#✲ \ 𝚃𝙾 𝙸𝚂𝙼𝙴𝙽𝙴 ‚ ic.

[pruinesce]

“   i’m sorry if he scared you.   ”   fuyumi’s voice is as tender as the hands tending to his burnt palm   ⸻   ignoring the seething remains of her brother hovering over his shoulder,   watching with a twisted scowl as she wipes with a cool cloth.   it’s not the first time touya has tried to drive away some poor soul trying to make simple conversation,   but it’s certainly the first he’s been so aggressive about.   she doesn’t understand it   ...   but,   she supposes,   sometimes there’s no understanding a curse.

“   ...   he can be difficult,   sometimes.   [   he seethes at that,   too,   but fuyumi only gives him a pointed glare.   ]   i’ve never seen him do that,   though.   ”

@tomoge​,   minchul.

[pruinesce]

“   here,   shouyo - kun   ⸻   ”   fuyumi sets aside her pen and clipboard,   shrugging off the cardigan around her shoulders.   she shuffles in place beside him where he holds the ball and mimics his stance,   only hers is much more confident   ...   and much more powerful.   “   let me see the ball.   i’ll serve it,   and you just watch,   alright?   ”

@tomoge​,   hinata!

[pruinesce]

fuyumi studies the blank canvas with the same intensity as her student:   brow furrowed,   one hand tucked under her chin in thought,   bent far enough forward that her hair could almost brush his shoulder.   she waits with patience for him to notice her there,   but surprisingly,   he only continues to stare ahead of him.   what incredible focus !   she’s unable to stop the bemused smile that creeps onto her face   ⸻   she leans to his side,   just slightly,   enough so that her voice doesn’t startle him.   ‘   ah,   yaguchi - kun   ... ?   ’  

or,   at least,   she hopes it doesn’t.

‘   it’s awfully early for you to be here,   isn’t it ?   ’

@delinquart​.

[pruinesce-a2]

@reslute​,

                        he   knew   what   was   to   come   when   crimson   eyes   caught   sight   of   her.   fuyumi’s   timing   seemed   to   always   be   right   ,     &     the   familiar   thought   was   surely   proven   by   her   reaction.   benimaru   was   a   mighty   fire   soldier   ,   but   mighty   did   not   mean   invincible.   more   often   of   times   beni   was   the   one   to   leave   the   other   person   a   nasty   ,   bloody     &     bruised   up   mess   ,  while   few   other   times   did   he   receive   a   lasting   mark   on   his   face.   personally   ,   he   didn’t   mind   it.   that    wild   side   of   his   always   caught   a   thrill   when   the   other   party   managed   to   land   a   single   hit   on   him.   beni   was   the     strongest     in   asakusa   ,   but   he   wasn’t   the   only   capable   fighter. 

                       ❛            hey   ,   fuyumi   …             ❜              doing   as   he   was        told   ,   beni   was   prepared   for   the   scolding   that   was   to   come.   it   wasn’t   the   kind   you   get   from   an   overly   concerned   mother   ,   but   one   that   rang   with   a   gentle   ,   yet   alarmed   tone   in   all   its   right.   fuyumi   was   kind   ,     &     she   cared   a  lot.            ❛            how   many   times   do   i   have   tell   you   to   stop   worrying   ?    …   it’s   a   bruise   ,   it’ll   go   away   …   not   like   it   hurts   much   ,   barely   felt   it.             ❜  

      ‘   beni   . . .   ’   the nickname comes before she can stop herself, familiarity rising the safety of privacy.   her shoulders slump in sigh,   cyanotic fingers curling back to their place against her chest at his refusal;   it’s futile to argue,   she knows,   but backing down has never been part of the asakusan language.   at times even she,   as gentle and fragile as fuyumi may be,   finds a stubbornness that wells in her and makes home in her chest.   she exhales only half-worry      -      the other half entirely exasperation.   it’s the same song and dance each time,   really   . . .   one fuyumi seems unintent on giving up any time soon.

      ‘   at least let me look at it.   ’   this time,   she speaks a bit more firmly;   it’s unlikely that he listens,   she knows   . . .   but what else is there to do but try   ?   ‘   i’m not asking,   this time.   ’   it’s an empty threat,   they both should know that,   but one she hopes to be enough regardless,   though she tacks on a bargain for good measure:   ‘   just listen to me for once,   alright   ?   i’ll  -  i’ll stop nagging.   ’