sharing with the whole class.” You gesture vaguely towards the entire room.
“How would you feel if someone asked you something embarrassing— or scary, or something that puts you on the spot?” You smile encouragingly as you spy his shoulders growing slack at the realisation.
“Remember, we don’t do unto others what we don’t want to be done to ourselves… that applies with Uruha, okay?”
A wave of “yes!” And “okay!”s can be heard loudly booming from behind you.
Your writing for do’s and don’ts can still be seen on the board. Yoji marvels at your handiwork, saying he doesn’t mind them asking him those questions— to which you can only grimace as you explain to him how important confidentiality is in his line of work.
Although, in your attempts to ensure Yoji wouldn’t be uncomfortable as the children asked him questions about his job—there was one question you didn’t take into account for.
Questions about your relationship.
You thought point five covered that already, although you guess you’re partly to blame for not specifying it directly.
One of the quieter kids in your class meekly raises his hand, despite the sea of chatter and questions thrown at Uruha— he seems to notice the shy boy timidly raising his hand, and he acts accordingly, pointing towards him, singling him out of the crowd; his voice is gentle, though it carries the same energetic and welcoming lilt as before.
He offers him an encouraging smile.
“Ah, how about… you! What’d you want to ask?”
Chisei, one of the younger kids in the backrow, seems surprised, eyes widened as he flushes under the attention.
He looks over at you first for permission, to which you only smile softly at him, urging him to continue. He’s always been nervous in class, apparently, he has failed his math and science class— as he favours doing art and reading for the majority of his free time.
He does always seem to have his head in the clouds (something you can sorely relate to), kids have a vast imagination after all, it feels inefficient to categorise them all in one system and expect them to thrive in it.
But you suppose that imagination would lead into a very dangerous line of questioning. One even you and Uruha don’t have an answer to.
“A-are you and miss (name) going to get married?”
The chatter dies down. There’s a brief pause as the question seems to load a bit in everyone’s head.
“…”
And once it does, the classroom erupts into utter chaos.
“Ewwwwww!”
“Isn’t that personal?!”
“Are you gonna marry her Uruha-san!”
“I’d like to be invited!—“
Your mouth hangs agape, whilst Uruha’s eyes widen at the sudden question, mouth turning into a straight line.
You clap your hands sharply, signalling everyone's attention, you give Chisei an apologetic look, ready to turn down the question before it sinks into an embarrassing one.
“Uh, I think that question’s a bit too—“
Your words are cut off by Uruha, who starts laughing lightheartedly, cheeks flushed.
“That’s… a big question you’ve got there—“ he looks over at you, silently asking for his name.
“—Chisei.”
“Chisei-kun,” he parrots, hand coming to scratch at his cheek, giving him a sheepish smile, “It’s a good question though! But it’s just one of those things adults usually figure out over a long time…” he says, eyes trained on the young boy.
“I would like to, but there’s a lot we have to think about before we get married.” His expression takes on a softer one.
One of the young girls— Ai, raises her hand, waving it to garner his attention.
Uruha picks her next with a quick finger-gun gesture.
“How much do weddings cost?” She asks.
“Probably expensive.”
“What type of wedding will you guys have?” Another student, Mei adds.
“I’m not too sure, you have to ask Ms. (F/N) that!”
You feel a sweat roll down your forehead at the line questioning.
Of course, they’re kids. They’re going to be curious about these things. It’ll die down soon enough. You just hope they don't ask about how babies are made.
“—I wanna be a flower girl!”
“Can I be the ring bearer?”
“Can I escort Ms. (F/N) down the aisle?”
“Did you already buy her a ring?”
What is it with these kids and their obsession with marriage? Surely the media isn’t propagandising marriage in the middle of war, right?
The birth rate is low, yes, but marriage isn’t going to fix that!
You clap your hands together, garnering their attention.
“Okay kids, that’s enough questions about—“
“Yeah, I did, actually!”
Comes Uruha’s earnest reply, the same happy go lucky smile on his face.
You whip your head towards him. You don’t know if you should smile or frown at him for encouraging their antics (or if you should be happy he said yes). But you feel warmth spread to your ears anyway— did he actually mean that? He never told you anything about a ring— unless, he was just humouring her question.
(Would it be right for you to get angry at him for lying? Is it okay that you feel relieved that he answered her question? You don’t know— you don’t know. This is getting out of hand!)
“It’s only a promise ring though— nothing too special!”
A small round of “oohs” can be heard.
You slump forward into your desk, covering your face with both your arms as you feel your cheeks burn at his answers.
“Can we see it?” Is Ai’s excited response.
The class erupts in loud chatter once more. Various questions are thrown around seemingly out of air about this mysterious ring, you think you hear someone throw a question about how many kids you guys want to have?
Uruha shakes his head.
“Not even (F/N) has seen it yet, she’ll let you see it when she gets it, kay’?”
You feel a considerable lump in your throat at his confession. You’ve thought about marriage before in passing, embarrassingly enough, you imagined it quite early on into your relationship, actually.
Thoughts of a traditional, or western wedding fills your head— his family seems like the traditional type. Though wearing a lace or even a silk gown sounds quite pleasant.
“Mr. Uruha, have you ever broken a bone in the military?”
The discussion continues as normal, talks of marriage, his work, his favourite colour, and random miscellaneous questions were asked, with Uruha answering each and every single one with the same boyish excitement. The interview comes to a swift end as the first knock on the door is heard.
One of the parents had come to pick-up their kids.
The students all leave the room one by one, waving goodbye at both you and Uruha. Mizuki even pleaded for you to bring him back a second time— you can only chuckle at his request as his parents practically dragged him out of the room.
The classroom grows sparse, leaving only you and Uruha inside it.
Small rays of orange light slip through the classroom as he helps you clean up. Chairs are pushed back to their desks, stray pieces of paper and pencils are placed into neat piles by the teacher’s desk. The comfortable silence only lasts a few moments before you break it with a question of your own.
“How was your training?”
Uruha doesn’t answer, instead, a light laugh escapes him at your query. You stop wiping the board momentarily, shooting him a confused look.
“Sorry, can’t help it— the kids asked me so many questions, I feel like my throat’s parched from talking so much…” his voice is a little hoarse, you scramble towards your bag, fishing out your water bottle for him. He gives a small thanks as he takes it from your hands.
He sits himself on one of the tables, chugging practically all of your water—you don’t mind, he deserves at least this much for entertaining the kids.
“Did I do good today, teach?” He asks, light and teasing. A playful smile making its way across his face.
You smile back at him. It was cute seeing your boyfriend answer their endless questions. It’s a moment you wish you could’ve taken a video, or at least a photo or two of to commemorate it, but you guess having it tucked away in your memories is just as good too.
“You did. In fact, I might just give you a reward,” you quip, voice perfectly leveled, but the faint amusement of your tone tells a different story. Your hand traces along the hard lines of his arm, fleeting, and featherlight—
He chokes on his drink.
Coughing, he bends forward as you pat his back. Telling him to drink slower.
“—Oh?” he blinks, wiping his mouth, a pink tinge spreads across his cheeks.
A cat-like smile plays on your features, “I meant a meal, Yoji.” You clarify, rubbing his back.
He looks away faintly, “I-I knew that!” He says, face now blooming a deeper shade of red.
You laugh as his face flushes even further. Leaning in closer to his seated form, you press a small kiss to his cheek.
“But we can do that too, just a little bit after…”
“Did you actually mean what you said?” You ask, mid-bite from your burger.
Uruha raises his head, swallowing his food before asking.
“Mean what?” He asks, innocently.
“Back then,” you bite the inside of your cheek, lower lip jutting out slightly.
“About the promise ring. Were you saying that just to answer her question, or was it actually true?” You reiterate, taking a sip of your drink as you eye him questioningly.
You can tell the moment the cogs start turning in his head.
“Oh, yeah! It’s true,” he takes another bite of his meal, chewing thoughtfully before letting out a satisfied hum.
“This is so good!—You wanna try?” He offers you a piece of his dumplings.
You sigh, accepting it with the tissue in your hand.
“Uruha.” You say his name, slowly, deliberately. The warning in your tone is evident.
His chewing slows, looking back at you nervously.
“If it’s true, then where’s the ring?”
He swallows his food, wiping his mouth with the tissue. “I left it at home,” he answers honestly.
You look at him incredulously.
“So you bought me a promise ring, then casually tell me you’ve left it at home?”
“It was supposed to be a surprise!”
“Then why did you tell Ai-chan?”
“I wasn't gonna, I got too caught up in the moment…”
“Yoji…” you repeat his name once more, this time, in quiet disbelief.
uruha yoji x kumeyuri's soul!reader; 235.
personification of sword. love letter. pining. sfw.
Uruha Yoji's hands used to touch you as though you were precious enough to break. You were not delicate, and he knew it; so the sentiment came not from his held belief of your frailty. There had never been much hesitation in his seeking of you, only gentleness and awe.
A strange thing, you supposed, for hands that had known so much blood to settle upon you with a care that bordered on devotion. Every time he reached for you, you felt chosen anew; never once for what you could do for him, but because he accepted the burden of walking beside you. It was such a small distinction—you wondered if anyone beside yourself had ever noticed it. His hand never came to claim; his caress was that of quiet gratitude, fingertips brushing against you with all the solemnity of accepting an oath.
Only trust.
You had loved him for that—how unbearable that memory had become.
That young man's touch was firmer, hungrier, holding you like something to be prized, and you wondered whether Uruha missed the feeling of you as much as you missed the rare occasions when laughter would escape him and the way excitement would bloom across that ordinarily focused face.
You wished—
No.
You had wished. There was little comfort in wishing anymore. Yet, still, you imagine your sword bearer's hand finding yours once more as you stood against him.
I’m sorry we couldn’t be there for your birthday party. I know we promised to be back in time, but it seems like it’s gonna take longer. The higher-ups aren’t able to let us go on leave because of all the fighting that’s happening.
We’re sending you a little present from the field; it’s a tiny gem shard we found near the mines. When you hold it, you can think of us. I hope that makes you happy until we return home.
My mother says that you’ve grown a few more inches in the last few months. I can’t wait to see how tall you’ll get in the future...although I don’t want you to become taller than any of us. You’re still our little kid, after all, but Kai says you might grow taller than me, at the very least. You can guess how I reacted to THAT.
We’re hoping we can come back in time for the autumn. It’s going to be a close shave if we do, since you’ll be starting school soon, but we really want to make it!
Ok, I should go, the others are waiting for me. They say hello, and that they love you very very much...as do I. Remember that.
Hold the gem tightly in your hands and make a wish; they say it’ll come true.
Happy birthday once again, (name) dear. We love you so so so much, and we can’t wait for the day when we see you again.
Love,
Ruki
Folding the letter and sealing it, he turns to the cadet, who salutes him and runs out.
The others are waiting outside the tent. “Done?” Reita asks, holding back his own tears.
“Yeah,” Ruki replies. They can’t afford to shed tears now, not with their men standing nearby, awaiting orders.
“Okay then.” Aoi sighs, and puts on his designated hat. “The others are ready to go.”
Kai adjusts his uniform and looks at his papers one last time. “This is the only way,” he mutters, shaking his head. “It’s the only way.” Everyone knows he was the first to lose his mind, though he doesn’t show it; in fact, it was his idea that Ruki write the letter.
Uruha also hands the cadet a letter; this one to his mother, who volunteered to keep a copy of the adoption papers. “Make sure it reaches her as soon as possible,” he orders. “She needs to make the arrangements if...if we don’t make it back.”
Ruki stares at his fellow officers, grateful that they had a good life, at least for a few years. They hope to return alive, but it does not seem likely. The enemy forces draw closer by the day, and this is perhaps their last stand.
“Goodbye, (Name),” he whispers, praying his voice will carry across the land to the toy house (Name) loves to play in every morning after breakfast. He’s not so sure about his voice, but he’s certain the gem will.
... he got everything. the approval, the praise, the sword, your love. even years later, he can only bring himself to hate the man who has it all because of you ♡
⤿ pairings. natsuki misaka x gn reader x uruha yoji
⤿ contents. love triangle, childhood friends to lovers (w uruha), small cheesy scenes, talk of marriage, plot, i don't even know the word count anymore, i put lore behind your family only i will ever know, no idea where it came from, maybe hints of emotional cheating, might make a part two.
⤿ thoughts. i'd like to thank my beautiful mind for clicking natsuki's personality into place with a couple of appearances from him.
tumblr has ruined me, i can't finish this right, it's deleted over 5k of my writing had me more stressed than applying for jobs, sorry if it's rushed.
click here to see the original request.
Seitei war (18 years ago),
The seasonal pomegranates bloomed when he first met you. His brother would often cut them open and peel them for him but he wasn't much of a fan.
They left a bitter feeling in his throat.
So the sight of them didn't appeal to him. You, on the other hand, drooled over them. Sadly though, the tree did not belong to you but rather the gruff owner of the dojo.
"If I take one, will you tell?"
Natsuki shrugs.
He honed his blades with the gentleness of a ghost. It intrigued you enough to pay attention to him.
"That's a wicked scar!" At eighteen years of age, Natsuki still did not understand that 'wicked' is simply another term for cool. So he assumed you were making fun of him.
He turns his back on you, "okay?"
"Just saying." You smile cheekily. "I'm [name]. You're Misaka Natsuki, right? Your brother got his sword already, right? It'd be so cool if two siblings got enchanted blades! I've been watching you, you're very good! Were you already a swordsman before this? What sword are you hoping to get? I want the Shinuchi because Mr. Rokuhira claims it's the strongest one to wield. I like that. I'll be strong enough."
Oh, a blabbermouth. Great.
He regards you with a side eye. His gaze falls on your Katana. Dull. Anyone can tell at first glance, it's a flimsy weapon, almost like you didn't want to hurt anyone or anything.
Then, he eyes your physique.
When Kunishige Rokuhira first revealed the collections of enchanted blades, he never showed their true power so as to blind the samurai's in training.
In a sense, it's to judge a book by its cover. Technically.
The Shinuchi is said to want a powerful being.
To the extent of his knowledge, you didn't hold the stance of a leader, much less someone insatiable.
He glanced over to his older brother from across the courtyard, who stares at the sight of a rando talking to his little brother with an excited glint in his eye. Great. He's always telling him to make friends. Of course he wouldn't come to his rescue.
If it makes him worry less...
"... The Kumeyuri." He confesses. It's the next one up after cloud gouger. The one Rokuhira wants to give out at the moment.
"That one's nice too. I wonder how it works. The design is one of the plainest in his works but I believe with the right owner, it can be beautiful. I just hope it's nothing too flashy. I'm not a fan of that, honestly-"
He clears his throat abruptly before tightening his grip into a fist because right as you yap your thoughts to him, a familiar guy passes by.
Uruha Yoji.
A potential candidate for the very blade he eyed.
Rokuhira always praised his hard work. He had to admit, Uruha is quick. Too speedy. But Natsuki also worked hard.
He's the epitome of a hard worker and yet Rokuhira only dared to look him over and mumble some words of encouragement.
"You should be grateful for whatever blade you receive. It is an honor to serve your family and country." It sounds forced. It isn't him. His words are things repeated over and over. Told to him with such conviction, he has learned it by heart.
It's not that he doesn't believe it, he does feel the sentiment, there was always something missing to him.
The journey of approval can only go a long way before it takes shape of anger.
You hum, hanging on to his every word, but he deemed you a bit peculiar when you responded with; "...Have you tried the plums that grow down east?
"No."
"Maybe I'll take you to try them some spring."
...What's this?
Why are you being nice? Natsuki nearly believes his brother sent you here to chat him up and help him relax.
He hears shuffling behind him and assumes you're trying to close the distance between the two of you.
"Welp... I'll be rooting for you!"
The autumn breeze falls over his bare shoulders. It eggs him on enough to resist a shiver. The wind brushes through his hair and brings his attention to you.
As you dash past the corner — you've hidden a stolen pomegranate behind your back.
Thief.
And yet, he didn't slip a word to your master.
...
"Quicker." Your master scolds, his voice ringing within the walls of the dojo and shaking the fear into other candidates. "Not with frustration, [surname]."
You ignore the stares directed your way to focus on your work. Out of everyone, he decided to loom over you today. Which is strange, because he's never done that before. You fear he's found out about the stolen fruit.
It was delicious.
You shared it with the hungry kitten down the block during your break.
Maybe he smells it off of you...
Or maybe it's the red tint on your fingertips!?
You grunt in response, arms trembling above your head. In a swift motion, the blade slices through the air. Sweat begins to build up your spine.
"That's enough." He cuts you short, frankly, having had enough of your shaky movements. If your wrist had given up, you could've sliced away at the waraji holding his swords in place. "You're only suited for surprise attacks, hardly for long term battle. You can retire for the day."
Embarrassment crawled up your tense shoulders, hunching over yourself to hide, and you're pretty sure it's obvious in the way you scan the room for any onlookers.
You falter when you meet the curious red eyes of the greatest forger.
Mr. Rokuhira was watching in the far corner.
You adjust your collar nervously. There's no way you'll be a final candidate for the Shinuchi, nor any other enchanted blade.
Tensions are rising. He needed to find a wielder now more than ever.
You know his final decision without a single word leaving his throat.
Rejected.
"...Good day." You've never had such a need to break your dull sword in half before. The essence of your family. The last bit of their money poured towards bringing them honor has gone down the drain.
The worst part wasn't returning home a disappointment, it was knowing you didn't show your all out of fear of not being enough.
Now what?
Would your parents arrange a marriage? Probably. But there's no way you'll find a suitor at your age.
Would they still allow you to practice the art of the sword?
Oh, how you hope they do.
"[Surname]." As you turn to leave, the rumbling voice of a newly formed friend speaks — the younger Misaka. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest as he takes a step towards you. He fiddles with his belt nervously, the lump in his throat; heavy. "You did well today."
A simple sentence. Something rarely spoken, something very rarely expressed.
But your eyes light up like no other star he's seen and a blooming warmth spreads across your face.
"Thank you, Misaka." You raise your thumb his way, "I'll be sure to take you out next spring. It's a date!"
"W-what are you saying!?" He draws his lips thinly, opting to hide behind his hair. "I only did it because I wanted to, you do not have to repay me."
Oh. It's funny, you think. How his pupils dilate when he's embarrassed.
"I want to do so." You smile warmly before it falls flat, "One question; did you snitch on me?"
Natsuki rolls his eyes.
"I am not that petty."
You walk closer to him with a tilt of your head. He meets you halfway, rolling his sore shoulders. "What is there to be petty about?"
He's silent for a beat.
Then, his gaze wavers to the wooden floorboards, his feet shift nervously, "You only talked to me to distract me."
"Maybe." His ears perk up, "There were plenty of free spaces with trees, I chose you because you're diligent, you probably would've noticed me steal- taking."
"...You think I'm diligent?"
Perhaps he isn't as much as you thought him to be.
You'd stare him down in class.
Daring to copy his brutal techniques, pushing yourself to dual-wield when you returned home for the weekend. He really is impressive.
He's admirable.
Often hidden behind his older brother. A shadow of him. Not to you. Somedays, it was harder to notice him through the stress of it all, but you always found him.
"Yes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be leaving. I have to wait for my friend, but..." You grin at him, "I'll be back tomorrow. And I'll do even better. Just keep an eye out for me too."
He nods firmly. And before he knows it, he's left watching your back from a distance, his heart lighter in his chest.
...
"[N-name]! [Naaaameee]!!"
The smell of recognition hits your nostrils, and you quickly rise to straighten out your appearance. A light gasp leaves you when you realize you've forgotten your short sword in the rush of leaving, what you hope was, so mysteriously.
Awe, man.
You turn just in time to spot the ruffle of clothes that comes barreling your way. A look of surprise takes over your previously saddened expression.
Truly, what a surprise!
"Oh! You finished earlier, Uruha. How did it go?"
"Nevermind that," He quickly waves you off, in his hands, he held an umbrella. "I came as soon as I heard of the news!!"
"What news?" You wanted to gulp, maybe swallow whatever spit you could muster but your mouth is drying up.
"It's going to rain today, [name]!" He frets. "You'll catch a cold!"
A breathless chuckle leaves you. Sure, you and Uruha have trained in the same dojo — today, like any other day, he was also with you. But, he was always busy performing for Rokuhira (though maybe you were just bitter).
Sometimes, he didn't realize your hurt through his admiration.
It's very weird.
But he's constantly talking about him and focusing all his attention on the older man...
Should one feel bitter at their friends admiration for another?
No, right?
"Uruha..." Regardless, he's been your friend since birth and you must be happy he has someone to look up to. "I'm so glad to see you. I have so much on my mind!"
Yoji nods, taking in your every word. Your worries leave you gasping and pale.
"I don't think I'll be getting a sword anytime soon but that doesn't mean I want to quit." You pop open the umbrella he handed over to you, it jumps upwards with the wind but you're quick to pull it back towards you, "Of course, if I have to leave I wouldn't want to stop either, but maybe I'll have to. Knowing my mother she'll want me to marry off to some rich suitor rather than going to a war I probably won't win..."
When you look over to him, his hand is on his chin and his eyes glossy. He's lost deep in thought.
You would've liked to hear some words of comfort from him. He's always been good at that, too. Lots of things really. But hope is the biggest one for you.
He's like a shooting star...
"Whatever! I'm great — whether I get married or rejected!!" Uruha laughs at your declaration, his cheeks glowing happily.
Your friend nods in agreement.
You scoot closer to shove your shoulder against his and keep him covered from the drizzle. You note the grateful glint in his dark green eyes.
"If that's the case, then..." Uruha fiddles with his fingers. A stain of red paint colors his thumb. He wondered if his eyeshadow had smudged when he wiped away at a drop of rain that fell on him before he ran to your typical meeting place beside a lurking kitten. "Let's get married."
"Huh??" You blink rapidly as if it could help you understand what left his mouth. "Married? You want to marry me?"
It reminds you of a promise long spoken when you were kids, barely grasping the pressures of marital status.
'You're the only one I love,' he said, eyes dripping with joy as he spoke with you. 'Mama says to marry the one who makes me happy. I wanna marry you, and then we can be together forever."
'Promise?'
'I pinky swear.'
Of course, his mother quickly interrupted the process and explained the immutable contracts behind this spell so it was never done.
The promise still lingers in the air.
To this day, you wondered if he remembers it.
"Yes, you and I. I'm not asking as a suitor. I'm asking as your friend. I love you! You're my best friend, my only one." His confession warmed your heart enough to smile toothily, but the context behind it froze you.
"My mother wouldn't approve, you know how it is... she wouldn't like to be family with yours..." A rebuttal caused by a rumor spreading around by, yours truly, his mother. An unintentional thing that claimed her a common tart.
Ms. Uruha had voiced her concerns about your mother's secrecy to a gossiping aunt around town and boom! The rumors came flying around that your mother takes men trying to find the comfort of her late husband who had fought in this war.
Your friend shifts slightly. He hums in understanding.
The rain starts to pour harder. It hits his shoulder. He tenses at the sudden change of weather.
"This is if you go through every available candidate and decide none of them to be good to you. I'll earn the Kumeyuri and prove to her I'm worthy enough. A-and then I'll court you and ask for your hand in marriage."
Uruha is soft.
His love for you is soft. There is no doubt in your mind that you want to marry him and live a happy life. What better thing than to marry your best friend?
He is the first day of the rest of your life.
You can't remember a day without him.
If someone were to prohibit you from seeing him.. if he were to die in this war — you believe you'll die of heartbreak.
"I don't know." Your chest rumbles with giggles. Not to make fun of him nor that you find his claim ridiculous. It's that you're considering his offer, "I have a gambling problem."
"I'll pay for your schooling too. I don't want you to go dumb on me." He teases, eyes narrowing to add to his joke.
You smack his chest.
"Just guide me home, little star."
Uruha nods and walks at your speed, eyes twinkling your way. He makes sure to shield you from the rain and when you come across a puddle, he carries you over it like a dramatized princess storybook.
Like always.
...
He's in a different spot today. Your new friend. Natsuki. To be more specific... he's behind you. He's watching you as you asked him to.
You try to not let it affect you.
It was routine to observe him move.
It helped you relax into position.
And now, he's the one observing you. He listens to your small complaints and your heavy breathing, a stark contrast to him — calm, a poker face.
You felt it.
His power looms behind you. It's a reminder to stay on your best side — it's funny, you've never felt such a need to impress such a person before. Not Mr. Rokuhira or your mother.
Not Uruha.
You wanted to be your best to fit his standards.
"Bring your shoulders down," he advises beneath his breath. Your ears perk up at this before you follow his instructions. Oh, that feels much better.
"Thanks!"
"Focus." He was the one who took your attention in the first place, but, you shut your mouth.
That day, like the next and the day after that, Natsuki stood behind you. Although, it was on a Wednesday night when he decided to wear his hair in a small ponytail, strands framing his face as they were too short and slipped from the rubber band.
You thought he looked beautiful.
He clicked his tongue in frustration. Yet again. It finally got to the point where he had to stop to tuck his hair behind his ears with a huff.
You watch him from the corner of your eyes where you sat for a break with Uruha — who, bless him, yaps your ear off. Everything enters through one ear and flies right out.
The green eyed boy comes to a stop, his voice faltering when he realizes your attention to be elsewhere.
Natsuki's always trying his hardest.
You liked that.
Strangely enough, you find your heart pumping quicker than it should.
"...[Name]?" You raise an eyebrow, silently waiting for him to continue but it never comes.
"What is it, Yoyo?" He flushes slightly.
It's an old nickname you used on him whenever he got sad as kids. The first time was when he scraped his knee as he ran to you from school — you never had the opportunity to go so he would always try to teach you what he remembered that day — he still came to you but his eyes were red from crying just a little. He cheered up quickly after you gave him the name and a kiss on the cheek.
"Did you get what I was saying?" He asks, already expecting your answer.
"...No. I'm sorry, Uruha." He smiles sadly, "Was it anything of importance?"
He shakes his head, fingers trembling as he threads them together, fiddling nervously. Your first sign of a lie had you not been so preoccupied with a certain scarred-faced boy.
"Uruha..." Said boy perks up. He eagerly waits for you to continue, "How do you keep your hair up?"
He always keeps his hair up, in fact. Sure, some strands fall here and there, but it's nothing grand.
"Oh, well I cut it short enough.. in layers, sorta? Yeah, it's whatever." He touches his hair gingerly.
"All these years and I never knew you cut your own hair!" You blink in surprise, your hand raising to pinch at the tip of his nose. He smiles lightly, "Why haven't you told me!? I could've done it myself!"
"I don't trust you that much." He jokes, his typical personality coming back.
When your two-minute break ends, you fall back into position in front of Natsuki who pulls a poker face.
Natsuki grunts. You hum in surprise. That's new! He's never sounded that exhausted before. You peer over your shoulder curiously.
He wipes the sweat away from his face, his hair sticking to his neck. It must irritate him.
You glance around the room. No one is paying attention to you and him so it should be okay to lower your stance...
"What's wrong?"
Natsuki blows his hair from his face.
"I want to see you properly." He comments as if that wasn't the most romantic thing you've ever been told.
Your stomach jumps through your throat and out of your mouth, not really, it just felt like it. Is this how it feels to like someone?
This... this can't be!!
"But I can't because my hair obscures my sight. I tried to put it up but it's not working." He complained.
"L-let me give it a go." Oh man, you've stuttered. Great. Now he's looking at you with a raised brow, "Your hair- Can I try to help?"
He steps closer, "...Okay."
"Okay!" You sheath your sword before leaning into him, your arms burn as his hand brushes against them to remove the band that fails to hold his hair properly, but that could also be an ache from training. "I hope Mr. Shirakai won't get upset at this- that's right! I have clips. Just in case Uruha wants to push his hair back.."
You tuck his hair behind his ears — his gaze burning holes in your face. You're afraid to stare back so you focus on your task by swooping loose strands into a ponytail before you pull out the clips you were talking about.
He deadpans, "What's that?"
"A bear." You comment dumbly. He's hesitant to have it on, but he doesn't stop you from pushing his bangs from his face and clipping them back. "Your hair is soft."
"Focus." He hisses, pupils dilating.
"Whoops."
"Also," He starts, finally able to watch his view, pointing to a glinting short sword on a bench beside his bag, "You left that here. Take better care of your things, kid."
"Oh!" You exclaim, having completely forgotten about it. "How did you know it was min- We're the same age, Natsuki."
"...Are we?" He scans you, head to toe. He seems to do that a lot; assessing you. "You act younger."
You step back into place, straightening out your posture, happy that he let you help him out.
However, your mood dampens when you spot Uruha's lowering gaze from across the room, eyes refusing to meet yours. Weird.
"Because we are young. Might as well enjoy it."
Regardless of the good moments, your master continues to loom over you whenever he spots a glimpse of weakness. It didn't do you any good and it doesn't ease your worries but Natsuki would sometimes whisper what you're doing wrong before you could get in trouble again — a better mentor than most.
It's only when Master Itsuo decides he wants to munch on something that you get another break and you, once again, find yourself in front of a pomegranate tree; a man digging into the 'forbidden' fruit quickly catches your attention.
"...Mr. Rokuhira, if you wanted to eat that, you should do so away from the scene of the crime." He hums thoughtfully, tanned cheeks lighting up with the juice, "Master is very strict on them- I think he wants to sell them but I'm not sure, he's a greedy man. I know being self-employed doesn't bring in the big bucks but if you were starving we could've gone to my place and I could've made you something, I can't buy you anything because I, too, have no money—"
Rokuhira blinks, incredibly offended; "What do you mean? Does it look like I'm broke?!"
"No, Sir!" You wave your hands around frantically, "I think I'm just concerned about my role here so I'm just spitting out things. Don't worry about it, you look like you have some money."
"You afraid?" He doesn't sound like he's teasing you and he doesn't look like the type to ridicule you for something so serious, so, you nod in all honesty, "Listen here, [Surname]... that might be my fault."
"Pardon?"
Rokuhira glances around as if he'll be exposing a great, big secret any second now. You follow his movements, completely missing the fact that he reaches above his head to steal two more pomegranates.
"These men here are training for the Kumeyuri — they've more experience than you ever had. Some of them have a background in the Yakuza, gangs, they have families who have mastered the sword through many generations yet.. Your cuts are so clean and precise even with a dull blade, I feel you could level this entire city. It's almost like you act upon the muscle memory your brain has forced you to reenact. It shows that your spirit energy is too rigid. It's only ever highly sensitive to something that makes you feel hostile. For that reason, I spoke to your master about letting you go. I will not be choosing you for an Enchanted blade because you are far too unprepared for such a weapon."
"..." Is he seriously joking straight to your face? "You can't just babble nonsense! When someone as young as me wants comfort, you should be serious!"
"Hey! I am older than you, you shouldn't be scolding me!" Mr. Rokuhira pinches your cheek a little too roughly.
You try your best to blink away your tears, his speech hit you harder than it you wanted to let on, "What then? Do I give up and return home? I don't want to do that..."
"Your master is trying to make me reconsider my decision." That explains why he's been going so rough on you lately, "You will have to show me or else... the Kamunabi is more keen in taking you in as one of their fighters."
...
As the weekend passed, you shared your news with your parents; about how you think you're not going to wield the sword you wanted, maybe not even one at all. You expected your family's reaction so it was no surprise when your older brother shook his head and your stepfather had a worried look on his face.
"I told you that dojo is full of men who've had experience. They're lousy, stinky, and loud. You should've stuck to ballet," Your mother repeats the words she told you the first year you trained and came back home with a bloody nose and a weakened body. "They are not training you properly because of your poor background. I'll march right over to pull you ou-"
"No, please." You interrupt her with a shaky voice, scared of her decision but if you didn't at least try to convince her, she could've said she'll send you away with her relatives across the sea before she even realized it, "I do not have enough stamina, nor can I get any better if I don't work on aligning my spirit energy properly.. it is always something that I force out when I feel too stressed, it has to be natural-"
Though your comment was cut short when your younger sister slams the door open, tears fresh in her face, "he's rejected me, papa, mama!"
Your sister, though extremely beautiful and smart, had no luck finding a suitable partner to bring the family the money needed to keep food on the table.
Your stepfather had been the one to convince her to go through with this marriage, but it's a role she was born to fulfill so she quickly agreed — they didn't exactly trust you to succeed. They were very reluctant to let you use a sword in the first place because they saw more opportunities when you danced.
But it is that background that is helping you.
Your parents gasped and shoot up to comfort her, "Why would he do such a thing?! You're so beautiful, any man should be lucky to have you!!"
Your brother sends you a deadpan stare, "That could've been you."
Or him, "Mother thought you to be too ugly for a wife, so shut your knob!"
Thanks to your sister, your mother continued to take out loans to save her marital problems, thus making you slip back to training undetected.
It wasn't fair to you that your stepfather had already paid your greedy master for the year, which, by the way, seemed like a total rip-off.
As your master advised, not with frustration — never with a negative emotion. The art of the sword must be cared for. Your body, your spirit should flow through your blade with ease because you will it, not because you force it.
"I think it's possible. But, you have to take into consideration you were trained to be still," Uruha argued as you sat around to eat lunch with him. He cuts half of his fruit sandwich to share with you, "So fluidity is hard to retract when you've only recently started to be comfortable in your body."
"...How did you get comfortable pushing your spirit energy into the sword?"
"I was taught breathing exercises." He breathes in deeply and exhales five seconds later to demonstrate. You copy him curiously, "It's a form of meditation."
"Oh, yeah." You fall into a small silence. You were taught to fake fluidity and to perform with flexibility, it's a dance that can't risk a wrong turn — if not, you could pull a muscle. To hold your head high and to keep your mind focused on the arch of your foot.
With a katana... You must hold a relatively clear mind. It's almost nearly has the same morals. The biggest challenge here is how to wield your spirit in an enchanted sword said to end the war.
"...What are you doing after this?"
"I have to babysit master's granddaughter."
"Can I come?" He nods eagerly and sends you a smile as you munch down on your food, your cheek bloating up as you chew, "I'll bring her something. I don't know, I'll think about it."
"She likes cute things."
He's right.
She loved cute things. It got to the point where your sight was blinded by the amount of bling in her pretty bedroom. She lounges around on a huge, white teddy bear, baby blue bow around its neck.
When she spots Uruha (and you, she somehow knew you?), she sends a timid wave, "Yoji, [name].. where are we going today?"
"Hm?" You have never met this little girl before, she has been around the dojo before but you're pretty sure her grandfather has never introduced you two, "How-"
Uruha jolts upright and sweats nervously. He's quick to block the little girl's view of you — "How about we go out to eat? Are you hungry? I think so-"
"Sushi." Her voice rings before he can finish his sentence. From this angle, you can't see Uruha's face but you're pretty sure she whispers something to him, "Take me out for sushi..."
Uruha turns to you expectedly, you hope he wasn't asking for your (nonexistent) money, "...Okay, I'm fine with that... Uruha?"
"Yes. As long as you're happy." His eyes light up as he rises from his crouched position.
Your gaze wanders around the cute room —
Thank you. You wanted to say. Though it's a bit hard to speak when your breath catches in your throat.
On Kiri's vanity, a photograph is stuck to the mirror, you and your best friend had taken that one on new years where the moon was at its highest peak. It's beautiful.
Maybe a bit creepy since it's your first impression of her.
Kiri follows your gaze as Uruha does the same but with a startled look, "Your secrets out, Uruha..."
You laugh, genuinely amused at the glow in the apple of Uruha's cheeks, "What secret? Was little Yoyo bragging about how cool his best friend is?"
Kiri nods, her little finger pointing at the betrayed boy, "Uruha talks about you so much that I've memorized your face by the way he described it. And he gave me this photo. I've been wanting to meet you."
"...Me?"
"Yeah." That's all she replies with.
"..." You wait for a bit to see if she'll continue, but she doesn't.
After recovering from his embarrassment, for whatever reason, he decides to ask; "For what?"
"I'm hungry..."
The sushi bar is expensive. Fish is pretty hard to find when the Island is at war with another Island. Uruha doesn't falter though, he looks at the price and winces but he pulls through.
"We can go elsewhere. I don't want you spending more money than necessary." Also, you didn't have enough money for a third plate of their plainest meal.
Underneath the table, you brush your shoe against his to catch his attention. He leans into your side, "It's okay," he whispers with a gentle smile, "Eat whatever you like, [name]."
You hesitate.
The conveyor brings out a small plate of your favorite dessert and Uruha reaches for it then he pushes it toward you with shining eyes, "Eat well."
"They're already serving desserts!?" Your brows shoot up in surprise. It's only lunch time! "One time I threw up on my mom because she fed me too much of this and that, to her, meant I could no longer eat it ever again but Ms. Uruha had unintentionally bought me a lifetime of it and I finished it in a week-"
You took a deep breath to speak again but the little girl beside you kicks her legs up and down, up and down, her stool swings with her movements, "You talk a lot."
The corner of your lips nudge downwards, so slightly, something unimaginable, but Uruha catches it from the corner of his eye, and he decides to use his chopsticks to pick up some Maki, the soft crinkle of the seaweed gets your attention.
He holds it near your lips, "ahh,"
You grin, wide and defeated, before you open your mouth to bite down on it, "Mm!"
"Is it good?" Uruha chuckles when you nod eagerly. "It's my favorite. Tell me your thoughts."
He waits patiently for you to swallow your food before you speak again — "It's delicious! The cucumber is a nice combination with rice, I never knew that.. Would you like some, Kiri?"
Kiri watches over your shoulder at the display of affection and nods, "Do married people do that a lot?"
"Married?"
"Married?!" Uruha bolts out of his chair as he chokes on his rice. Once he clears his throat, he shakes his head rapidly, "Do you think we're married?!"
He studies the scene before him.
Him, you, and a kid — enjoying lunch together. A f.. family. Him, feeding you.. a c-couple. His head pounds with an overload of information.
"You said so! - muff mufff " before she could finish her sentence, Uruha forcefully reached over you to feed her some sashimi. He practically lies his chest over your lap, puffs of steam huffing out of his redden ears.
"Not yet." He clarifies underneath his breath.
"What's gotten into you, Uruha?" You furrow your brows, as he stumbles back into his chair, your hand pets Kiri's hair as she struggles to chew her food, "She could've choked!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Kirin!" He rushes over to her, and he caresses her back in a soothing motion before he kneels before the little girl, "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"
She shakes her head and Uruha let's out a sigh of relief.
But it reminds you of your gift, "Oh!" You gasp and reach into your pocket, "I got you something."
The small wooden box clacks softly as you place it in front of her. She opens it eagerly. She must really like gifts.
"I got you this bracelet. My father was a jeweler.. and he taught me how to make them when I was younger... I hope you like it."
Her eyes light up, "It's cute!"
You straighten your posture with a happy look, "I'm glad you like it!"
"Would you make a ring for Uruha just like this?"
"A ring?" Uruha shares a look with you. The girl is a curious little thing. She never explains herself properly.
"Yeah, rings for married people."
"Married..." You mutter beneath your breath. The topic constantly comes up like the breeze. "We're not married.."
"I thought people in their thirties were married already..." Kiri wiggles her, now jeweled, wrist, "Uruha said-"
You both speak at the same time.
"You thought I was in my thirties?"
"We're getting married."
"Oh.. about that-" You laugh nervously, "I don't think my mother is worrying about that now. My sister was rejected, had she gotten married, I would've been next in line!"
Uruha- uruha?
His gaze faces downwards, lips bunched up to the side, "You wouldn't like to marry me regardless?"
You stare, speechless.
When he realizes what he said, his eyes widen but he doesn't back down, your favorite thing about him. "I-I mean... Since my proposal, there's been a change in the way I see you... I'm scared of how you'll take it- but then I realized, if I lived a lie, I wouldn't know what to do and then I panicked-"
"Uruha.. slow down," He's rambling unintelligible nonsense. You watch the heave of his chest rise and fall rapidly beneath his jacket, he stands to his full height timidly, "I don't want you to be afraid to tell me anything..."
Your heart sinks to the deepest pit of your stomach. What's so scary about these new feelings he's realized?
Does he hate you now?
Uruha stares at you softly, it's not a strange or new look, he's always stared at you that way, it always makes you smile shyly, just like now.
His lips are trembling against each other almost as if he's holding himself back from blurting out the wrong thing, "I've been seeing you in the way you watch the moon,"
You shrink into yourself as you feel your cheeks heating up, "...Is that so?"
He gave a single, earnest nod that has your heart soaring.
The moon is your favorite thing — something so light and powerful, the Earth will collapse without it. You would dance beneath it in your younger days, even now, practicing under the moonlight is peaceful.
Anyone could use a moment with the moon and it'd be theirs to remember.
Uruha understood your view. He was the one who would watch you with calculated eyes, looking out for any danger that could arise.
"H-how did you find out?"
He shrugs, but he knew. It's written in the way he twiddles with his fingers nervously. He purses his lips, "I was fine before I asked for your hand, more blinded than anything.. but then I saw you with Natsuki.. He's a nice guy, right? Maybe we can be pals."
Natsuki?
Your pulse jumps at the thought of his name. Stop it, body! That's weird! You shouldn't feel like this. He's just some cute boy with a wicked scar across his nose. Sure, you love scars but that doesn't mean you should go after someone for their physical features, no matter what your mother says!
Kiri looks between you two. She's confused. Very perplexed. It's clear on her face, "The moon is pretty..."
Uruha nods again, but at her claim, "The moon is very pretty."
"I wanna go..." She drops her shoulders with a tired yawn. Your friend gives in to her demand as he takes her by the hand. You can hear him asking if she needs the restroom before leaving.
You still. On the stool with a dessert halfway finished and a jaw wide open.
Did he confess to you or are you looking too deeply into it?!
No... this can't be.
"Gah!" You shake your head rapidly to rid yourself of these thoughts before following them just as Uruha finished paying.
Stepping outside, the harsh wind brushes against your face, bringing tears to your eyes. A shiver runs down your spine and your bare hand is developed with warmth in a tentative touch.
The source of this warmth has eyes that well up with water, fingers wrapped around your pinky, "I forgot my bracelet..."
Uruha jumps up and rushes into the restaurant before she can burst out crying. You assume even a little drop of tears would result in murder. Master can be a bit tough. Greedy and tough.
"You have him wrapped around your finger."
She looks at the dust he left behind, "So do you! I've been wanting to meet the one he talks about so highly. Your sword is dull.."
"It's on purpose." At first, it wasn't. You've worn it out so yet it still cuts perfectly. Now, you don't have the funds to get a new one but you don't want anyone to know that so this stays between you and whoever you told.
Also, you got lazy after sharpening it.
"I told myself; anyone who actually mentions it... I will create my own fighting style. You'd be surprised how many people don't say anything." You shake your head softly. Your fingertips adjusting the swords attached to your hip, "Uruha has said it before, he even offered to sharpen it for me, but it's Uruha. I trust he'll do anything for me."
"Stray away from the Iai White purity style.." She tries to convince you but you simply raise an amused brow.
"I don't know. I'll think about it, Ms. Kiri."
"I'll destroy it," She smiles cutely, her baby teeth shining brightly.
You laugh under your breath. She's so adamant on this, "I haven't gotten it down, I'm as strong as Master wants me to be but not to his standards..."
She tilts her head curiously.
Her eyes fall on your form. She scans you from your shoulders and the awkward hunch of it, the tremble in your arm to the shuffle you give from her stare.
You figured you'd be less awkward given how Natsuki does the same but this is ten times worse.
"Maybe you just don't fit in my pops' style." She pops out her belly, rubbing away at the bloat of it with a groan, "Why not make your own fighting style and teach me. I'll be your first student."
"Well... your grandfather doesn't allow it..."
"I bet you can't." She blinks slowly as she stares up at you, her short figure swaying in the direction of the wind like she didn't just trigger you. "You're afraid to push your creativity. That's why you don't want to do it, right?"
This offends you. Yes, you can. You can always do it and you'll train her and prove to her she was wrong!
And just like that, Kiri got her wish —
"Watch me."
...
Fall comes to a screeching halt the following week, much like the raven in the sky, its beady stare is harsh and hypnotic — Mr. Samura has been putting in the work to heal fallen soldiers, he's like an angel of death to you, of course he cringes at the name but that's where the fun lies so he can't ruin your mood.
As the days pass by, you take in all that you can with the white Iai white purity style of Itsuo Shirakai. It feels as if you're doing undercover work.
Maybe Kiri did have some reasoning. Maybe she is right. This style relies too much on breathing techniques and a state of relaxation — which wasn't up your alley.
Well, it's not most of his students can do it. The only known one so far is Seiichi Samura and he got an Enchanted Sword, oh, and Uruha has gotten extremely close (who you learned was not as keen on pushing his feelings aside as you wished).
With the weather leaning towards something less familiar, another sword has been given a master; Kumeyuri.
You had the honor of standing beside Uruha when Mr. Rokuhira marched up to your friend and claimed — 'This blade suits you!'
He turned to you, eyes wide with poorly contained excitement, "I did it, [n/n]!!"
This means we're one step closer to getting married — is what he wanted to say.
Your Achilles tendon ached when you threw yourself over him, legs wrapping around his waist, and hands clutching onto his hair to shake him aggressively. Yes, it was out of pocket but you didn't know what else to do. He's quick to catch you in his arms with a hiss, "owowowww,"
"I'm so happy for you, Uruha." You stop your assault with a big smile, "You got this. I know you do."
"...Thank you!" He laughs with you, burying his face in your neck. "Would you like to do something to celebrate? We can go to a play, oh.. or the park, maybe get some ice cream..."
You loosen your hold on him, the tips of your feet meeting the wooden floorboards, "A play?"
"Y-yeah!" He nods eagerly, "It's more so a musical but you're fine with that? I got two tickets... Mr. Ibuki gave them to me after I won a match against Natsuki— it's was very difficult so I don't want to waste it!"
Duels against other students were not uncommon. Masters would often have them fight to bring rivalry and strengthen bonds but Uruha isn't a fan of participating them...
You glanced over to where Natsuki's outline stood. He watches the scene before he meets your eyes with a scowl.
You send him a smile that spooks him enough to avert his gaze.
"It's been a while since we hung out together. Just us two." You nod, taking his offer without a second thought. "What time?"
"By noon!" His eyes sparkle like a crazed man holding himself back.
"There's a bunch of puddles today.."
"Icanbeyourbridge," He heaves out, his knees buckle. "I can be anything you want!"
What is it that you're doing to him?
You laugh, "Me too!"
"I'll see you at noon, Yoji." His lips part at the sound of his given name coming from your tongue.
"I'll be waiting!" His knees buckle and just as you run out of view, he collapses to the mat. The students around him watch with secondhand embarrassment.
From across the room, Natsuki holds back a scoff.
He clings to you too much.
It's so pathetic. He's like a whining pup with no manners whatsoever. He didn't offer to walk you home.
Natsuki shakes his head and storms out of the dojo. He always gets his way. Uruha is pathetic. He's annoying.
He needs to get out of here.
"...[Name]?" But that boy didn't find you before noon, waiting patiently and nervously. He walked up to you, voice taking on a gentle tone.
"Natsuki!" You chirp happily, "I'm just waiting for Uruha!"
He nods, unable to hide his disgust in his scowl.
You smile awkwardly.
"You like music?" You glance at the vinyl record grasped in his hand.
"Yeah. Heavy rock, at times, I listen to ballads, but instrumentals are what interests me." He explains without skipping a beat. You nod eagerly at his poorly concealed enthusiasm. It's grand!
It's grand and it's adorable how he turns the vinyl around to show you the cover and artist. He then goes on to explain the various music albums he's listened to.
"...What's so funny?" He inquires. It was only then that you realized the boisterous laugh you let out. You force yourself to settle down, shoulders shaking to contain yourself.
"You're beautiful, Natsuki..." Your whisper of awe enters his reddening ears, "It's so nice to see you happy."
You're weird.
So strange.
He couldn't pinpoint his feelings but he can see how Uruha melts into a puddle of his own heart. You can be endearing.
In the following days, you and Uruha have been inseparable. Natsuki hasn't seen much of you at the dojo, in fact, you didn't even show up anymore but he'd see you walking around town... with him.
It irritated him like no other.
Come back to me.
Don't look at him.
He wants him to stay away.
Why is it always him?
"Here," You pass me a bowl with a peeled fruit. Natsuki stops with wide eyes, "I know you don't like it.. but it was something that reminded me of you on my date- day out."
".. You peeled a pomegranate for me?"
Of course.
You bought it with your last bit of money. You know it's not needed, especially when you could steal one from the trees right outside.
"Yes, is it so weird?'' You inquire with a tilt of your head. He finds it absolutely adorable, not that he'd let on. But the way he tears his gaze away from you should have been a warning.
"No... Only my brother does it."
"Well, now you have me too!" You mention it excitedly.
You quickly find out that Natsuki is far from a quiet man.
His eyes speak volumes. The air around him shifts with his mood. His shoulders tense when he hates something and his pupils dilate when he feels an emotion so intense. Something he does not know how to react to.
He tenses up. It's a mistake so small, you could've missed it had you not trained alongside him, "...I haven't been seeing much of you lately."
You visited the dojo today to collect your bearings, more importantly, to talk to him. Natsuki finally finds out you've given up a spot as a candidate, not yet a fighter within the Kamunabi.
"Oh.. I've been training on my own. With Mr. Shirakai's granddaughter too, she's sorta my student. It's a big deal. I can't have anyone knowing of it, but I just told you so you better help me keep quiet because Uruha could get in big trouble-"
Big trouble? Uruha?
"I can help you."
"Really?! Thank you!!"
...
"Where did you go yesterday?" You fiddle with his fingers, your digits brushing over his knuckles.
He was supposed to meet you and Kiri for lunch, it was a little thing you're doing now- sort of like a mini date.. with Kiri.
He squeezes his eyes shut. So many fights, too many people he's met; all of them can't do a number the way you do.
"I visited your mother. She was holding a load so I helped her." He leans his chin down on the table to get a better view of you. He feels intoxicated with your touch. It soothes him. "She made me your favorite food and she asked me to delay my leave because she thought you'd be devastated."
"Anything else?"
"She said she knows she didn't do right with my mother but she enjoyed the good times.. then she gave me her blessing." He whispers just for you to hear. "I didn't ask for it.. I think she read it off my face.."
"What?" Your eyes widen, curious. Did she really?! "Maybe the blessing was for my sister- she's looking to be wedded... You should have her-"
"I do not want your sister." He looks sick at the thought of another — "I don't want to love another even after death."
"..."
What an awful thing love can be. Soft, filled with shared giggles and touches. Humiliating in its struggle to hold back that laughter and snorts. Human with the heart and soul.
So soft. So loving.
You never wish for him to suffer. Never alone. Not at all. He's the light that warms your head and the smell of pollen that tickles your nose.
This war doesn't help with your nerves. Especially because he'll be in the Frontline soon. He'll be gone and you might never see him...
"I don't want you to leave me, Yoji." Your beautiful best friend, "And if you do— return to me."
Please.
It is all you wish in this world.
"Always."
...
Present day,
Since the death of his brother, Natsuki has gotten closer to you (maybe the fact that the Kamunabi refused to let you near that man or know any possible information about him also helped).
Since then, you've lost your passion for sword fighting as, in your words, 'Kamunabi introduced me to it, it feels wrong of me to bear a weapon for their sake when I can't even see my husband for three years'.
He knows it's immature of him to wish death on your husband so he can be the only one occupying your thoughts but his grip tightens on the handles and his arms want to swing his swords wildly at the man who took it all.
When he catches a whiff of your shampoo, a smell he wishes he could taste, Natsuki cuts his music abruptly.
He always does this.
"...How's it going, Suki?" Said man sighs. It's a heave out of desperation. And he quickly gets your full attention, "Have you eaten lunch yet? I can bring you something, or maybe we should go out.. whatever you decide."
You cling to him.
Natsuki feels bitter about it.
He knows you miss him. He sees it in the way you fumble at the mention of his sword, the sight of a flashy article of clothing, the color red. Natsuki makes a point to be different from him. He never wants to be him. Not in the slightest.
He doesn't want to be a replacement for a man he hates and you love.
Only... he also follows after you.
Maybe you've taken advantage of knowing you'd find him by your side as he does with you. One offer and he takes it, so asking him for lunch will make him take his focus away from vengeance.
You take up his mind.
It's on par with his brother's death.
You're the only one who opens his pomegranate, the taste still as bitter as ever but the difference now is the twist in his heart.
If Uruha were to see the sight, he hoped his soul would break with jealousy.
"...You need a break. It's very worrisome that you're in here day and night," You frown sadly, gaze falling to your twiddling fingers, the glint of your ring makes you falter.
"Easier said than done. Though, I know how to care for myself too," Natsuki states, lashes fluttering shut. His body shines with a sheen of sweat, glistening in the light of the room. His shoulders slump, muscles melting like an ice cream on a hot day, "Let's go out if you're so worried."
"Really?!" You lighten up. Your ring finger feels heavy but you're happy he's willing to leave the hole he dug in this training room. "Oh, they're serving boba tea, can you believe it?! Have you tried grape flavor? I want to. I wonder what type they have.."
"No," Natsuki meets you by the doorway, the corners of his eyes crinkling inwards as a tiny smile, something so incredibly warm and filled with adoration, peeks at you. You return the gesture with a wider grin, "Boba tea is too sweet."
Your smile is too bright.
He almost pulled you into a hug. One that could last until you forget him. And hopefully Uruha too.
"Just a bit," You agree, your hands reach up to push his headphones off and away from his body, "it's too expensive-"
"I'll pay." He raises his fingers to your face, tentatively. Something he'd act upon only in his thoughts years ago...
His thumb runs across your eyebrow, trailing down to your cheekbone to pinch at the fat before doing the same to the other side.
He couldn't seem to keep his hands to himself today.
Perhaps he's taken advantage of your 'missing' husband.
He pinches harshly to push himself out of his head.
"Owww!" You pull away to rub at your cheeks, "Why did you do that?!"
"I told you not to call me that.."
"It's cute."
"That's the problem."
"Gahh!" You glare. It's weak and considering the glimmer in your eyes, it doesn't do anything to move him.
"I'm coming back when we finish," he declares before you decide to take him away any longer. "Feel free to watch me."
"Maybe I will." It reels you in enough to bite your ring finger off from the sheer guilt, "Something tells me tonight will be a hassle so I'd like to stick by you."
"What makes you think that?"
You laugh with a small shrug, "You finally came out of your cave. So... you best protect me if something happens, Mr. Commander."
“So loyal,” he murmurs, his accent wrapping around the English words, making them sound dark and dangerous. “Everywhere I look … there you are.”
You’ve memorized every vein in his neck and every slide of his fingers across the strings, thinking you were the one doing the watching. But from the edge of the stage, through the sweat and the blinding lights, he’s been watching you back.
