#I love Aoshi so much

[earl-of-221b]

Twelfth Knight Chapter 18

Misao stared at Aoshi with a wild, uncomprehending look. Her eyes were plastered to him, but with all willpower she pulled them away to lock eyes with Omime, Okina — as if inviting them or anyone else to do something. Anything. Stop whatever Aoshi thought he was doing. But they too were transfixed, and when Misao turned back in her fluster Aoshi was still there, meeting her — only her — gazing at Misao in open supplication.

"You are right. You are astute. Everything you say is." Aoshi spared a look to Okina.

He was balanced in the corner, face white as a sheet.

"Except what you said about him. He did not make you Okashira. You took it from him." The line of Aoshi's mouth turned slightly. "As you took it from me."

Aoshi rolled his shoulders. It was all demonstration Misao needed to be reminded of the power in them, a taut yet offhanded roll, like a racehorse bucking — as he shook the debris and dust from himself instantly.

"You are astute. I am a betrayer. I'm an infidel. I'm a traitor. I'm a deserter," Aoshi said, and it was not a confession so much as him listing facts. "I wore these Oniwabanshu vestments without your leave. I used the Oniwabanshu's strength without your knowledge." He peered to the others again, surveying them, landing finally on Shirojo. "Do you see the ninja beside you? If I turned right now, they will turn on me. Shirojo, Kurojo, Omime and Omasu…and Okina. They will fight me to the death. Even if they know they cannot win. They will fight me if I insult you. Because you earned their loyalty. Their confidence." Aoshi said, droll, "Do you think I could persuade even one of them to my side? Do you think I could move them with a word from my mouth?" A sound of flat amusement fell from him. "They know who the lord of this castle is."

Aoshi lifted his head. "As do I."

The placid mask of him was gone. Removed. His face was open and earnest, eyes wracked with — with the look of someone who knew what they were saying, and knew also how to be heard; like he understood how to emote all this time and kept it at bay only with he barest skin of his teeth, as honesty and empathy, and a little hurt, too, came radiating out of him.

--

The three Okashiras of the Oniwaban in the same room.

Aoshi and Misao talk.

Might be able to tell when I first experienced RK I utterly hated Aoshi. Stupid idiot who has stupid reasons for doing stupid things. I thought he crossed the point of no return like 3 different times, yet still got unconditional forgiveness! It was narratively dissatisfying to me, how easily he got off the hook, how he could resume being Okashira, like nothing ever happened, making me HATE him. In my view, he never truly apologised or reconciled with Okina, whom he beat within an inch of his life, and Misao, whom he abandoned and betrayed. He was supposed to be their Okashira, but he turned his back on them -- his own Aoiya!

But as I wrote this fic it's totally turned my opinion of Aoshi around. I actually had to dig into his stupid head and find what made him stupid. Now I have a better grasp/interpretation of exactly why he could have gone down that path. And it's because I've also gotten older and understand now that being Okashira at age 15 utterly destroyed this man's life. I've grown to like the poor, young 26yo man, who never should have been made Okashira as a child soldier. Gifted kid but the gift was killing and the system was war. And it's from that lens that I wrote him.

[saltedcoffeee]

GIRLS!!!!!!!

[jujumin-translates]

Event | Act 3.5 Event - NEW ERA GARDEN | EP: New Era Seeds

*Contains spoilers for Act 12 - eternal moment*

Shift: Whoaaa, Reni-san was so cool!

Haruto: Don’t yell! Think about the neighbors! We’re going to get complaints!

Shift: Okay, but like, wasn’t he so cool!?

Madoka: …

Haruto: What’s with the daze? Did you watch it properly?

Madoka: Ah, sorry. I was just imagining the two of you standing on that unfinished stage someday.

Shift: With your script, of course… right, Madoka?

Madoka: Yeah!

Haruto: And I’ll be the lead, obviously.

Shift: No way, I’m not handing that role over to you.

Haruto: Hmph, then you better work even harder if you want to shoot for the top. Otherwise, there’s no way you’ll be standing on that stage.

Shift: Bet. Leave it to me.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Kabuto: …So this is Yukio Tachibana and the first-generation MANKAI Company, huh?

Aoshi: …That theater will be our new goal.

Kabuto: Yeah. We’re starting over from nothing. I don’t see how we couldn’t get fired up.

Aoshi: …By the way, I won’t be able to come and wake you up tomorrow. Please make sure you set four alarms.

Kabuto: Zznn--.

Aoshi: That didn’t take long…

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Fanboy: Uwhoooaaa! I didn’t really get some of the story, but that was so cool! It was sick as hell…!

Fanboy: (So this is the first generation of MANKAI Company… the ones who started it all…)

Fanboy: (If it weren’t for them, today’s MANKAI Company wouldn’t exist… I can’t thank them enough…)

Fanboy: (It was so worth skipping cram school to watch the stream.)

Fanboy: (I’d kill to go see a play live on Veludo Way… I wanna meet my oshi…)

Fanboy: Oh, right! I gotta make sure all the other guys have seen it too…

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

*Phone notification*

Boy Who Stands Out: Hmm? “Did you watch it?”. I mean, I did, but…

Boy Who Stands Out: I didn’t really get any of it. No way it’s gonna be a banger.

Boy Who Stands Out: I’ll just give a vague response, or whatever. More importantly…

Boy Who Stands Out: …Kyaha! This morning’s post is doing crazy numbers! Literally blessed.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Young Delinquent: I-I said I’m sorry… c’mon… gh.

Boy With Birthmark: …

*Smack*

Young Delinquent: Ughh--hg.

Boy With Birthmark: …

*Two smacks*

Young Delinquent: --Ghugh.

*Phone notification*

Boy With Birthmark: --.

Boy With Birthmark: …Give me a sec.

Young Delinquent: --Gh.

*Fabric rustling*

Boy With Birthmark: “Did you watch it?” …Mmhm, oopsie, I forgot. (1)

Boy With Birthmark: “I’ll just watch the VOD.” Anyway…

Young Delinquent: Haah, haaah… fuck…

Boy With Birthmark: …You’re a stubborn one, huh?

*Smack*

Young Delinquent: --Ghaugh.

*Fabric rustles*

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

*Phone notification*

Refined Boy: “I watched it.” …And, send.

Refined Boy: It was easy to understand with the Shinsengumi theme, and it was really profound and interesting, too.

Refined Boy: I’ll have to give Dad the link to the VOD later.

Refined Boy: --Right, but first I need to submit next month’s shift schedule to my manager.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Yukio: …So, congratulations on the great success of our first-day finale, cheers!

Hiro: Cheers!

Kasumi: Good work, everyone!

Zen: Good work.

Yuzo: The number of viewers of the stream seems to be goin’ strong.

Reni: Thanks to this, the number of subscribers for the New Fleur Award Channel increased, so it was a meaningful performance for the Award Committee.

Syu: Well then, how about we hear a few words from our director?

Yukio: Eh? Me?

Syu: Since you’ve made such a successful comeback, are there any ideas you have for the future?

Yukio: Ah, the future… umm…

Yukio: Actually, I have a favor to ask of you all!

Kasumi: ?

Hiro: Some kinda reform or something?

Yuzo: Are you gonna try and make us do somethin’ else?

Yukio: …Please do theater with me for the rest of our lives!

Hiro: Hah…?

Yuzo: The hell?

Zen: You make it sound like you’re proposin’.

Syu: Hah! So you finally said it. You finally said what you couldn’t say back then.

Yukio: H-Hehe…

Yukio: I was afraid to even think about it, and I didn’t want to say anything as to not interfere with anyone else’s plans. But I’ve been thinking about that ever since Reni and I had our fight and I just wanted to say that…

Yukio: Truly, I’ve always wanted to say that.

Zen: I getcha. Well, I’m livin’ in retirement with nothin’ else to do anyway. I’m with you.

Hiro: I’m also with you. I’ll stay this time until the end because I couldn’t protect what we had back then.

Syu: I suppose if everyone else is on board.

Yuzo: You’ve got my word. I’ll see this thing through.

Kasumi: You’re the one who said “I want to stay close to this troupe and love them forever”, aren’t you? There’s no going back on that now.

Kasumi: I’ll help in any way that I can!

Yukio: You guys… are you serious?

Reni: …I’m sure what you’ll do will continue to be utterly absurd. It’s irritating, but I’ll follow you.

Reni: You’ve been cleared of our long-standing grudge.

Syu: You’re sure piling it on, aren’t you?

Reni: There’s no denying it. I just thought differently then.

Yukio: HUH!? Scary…

Yukio: But are you really finally making peace with things?

Reni: I suppose so.

Yukio: …I’m glad. Because you’re the first person I ever wanted to spend the rest of my life making plays with, Reni.

Reni: --.

Reni: …Hmph, I’m probably the only person in the world who can go along with your recklessness.

Reni: There’s no avoiding it.

[ ⇠ Previous Part ]

• • •

T/N:

(1) Wasn’t sure if I was able to make it come through clearly enough, but he ends his sentence with “ッピ” which is like, a very cutesy way for a fictional character to end their sentences.

[maochira]

Finished two drawings I started last night :]

[dior-luxury]

how would the bllk 11 react to you suddenly giving attention to someone else in bllk? :P

Me Or The Wannabe

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . drama - no prns .

- [𝐜𝐡.] bllk 11

- [𝐩:𝐬] jealousy . sfw

Note: I only included major bllk 11 character, so sorry!!

The Hot-Headed & Possessive Types

Rin Itoshi - Cold but territorial

He’d act like it doesn’t bother him, but you’d feel his aura shift. He’d start silently staring you down and shooting deadly glares at the other guy. If you keep ignoring him? Expect him to flex his skills in front of you—whether by humiliating the person in a match or proving why he’s the only one you should be looking at.

Shidou Ryusei - Chaotic and unhinged

“Oi, babe~ You tryna make me mad or sumthin’? ‘Cause it’s working~” He’d absolutely start shit—maybe by mocking the other guy, throwing his arm around you, or even challenging them to a 1v1 just to “prove who’s the real alpha.” Might even kiss you in front of them just to stake his claim.

Barou Shouei - Possessive but tsundere

“Tch. Why waste your time on weaklings?” He wouldn’t directly show his jealousy, but his actions would scream dominance—whether by outperforming the guy in training or flat-out ordering you to pay attention to him instead. If you keep ignoring him, he might just pick you up and walk off.

The Competitive & Clingy Ones

Isagi Yoichi - Subtly insecure, but he’ll fight for you.

At first, he’d be confused—“Am I not good enough?”—but then his ego would kick in. Expect him to train twice as hard and absolutely destroy the person you’re giving attention to, just to prove he’s better. Later, he’ll shyly ask, “You still like me the most, right?”

Chigiri Hyoma – Acts cool, but he's pissed.

He’d flip his hair dramatically and pretend he doesn’t care, but his passive-aggressiveness would say otherwise. “Maybe I should change my hairstyle… might make me more interesting to you.” If you don’t reassure him, expect him to race past you in training and “accidentally” bump into the other guy.

Nagi Seishiro – Lazy but needy

He’d straight-up attach himself to you. “Mmm, don’t wanna share you.” If you keep ignoring him, he’ll drag you away somewhere quieter so he doesn’t have to compete. If that doesn’t work, he might start showing off his skills to remind you why he’s the best.

Bachira Meguru – Playful but secretly hurt.

He’d tease you at first—“Nee, are you replacing me~?”—but if it continues, his usual energy will dim, and he’ll go quiet. If you don’t fix it, he might start getting competitive and lowkey challenge the other guy in a match just to re-earn your attention.

The Sweethearts Who Just Want Your Love

Kunigami Rensuke – Confused and hurt.

He’s not the type to get jealous easily, but if he feels like you’re ignoring him too much, he’d straight-up ask, “…Did I do something wrong?” If you reassure him, he’ll trust you, but if not? He’ll pull away a bit, waiting for you to notice him.

Reo Mikage – Overdramatic & clingy.

“Oi, princess, you’re breaking my heart here.” He’d whine playfully at first, but if you keep ignoring him, he’d get pouty. Might even go out of his way to spoil you with gifts or sweet words just to steal back your attention.

Tokimitsu Aoshi – Anxious wreck.

He’d immediately overthink it. “A-Ah, am I boring you? Do you like them more?!” He’d start apologizing for no reason and getting visibly flustered. If you don’t reassure him, he might just spiral into self-doubt mode.

Karasu Tabito – Cocky but secretly insecure.

He’d act unbothered, but the sarcasm would come out tenfold. “Damn, guess I’m not interesting anymore. Should I start juggling soccer balls on one foot to impress you?” If you ignore him too long, he might call you out directly and pull you away, smirking but dead serious.

[iwashie]

𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 (18+)

౨ৎ synopsis : bllk men who like to hear you moan or you who like to hear them moan

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷ warnings- mdni, nsfw content, nipple play, crying, maybe a lil bit of sub/dom dynamics, established relationship, pro player(18+), kinda praising, gn!reader.

Men who love to hear the grunts coming out of your mouth as he has your legs on his shoulders, one hand on the headboard and the other on your breast, his huge body hovering over you, balls deep inside you. "you love to talk and now you're so quiet, sweetie" pinching your nipple to get a moan out of you, "where's your beautiful voice, huh…" going deeper, making the bed sway and your breasts bounce with the force he thrusts. He would do anything to get sounds out of you, pushing you to the limit, muttering "too much..," " There you are… Make more of those beautiful sounds" he whispers in your ear, kissing the tears streaming down your face as he went faster, making you moan and dig your nails into his arms, "That's right, love, make those sounds I love."

barou shoei, shido ryusei, oliver aiku, michael kaiser, bachira meguru, itoshi sae, kunigami rensuke, karasu tabito, chigiri hyoma, raichi jingo, jyubei aryu, don lorenzo, ego jinpachi, chris prince, noel noa

Men who can't hold back the moans as you grind on his cock, drawing grunts and heavy breathing from him. "Don't be quiet…I love your voice" you say, changing the pace you ride him, drawing out a strangled groan from him as he shook his hands pinned above his head- a futile attempt to touch you. Tears began to stream down his chin along with his saliva as he let out his voice, sly moans for you to continue "I'm close ngh!", "only good boys deserve to cum" you rolled his nipples on your fingers, making him squirm on the bed, his waist finding your ass coming down hard on him, every now and then you change the pace, earning moans from him, "I love those sounds..." you kept riding and torturing him until he was nothing but a mess of crying, salivating and moaning your name, until you felt the hot liquid inside you "good boy."

isagi yoichi, kurona ranze, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, mikage reo, alexis ness, yukimiya kenyu, tokimitsu aoshi, zantetsu tsurugi, gagamaru gin, niko ikki, shuto sendo, hiori yo, nanase nijiro, eita otoya, marc snuffy, lavinho

[venustrvck]

TOKIMITSU AOSHI x F!Reader

card: temperance; drunken confessions. we also added: first kiss! wc: 1.1k

❥ Valentine's Event co-written with @saetiate

Ice clinks against glass, shifting with the transition from marbled bar-top to warm palms. In your hands, you hold two cups of whiskey, admiring the deep golden colour. It's been aged well, the bottle you poured it from promising a rich flavour profile, and the gold of it blushes a sweet caramel under the overhead light as you swirl it around the glass, hinting at its sherry butt finish.

You make your way out of the kitchen and into your living room, bare feet padding softly over your carpeted floors. Tokimitsu is sat on the ground, his back to your couch, and his legs outstretched under your sleek black coffee table. You stifle a chuckle at the sight, there is something so… ridiculous and endearing seeing such a large man sat on the floor, barely two centimeters between the top of his muscular thighs and the glass of your coffee table.

Glass clink against glass when you set down the whiskey, and you make your to Tokimitsu, settling down cross-legged next to him. You tuck your ankles under your thighs for warmth.

You were out earlier, celebrating his win with the rest of PXG, drinks and cheers traded equally around the bar. Rin begged off early. As the rest of players dwindled by the end of the night, liquid courage sparking in your veins, you found yourself inviting Tokimitsu to your home to sample your whiskey, telling him how you've been saving it for a special occasion and you wanted an excuse to break it out.

He agreed with an enthusiastic nod. Yet, now that he was in your home, he seemed to be lost in his own world. So much so that your arrival in the room went unnoticed by him.

He's murmuring to himself, drunk flush high on his cheeks, and you lean in to catch what he's saying. His voice washes over you, soft and quiet, the tone of it warming your heart. You'd love to sit there and listen to it forever, but you can't quite catch the individual words of what he's saying. "What was that?"

"I'm- I'm so sorry! I was just…"

"Just what?" You ask, thigh sliding against his, Tokimitsu's warmth seeping into yours. He's nervous, wide green eyes darting to look at you as he stammers out an apology, and yet… despite his nervousness, his immediate apology at the touch, he doesn't move away.

Your bodies are pressed together, side by side, and you can feel the hardlines of his muscles through your clothes. You wonder if he can feel the softness of you through his; the plushness of your thighs and hips.

"Just… just getting comfortable?"

A smile touches your lips at his words, endeared by the earnest way he looks at you as he says them, even when you can tell that he isn't offering you the entire truth. You're not the type to push him, so you accept the explanation with grace. "I do hope you've found my home comfortable."

"Oh, I didn't mean to imply — it's very comfortable!" He scrambls to appease you and you can't help your soft laugh.

"It's fine, Tokimitsu, really. You didn't imply anything."

He's looking at you again, but this time… you can't put your finger on what's changed, but, being subject to his gaze like this makes your throat go a little dry. You avert your eyes. Heat suffuses through your cheeks and your fingers flex at your side. You consider reaching out for your cup, just to have something to do when — "Aoshi."

His voice cuts through your thoughts and your eyes snap back to him, wide. He wants you to call him by his first name?

He blinks, as if he'd only just noticed what he said, and he startles, "Sorry! Is that too presumptuous? I'm- I'm sorry it's just. Well, I've been thinking about it for a while. I thought… maybe its enough now? But of course not, I have to work harder to be a man worthy of confessing to you—" he cuts himself off.

You know from the way he reacts that he didn't intend to let that last bit slip. He gets too in his head sometimes when he talks and his thoughts flow out of him like a rushing river, the surging torrent of it forcing its way through his lips unhindered by any stray thoughts that maybe he shouldn't.

Tokimitsu— no, Aoshi is staring at you. You get the impression that if he could shake, he would, but his career has so far relied on his ability to keep his body steady through the worst of his anxiety, and so the impulse has been drained out of him. The fear in his eyes is unmistakable, like prey, but you don't know what there is for him to be afraid of. You thought your affection for him was obvious, from the way you lean into his space when his speaks to the way you try to find every conceivable excuse to hang around him. Case in point: Today.

A soft laugh leaves you, helplessly fond, "I like you too."

The line of his shoulders slumps as the tension clears and his eyes grow wide, green nearly overtaking his face. The apples of Aoshi's cheek ripen a dark red, the colour bleeding out to his ears. Your tipsy brain draws up the vague image of a Christmas tree, and you laugh to yourself.

You shift closer to him, sharing heat. His hands immediately go to your waist to steady you as you lean over him; even drunk, they're strong. You relish the feeling.

"Aoshi," you say, tasting the word on your tongue, "Can we kiss?"

His hands flex on your hips. His tongue darts out, and your eyes chase the pink of it as he licks his lips.

"Y-Yes," he clears his throat. "Yes, yes —"

That's all he gets out before your lips press against his, pillowy soft, butterfly wings batting against your ribcage. His hands don't move from where they rest on your hips, but your hands — they run down his chest, and then back up and wind around his neck. You're chest to chest with him, and his mouth goes dry as you pull away for air.

It's like a flip switches the moment after the kiss, because before you can blink, your back is on the ground, his large form hovering above you.

"Aoshi?" You blink at him, wide-eyed.

"Sorry!" He scrambles backwards. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's okay."

There are two glasses on your coffee table, side by side, glowing the colour of embers. The ice melts. The night marches on.

[welovenightcord]

Are you in love with me?

A/N: Me when I remember I have a Tumblr account: 😱 Don't worry guys I'm not died yet. BY THE WAY, I wrote this because I saw an amazing reels on instagram and I was like ‘Why don't I write a fic about this!?’

Characters: Isagi Yoichi, Bachira Meguru, Kunigami Rensuke, Chigiri Hyoma, Jingo Raichi, Shoei Baro, Rin Itoshi, Sae Itoshi, Niko Ikki, Nagi seishiro, Reo Mikage, Tokimitsu Aoshi, Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness, Kenyu Yukimiya, Hiori Yo, Ranze Kurona, Eita Otoya, Tabito Karasu, Ryusei Shidou. (WOW SO MANY.)

Warning: English isn't my native language. I'm sorry If there's any mistakes.

————————————————————————

You had a friend that always take care of you. They always bought you things that you like. Even in your bad times, they were with you. It was too nice but you couldn't help but wonder one thing...

You had a school day like always. After school, they came to you and asked If they hang out with you. You accepted of course. While you two hung out, you had manned up and asked them;

“You're always so kind to me... I'm wondering, maybe... You like me?”

————————————————————————

Their eyes literally lit up. They happily jumped up and down and hugged you tightly.

“Yes! Yes! I like you a lot. I can't even take my mind off you! You're so pretty,kind,nice,amazing,gorgeus,perfect,cute,adorable...”

“Hey, Hey! Stop!”

“Oh? I got too excited. Sorry! Anyways, do you accept my feelings?”

Bachira Meguru, Reo Mikage, Alexis Ness, Aoshi Tokimitsu

Their eyes widened and cheeks reddened.

“W-wait..! I-I don't like you... at all. I mean, uhh... I-I... Stupid! How can you even ask something like that!?

“E-eh? Is this a yes or no?”

“I- Uhhh..! Yes! Okay? Are you happy now!?”

They loves you dearly but too shy to admit it.

Rin Itoshi, Niko Ikki, Jingo Raichi, Shoei Baro

“Oh? Yeah, I love you. I love you so much.”

You couldn't help but blushed.

“Hah~ Are you blushing? So cute~ I like your blushing face, my shy girl~”

Chigiri Hyoma, Michael Kaiser, Nagi seishiro, Sae Itoshi, Kenyu Yukimiya, Ryusei Shidou, Eita Otoya, Tabito Karasu

Their face is like tomato at this point. They tried to say something but stuttered...

“W-what? W-was I that... obvious..? Uhh... Yeah, I love y-you so much.”

You could just smile at them. They looked so silly!

Isagi Yoichi, Hiori Yo, Ranze Kurona, Kunigami Rensuke, Niko Ikki (again), Alexis ness (again)

[kmsbslp]

Since i love my boy so much I'm going to write some headcanons for him

I don't write so bare with me

TOKIMITSU AOSHI

-He's really shy so he'd either get adopted by an extrovert s/o or have an equally shy s/o that makes him feel understood.

-He's big, quite big, perfect to use as a giant teddy bear.

-Comforting hugs when he's getting nervous.

-He just gives me vives of loving hugs in private.

-ABSOLUTELY NOT A FAN OF PDA, he just gets really nervous when he thinks people are staring and/or judging.

-You are his safe space, he will vent to you if you give him consent.

-He's a great listener, just don't cry or he'll panic and cry with you

-He will cry, a lot.

-He'd be very gentle, too afraid of not controlling his strength and accidentally hurting you.

-He looks like he probably has a chinchilla as a pet. Sooo small, soooo fluffy, so cute!

-He'd try to overcome his anxiety little by little with your help

This is everything i hope you liked it, sorry if there's shitty grammar english is not my first language.

Love you all 🩷🩷

[theholypeanut]

If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends ♪

Content: Being best friend with Tokimitsu, Aryu, Zantetsu and Raichi (separately) // platonic gn!reader

Characters: Aoshi Tokimitsu, Jyubei Aryu, Zantetsu Tsurugi, Jingo Raichi

Tokimitsu Aoshi

- You became friends when you stood up for him in primary school

- He started to follow you like a puppy but then he got an idea that maybe he is just bothering you, so he stopped

- You went to him and tell him to do what he wants, not what he things doesn’t bother others - and now you are still best friends in high school

- Now people don’t bully him because he is huge, however people take advantage of his kindness a lot

- Thankfully you are not that kind so whenever you are around, no one even dare to request ridiculous stuff from him

- “But maybe they just need help…” “No, shut up, they are using you” “….I don’t mind” “And that’s the problem”

- Outside of that you always ask him for his opinion whenever you two are deciding on something and he knows already he cannot answer “whatever you prefer”

- You love watching trashy movies together that you find via online reviews

Angel protector: Omg omg omg look at this review: “This was glorious. Pure batsh** cheese. So much better than I could have even hoped for.”

Disasterous Sorry-Machine: Sounds great! What’s the title for the movie? When do you want to watch it?

Angel protector: Velocipastor. We are watching this weekend it will be hilarious

Disasterous Sorry-Machine: I’m sorry what’s the title again?

- He gives the best gifts ever and still apologies that “it probably isn’t what you wanted”

- He is also the best math tutor ever, except that he apologises every time you get something wrong (because he is the tutor, if he would be any good you’d get it right…)

- One time you sent him to grab you two food in the cinema, and he couldn’t decide if he should take caramel popcorn or normal, and nachos with cheese sauce or salsa, so he took it all, and that’s how you two found out that caramel popcorn with cheese and salsa sauce is really delicious

Jyubei Aryu

- Ah this man, what can I say - pure glam

- You met in middle school when you two were made sit desks, and after first period he said out of the blue “I am so sorry, but I couldn’t stop looking at your nails… They are so stylish! Are you going to a manicurist?”

- The answer was no, but you two became friends

- Aryu is always there to compliment you out of the blue and it really made you feel so much more confident

- You have to go shopping together, however it takes ages to shop with him

- However you’d know whenever something fits you because Aryu is behaving dramatic af and is almost passing out from stylish energy you give

- You go together to different shrines he finds glamorous and you are taking a whole photoshoot of him there

- Generally you have lots of pics together

- You love to braid his hair and whenever you have sleepovers you read fashion magazines and you try to style his hair accordingly

- Skincare. Party.

- All your prettiest Instagram photos are made by Aryu, this man is a professional

- He can do flower crowns and taught you and every summer u make flower crowns for each other and have (another) photoshoot while looking glam af

Zantetsu Tsurugi

- You were neighbors since how long you can remember, and you parents are friends

- At the beginning you didn’t like Zantetsu: because you thought he was an idiot. You complained to your mother that you don’t want to play with him, but she said “Being smart is not the most important thing person should be”

- It didn’t h it you at first, but in middle school you ended up in the same class for the first time, and you noticed how people make fun of him

- And that enraged you, because Zantetsu always was the nicest person to them, so honest too

- That moment you decided to be friends with him and that was the best decision you made

- You always help him study so he won’t fail his exams (but even with your best effort he still barely passes at best)

- He actually has great music taste and you like to share headphones during breaks and listen to newest gems he found

- You always tell him that without glasses he is hot af, but he said he prefer to be “smart al” (as A Lot)

- Oh he always misuse all acronyms because he forgets what they mean

Speedster: Hey my fwb is coming to visit this week,so I cannot hang out with you on Saturday

Bestie: YOUR WHAT

Speedster: Father’s Wife’s Brother

Bestie: … you mean your uncle?

Speedster: Bbg

Bestie: ??? Since when you call me Bbg?

Speedster: but aren’t you my bbg

Bestie: what do you mean bbg means?

Speedster: Best Buddy Gorgeous?

Bestie: that doesn’t even make sense

Speedster: wait so what does that mean?

Speedster: halo

Speedster: okay I’ll Google it

Speedster: … I mean I was close

- He loves going to the arcade with you and he is actually amazimg in most of the games

- He is great with animals, they LOVE HIM

- You went to the Bunny Cafe once and they loved him

- The same in Raccoon Cafe, Cat Cafe and Pig Cafe

- You generally like to hang out in this kinds of spots, also you can see that Zantetsu feels great with animals because they don’t care if he is smart or not

- Whenever he finds any fun activity in town he asks you to go together

- In amusement parks he wears animal ears without shame because he knows he looks gorgeous

- He is afraid of haunted houses for sure, but if you have to go and you are more afraid, he will step up to “protect you” while his legs will shake

Raichi Jingo

- You are cousins, but also best friends since forever

- However you are so different

- Your main task is to be The Calm One and do not allow him to get into any fights

- Even if he is an actually really good guy, somehow everyone assume he is an aggressive delinquent with yakuza relations

- However he could really chill and not hit you in the back “friendly” everytime he says hello, because your back might snap soon

- Whenever you have any disagreement about anything he says WANNA BET???

- If it is about something that requires fact check, usually you win

- He is a huge picky eater so you usually eat all of the food he will not eat

- Which is… a lot of veggies, because Raichi is like a kid

- However if he likes something he can eats so much, no wonder he has so much stamina

- He loves american romcoms especially the cheesy ones, but if you tell it to anyone you are dead

- He is very blunt and sometimes doesn’t understand that he can hurt you by what he just said, but when he finally notice he will apologise sincerely and tell you that you can pick the movie to watch

- And then you choose horror just to mess with him because this guy is a coward when it comes to ghosts and exorcisms

- But he will own it and watch it as a punishment from behind a plushie (if you tell anyone you are dead 2)

- Actually really good at cooking???

- He always asks you to watch all of his games because he treats it like a good luck charm

- He is actually a soft bestie, but with rough exterior

- You totally once found his stash of dirty magazines and he got beetroot red (he is a boob guy)

- Because of that you sometimes tease him to just see him blush like a tsundere he is

By slowlyholypeanut please do not copy or change, give credit

After writing this I wanna make a full fic about Zantetsu x reader uhhhhh

[japparapan]

優しい人 (Yasashii Hito)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Goodbye, until the day we meet again Goodbye, goodbye, kind person

I can still clearly recall The day we first met It shines so brightly, bringing back memories You, a slightly mysterious, yet a wonderful person

Even if you walk a different path You’ll surely continue to shine Just, from time to time Please remember these days

Goodbye, until the day we meet again You, just you, please Fulfill your dreams; I’ll be fine Goodbye, goodbye, kind person

If this is the path you’ve chosen, Then let’s celebrate your new beginning But please never forget these days

Goodbye, until the day we meet again You, just you, spread your wings And fly towards your sky; I’ll be fine Goodbye, goodbye, kind person

Kind person

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

This song was written as a heartfelt farewell to Aoshi (蒼梓), a former long-time band member who had worked alongside Mikoto-sama for many years, including in previous bands, like Ray°C and Otoiroha. Aoshi parted ways with the band on January 25, 2019, marking his final live performance with Zigzag. According to fans who attended the live, Aoshi decided to leave the band scene altogether upon turning 30. (At that time, Zigzag wasn’t a well-selling band yet, he probably had a family to feed idk lol, but now he owns a cafe it's so cute!!)

To this day, Mikoto-sama continues to speak fondly of Aoshi during live performances, introducing him to newer fans. I recall during one of the live shows from their 4th album 最高 (Saikou) tour, Mikoto-sama said something along the lines of, “There was this one guy, Aocchi. He was smart. He was the mastermind behind Zigzag, coming up with a lot of ideas for the band.”. (He refers to Aoshi as Aocchi they're so adorable aaaa)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I believe Aoshi still keeps in touch with Mikoto-sama and he sometimes attend their shows in Osaka. Like, fans spotted him at their 古禊 (shows that featured their earlier releases, before their first album Daisakkai) on January 25, 2023. He even sent them a flower stand! I love them so much I could cry. Though I became a fan after Aoshi left, this song is what made me fall in love with Zigzag five years ago. The way Mikoto-sama speaks of Aoshi is so beautiful, I was bound to fell in love with the band hehe

[saetiate]

FORTUNE TELLING BOOTH EVENT: requests received! here are a list of the requests we've received and are working on! you can send an ask to either ave @venustrvck or myself if you want to add/change anything

one. itoshi rin x gn!reader — temperance. dealer's choice so we went with wound tending. two. tokimitsu aoshi x f!reader — temperance. dealer’s choice so we went with drunken confessions three. wriothesley x f!reader — the emperor: enemies to lovers, nsfw, criminal au, cora's note: i'm getting the idea there might be a magic/mystical element to this based on the books u mentioned hehe :> four. itoshi rin x f! reader — the fool: childhood friends to lovers, the hermit: awkward flirting, the lovers: first kiss five. alexis ness x gn!reader — the emperor: power play, sfw six. jing yuan x f!reader x blade — the tower: yandere, the fool: childhood friends to lovers seven. itoshi rin x f!reader — the hermit: hurt/comfort, unrequited pining, the moon: friends with benefits, nsfw eight. capitano x f!reader — the emperor: royalty au. cora's note: your extra thoughts have been noted :> hehe nine. michael kaiser x f!reader — the fool: childhood friends to lovers, omegaverse, sfw. cora's note: your extra thoughts have been noted :> cute!! ten. itoshi sae x f!reader — the devil: incest, orgasm denial, cock warming, nsfw eleven. oliver aiku x f!reader — strength: forced proximity twelve. michael kaiser x f!reader — the hierophant: domestic life. cora's note: your extra comments have been noted :> thirteen. michael kaiser x f!reader — the lovers: soulmate au, angst with a happy ending fourteen. diluc x f!reader — the star: coming home, vanilla sex. cora's note: WAHH SO CUTE fifteen. tartaglia x reader — magician: artist/model, meet ugly, yandere sixteen. mikage reo x f!reader — judgement: arranged marriage, cora's note: mentions kinks so i presume nsfw :> hehe how exciting!! seventeen. wriothesley x f!reader — the fool: blind date, the lovers: mutual pining. eighteen. diluc x f!reader — the empress: motherhood, praise/size difference/breeding, nsfw. cora's note: oops i just simply forgot about breeding!! i will certainly keep it in mind, what a lovely suggestion <33 nineteen. blade x f! reader — the tower: best friend's sibling, hate sex, facesitting twenty. itoshi rin x f!reader — the sun: fluff twentyone. itoshi rin x f!reader — strength: forced proximity, nsfw, size kink/fingering/oral twentytwo. sylus x f!reader — the emperor. dealer's choice so we went with power play twentythree. kaiser x f!reader — the hierophant: domestic life. cora’s note: lazy to link it but it’s posted :> twentyfour. itoshi sae x f!reader - the tower: hate sex, cockwarming, orgasm denial. twentyfive. kaiser x f!reader - the chariot: summer/vacation fling twentysix. dan heng x f!reader - the high priestess: dream sharing, nsfw, body worship. cora's note: wahh very interesting!!! twentyseven. tartaglia x f!reader - the emperor: royalty au, enemies to lovers. cora's note: also very interesting :>

extra note from cora: don't worry, we're not overwhelmed by the requests!! thank you for everyone's lovely concern!! i'm under the presumption that you do genuinely like our writing if you're requesting something, and it's so exciting to be writing all of these!! i've loved everything reqed so far <33 and we're super excited to get to them!!! ahhh i'm so grateful, thank you so much for helping make our first event ever a success already <33 means the world to me!!

[suguwu]

lover be good to me: part four

You meet Kita Shinsuke on a rainy summer day, with a sea of hydrangeas swirling at your feet. You know him instantly, as only a soulmate can. He seems like a good man. Like a good soulmate.

But it’s your wedding day.

masterlist

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

pairings: kita shinsuke x f!reader, oc x f!reader

notes: we are finally at the end. thank you so much for coming along on this ride with me. this fic truly is dear to me and i can't believe it's finally done.

as always, massive thanks to my beta for both the edits and the endless support throughout the process, especially when i thought writing this fic would never end.

title and part title are from hozier’s “be”

tags for this part (contains spoilers for fic): soulmate au (first words), this is a very reader-centric story, slow burn, pining, hurt/comfort, reader and kita are implied to be around their 30s, food consumption, non-graphic partner death (not kita), grief/mourning, healing, love as a choice.

wc: 12k

You settle into the farmhouse. 

It’s easier than you thought. Maybe it’s the way Yoshida is brusque but kind; she’s not careful with you. It’s a refreshing change of pace. 

You find yourself at her side most nights, chopping vegetables or marinating tofu as she tells you about growing up in the country. She spins stories like thread, weaving them together like the expert seamstress she is. Her son joins in some nights too.

You still get lost sometimes, though.

The early mornings are the worst. 

The birds sing you to wakefulness, their song high and trilling, and you press your face into the pillow with a groan. “Loud. Shut the window, Aoshi,” you mumble, shoving out at him. Your hand hits empty space and your brow scrunches. You push to your elbows and find a room that’s not your own, though you blearily recognize the suitcase tucked into the closet. 

You shift on the bed and realize it’s too small. A twin.

It all comes pouring back in. 

“Fuck,” you say, low and quiet. The tears pool in your eyes, burning hot, and you try to blink them back to no avail. You curl in on yourself like a fiddlehead as you lie back down. 

You do not move for a very long time.

The world has gone blue when there’s a knock on your door, twilight settling in like the ocean tide, easing its way across the sky. You don’t answer. Another knock comes and then there’s Kita’s voice murmuring your name.

You almost ignore him. But there’s something in his voice you can’t resist, a melancholy thread woven in through the syllables of your name. You get to your feet and open the door.

Kita studies you for a moment. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go.”

You blink. “Go where?”

“My place. I’m cookin’.” 

“Shinsuke—”

“I know.”

You bite at your lower lip. Kita meets your gaze steadily, his amber eyes darkened to a deep, sweet brown by the dim lighting. There’s a promise in them too. 

“Okay,” you say at last. “Let me get dressed.”

He waits downstairs as you throw on some clothes. You can hear him talking quietly to Yoshida. He gives you a little smile when you join him at the genkan. 

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

It’s true autumn now and the slight chill in the air proves it. The rice stalks are spun gold, swaying in the wind as the truck trundles down the road to Kita’s farm. You watch a stork wade carefully through the fields. It dips down with its long, elegant neck and disappears from sight. 

The radio is playing quietly. Kita hums along with it sometimes, mostly at the old, crooning ballads. You watch the countryside roll by, the farmhouses little ships in the night, their lit windows a beacon as dusk falls. 

He bundles you into the farmhouse when you arrive, handing you a pair of house slippers that have little radishes on them. You can’t help your smile. 

You follow him into the living room and settle at the kotatsu when he points you there. It’s close enough that you can see into the kitchen through the open archway; he rolls up his sleeves and starts gathering ingredients from the fridge and the pantry.

“Can I help?” you ask after a few minutes, getting to your feet and joining him.

“Sure,” he says, handing you a freshly-washed daikon. “Slice that real thin, please.”

You make a cut. “This thin enough?”

He peers over. “A little thinner,” he says. “Can I?”

You nod and he takes your hands briefly, guiding them to the thinness he wants and pressing down. His hands are warm, his fingers and palm rough with calluses that catch lightly against your skin. He curls his fingers around yours, his tendons going taut, and pushes down. The knife slides through the daikon and stops against the cutting board. 

“There,” he says. “Like that.” 

“Okay.”

He nods and heads back to his cutting board which is laden down with a bright medley of varying vegetables. “What’re you doin’ tomorrow?'' he asks.

“Nothing,” you say. “Why?”

You sound more defensive than you mean to. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, a sharp flicker of amber, but says nothing. 

“Was thinking you could come out to the fields with me.”

“I don’t know,” you say.

“It’d be good for you to get outside,” he says mildly. “Rather than being up in yer room all day.” 

Your knife thunks against the cutting board. Kita is unperturbed, only glancing your way briefly to make sure you’re not injured. He goes back to peeling carrots, his lean, strong hands moving quickly and with steady confidence. 

You study him for a moment, taking in the set of his lips and the soft furrow of his brow. You sigh.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll come.”

He flashes you a tiny quirk of his lips, a smile that’s as fleeting as a summer storm and just as warm. 

“Good.” 

He keeps cooking as he talks, pulling you from your thoughts when you get lost in them, when the fog starts to roll back in like a marine layer. It’s uncanny, how well he can tell when you’ve been set adrift. He’s a mooring you didn’t know you needed. 

Kita hums his thanks as you give him the daikon. He slips them into a pickling mix before handing you a cucumber. 

“Peel and cut thin?” you ask.

“Yup.” 

As you peel, you can’t help but watch as he moves about the kitchen. He moves as efficiently as ever, no wasted movement, but there’s something soft to it too. You can’t quite pin it down. 

“Yer staring.”

“Am I?”

“You know you are.” 

You shrug, starting to cut up the cucumber. “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Nothing important,” you say, waving him off. “Tell me how Aran is doing, he and I haven’t talked for a while.” 

The rest of the cooking goes by quickly as you talk and soon you’re both settled at the kotatsu. It’s radiating warmth. You snuggle deeper into it; with the sun fully set, it’s grown even more chilly outside despite the heat of the day. Winter is still a ways off, but you can feel the first touch of it hidden in the autumn breeze that leaks in through the window Kita had left cracked to keep the kitchen from overheating. 

You glance over the food. Kita’s kept it simple but hearty. There’s steam curling through the air in little smoky wisps. You watch as it dissipates and then take the plate that Kita hands you with a small thank you.

It’s a good meal. The two of you talk through it with ease, never missing a beat and rarely with an awkward pause. When you lapse into silence, it’s comfortable. 

“I should go,” you say eventually, glancing at the clock. “I don’t want to wake Yoshida when I come in.”

“Alright.” 

He drives you home, the headlights of his truck cutting through the night. The moon is out now; it bathes the fields with light until they practically shimmer. The crickets are calling, their song audible even over the low purr of the truck’s engine. 

When you pull up to Yoshida’s, there’s a light still on at the engawa, a soft glow to lead you home. It warms something in you.

Kita walks you to the door. 

“How early do I have to get up tomorrow?” you ask. “Do I even want to know?”

He laughs quietly. “Ya don’t need to keep my schedule,” he says. “I’ll come get you after lunch.” 

“Okay.”

He looks at you. His usual stoicness has faded into something warm and open; you take a deep breath. You bid him a quiet goodnight that he returns just as quietly, his amber eyes knowing. 

You go to sleep with your hand wrapped around your wedding rings. 

***

“Sunscreen,” Kita says, holding out the tube to you. 

“I know, I know,” you grouse, taking it from him. “You don’t have to remind me.”

“You forgot last time.”

“Point taken.” 

You apply the sunscreen as he gathers what he needs. He’s still rustling around when you finish. You turn your face up to the sun, letting the rays brush over your skin like a lover, a sweet kiss of heat. 

When you open your eyes again, Kita is watching you with a tiny smile, a crescent moon of a thing. Something in you pangs. 

You glance away from him and look to the rolling fields instead. In the bright sunlight, they’re Midas-touched, scorched gold with a hint of green at the bottom of each stem. It’s a sea of rice, rippling in the breeze like kelp caught in the ocean’s current, and it’s beautiful in a way that makes you feel small. 

Kita comes up beside you and gazes at his farm.

“It’s pretty,” you tell him.

“It’s gotta get cut,” he says.

“I know.”

He glances at you. You blink as he reaches out and smudges his thumb against your cheek. It’s gentle, his touch careful despite the rough calluses on the pad of his thumb. “Ya missed some sunscreen,” he says, rubbing it in with a light sweep. He lingers for a moment before pulling away.

“Oh. Thanks,” you say, biting at your lower lip as he turns away.

“C’mon,” Kita says. 

You follow him deep into the field, to a swath of already cleared land. The two of you settle at the edge of it. You watch as he lays out a woven bag with a label stamped on the front of it. He crouches down by the nearest stems of uncut rice and runs a hand over them, thumbing at the panicles with a deft movement. 

You don’t think he knows he’s smiling. 

“What do you want me to do?” you ask.

He glances back at you. “Can you lay out the bags? One at each pole should do.” 

You nod and set to work. He starts cutting at the rice. He makes it look easy, slicing through the stems as if they’re butter. The rice stalks start to pile up beside him as you make your way down the field with the bags. 

He’s made a significant dent by the time you’re back. He leans back on his heels as you approach again, wiping off his forehead with the back of his hand. His hair is clinging to him, dark with sweat, deepening the color to slate gray, like the winter sea. He smiles at you. 

“Can I try again?”

He’d taught you how to cut last time after you asked, citing the fact that you’ve been coming to the field with him for almost two weeks without trying. 

“Sure,” he says. He hands you a pair of gloves; you slip them on. “D’ya remember how to hold it?”

You kneel next to him, wrapping your fingers around a handful of stems. “Like this, yeah?”

“Thumb pointing up,” he says, reaching out and adjusting your grip. “And tighter.” 

He tightens his grip around your hand to show you, his strong fingers flexing. You copy him and he lets go when he’s satisfied with your grip. He hands you the knife—curved with a wicked edge—and sits back on his heels again.

“15 centimeters, yeah?” you ask, setting the edge of the knife against the stalks there.

“That’ll work.” 

You slice in a downward angle; the stalks part beneath the blade like silk. You hand off the rice to him to add to the pile. You keep working, feeling the sweat start to gather on your back, a few droplets rolling down before getting absorbed by your shirt.

“Good,” he says.

He lets you do a few more handfuls before he takes the knife back. You watch him work. He’s much quicker than you, moving with an easy grace.

“Why don’t ya head back to the truck,” he says, slicing through another handful of stalks. “I’m almost done.” 

You listen to him, heading back to the truck and settling in the bed of it, swinging your feet off the edge. You lay back and turn your gaze up to the sky, watching as a flock of birds goes soaring past, their wings dark against the deep blue of the sky. 

Kita joins you after a bit. You’ve been watching a hawk circle, riding the current high above you, and you don’t bother to sit up when you hear him approaching. 

He climbs up into the truck bed. He settles next to you and then lays down beside you, staring up at the sky with you. 

The two of you are quiet. You watch as the hawk wheels and wheels overhead before it dives down, dropping like a shooting star through the sky. 

You turn towards him; he’s already looking at you. His amber eyes are soft and you suck in a breath, your stomach flipping. 

“Shinsuke,” you say gently. “You know I can’t give you what you want, right?”

“I’m not askin’ you for anything,” he says, just as gently.

“I know. I just—I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, with Aoshi gone.”

He studies you for a moment. Then he smiles, warm and sweet and a little bit sad. 

“It’s always what you’re willing to give,” he says. “Nothing more and nothing less. That’s the only idea I have.”

You suck in a breath, fidgeting with your sleeve.

“Okay,” you say. “Okay.”

You both go quiet again. 

Kita pushes up to his elbows; you peer up at him.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get going.”

“‘Kay.” 

He hops down from the truck bed gracefully before holding out a hand to help you down. You hesitate. He waits patiently, looking up at you. You take his hand without a word, his calluses rough against your palm.

You’re both quiet on the drive back to Yoshida’s. You spend the time looking out the window, watching the fields roll by. There are other farmers still hard at work, their blades flashing in the last dregs of the sunlight, like a dance. It’s a sight you never tire of. 

The sun has almost set by the time Kita drops you off. You toe off your shoes in the genkan and find Yoshida in the kitchen, scrubbing down the counter. There’s something savory in the air, rich and thick, and you spot a pot bubbling away on the stovetop, steam curling up from it like smoke. 

She eyes you for a moment. You don’t know what she sees in your face, but she gestures you into a seat.

“The fields are doing ya some good,” she says, her eyes still on the soapy counter.

“Are they?”

She nods decisively. “Yer different. You’re coming back to the world.”

You bite at your lip, worrying the flesh between your teeth. It doesn’t feel like it to you; some days you think you’ll never be in step with the world again, destined to always be just a few paces behind. 

“It’s hard to see it in yerself,” Yoshida says. “But it’s there.” 

“If you say so.”

“I do.” 

You can’t help the smile. A smile blooms on her lips too, small but sure. 

“I need to weed tomorrow. Could use your help, unless Shin-chan is going to steal you away again.”

“I’ll help,” you say, ignoring the last bit.

She studies you with keen eyes, opening her mouth to say something, but the front door opens and her son calls out a greeting. 

The rest of the night is quiet and morning comes before you know it.

You stare up at the ceiling as the sun rises, watery light leaking in through the sheer curtains. For a moment, you consider rolling over and going back to bed, but you can hear Yoshida shuffling around in her room. You resign yourself to getting up for the day.

A light breakfast later, you’re on your knees in the garden. The soil is still wet with morning dew and it sticks to your skin. The scent of wet loam rises around you, like the earth is welcoming you home. You let it fill your lungs.

The garden is a beautiful one, lush with autumn vegetables. You weed around the fat, sunshine yellow squashes, each one brighter than the last. The carrots are just peeking above the soil, little suns creeping up over the horizon. Their greens sway gently in the breeze. 

You’ve forgone gardening gloves despite Yoshida’s offer. It feels good to sink your fingers into the dirt, to pinch the weeds’ roots and pull them up gently. 

You’re still working when Kita’s truck trundles up the driveway. You sit back on your haunches and wipe the sweat from your brow as he gets out and comes your way.

“Hi,” he says with a little smile. “Hard at work, I see.”

“Gotta earn my keep,” you say, earning a snort from Yoshida who is working just a garden bed over.

“You have time for a break?”

“Depends,” you say, glancing at the bag he’s carrying. “Are those snacks?”

“Yup.” 

“Then I do,” you say, pushing to your feet. “Let me go wash my hands.” 

You eat together on the engawa, gazing out into the farmland. The wind chimes rustle above you, clinking lightly, a crystalline symphony just for the two of you. You sit back on your hands as Kita unpacks what he’s brought. 

It’s onigiri. They’re still warm, steam curling up from them when you break one open. A little bit of the filling spills out but you’re quick to catch it on your thumb, popping it into your mouth. 

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a nudge with your elbow. “They’re good.”

“Yer welcome.” 

“You take care of me so well,” you say with a little laugh. 

“I try,” he says, utterly serious. 

You flinch. It’s tiny, but from the way his gaze finds you, a firefly flicker, he notices. But he doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to take another bite of his onigiri. 

“Shin-chan,” Yoshida calls. “Come help an old woman with the watering.” 

You glance up to see that she’s heaving a full bucket of water towards the garden. Kita pushes to his feet immediately, crossing to her in a few easy strides. He takes the bucket without even pausing, lifting it with a single hand. 

“Granny,” he chides. “Ya could’ve gotten hurt.” 

She shrugs. He follows her to the garden beds, glancing back to send you a little smile. You watch him as he carefully waters the garden under Yoshida’s rigid instructions. The sun catches in his hair, bronzes his tanned skin. That same smile he’d flashed you lives on his lips, a quiet contentment tucked up secret into the corner of his mouth.

Kita comes back to you when he’s finished watering, settling at your side on the engawa once more. He eats the rest of his onigiri quickly. 

“I’ve gotta get back to the fields,” he tells you. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “Go do your job.”

He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling with it.

He leaves soon after. You watch him go, until all you can see of his truck is the cloud of dust being kicked up behind it, until the horizon swallows him. 

Yoshida stands next to you on the engawa, shading her eyes as she watches him go too. 

“He’s a good man,” she says casually.

You glance at her. 

“He is.” 

“You could do much worse in a man.”

“It’s not like that.”

She raises a brow.

“It’s not. It’s just…complicated,” you say, winding your fingers through your necklace’s chain. Your rings clink against each other softly, the sound lost in the myriad of wind chimes surrounding you. For a moment you drift, tears pricking at your eyes before you blink them away.

“‘Course it is,” she says. “Most things are. But ah, pay no mind to an old lady. Let’s go harvest some of the squash.” 

You spend the rest of the day in the garden, harvesting away. The first frost isn’t too far off and you need to make sure you don’t lose any of the vegetables to it. Yoshida tells you exactly what to pick and what to leave. 

Night falls and you cook the first of the squash, painting it with a sweetened miso glaze that gleams stickily as you serve it. Yoshida makes a few side dishes too, putting them in pretty kobachi dishes. They’re delicate things, the soft silver of the moon, and you find yourself thinking of Kita. 

You shake yourself free of the thought before it fully forms. Yoshida’s son pulls you into a conversation and you chatter the night away, until you’re yawning between sentences. You finally trudge up to your room. 

The window lets in the faintest hint of gossamer moonlight. You gaze out into the night, into the endless countryside. You can just barely make out the next farmhouse, a lighthouse in the sea of darkness, its lights glittering on the very edge of the horizon. 

It looks lonely. You think of Kita again, of the little island of his farmhouse, how it’s tucked between the paddies with no other home in sight. You think of him alone at the kotatsu, reading glasses perched on his nose, and feel something in your chest clench.

You pull the curtains shut and go to bed.

***

The rest of the week rolls by and so does the next. It grows colder each day, winter’s first kiss. The leaves are going orange, as if little fires are catching the edges. It sets the trees ablaze with color. You hop from leaf to leaf as you and Kita walk along the road, delighting in each little crunch. 

“Having fun?” he calls out.

You turn around to face him, shading your eyes with one hand. His more sedate pace has left him lagging, but he’s quickly catching up now that you’ve stopped. “Can’t you tell?”

His breath mists in the air, a marine layer, and his lips quirk up into a little smile. “I can,” he says. “Just be careful, yeah? There’s still some frost lingering.”

You hum an acknowledgement and stomp on your next leaf. He chuckles quietly and you fall back to walk with him, shoving your hands into your pockets to ward off the cold. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “You know my sabbatical is almost over, right?”

He nods. “I know.”

“I think I’m gonna go home midweek next week,” you say. “Just to give myself some time to settle before I have to go back to work.” 

“Makes sense,” he says. “Let me know the details and I’ll get you to the station.” 

The two of you keep walking, huddling into each other slightly when the wind picks up. Some of his hair wisps across your face, the touch like silk against your skin. You shiver with it and return your gaze to the countryside, to the rolling hills and the shorn paddies. 

One or two of the trees are already fully bare; they reach towards the sky with long-fingered branches. There’s a murmur of swallows nestled in the nearest one, so numerous it’s as if the tree has leaves again. As you watch, they take to the skies, undulating through the soft gray-blue of it. 

“I’ll miss it,” you say softly.

“Bein’ here?”

“Yeah.” 

“Ya can come back anytime, y’know. There’s always a place for you.” 

You glance at him. His stoic face has softened and you think of the thaw of a spring day. How the quiet warmth of it melts the chill away. 

“Thanks, Shinsuke.”

“Mhm.” 

The two of you walk together quietly before turning around to head back to Kita’s farm when the chilly breeze becomes a whistling wind. It whips through the fields to cut through your clothing and you press into Kita without thinking, seeking the warmth of his solid form. He unwinds his scarf and drapes it around your neck; you don’t bother to protest. He’s immovable about things like this. Instead, you burrow into the warmth of it. 

You all but tumble into the genkan of the farmhouse. Kita follows you at a more sedate pace. You toe off your shoes and slip on your usual pair of house slippers. He does the same and you watch as he puts his shoes away carefully, arranging them perfectly within the cubby. 

You both settle at the kotatsu, huddling under the thick down of the blanket. You trace a finger over one of the origami cranes patterned into it. They’re perfect, so different from the clumsy paper cranes you’d both made with some of the local children the other day. 

Kita turns on the kotatsu. It starts to warm almost immediately and you sink into the heat of it with a quiet sigh.

“What’re you smiling about?” you ask him.

“You,” he says simply. 

You roll your eyes. “Okay,” you say. 

“D’ya want tea?” 

“Sure.”

He slips out from under the kotatsu and heads into the kitchen. You turn enough that you can still see him; you like watching him make tea. He’s careful and respectful of the process from beginning to end, but you like how it loosens his shoulders, how he unfurls, a night-blooming flower.

He rejoins you at the kotatsu once the tea is made, handing you a steaming cup. The scent of it billows through the air. When you sip at the tea, it settles warm in your chest, pushing out the autumn chill. 

“You’ll have to teach me how to make tea like this,” you tell Kita. 

He smiles into his cup. “It’s not hard.”

“Says you.”

“Might not have time to teach you before you go,” he says with a frown. “The farm—”

“You can teach me when you visit.” You pause. “You will visit, right?” 

“Of course.”

“Good,” you say, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “You can teach me then.”

He agrees and the conversation flows until it’s late. You peer out into the darkness and see the moon—full-bellied with light—is beginning to set, sinking through the dark ocean of the sky like an anchor. 

“Shit,” you say. “I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“S’fine,” Kita says. “I don’t mind.”

“I know, I know. Ugh, I’m gonna wake up Yoshida when I get in.”

“You can stay, y’know.” 

You glance at him. He meets your gaze steadily.

“I have a guest room,” he reminds you. 

“Okay,” you say after a moment. “Okay.”

“You’ll have to get up early, though.”

“That’s fine.” 

He smiles softly. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s finish cleaning up.”

You clean up the kotatsu quickly; despite the late hour, Kita still takes the time to wash the dishes. He washes them with careful concentration and something in your chest pangs. 

“Go ahead to the guest room,” he says. “‘M almost done here. I’ll see if I can find you somethin’ to sleep in.” 

“It’s fine,” you tell him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright.”

The guest room is homey, with a handmade quilt patterned with rice plants that almost look like they’re rippling in the wind. You trace a finger over one of them as you glance around the rest of the room, taking in the way the stark cleanliness is offset by the items scattered about: the fan patterned with cherry blossoms hanging on the wall; the plant at the window, lush despite the season; a paperweight on the desk, glass swirled through with blue and white, the ocean roiling within it. It’s not quite Kita, but you can sense him in it all the same. 

Kita knocks on the door frame. You turn to look at him. “Here,” he says, holding out a toothbrush and toothpaste. “Thought you might need these.”

“Thanks,” you say, sending him a little smile. “Appreciate it.”

“‘Course.” 

“Night, Shinsuke.”

“G’night,” he says. “I’ll wake you in the morning.”

“Sounds good.”

He disappears into his room.

You get ready for bed and slide under the covers. The quilt is heavy and warmth builds quickly under it, like a banked fire. You turn your face into the pillow to hide from the moonlight slanting in through the window. The pillowcase smells vaguely like Kita and the simple detergent he uses. 

Sleep comes easily.

So easily that it feels like you’ve only been asleep for a second when Kita’s knocking on the guest room door to rouse you for the day. Blearily, you slip on your clothing before trudging into the kitchen. 

Kita glances up as you enter. His hair is still damp from the shower; it glistens like the gray winter sea beneath a bleak sun. 

“Mornin’,” he says.

“Hi,” you grumble.

He breathes out a quiet laugh. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get you home.” 

You drowse on the ride back to Yoshida’s, just aware enough to hear the quiet hum of the radio as it fills the truck’s cab. The sun is starting to rise, the first fingers of light painting the horizon orange, like embers just beginning to catch. You turn away from it, curling into yourself in the front seat. 

The truck rumbling to a halt wakes you. You grouse and Kita laughs again. He doesn’t bother to dodge when you swat at him.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you say with a yawn, one hand on the car door’s handle, already looking forward to crawling back into bed. 

“‘Course,” he says. “You always have a place with me.”

You pause. 

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I know.”

His eyes crinkle with his smile. 

“Go to work,” you tell him.

“Yes ma’am.”

You hop out and head to the genkan. You hear the truck rumble to life behind you, the engine practically purring. By the time you make it to the genkan and look back, Kita is already down the road.

You watch until he’s gone from view.

***

This early, the train station is quiet.

The sun is still rising, casting pale golden rays across the parking lot. It haloes Kita in light as he pulls your suitcase from the truck bed, his muscles flexing with the movement. You take it from him and the two of you head towards the platform together.

“Travel safe, alright?” he says when you come to a halt just before the doors. 

“Shinsuke,” you say, “thank you for everything.” 

“Anytime.” 

“You’ll visit?”

“I’ll visit,” he confirms. “You?”

“I’ll come back,” you say. 

“Good.”

He smiles at you, a slow, sweet thing that makes you think of the sun’s rise. It’s steady and sure, unshakeable. 

You throw your arms around him in a hug. He stumbles for a second, caught off guard, but he catches himself quickly and wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly. You bury your face in his shoulder. He smells like plain soap, fresh and clean, with the faintest kiss of lemon, a touch of sour citronella that you know he uses for the fields. 

When you pull away, the tips of his ears are pink. 

“Bye, Shinsuke,” you say.

“Bye,” he says softly. 

You head inside the station. When you glance back, you can just make out the silhouette of him, lean and strong. He must be able to see you, because he gives a little wave before he turns away. 

The train is almost empty when you board it and you settle in a window seat. You close your eyes and turn your face towards the sun, the gentle rays just barely starting to warm as they brush against your skin. 

You open your eyes when the train starts to move, peering out of the window as the countryside speeds by. The rice fields are shorn short now but the gold of them hasn’t faded. The remains of the stalks reach towards the great blue sky, two expanses meeting. Beyond the fields, even the hills are going golden, though they’re slower, with green patches scattered across them like lily pads in a pond. 

You think you might be leaving a part of yourself in the expanse of the country. That the fields have swallowed up some part of you, like the earth swallows a seed. It makes something in you pang.

Soon enough, the countryside melts away into the suburbs. Then come the neon lights of the city, streaking by like fireflies, little blips of color that blink to life here and there. 

You hadn’t realized how much you missed it. 

The house is quiet when you step into the genkan; only the musical clink of your keys fills the space. The greeting is on the tip of your tongue, but you catch it behind your teeth and swallow it back down. You take in a deep breath and set your suitcase down before brushing by the photos in the entryway, most of them facedown. 

It takes time to unpack. Most of your clothes are clean, but you run a load of laundry anyway, listening to the way the water swishes and spins, the low rumble of it filling the house. You text Kita to let him know you’ve arrived safely and then collapse onto your couch, staring up at the ceiling. 

You don’t know how long you lie there before you hear the door to the house open. Muffled bickering floats to you from the genkan and you push yourself up just as Abe comes barreling around the corner. 

She skids to a stop just before the couch and grins down at you. 

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” you reply. “Did you break in?”

“No,” Yoshikawa says, appearing from around the corner. She twirls something around her finger; it glints in the light. “Used the spare.”

“It’s funny,” you say. “I don’t remember inviting either of you over.”

She shrugs elegantly, her long hair swaying like kelp in a current. “Did you really think we were going to miss you coming home?”

“No,” you say with a little laugh. “I didn’t.”

“Good.” 

You exchange hugs with both of them, holding them tightly and yelping when Abe spins you in a circle. Yoshikawa is more sedate but her hug is strong and warm. You blink away the tears before they can fall.

The three of you settle into the living room. You catch up with each other easily, swapping stories and laughing together, the sound billowing through the room to fill even the darkest corners with joy. Your heart aches as Abe throws back her head and laughs, her dark hair shimmering in the light, her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

“You’re too easily entertained,” Yoshikawa informs her, but there’s a smile playing at her lips too, downy-soft and deeply pleased.

“Shut up,” Abe says, still giggling. 

For a moment, you just watch them, taking in their features, their smiles, the sound of them. You want to commit them to memory, parts of them that you’ve taken into yourself to treasure, to keep. Pieces never to be lost.

“Hey,” Yoshikawa says. “What’s wrong?”

You realize that your cheeks are hot and wet. You scrub a hand over your face as more tears fall. 

“Nothing,” you say. “I just really missed you.”

She hums, but doesn’t push you on it, sending Abe a look when she opens her mouth. “We missed you too,” she says. “Do you want us to spend the night?”

“Yeah,” you say softly, thinking of how empty the house was before they filled it. “That would be great.”

“Okay.” 

The conversation picks up again, only pausing when you order takeout as night falls. Though you’ve spoken consistently with them while you were in the country, there are still stories to tell. The three of you talk and talk, full of laughter and love, and it only feels a little bittersweet.

As the night deepens, Yoshikawa and Abe go to the genkan and grab the bags they’ve brought, much to your embarrassment. Abe pats you on the shoulder as you bury your face in your hands. Neither of them comment.

You tumble into bed with them in a mess of limbs. When the dust settles, you’re curled up on your side of the bed, almost pushed off the edge by Abe’s starfished limbs. You poke her in the stomach and she curls up with a groan. You reclaim the space quickly.

“Rude,” she tells you. 

“You were taking up the whole bed!”

She grumbles but doesn’t bother to argue. 

Quiet falls, only the gentle sound of breathing filling the room. You snuggle down into your comforter, pushing closer to Abe and relishing her warmth.

“I invited Shinsuke to visit,” you breathe.

Yoshikawa pushes up to her elbows behind Abe, peering down at you with her dark, knowing eyes. 

“Here?” she asks.

You nod, the pillowcase crinkling against your cheek.

She hums, low and sweet, a honeyed thunder. “You’ll let him stay at the house?”

“I don’t know,” you say, thinking of Takao, the way he’d been flayed open when he asked you to not bring Kita to the house. “Aoshi—”

“Isn’t here,” Yoshikawa says gently. “You don’t have to hold on to that promise if you don’t want to.”

You blink against the tears as they swell up, beading on your eyelashes like little diamonds. Abe reaches out and cups your cheek. 

“You’ll figure it out,” she says softly. “You don’t need to know now.” 

You close your eyes, a few more tears trickling down. The pillowcase is damp beneath your cheek. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re right.” 

“I always am,” she says, and then yelps when Yoshikawa pinches her. “Ow, Yocchan!”

Yoshikawa ignores her, settling back down onto the bed with a yawn.

It’s contagious; you find yourself yawning as well and snuggle down deeper into the comforter once more. Abe shifts closer, seeking heat.

You fall asleep with her pressed tight against your side.

It feels like coming home.

***

Fall fades away.

The trees lose their leaves entirely, leaving branches that reach into the sky with scraggly fingers. Frost creeps over the windows in icy whorls, a cobweb of winter, fanning out in intricate patterns that melt when you breathe on them. The winter sun glows in the softened blue of the sky, only to be replaced with gray clouds.

The first snow is falling when you go to pick up Kita.

The flakes are fat and fluffy, perfectly crystalline. They flutter through the air like butterflies, spinning in great, lazy arcs as they drift to the ground. They melt as soon as they hit the pavement. 

They catch in Kita’s hair as the two of you head into the house, little dew drops that make his gray hair shine. He’s cherry-cheeked with the cold, his face half-buried in his scarf. It’s cute. Something in you pangs when he sends you a little smile, only discernible by the way his eyes crinkle at the edges. 

The two of you peel off your outer layers in the genkan. Kita puts his away carefully, at odds with your slightly haphazard method of kicking your boots away to find later. 

“It’s future me’s problem,” you tell him and he just shakes his head, a small smile caught in the corner of his lips. 

You show him to the guest room, freshly made up for his visit, and linger in the hallway as he stores his suitcase. 

“Dinner?” you ask as he steps out into the hall again.

“That’d be great.”

“C’mon, I’ve got some things ready in the kitchen.” 

“Sounds good.”

He follows you into the kitchen and insists on helping. You direct him to the plates as you check on what you’ve made. There’s colorful tsukemono, each pickled vegetable bright in its own way, stained to watercolors by the pickling liquid. The curry is thick and bubbling, with chunks of heavily marbled meat and vegetables coated in the sauce. The rice is steaming lightly and so are the nikuman, each bun pinched shut perfectly. 

“Ya didn’t need to go to all this trouble,” Kita says, eyeing the food as he sets the table. 

“Too late,” you say cheerfully. “Eat.” 

He smiles softly, shaking his head, but sits down when you gesture. You join him and the two of you start to fill your plates. 

You talk quietly as you eat, all easy chatter. Part of you can’t help but think of the beginning, when everything with him was stilted and careful. That’s changed through the years but it’s even easier now, the conversation flowing like a river, calm and unchanging. 

When you’re done eating, Kita collects the plates and brings them to the sink. He rolls up his sleeves and turns the water on. You sigh but don’t bother to say anything. Instead, you settle in next to him with a dish towel in your hand. 

He’s radiating a soft, gentle heat. It takes conscious effort to not lean into him. 

He washes and you dry, falling into an effortless rhythm. 

“Are you seeing Aran while you’re here?” you ask.

“He’s away trainin’,” Kita says, handing you another dish. “So’s Atsumu. I’ll see Osamu, but you know I’m here to see you, right?”

Your cheeks heat. “I know,” you say. “But two birds, one stone, y’know?”

He hums, rinsing off the final dish and drying his hands. He leaves his sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms. For a moment, you watch the play of his muscles, the way they coil beneath his tanned skin as he picks up the dry dishes and brings them back to the cabinet. You look away when you realize what you’re doing.

You both go to bed early that night; Kita’s tired from his usual early wake-up and the travel. You try not to laugh as he bids you goodnight. It’s cute, the way he blinks sleepily, his amber eyes softened to a honeyed brown. 

You can hear him as you get ready for bed, the quiet little noises of another person’s presence. It soothes something in you. 

You glance at your wedding rings, ensconced in a little jewelry dish on your nightstand. They gleam in the light. You run your fingers over them, tracing the cool metal gently. 

You put them away in a drawer before you go to sleep.

***

The snowstorm hits on the last day of Kita’s visit. 

The wind whips between buildings, catching the snowflakes and tossing them about like ships on a stormy sea. The snow piles up into thick drifts, the silken white of it gone yellow beneath the glow of the street lights, like a melting pat of butter. 

You and Kita watch the storm from where you’re tucked under the kotatsu. You’d pulled it out when you’d heard the forecast, the two of you working together to get it set up. It still works, luckily, and the two of you sit next to each other and bask in the soothing warmth. 

The wind slows; you gaze at the snowflakes as they slow, drifting like dancers across the stage, each puffy flake a part of its own ballet. Everything has gone quiet, muffled at the edges. It’s like the world is waiting to take its next breath. 

“What are you thinking?” Kita asks softly.

When you glance at him, he’s already looking at you.

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice just as soft as his. “All sorts of things.”

He hums quietly.

The wind picks up again; the windows rattle with it. You shiver, snuggling further under the kotatsu. Kita shifts. His leg presses against yours, a line of warmth even under the heat of the kotatsu. 

You glance at him. He’s watching the storm. It reflects in his eyes, lightening them, taking them from amber to gold. You think of the rice fields at their peak, when they’re treasured gold, and can’t help the small smile that curls around your lips.

Perhaps he feels your gaze, because Kita turns to face you. In the low light, he’s softened at the edges, a watercolor being. His eyes are aglow, like sunlight pooling. He gives you a small smile. 

“What is it?”

“I’m so lucky to have you,” you say quietly, the words pouring from you like a waterfall, something unstoppable. 

He goes still for a breath, a statue of old. Then he softens again.

“You’ll always have me,” he says, and you used to hate how true it is. Now, though—now it feels different. Just a bit. 

“Thank you, Shinsuke,” you say. 

Something flickers over his face like heat lightning, too quick for you to comprehend. You think you might have disappointed him. 

You turn your gaze away. It lands on a picture frame placed face-down. You suck in a deep breath. Before you can stop them, the tears are burning behind your eyes, starting to trickle down your cheeks. You scrub at them with one hand.

“Sorry,” you say to Kita.

“S’alright,” he says. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, even as another tear trickles down to pool salty on your tongue.

He reaches out, his hand hovering in the space between the two of you. He waits.

You nod.

He cups your cheek and sweeps his thumb under your eye. His touch has the same aching tenderness of a fresh, swollen bruise. You lean into his palm, keeping your eyes on his, your cheeks hot as he smiles at you sadly. 

He wipes away the tears before pulling back. You can see the gleam of them on his thumb. 

“Thanks,” you say softly.

“Course.”

You scrub away the remains of the tears and then blow out a big breath. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

Kita studies you for a moment. You don’t know what he sees in your face, but he nods, giving you a soft smile. “Sure.”

“Great,” you say, pushing to your feet. “You choose.”

“If you want,” he says, standing as well and heading towards the living room. “No complaining, though.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll be there in a minute,” you call after him, leaning down to turn off the kotatsu. You tuck the comforter in, tidying it up lightly. You nod to yourself. When you turn around, you pause for a moment, your gaze settling on the face-down picture frame.

It’s a photo you know well, one of you and Takao on the beach, the ocean a vast expanse behind you, glittering with the searing blue of the tropics. You’re caught mid-laugh as Takao plants a kiss on your cheek. It’s always been a favorite.

Before you leave the room, you stand the picture frame back up. 

***

You drop Kita off at the train station early the next day. You breathe him in as you hug him goodbye, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He tightens his grip around you with a little laugh. 

“I’ll come to the farm in spring,” you tell him. “I promise.” 

“Good.”

You wave goodbye as he enters the train station; he glances back right before he disappears through the doors. Something warm blooms in you. It settles in your stomach and flutters there.

When you’ve made it home, you pull out your phone. You settle onto the edge of the couch as it rings, your shoulders stiff. 

It rings until the voicemail clicks on and Takao’s voice floods your ears. You close your eyes as his voicemail message plays, letting his voice wash over you like a summer storm, a warm, sweet rain. You listen to Takao talk, relearning the cadence of his voice, the way it rises and falls, the way his tongue curls around words. You hadn’t realized how much of it you’d forgotten. 

“Hi,” you say when the tone beeps. “I miss you.”

You’re quiet for a moment; the line carries on, reflecting you breathing back to yourself.

“Shinsuke just left,” you say. “Aoshi—I think I like him. More than I ever thought I could. Is that alright?”

The line is silent.

“I didn’t mean to like him,” you say. “I really didn’t. But he’s good, Aoshi. He’s so good.” 

You sniffle.

“I don’t know what to do,” you murmur. “I don’t know how to leave you behind. But I think—I think he’s okay with that. I just—it feels like giving in. Like our choice, the one we made over and over again, was for nothing.” 

You take in a deep, steadying breath. 

“I know that’s not true. I know that our choice was for everything. That it never really was a choice in the first place, not for me.”

“I just—I really think I like him, Aoshi. Is that alright? Please tell me it’s alright.” 

The voicemail beeps; you’ve hit the end of the time you can record. You hang up and bury your face in your hands. 

“Fuck. Fuck!”

You lay back on the couch, rubbing at your eyes with the heels of your hands. You curl in on yourself. 

You grab your phone and dial again.

“Hi.”

“Natsumi.”

“Oh, shit, no nickname, that’s not a good sign.” 

“I think I like Shinsuke.” 

She pauses. “Is that a bad thing?” she asks gently. 

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“It just—”

“Feels like giving in?”

“...Yeah. Was this always going to happen?” 

“Maybe,” she says. “But maybe not. You don’t have to be with him, you know. If you don’t want to, that is.” 

“I don’t know what I want.”

“I think you do,” she says gently.

“I don’t, Nat-chan.” 

“Okay. Okay. Let me put it this way: is your only issue with Kita the fact that he’s your soulmate?”

“He’s not Aoshi.”

“No one is going to be Aoshi. You know that.”

“I do.”

“Liking Kita isn’t giving up on Aoshi. It’s not leaving him behind. It’s just moving forward. You’ll bring him with you no matter what, no matter how far forward you move,” she says, and you bite at your bottom lip until you can taste blood.

“I don’t want to be with my soulmate just because they’re my soulmate.”

“Do you really think you might like Kita just because he’s your soulmate?”

“...No.” 

“It’s not bad to like him,” she says, not unkindly. “You’re not bad for liking him because of who he is.” 

“I don’t even know if I really like him.”

“Sweetheart,” Abe says, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you didn’t.” 

You go quiet. As her words settle in, you glance out the window. The snow on the ground is still pristine; it glimmers under the bleak winter sunlight. The neighborhood children are starting to stomp through it. They’re bundled up tight, practically waddling as they play. You take a deep breath.

“Maybe you’re right,” you say. 

“I don’t know how many times I have to say that I always am before you believe me.”

“You’re wrong way too much for me to believe that.” 

“Don’t be mean!”

You smile. “Thanks, Nat-chan,” you say softly.

“Any time,” she says. “You’ll figure it out.”

As you hang up, you know that you will. 

***

Winter melts into spring.

The snow gives way to crocuses, which bloom like bruises, deep purple with stamen peeking shyly out of the center. The trees come to life, budding quickly, little specks of green dotted along the branches like stars. 

And on the farm, there are ducklings, tiny and fluffy, their down pollen-yellow. 

“Oh, Shin,” you say as he hands you one, dropping it carefully into your hands. It peeps its protest before snuggling up in your palm like a tiny sun. “I love them.”

He chuckles softly, the sound low and rich. “I thought you might. Do you wanna name ‘em?”

“Really? You’ll let me?”

“Course.” 

“I’ll have to think of good ones,” you say. “Can I have a few days?”

“Take as much time as you need,” he says. “They’re not going anywhere.”

You nuzzle up against the one in your hand; it peeps again, as if grumbling at you. When you glance at Kita, he has a fond smile playing on his lips.

He takes you around on some of his other chores. There are seedlings in the garden, tiny little things just barely poking out of the ground, a promise of green growth. You water them carefully, wary of their thin, delicate stems.

Finally, you find yourself back in Kita’s genkan. Your boots—a pair of his, really, laced tightly to keep them on—are muddy, so you stop just inside the door. You’re leaning down to untie the boots when Kita kneels before you. 

“Shin…” you say and he glances back up at you with mischief in his smile. You decide it’s not worth it to try and stop him. 

He makes quick work of the laces with his deft fingers. You watch his bent head quietly, taking in the thunderstorm gray of it, edged with blackened clouds. You catch yourself before you run your fingers through it. 

“Up,” he says. You steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder as you step out of first boot; he wraps his hand around your wrist. 

It’s not long before both boots are off. Before you can even start to move, Kita has your house slippers in hand. He takes your ankle in his big hand, waiting for you to lift your foot so he can slip on the first slipper.

You almost balk. But he looks up at you with his keen amber eyes and you can’t help yourself. You lift your foot and he slides the slipper into place. He does the same thing with the second slipper. 

“Thanks,” you say, cheeks hot.

He nods. He pushes to his feet, a graceful ripple of motion, and tilts his head at you. “Lunch?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you say. “That sounds good.” 

You cook together with ease. You know his kitchen by heart now, able to pull pans from their place without looking, knowing which of his fresh herbs to clip without double-checking with him. 

It makes something in you ache. 

Kita returns to the fields after lunch. You choose to not go with him, deciding instead to curl up on the engawa with a book. You settle into place with your book on your lap and stare out into the countryside. 

It’s just beginning to go green with the flooded paddies glinting in the sun, a false ocean. The water glimmers with movement as the breeze rolls over you. A stork prowls through the paddies, long and elegant, moving with slow precision. Its beak flashes as it darts down to snap up some little creature. It takes off after that, spreading its wings wide and soaring into the blue expanse of the sky. You watch until it’s no more than a dot in the vastness. 

You curl up and start reading and don’t notice when evening starts to fall. That’s where Kita finds you when he comes home from the fields. You hadn’t even noticed his truck trundling up the driveway. 

“Hi,” you say as he comes up on the engawa, marking your place and getting to your feet.

“Hi,” he replies. “Have you been here all afternoon?”

“How’d you know?”

“Just a guess.” 

You eye him, trying to figure out what’s given you away. Kita stays stoic, as if carved from stone, and you huff. 

You follow him inside, kicking off your outside shoes before he can even try to kneel, and hop up from the genkan. As usual he goes to shower, ready to rinse off the fields. You keep reading.

He comes padding back into the kitchen a while later with a towel wound around his neck. His hair is still damp and you can see a cowlick curling at the back of his head. His tan skin glistens. 

“Dinner?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “What do you want to make?”

You discuss your options in front of the fridge, crowded in next to each other to see what he has. He’s still warm from the shower. You press closer to him and see him glance at you from the corner of his eye. He smiles, soft and sweet, and turns his attention back to the fridge. 

Eventually, you finally decide. Kita hands you a handful of carrots and you start to julienne them thinly, your knife—perfectly sharp, the most well-maintained kitchen knife you’ve ever seen—flashing in the light. 

He starts halving baby bok choy, little gems of green and white. The pan hisses when he drops them in, giving it a good toss before he moves on to his next task. 

“Is it really okay for me to be here during such a busy season?” you ask.

He glances at you. “I wouldn’t invite ya if it wasn’t a good time.” 

“True.”

“Besides, I told you there was always a place here for you, and I meant it.” 

Your cheeks heat. “I know.” 

“Good.”

Quiet falls, broken only by the sound of your knife against the board and the hiss of the pan as Kita stirs it again. It’s comfortable, though, and you feel no need to fill the air. The two of you cook away, moving around each other easily in his small kitchen, as if it’s a dance you’ve always known. 

It’s comforting in a way you’d almost forgotten.

You take a deep breath, your stomach churning a bit, and Kita glances over at you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Just tired.”

He smiles softly. “If you wanna go to bed early, I don’t mind.” 

“We’ll see,” you tell him. “Now finish up, I’m hungry.” 

He laughs, but the two of you are done cooking not long after. You settle down to eat. You tell him some ideas you’ve had to name the ducks (“Duck is a perfectly good name, Shin!” “If ya say so.”) and he tells you about his day. It’s peaceful. Easy. 

You’ve just finished eating when you reach out and cover Kita’s hand with your own. “Shin,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Fer what?”

You shrug, unable to put the jumble inside you into words.

He turns his hand over under yours and laces your fingers together. You don’t pull away.

“Yer always thankin’ me,” he says softly. “You don’t need to.” 

“I do, though.”

“You don’t.” 

You look at him. He meets your gaze easily, amber eyes gone whiskey-dark. He gives your hand a little squeeze. 

“You don’t need to thank me for anything,” he says.

You squeeze back. “I will, though.” 

He sighs but doesn’t argue. 

For another moment, you both sit there, hands intertwined. You watch each other. You can feel the strength in his fingers and the hint of sweat on his palm. It’s warm and solid and real. Something in your chest stirs. 

You’re the one that pulls back first, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Kita lets you go without a word. 

The rest of dinner is quiet; you both go to your rooms early, influenced by Kita’s schedule. You murmur a soft goodnight in the hallway. You can still hear him when you’re in the guest room, listening to him rustling around before it all goes silent.

You gaze out the guest room window, taking in the rising moon. It’s waxing, almost full-bellied with light, pouring over the fields. It reflects off the water of the flooded paddies, a distorted mirror of itself. Under the moonlight, the fields go silvery, delicate and gossamer as they start to come to life. It’s beautiful in a foreign way. 

You curl up on the bed with your book, texting Yoshikawa and Abe here and there as your phone lights up. When the moon is high in the sky, you finally get ready for bed. 

You fall asleep thinking about the weight of Kita’s hand in your own. 

***

Something shifts between you.

It’s slow like a dune in the wind, the sand taking on a new shape, but neither of you have mentioned it. Maybe you don’t need to. Maybe it’s all said in each fleeting glance, a language written in the amber of Kita’s gaze. 

The days pass in a flicker of quiet moments. You spend a morning naming the ducklings, tucked in close to Kita’s side so he can see which one you’re pointing to. You repeat yourself as he takes them in, his brow furrowed as he notes the name for each nearly-identical duckling. 

Some days you join him in the fields, kneeling down into the muck to sow a shoot into place. He guides you with careful hands, his warm fingers wrapped firmly around yours. You eat lunch in the bed of his truck, mud flaking off of your boots, and bask in the spring sun. 

It’s easy. It’s terrifying. 

You think of the taste of ozone, how it crackles on your tongue. The slow, sharp bite of it. 

You know something will give. That the storm will break over you and change everything in its path. 

You think you might finally be ready for it. 

***

You come awake with a jolt. 

The sheets stick to you, caught in the layer of sweat accumulating on you. You sit up and press a hand to your heart, thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings. 

Once you’ve regained your breath, you stumble over to the window and pull it open. The countryside breeze billows inside. It still carries the sharp bite of winter, but it’s mellowed under spring’s tender bloom. You close your eyes and let it flow over you. 

The breeze cools you, your sweat going tacky before it dries down completely. The dream rolls over you again and you shudder.

You find yourself padding down the hallway without realizing it. You stop just in front of the door. You tug at your lower lip with your teeth before taking a deep breath.

You knock gently on the door and then open it. 

“Shin?” you whisper.

The lump on the bed stirs. Kita pushes up onto his elbows. He’s bathed in moonlight, his hair haloed silver, the dark tips a moon’s eclipse. He’s bleary-eyed but he focuses on you instantly.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Bad dream.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

You hesitate. 

“That bad?”

You shake your head. “I just…can I lay with you for a bit? Is that okay?” you ask, heart in your throat. You need to know he’s still here. That he’s real. 

His eyes widen before they go soft. He pulls back the covers and scoots over to give you more room. You’re across the room in an instant, slipping onto the futon. It’s still warm with his body heat and you shiver, goosebumps dancing across your skin. 

You keep a small distance between you when you lay down, but you let your head turn towards him. He’s still up on one elbow, the muscles in his bicep bunched with it, and he’s studying you carefully. 

He’s handsome, you realize, not for the first time. He’s sleep-rumpled, his hair messy and ruffled and his shirt wrinkled and bunched up just enough to show off a silver of his paler belly. The moonlight plays over him like a lover, lingering on the arch of his cheekbones and the dusting of freckles sprayed over his nose. His thick lashes flutter as he blinks, showcasing eyes gone golden, and you almost sigh.

He lies back down when you don’t move. The space between the two of you is small but it feels massive, a gulf between your two bodies, separating the shores of you. 

“You okay?” he asks again.

You shake your head. 

He reaches out and hesitates halfway, his big hand hovering in the air. In the moonlight, the constellation of his scars is more visible, little nicks and cuts that gleam bone-white in the light. 

“Can I?” he asks.

Your nod is tiny; the sheets crinkle with it.

He cups your cheek. His palm is rough against your skin but he’s careful with it, touches you as if you’re made of glass. It’s almost reverent. He sweeps his thumb across the apple of your cheek.

“What did you dream of?” he breathes.

“You.”

“Me?”

“I couldn’t find you,” you murmur, leaning into his touch. “I looked and looked, but you weren’t there.”

“I’m here now.”

You hum.

“I’m here now,” he says again and it sounds like a promise.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “You are.” 

You shift on the futon. The sheets smell of him, of the faintest hint of the salt of his skin and his soap, and you close your eyes to let it envelop you. You nestle down into the pillow with a little yawn. 

“Go back to bed,” Kita murmurs, caressing your cheek with careful fingers. “You’ll be tired in the morning.”

You stir under his touch, opening one eye. He’s watching you, his amber eyes unbearably fond, and something in you pangs. You press closer to him; he radiates a gentle warmth and you relax into it.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you ask quietly. “Please?” 

You pretend to not hear the way his breath catches. 

“You sure?” he asks.

You press closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Yes.”

“You’re gonna regret it when my alarm goes off at dawn,” Kita says, a smile written in his sleep-rough voice. 

“I won’t,” you say. “Promise.”

He hums skeptically.

“Maybe you’ll regret it,” you whisper into the salt of his skin. “You might.”

He stills, and then he’s coaxing you up to look at him. His eyes gleam in the dim, a flash of amber, of the richness of the earth. He leans forward and presses his forehead to yours. 

“No,” he says. “I could never regret you.”

He always hears what you can’t quite bring yourself to say. 

“Never?” 

He nudges his nose against yours.

“Never.”

His breath stirs against your lips, and you take it in, make it your own. You sway closer, undulating like kelp, half-dizzy with it, and then you sway closer still.

He waits for you.

(He always has.)

When you kiss him, it’s simple. It feels right. 

Kita sighs into it, one big hand coming up to cup your face, his rough palm reverent against your skin. There’s no urgency to him; he’s honey-slow with it, melting into you under the cover of night. 

You kiss him again, and again, like the tide against the shore, lapping at the edges of him until you’re etched into his skin. He meets you each time, sweet and steady. 

You kiss him until he is all you know, and then you kiss him once more. 

You don’t even realize that you’re crying until he sweeps his thumb over your cheekbone.

You part your lips, and he presses a little kiss against them before he pulls back. In the dim, his amber eyes have gone whiskey-dark, deep and heady. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to explain.” 

You press your face into the warm crook of his neck again. He smells of plain soap and a lingering hint of citronella from the fields, sweet and stinging. You breathe him in, let the scent of him settle into you, a part of him to carry always. 

Kita curls a gentle arm around you. 

“Go to sleep,” he breathes, and you pull back to look at him. He watches you, his vulpine eyes unbearably fond, and he smiles against your lips when you kiss him again.

He cups your cheek and pulls you into a deeper kiss before he backs away. He sweeps his lips against yours in a chaste peck and says again, “Go to sleep.”

“Fine,” you murmur. You curl up into him as his breath starts to even out. You listen to the tide of it, the ebb and flow, a balm against a bruise you’ll always have, and close your eyes knowing that he’s right there.

You wake to the quiet beep of his alarm clock. He rises from bed with quicksilver ease, the thick muscles of his back rippling under his sleep shirt. It’s barely dawn; wan light filters in through the curtains like an azure sea, outlining him faintly as he moves around the room. He looks like something out of a painting, sketched out in broad strokes of soft shadows.

He looks too good to be true. 

“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs as you shift on the futon. His sheets are well-worn, the type of broken in that comes with years of use and careful care. “It’s early.”

Instead, you get up with him, slipping out from beneath the warmth of the comforter with a soft sigh. Kita gives you a little smile, a crescent moon tilt of his lips, and your cheeks heat. You glance away and hear him huff out a laugh.

He disappears into the bathroom, and you make up the futon, smoothing your hands over the wrinkles until they disappear. 

By the time he pads into the kitchen, the old coffeemaker is hissing and gurgling, spitting out a steady drip of liquid. He brushes by you to get a mug, his hand warm on your lower back as he sidles past. The heat of him lingers. 

The two of you eat breakfast in a comfortable silence. He slides his portion of your favorite onto your plate without a word; you push your share of pickled daikon into one of his small kobachi dishes. He says nothing,, but his lips quirk at the edges, the faintest hint of a sweet smile. 

He gets up when you’re both finished, pushing to his feet in one fluid movement. His muscles coil with it, going taut beneath his tanned skin. It’s more distracting than you thought it would be.

You peer at him from the corner of your eyes as he starts to clear the table. He moves with careful intent, his big hands steady against the delicate porcelain. 

You want to kiss him again.

Instead, you get to your feet and finish clearing the table, handing him dishes when he gestures for them. You wash the dishes together. Over the whisper of the running water, you talk about your upcoming day, trying to decide if you’ll be able to eat lunch together as well. You can’t quite keep the smile from your lips. 

When the dishes are put away, you walk with him onto the engawa. He cups your cheek, sweeping his thumb over the arch of your cheekbone, and smiles. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he says. 

“I’ll be here,” you say, soft and full of promise, and his eyes crinkle with his smile.

You watch from the engawa as he disappears into the distance, into the paddies, swallowed up by the verdant world he’s created with his own hands. He glances back at you once, just before he disappears from sight. 

You raise your face to the gentle warmth of the rising sun.

It’s a new day.

[satoriberry]

IMMOVABLE OBJECT VS. UNSTOPPABLE FORCE(S); WHICH ONE OF THEM WINS? THAT'S RIGHT. LOVE!! - tokimitsu aoshi

-`♡´- resume: the laws of physics can not be disobeyed. unless your friends feel like doing so. then you can twist them as much as you like.

-`♡´- heads up: so much cutie patootieness omg its toki my love my angel my babygirl he was made for me i want to marry him i want to protect him i need to KISS HIM THESE ARENT EVEN WARNINGS ANYMORE. reader has hair (type not specified). takes place during chapter 150 shibuya outing (aka bestest chapter ong) in the uhhh the arcade!! :D very toki-centric (95% his POV)!! btw this scenario is soooo unserious i had fun with this ngl

-`♡´- berry's note: omg i love aoshi so much he's my everything <333 he's so.....*dreamily sighs* you people DO NOT GET IT!!!! HE'S EVERYTHING FOR ME HES MY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

you were so beautiful. so fucking beautiful.

he felt like a creep staring at you like this from afar but any closer and he'll most definitely regurgitate the black coffee he had earlier.

you weren't aware of him, both a sad and convenient thing. you seemed to be having a really fun conversation with your friends, boldly talking with exaggerated body language. you looked like the fun kind; the kind of person to tell a joke that'll have everybody choking, punching each other's arms and coughing. the kind of person he wants to be. or be with. it depends really.

he assumed you'd said something mind-boggling because right after saying it, your friends collectively gasped with varying levels of amusement. that made him snap out of his rêverie and go back to watching four of his friends display a concerning lack of rhythm at DDR, while the others winced or held in their laughter.

well, he was in no lack of bustling conversations himself, what with the rivals-turned-friends that he's currently with. still, it doesn't soothe the ache in his heart. the ache to be sociable, spontaneous, easy-going, calm, funny, witty or even just uncaring if that meant not being constantly on edge about everything.

gazing at his friends, he felt a bitter taste in his mouth. they were all essentially... perfect.

reo - who was stomping arrows with 0 coordination - was the blueprint of the ideal human, yukimiya and aryu looked like magazine cover features in the making, nagi possessed this aura of nonchalance that really sticks with you, and bachira could say anything and everything with zero shame or regret. he didn't have any of that. and he hated that.

he hated himself for that. and he hated that others probably disliked him for the same reasons.

"ahhhh, come on, no negativity. now's not the time," mumbling to himself, he placed his hands on either side of his face, slightly smushing his cheeks, adding some adorableness to his somewhat sombre expression. he turned his head back to you. you had started a game of air hockey with your friends and from where you were standing, he could admire you even better.

the benefit that came with being quiet is being discreet, and that allowed him to notice a number of tiny things about you. your rapidly changing expressions, your eyes (that he had come to be particularly fond of in the last 4 minutes) that darted in all directions to catch the puck and the habit you had of readjusting your bag's strap across your torso. was it a tic? he wondered if you two shared any negative qualities, thinking it'll help him feel more normal, then realised that's a horrible way of thinking about a pretty stranger.

he started to beat himself mentally, punishing his brain and imagination for trying to ruin your possibly perfect character; you didn't deserve that. he didn't deserve to be thinking about you like this, you probably had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, or just someone in your life that'll laugh at a loser like him for wanting to imagine a chance with you.

he heard the game-over buzzer of the air hockey machine start to sound out. you and your friend lost, and the winning pair declared a rematch. he watched you and your group talk a bit before they all started to walk away. they were heading towards the token machine to get some more, and you stayed to look after the bags they had left on the floor. pulling out your phone, you started scrolling through your gallery to waste time.

you looked so peaceful, he so badly wanted to know what you were thinking of. for no particular reason, just to have an inner scope into your brain. hands still on his face, he gazed at your tranquil being through his thick lashes as his head was still a bit lowered. he probably looked a little silly like this, like a kindergartener ("tokimitsu!") admiring his first crush playing in mud ("hey tokimitsu!"), but you made him feel so many butterflies by just ("tokimitsu?") being ther-

"TOKIMITSU!!" "AH!? WHAT? WHAT IS IT? I'M SORRY FOR WHAT I DID EVEN THOUGH I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!". he apologized for... nothing in particular to karasu, who had an unnerved expression plastered on his face, and next to him stood yukimiya with one eyebrow raised. he could see from his peripheral view that reo, bachira, isagi and otoya were almost done with their round of DDR.

"DUDE? CAN YOU ANSWER WHEN WE CALL YO-" "karasu, stop yelling. we're in public." "suck my dick. anyway, are you okay, man? what were you looking at?". tokimitsu didn't respond to that, stuttering, "haaa, it's nothing really. just lost in my thoughts. hehe," but his eyes betrayed him by darting in your direction against his will, making the two boys follow his line of sight.

karasu immediately started to chuckle with a bewildered expression. "tokimitsu, were you CHECKING OUT that girl? i didn't know you had it in you. i have to say, dude, i'm proud of you. you're finally turning into a man."

with a newfound sense of shame, tokimitsu started to defend his image, replying, "c-checking her out? no, i-i-i was just admiring her. I MEAN! no. i wasn't staring at her. she's just a girl y'know- NOT THAT IT'S A BAD THING TO BE JUST A NORMAL PERSON. I DON'T KNOW HER, I SWEAR. I MEAN....". of course, any person with eyes could see that he was totally fibbing. behind them, the other guys started to group around the three after hearing the words "tokimitsu" and "checking out" and "girl". it's just those things that you NEVER hear in the same sentence.

bachira was the first to join in on the fun, asking, "what's going on?" "NOTHI-" "SHUT UP YOU! guys. form a circle."

with a strong shove, tokimitsu was pushed aside by karasu who forced everyone into a circle where he was clearly mumbling god knows what in a mischievous manner. after a few moments and a couple nods, like a hivemind, they all raised their heads and looked at him with something peculiar in their eyes.

he didn't like that. not even a bit.

"umm, what's going on?," he inquired timidly, feeling that nothing good was about to happen. karasu was the first to move towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder with his head down. "we're sorry for everything." confused, tokimitsu stared at him with an almost innocent sort of confusion. "huh." "nagi, bachira, yukimiya. do your thing."

before tokimitsu could register what's going on, he felt 6 arms wrap around his torso and both arms. following that, otoya and reo joined, placing their hands on his chest and stomach to push him backwards in a combined effort. to say he was lost and and confused was an understandment. why were they dragging him away like a captive?

then it dawned on him. they're trying to drag him to you.

they're forcing him to speak to you.

in the microsecond that this realisation hit him, he immediately forced his feet into the ground and tried to slip his arms out of their grasp, which, considering just how jacked he was, proved quite easier than expected. their grip on him started to falter but they seemed to persevere, desperately trying to make this work. grunting, they doubled the force and accelerated their movements, forcing him to take backward steps. when he noticed that the DDR machines were leaving his sight, that's when the panic really started to settle in.

"COME ON GUYS, JUST LET ME GO! THIS ISN'T FUNNY! I DON'T WANT THIS, JUST PLEASE, LET ME GO, I'M BEGGING!," he began to somewhat shriek while grabbing at their sleeves or their hands and trying to rid himself of them with no avail. "NO! WE'RE DOING THIS FOR YOU!" "BUT I CAN'T, I DON'T WANT IT."

on any normal day, you would've waited for your friends with no concerns or worries in the world, but when there's a group of boys hauling another boy in what seemed to be your exact direction, you assumed you had to be ready for whatever was about to happen. however, a blue haired boy speedwalked from behind and past them, reaching you in a few seconds' time. he stuck out his hand, you understood he wanted to shake yours.

reciprocating the gesture, he shook your hand and spoke, "karasu tabito. no time for formalities. okay, see, here's the thing," he swiftly put his arm around your back and obliged you to look at tokimitsu being held captive and inching closer to you. "ya' see that guy? the one with the blue backpack? yeah, exactly, the one with the red and green sweater. see, he sooo has the hots for you, he thinks you're really pretty. but unfortunately, he's too much of a coward to do anything so we're delivering him to you. do with that what you will."

he removed his arm and placed them on his hips, watching his mastermind plan come to fruition. you, on the other hand, got the gist of what's going on but you couldn't exactly say you weren't still lost. after some more yelling and resisting, the five guys managed to displace tokimitsu and have him right in front of you. turning him around so he would be face forward, he promptly stopped his movements after seeing that you were right there. right in front of him. gazing at him with confusion but very bright amusement.

he felt his mouth dry up, words stuck at back of his throat with no way of coming out. not in these conditions, not after you watched him get hauled like some freak. karasu winked at him before heading off, followed by the others who gave him thumbs up and whisper-yelled encouraging words.

you watched them leave, then turned your head to gaze at tokimitsu, taking in the redness of his face and the shock in his green, doe eyes. they were really mesmerising. you gave him a grin with your eyebrows raised. "hey."

that simple word made him crumble, sending him into overdrive. your voice was sweeter than anything he had imagined it to be. he tried to muster the courage to speak but miserably failed, stuttering and falling over nonsensical syllables. he gave up in no time, burying his face in his hands, closing his eyes and imagining himself elsewhere far, far away.

he expected you to snarl and ditch him or to even spit harsh words for wasting your time like this. but you did none of those.

he felt a few gentle taps on one of his hands, compelling him to peer at you through his fingers. you wore a good-natured smile on your face, looking content rather than annoyed. "i get it, really. i get super anxious over certain things too. but your friend already told me about what you want to say to me."

oh oh. that couldn't be good. he pressed his hands further into his skin without looking away, waiting for the oncoming rejection and getting turned down.

"you're really cute yourself. and handsome. whichever you like more. could you give me your hand?"

was this real? were you real? no. you had to be an angel of some sort. mindlessly removing both hands from his face and sticking one out, he watched as you took out a ballpoint pen from your bag's outer pocket and scribbled something on his palm.

you lifted your eyes and spoke, "my LINE username. we'll talk on there. is that okay with you?," he retracted his hand to read your handle, noticing the smiley next to where you scribbled. he nodded shyily, not closing his palm so he doesn't sweat off his only method of reconnecting with you. you graced him with another toothy grin before turning around to see your friends waving at you. ah. you had to leave.

you spun around to look at him one last time, waving and taking slow steps backwards. noticing that, he finally uttered his first words to you, "w-wait! what's...what's your name?," determined to put a name on your perfect being. your smile grew a bit more, then you answered, "(last name). (last name) (first name). and you are?"

"tokimitsu. tokimitsu a-aoshi."

"well then, i'll learn more about you later, tokimitsu. bye!" you spun on your foot, speedwalking to where your friends stood. he watched you tell them something that made them all look up and peer at him, then giggle in a very teenage girl fashion, before exiting the arcade, you with them.

tokimitsu stood for a few more seconds before staring down at the palm you had previously gripped with your tender hands. the reality of what just took place hit him harder than anything, the astonishment he was feeling not helping his heart's dangerous rhythm.

he didn't hesitate to immediately copy your LINE user on a piece of paper, since he could never underestimate his sweaty palms. rewriting it, he found himself imitating you and drawing a fun doodle next to your username. except, he didn't draw a smiley like you did.

he drew a heart instead.

<3

-`♡´- berry's post-writing note: TOKIMITSUUUUUUUUUU YOU ARE MY EVERYTHINGGGGGG AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE HIM SO MUCHHHHH THE THINGS I WOULD FOR YOUUU and to you hehehe ANYWAYYYYYYY hope you guys enjoyed reading this cause i enjoyed writing this bitch ong i COOKED and if you guys don't think so uhhhhh skill issue i love anything that has to do with tokimitsu aoshi!! born march 21st favourite food eel doesn't like cream-based foo- BTW IF you're thinking "hmmm reader was supposed to play a rematch HAHAHA IMPLICIT PLOT POINT: your friends were like "fuck it we dont want that anymore call reader over so we can dip" HAHAHAHA YOU DIDNT EXPECT THAT DID YOU!!

[malaysianpeanut]

"Our First Night."

A teeny bit NSFW but there's no nudity or anything, just some "implying" stuff.

I was feeling really really low these days due to some personal issues so I went ahead and checked out the new Rurouni Kenshin anime, which wasn't that good compared to the old one, but it did bring up my tingly, fangirly feeling for this pairing (Aoshi x Misao) again.

I was also drawing in my sketchbook for the first time in a long time. So thanks new Samurai X anime. You ain't that great, but you brought back some nostalgia and motivation.

This was just meant to be a comic, but it turned into an animatics of sort.

Backstory of this scene:

Aoshi and Misao were married, maybe a few years after the event of the anime. Aoshi got hurt during a mission, and Misao saved and treated him, after he abandoned her once more to go on this mission, which made her feel angry and hurt, and even cold towards him. He made up with her after much difficulty, and it brought back her feeling of love for him. And that night, they spent it together doing... you know.

[iwashie]

HOW THEY REACT TO SOMEONE FLERTING WITH THEM| BLLK (f!reader)

Type 1- HE KNOWS HE’S BEING FLIRTED WITH AND DOESN’T GIVE A DAMN

He knows the person is hitting on him, but he pretends not to know. His ear is already hurting from so much “you’re such a man, full of talents and blah blah”. And when the person approaches him, touching him, he dodges, staring at the person for the first time and they say, “Did you see my girlfriend? She’s the most beautiful woman here.” Cutting through the vibe of the person who was hitting on him, smiling internally when he saw the person’s face of disappointment. “Oh, there she is. The woman of my life.” He points at you on the other side, talking to other people and goes towards you, loudly saying "love!" and kissing you as soon as you hug him.

karasu, rin, sae, aryu, chigiri, lorenzo, 

Type 2- KNOWS HE’S BEING FLIRTED WITH AND SHOWS OFF HIS DATING RING

“Do I date?” The person nods in affirmation, and he raises his right hand, showing the ring shining on his finger. “Yes, I date and I love my girl.” He says smile, his eyes shining like the ring and starts talking about you to the person.

isagi, bachira, kurona, nanase, hiori, kunigami, kyiora, aoshi

Type 3- HE SAYS THAT HE IS DATING AND IS RUDE TO THE PERSON

“You don’t see the ring, do you?” He almost rubs his hand in the person’s face. “Didn’t your mother teach you to respect what belongs to others?” The person has already understood that he is committed, but he continues. “My wife is the only woman for me in the world. No one is better than her, and if she didn’t exist, I’d become a monk!” He speaks loudly, staring the person up and down, disgusted, and walks away from the person, looking for you.

michael, barou, reo, sendou, alexis

Type 4- HE KNOWS HE’S BEING FLIRTED WITH AND FLIRTS BACK.

“This one?” He looks at the ring on his finger. “Oh, it’s just my dating ring, nothing to worry about.” He makes the woman laugh, she leans on him more and more, and he just forgets he has a girlfriend. You are not surprised to see such a scene. It is almost a routine, but it still makes you very sad.

oliver, otoya, ryusei

Type 5- DOESN’T KNOW HE’S BEING FLIRTED WITH.

“So... If you want to get out of here, go somewhere more private...” The woman speaks, approaching him and you arrive just in time. “That’s my girlfriend. You should talk to her. She’ll help you better than I can,” He said, pointing at you. After the woman walks away, clearly angry, he hugs you, saying he didn’t understand what had happened. “She was flirting with you, baby.” He pauses for a moment, eyebrows raised, eyes and mouth open, finally understanding what was happening. “You didn’t notice, did you?” You ask and he shakes his head, making you laugh.

nagi, zantetsu, gagamaru, niko

© iwashie 2023, please do not translate, modify or republish my works