#and dream about chan ...... but hi touch ... i thought i was floating ... floating and cry and just ... im not special at all i relized when

[snorlaxlovesme]

wishing for a shadow

Did anyone ask for a fix-it fic that actually addressed how fucked up it was to make a 15 year-old girl fight naked?

We really don’t talk about Hagakure Toru enough. I know that invisibility is a pretty well-used superpower by now, but Toru has been invisible ALL HER LIFE, ALL THE TIME. There’s so much good story potential there and Horikoshi is like, let’s have her do peace signs in the back of class 1-A pictures sometimes or whatever.

So here’s 8k words of Hagakure actually having a personality and searching for a way to have a hero costume. Cheers!

(Content warning for nudity, obviously, and implications of nonconsensual groping due to the invisible nudity. Did I mention that fighting and rescuing people naked as a teenage girl is really fucked up?)

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

Toru hated her hero costume.

Or maybe it was fairer to say she hated her quirk. While everyone else had a special power that they could turn on and off at will, Toru had to deal with her quirk all. The. Time. And it was exhausting. Wearing special clothes on the train so she wouldn’t be sat on or shoved against a wall. Flicking on a designated lamp in her parent’s house so they’d know when she was home. Making just enough noise in class so that people remember she existed. 

Being invisible had so many unnecessary drawbacks that early on in Toru’s life she decided there must have been a reason she was given this quirk. And maybe the reason was that she was meant to be a hero.

After all, it was the only real way to practically apply her quirk, wasn’t it? The choice was either to use her unique ability for good or fade into the background of her own life. So she chose to stand out, and what better way to do that than to apply to UA, the best hero school in all of Japan?

Newsflash: Hero school was hard. And even though no one could see them, coming back to the dorms every day covered in bruises and scrapes was not how Toru had planned to live out her teenage years.

What Toru really wanted was to be a normal girl. To go to the mall with her girl friends for make-overs and stay up way too late texting each other about which boy would ask them to the next school dance. She wanted to wear her hair in goofy styles and cry about zits and not worry about a building crushing her during her midterm exams. It was a simple dream, but Toru didn’t have a simple life. She’d thought by now she’d be over these silly fantasies, but when she saw her classmates’ modifications to their hero costumes the feeling hit her again before she could stuff it into that part inside of her where she kept her lost dreams.

Midoriya was testing out kicks at Ground Beta with his newly armored boots while Uraraka laughed a few feet in the air, marveling at her lack-of-queasiness from her new electromagnetic helmet. Toru stared forlornly at the new pair of gloves she’d received, with new colorful stitching. Her costume was….

Well, it wasn’t. The whole point of an invisibility quirk meant that she couldn’t wear a costume. It would kind of defeat the whole point then, wouldn’t it? To remain transparent, she couldn’t have any floating garments or gadgets attached to her body. Even the gloves themselves were technically a hindrance, but she needed some object to orient herself with her setting, otherwise her depth perception would suffer. It was a lot easier getting her bearings if she could tell whereabout her body was, and without her gloves she tended to move slower, not entirely sure where the rest of her body was while she moved.

Practically speaking, not having a costume for someone with a quirk like Toru’s made sense. Reasonably speaking—

“Oh! Hagakure-san, is that you?” Iida asked, embarrassed. She was lucky it was him who had run into her. His hero costume was made of bulky armor, so she doubted he felt it when he had brushed his arm against the side of her naked boob. She shrunk away.

“It’s not your fault, Iida-kun,” she said, hoping he could hear the smile in her voice and not the fakeness of it. “I’ll be more careful.”

It was hard, though. To be careful. The students of 1-A were gathered in a loose crowd in front of Aizawa-sensei, ready to hear what their mission was for today’s exercise. Toru was used to standing on the outskirts of groups to avoid being bumped into, but today she had gotten swept up in the middle. She held her gloved hands out at her sides, her default position to show everyone how much space she was taking up, but she still jumped when she felt Ojiro’s tail brush the small of her bare back. He flinched too, and sent an apologetic smile in her general direction, though nowhere near where her face actually was. She apologized again.

She hated her hero costume.

-

When class 1-A returned to the dorms, Toru made a beeline for her room, not that anyone noticed until her door slammed shut. She dug through her closet frantically until she found her warmest, fluffiest pink robe, and through it over her shivering body. She was so sick of this.

Aizawa-sensei was known as one of the toughest teachers of UA. He was also known for not playing favorites. But would it have killed him to warn her that they were doing underwater exercises today? While everyone else had at least some form of pants and a shirt to do their rescue dives in, Toru had to swim through the freezing-cold pool completely naked. It might have been an advantage if she didn’t have to spend most of her mental energy trying not to touch her rescue victim (Sato) with most of her body. 

And coming out of the water? That was a treat. The water droplets that clung to her transparent body made her look like a sex-shop mannequin, perked nipples and all. She had no choice but to leave the training grounds immediately, nothing but wet footprints in the cement to prove she was even there to begin with. Toru waited until she had dried off before returning to class, making up a lie to Aizawa-sensei that she felt sick and hoping no one but Sato saw her dripping wet figure before she’d fled.

How come no one else had to deal with this? She’d tried to talk to Momo about it once, feeling like she of all people would understand Toru’s pain. After all, she had a quirk that required her to show a lot of skin as well. But ironically enough, Momo had responded that her quirk wasn’t so bad. And besides Mineta, all the other boys in their class were very respectful about not looking at her while she pulled back her hero costume to use her Creation quirk. Using it in public was hard, but certainly not impossible. Besides, Momo had pointed out, in the heat of hero-ing she barely had time to think about modesty. She was too focused on saving people.

Toru had left that conversation at that. Any further discussion would make her sound jaded, and that’s not the type of image she liked to project to the world. She didn’t have an actual image, so to others Toru’s attitude was all she had. So she kept quiet about how frustrating it was to have to constantly avoid being sexually harassed while saving people, all while hoping that others didn’t think she was sexually harassing them. Toru, the fifteen year old girl with a very unfortunate quirk, didn’t want to be made out to be a villain for something she simply could not help. But what was the right answer?

Toru searched the floor of her messy dorm room until she found a terry-cloth towel and then began to scrub her head with it, trying to dry off as quickly as possible and maybe just scrub the rest of this awful day off of her. The type of towel she was using would cause her hair to frizz (she watched enough beauty gurus online to know), but it made no difference to someone like Toru. The world didn’t know the incredible condition she normally kept her hair in. 

Sometimes it felt like everything about her was a secret.

-

“Just hot soba again, Toru-chan?” Tsuyu asked her the following week at school as they grabbed their lunch trays. Even though her voice was even as she said it, Toru could tell there was concern in it. Even at lunchtime, Toru could always be found with either bread or a sweet on her tray. It had been quite a while since she’d eaten a red bean bun. She just wasn’t in the mood lately.

“Yeah, I’m just not very hungry today,” Toru told her friend, trying to sound chipper. She didn’t want to concern anyone, not in the least, but it was getting harder and harder to keep up her upbeat attitude when everything about her quirk just seemed to be bothering her lately.

Tsuyu nodded, though she didn’t look convinced. But thankfully she wasn’t the type to pry, so she led them to an empty table in the cafeteria. Toru sat across from Tsuyu and removed her face mask, a plain black one that she had bought online a few months back when she had hay fever. Lately she’d been feeling very self-conscious of people constantly talking to her chest, so she started wearing the mask to give people something on her face to focus on when they spoke to her.

She slurped her soba noodles in silence, not having much to say, when Midoriya and Todoroki passed by.

“Are these seats taken?” Todoroki asked. Toru glanced around to make sure they were talking about actual empty seats, not hers.  But there were two vacant seats next to Tsuyu, who gestured to the boys that they could join them when she continued peeling an apple for herself.

“Have they bothered trying to see if Eri’s quirk would work on him?” Todoroki asked, continuing a conversation they must have started while getting their food.

Midoriya shrugged. “I haven’t asked lately. I think they’re still scared that Eri wouldn’t be able to control her quirk and would rewind him too far. She’s still so young.”

“When would be an appropriate age for her to finally use it on him, then?”

“Are you talking about Togata-senpai, ribbet?” Tsuyu asked.

Midoriya nodded, looking pained. “I don’t know, Todoroki-kun. He’s still coming to school, at least, but not full-time. Without his quirk he doesn’t have much use for the hero courses he was taking.”

Toru had vaguely heard about this from Tsuyu and Ochako. Apparently the third-year who had done a fight demonstration for class 1-A after the provisional exam was injured during the Shie Hassaikai raid.  He’d been hit by one of the darts manufactured to take away people’s quirks while rescuing a child. Toru, in one of her darker moments, had selfishly wondered what would happen if she had gotten hit by a dart like that. Would all of her problems be solved? If her quirk was erased would she be visible? Could she finally live her life like a normal girl?

But then she had passed by the hospital wing shortly after, to get some bandages for Kaminari. Togata Mirio sat alone in a hospital bed with a bandage wrapped around his waist and the blankest expression she had ever seen on the normally-cheerful upperclassmen’s face. She was thankful for her quirk in the moment, so Togata didn’t have to see the shame written all over her.

The feeling still burned through her at the mention of his name, so Toru kept to herself as she ate her lunch, seamlessly blending with the background as she often did.

“Le Million isn’t gone just because Togata-senpai doesn’t have his quirk,” Tsuyu told the boys insightfully. “He’s still plenty heroic without his Permeation.” 

“He could always just be a citizen for a few years until Eri gets older, I suppose,” Todoroki said idly. “Or he could be a police officer. Quirks aren’t required to be a part of the force.”

Midoriya stared off into the distance. “I guess. I just can’t imagine him in a police uniform instead of his hero costume. It’s too hard to think about.”

Toru slurped her noodles a bit too loudly at that, and all at once all eyes were on her. Well, her chopsticks.

“Hagakure-san?” Midoriya said.

Toru cleared her throat delicately before speaking. “Hero costume? I thought that Togata-senpai couldn’t wear clothes while using his quirk.”

“Oh!” Midoriya said cheerfully, understanding her surprise. “The only time you saw him fight was in his P.E. uniform, wasn’t it? No, Le Million’s hero costume is this really awesome full-body suit with a cape and the number one million written across the chest! I think he got the inspiration from—”

“But how does it stay on him?” Toru asked, cutting Midoriya off before he could start rambling.

If Midoriya was put off by her interruption, he was kind enough not to show it. “It’s woven out of some specially-made fabric,” Midoriya said. “The inspiration appears to be from—”

And for the second time that day, Toru cut Midoriya off. But this time it was to abruptly leave the table, leaving the rest of her soba and her friends behind.

-

Toru hoped all the work she had put in making friends with her classmates for the past few months would make up for her rudeness at lunchtime. But after hearing that there was a specially-woven fabric that could form to quirks, Toru could no longer sit idly by.

This could have been her solution! Not the one she had secretly, selfishly wished for, that her quirk would one day disappear and she would wake up a normal, visible civilian. But the more attainable goal, that she could find a way to make a costume that wasn’t so revealing. Something that gave her more coverage while still allowing her to maintain the one advantage that her quirk gave her in the field.

She had run immediately to the Principal Nezu’s office and requested Togata Mirio’s contact information, saying that it was urgent and related to education. The principal gave it to her with little hesitation, perhaps seeing an outcome to their meeting that she couldn’t fathom with her human brain. But Toru didn’t care, so long as she was able to talk to Togata about the nature of his costume.

Texting him had been a little nerve-wracking, especially since her senpai probably didn’t even know she was alive, but after explaining through text that she was a student from 1-A with some hero questions, Togata seemed perfectly happy to meet her in the courtyard on campus and chat with her.

Feeling better than she had in weeks, Toru made an effort in her appearance. Wearing a form-fitting black turtleneck, checkered skirt, and thigh-high stockings, she was feeling more like herself than she had in a very long time. Another girl would probably style her hair or apply make-up for a meeting with an upperclassmen boy, but Toru didn’t. She brushed her transparent hair and let it hang down straight, not that anyone else would know the difference. She did choose a more stylish mask today, looping a purple one with a bedazzled kitty face on it around her ears before heading away from the dorms to their meeting spot.

She sat on a bench in the courtyard, a few minutes early, and anxiously tapped on her thighs as she waited. Now that she was here, she was starting to get nervous. As excited as she was to talk about hero costumes, it was now occurring to her that her blank-faced senpai might not actually want to talk about hero work now that he had been forcefully relegated to civilian status. He’d gone through a traumatizing ordeal and had his whole life ripped away from him only a few months ago. Was she being incredibly selfish again?

“Hagakure-san?” Toru heard, and leapt to her feet awkwardly as Togata entered the courtyard.

“S-senpai! I’m glad you could come on such short notice!” she squeaked. She shouldn’t have asked him to come, what was she thinking—

“I like your mask,” he said with a sunny smile, coming to sit beside her on the stone bench. He didn’t look upset in the slightest. “I really love cats.”

“Really?” Toru asked stupidly.

“Yeah!” he said enthusiastically. “The way their tails swish back and forth, their rough tongues, their little toe beans? Cats are the best. If I could spend a day in a pile of cats, that would be the best day ever.”

Toru….did not know how to respond to that. The last time she saw him he had looked so depressed. She didn’t think that he would come here to talk to her and look so happy. Togata was sitting beside her, all six-foot-something of him, with his broad shoulders and his perfect hair and he was talking to her about cats. What did she call him here for again? 

Thankfully, Togata could not see the way she was gaping at him and just took her silence as a means to continue. He went on a Midoriya-like ramble for the next few minutes or so about his favorite breed (Singapura) before Toru finally found the will to speak.

“Togata-senpai?” she said gently, trying to make up for her earlier rudeness with her friends by at least interrupting this boy kindly. He stopped talking to look at her curiously. “I actually didn’t come here to talk about cats. I was hoping to talk to you about hero work…if that’s okay,” she tacked on lamely, hoping not to offend him.

He looked unbothered, smiling at her kindly. “Sure! I have a lot of experience out in the field, so I’m sure I could offer you some advice if you need it. Is something bothering you?”

“Well,” Toru said, looking down at her lap. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to bare her soul so openly to someone who was basically a stranger to her, so he kept her explanation brief. “Due to my quirk,” she splayed her arms out to gesture to her invisible form, “I don’t have a lot of options, costume-wise. Midoriya told me that your Le Million costume was constructed of a special fabric so that you could wear it while using your Permeation quirk, and I was just wondering if the same material might work for my quirk as well?”

Togata looked on thoughtfully. “Well, you see. My costume was made from my own hair.”

Toru blinked. 

“Your hair?”

He nodded. “With Permeation, I phase through every solid object around me when I use my quirk. You saw me fight your class, I could barely keep my P.E. uniform on,” he said with a bashful chuckle. “But if my costume is made from me, I can use my quirk on it so both me and my clothes permeate. You see?”

“Oh,” Toru murmured. 

She really didn’t realize how much hope she had in this plan until it was dashed right in front of her eyes. There wasn’t some special all-in-one fabric swatch she could use to make her own full-body suit with a cape. She was Hagakare Toru, and life did not treat her that kindly. She would spend the rest of her hero days either shivering from the cold or being unintentionally (or even worse, intentionally ) groped by every person she attempted to save.

Her vision swam from disappointment, and when the tears started beading in the corners of her eyes, she did nothing to stop them.

“Hagakure-san! What’s wrong?” her senpai asked, flapping his hands wildly in concern when he saw the water drip down the invisible contours of her cheeks.

“I just thought—I just hoped I could have a costume like yours, Senpai,” she sniffed miserably. “I can’t stand doing hero work with no clothes on. I don’t want to want to be a hero if I have to be naked for it.”

Togata seemed to finally understand what she was here for, and the sympathy in his eyes showed it. While the pity was appreciated, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be around anyone right now. She stood to leave, but before she could turn away from him Togata touched her very gently at the elbow. She stopped and looked down at his hand, and he immediately took it away. 

“Wait, don’t go yet. I understand completely what you mean. I spent so much of my first year at UA forced to laugh it off whenever my clothes would fall off while training with my classmates. I know how it must feel for you, to an extent.”

Toru thought of her classmates, who brushed off her concerns dismissively. “You do?”

That constant smile returned to his face, though there was a sad twist to it. “Embarrassing. Vulnerable. Incredibly lonely.”

She blinked a few more tears away and nodded.

Togata continued. “It’s hard when you have a quirk with such a unique drawback. No one wants to think too much about how hard it might be for you. Especially since you’re so cheery; you can’t possibly be bothered by it. Sound familiar?”

To a tee. 

“It sucks having to be the positive one all the time,” she said, brushing her cheeks with the palm of her hand. “It means no one likes you when you act truly unhappy.”

Togata swallowed and nodded. She wondered what it must be like for him now, to have lost his quirk and still keep that sunny smile on his face. She wondered how genuine he was when he first showed up here, or if he was putting on an act just like she did every day.

She thought to ask him. “Togata-senpai—?”

But Togata was already pressing on. “But I do think there’s something we can do for you. While the material for my suit won’t be usable for you, there’s no reason why the same method of costume production won’t work for you, Hagakure-san.”

“My hair?”

Togata shrugged. “If it worked for me, I don’t see why it wouldn’t work for you. It’s worth a shot, anyway. How long is your hair?”

Without asking, his hand reached out. Toru never got used to this. It was always worse because of how horrible people were at guessing body position. You’d think that after looking at so many humans on a day-to-day basis that people would be able to reasonably guess where certain body parts were, but Toru was often unpleasantly surprised by where people grabbed her first. 

She closed her eyes and waited for it to be over, but his hand never fell. She cracked open one eye and saw Togata’s hand, suspended a few inches above the crown of her head. Her eyes then flicked to his face, where he waited patiently for her.

The saltwater didn’t seem to have fully left her eyes as she reached up her hand and took hold of his own, before guiding it gently down the length of her hair. His fingertips grazed the very ends of the strands for a moment before letting it fall back to her shoulders. He smiled again.

“That should be plenty to start.”

-

“Shouldn’t we be going to the Costumes Department?” Toru asked as she followed Togata’s lead, walking towards a wing of UA that she’d never needed to enter before today. 

“Nah, they’d take too long to make it. They’re always backed up. But the Support Class students are always itching for new projects,” Togata said like the wise senpai he was. “No one is more Plus Ultra than UA students themselves, after all,” he said with a wink.

Toru took this logic in stride as she stood before the Support Class Workshop, but admittedly she was a little nervous. They were still students, after all.

“What if they mess up?” she asked. She’d be foolish to not voice her fears now, before it was too late.

Togata seemed unfazed. “Then we try again. Hair isn’t a finite resource after all. It grows back. And if you can find someone with a helpful quirk, your costume material could grow back faster than you think!”

Toru supposed she couldn’t argue with that, so she steeled herself for whatever was to come and opened the door.

A drone zipped past her head and out the door, so quick Toru didn’t even have time to duck.

“Don’t leave the door open!” a student covered in grime yelled from on top of an incredibly tall ladder. “My babies will escape!”

“Babies?” Toru asked curiously. Togata closed the metal door behind them and caught another drone flying their way before it could smack into the wall. The student who had yelled at them before was already focusing her attention elsewhere, picking up an electric tool that Toru couldn’t identify and hopping inside of the cabin of a giant mech.

“That’s Hatsume Mei,” Togata told her. “She’s a first-year, but she’s already at the top of the Support Class. If anyone can help you, it’s her.”

“Is that praise I hear?” Hatsume Mei called out, poking her head out of the robot and grinning wildly. “Le Millioni! It’s been ages. What can I do for you?

“We’re actually here for Hagakure-san today.” Togata explained the situation to her while she worked, undeterred when Hatsume climbed back in her machine and continued working on her invention. He told her of Toru’s unique problem as impersonally as possible, only telling her the necessary details, which Toru was grateful for. Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her skirt as she waited until Togata ended his explanation, wondering if Hatsume could fashion a costume for her out of her own hair.

“So you said it was mid-back, right?” Hatsume Mei yelled over the sound of a drill. She was back inside the robot and sparks were shooting out of it at rapid intervals. Toru and Togata ducked their heads in tandem as some shot their way.

“Closer to my lower back, actually!” Toru shouted back. 

Toru had always been incredibly proud of her hair. It was a personal thing, obviously, since no one could see it, but that didn’t stop Toru from meticulously maintaining it from a young age. Even if it wasn’t visible, Toru could still feel it, so she’d always gone out of her way to treat her hair properly so she could at least revel in the sleek texture of it. She’d followed beauty influencers online for years to discover the perfect balance of shampoos, conditioners, leave-ins, and other miracle products to keep her hair in perfect condition. Hair length like hers could only be achieved through proper care of healthy hair.

The drilling noise cut off suddenly and Hatsume pulled herself out of the robot and climbed down the ladder. She flipped up her grease-smudged goggles to eye Toru curiously. Toru, used to this reaction, let herself be scrutinized. 

“I can work with that,” she said finally. “Though there is the caveat of it being invisible. I need to be able to see my materials in order to make a beautiful baby out of them.”

There was always something, wasn’t there? Every time Toru thought she was taking a step in the right direction, the rug was pulled right out from under her—

“That’s an easy fix, though,” Togata said. “Temporary hair dye will help you cut it off of her and work it into usable fabric. Then you can wash the dye out when you’re all done.”

And just like that, there was hope again. Toru looked at Togata in amazement.

Hatsume smiled grandly at Togata. “Look at that! Beauty and brains. What don’t you have, Le Million?”

A quirk , Toru thought glumly. But Togata didn’t miss a beat. “Time to waste, Hatsume. Toru needs this costume done as soon as possible, okay?”

“Don’t they all,” Hatsume said flippantly, tossing her tool on a desk behind her. “Alright, cutie,” she said, addressing Toru this time. “If you want support gear from me ASAP then I’m going to need you to come back to me as quick as you can with dyed hair, got it? Then I’ll get to work on turning it into something usable for you.”

“Do you really think you can do it?” Toru asked. All of this hoping was exhausting her.

“Ye of little faith. I perform miracles in this workshop every day!” she shouted, extending her arms out widely to gesture to the room of junked parts. “Now, begone until you’ve returned with dyed hair. I have schematics to work up.”

And just like that, they were kicked out of Hatsume Mei’s workshop of miracles, something Toru believed in for the first time in a long while.

-

Two days later, Toru walked out of the Workshop of Miracles feeling lighter than she had in all the time she’d been a student at UA. Most of that was due to the 13 inches of hair cut from her head, but she couldn’t deny that optimism had something to do with it too.

“I like the haircut,” Togata told her as he met up with her outside of the workshop. He was smiling that same sunny smile, but Toru didn’t have it in her to question it after feeling so high. 

She shook her head from side to side, reveling in the feeling of the tips of her hair hitting her face. The other night she had approached the girls of 1-A with a proposition: make-over night. Thrilled beyond all belief, they were incredibly eager to follow her to the drugstore for a night of fun, picking out nail polish and facial masks and of course, hair dye. After mixing it with care, Ochako had taken a specially purchased paintbrush to apply the dye evenly and consistently to her hair, making sure every strand was fully coated. The morning after, she had sent an email to Aizawa-sensei saying she wouldn’t be able to participate in Stealth training for a week and then took the day to bask in the feeling of being truly seen.

“It’s a shame I didn’t get to see it while it was still long,” he said as he walked beside her, matching his pace with hers as they made their way to the cafeteria. Despite the fact that she had a freshly-cut, lilac-colored bob swishing on her head, he still made the effort to focus his gaze on the space between her hairline and her mask, a white one with rainbow-colored cat whiskers. Toru smiled widely.

“It’s alright, Senpai. You didn’t miss anything,” she said genuinely. 

What he wouldn’t want to miss was still yet to come.

-

This was, perhaps, the one time Toru truly allowed herself to be manhandled. Even the word “allow” felt a little strong, for Hatsume Mei had come to her with an eagerness that couldn’t be denied, but with Toru being just as ecstatic as the engineer was, she didn’t push back too much when Hatsume insisted that she blindfold Toru for the reveal of her new costume. So after tying a UA uniform-standard tie around her eyes, Hatsume set to work dressing Toru, making easy work of her and not once misplacing where certain body parts might be.

“Are you guys almost done in there?” Togata asked from outside of the crudely-made fitting room. It wasn’t more than some strategically placed Support Pieces and a curtain draped between the stacks, but it was more privacy than Toru usually got when she undressed, so she was grateful.

“Al-moooooost,” Hatsume sang, in an extraordinary mood, which only made Toru’s spirits climb higher. After the rustling of fabric and a few tugs later, Toru felt herself being spun in a circle and led to the outside of the fitting room. Togata remained quiet as Hatsume untied the tie and pulled it from Toru’s eyes in a grand flourish.

Before Toru was a large full-length mirror, with Togata off to the side, watching with quiet awe. She almost couldn’t understand his expression at first, until she turned her body slightly and saw her hair catch the light, a purple shimmer still tinting parts of it even after she’d washed it several times.

But that’s all she saw.

Toru walked forward and touched her hand to the mirror before pulling it away. The glass felt cool and smooth beneath her palm, but she had not seen her approach the entire time she’d walked towards it. Only Togata and Hatsume’s giant smiles as they stood behind her.

Togata’s expression started to dip when he saw the tears rolling down Toru’s cheeks, a similar sight to what he had seen the day he first met her, except now they were suspended alone in midair.

“Oh, no. Hagakure-san, if you don’t like it—”

A little laugh bubbled out of her before she could stop herself, then another, until Toru found herself crying and laughing in equal parts.

Togata looked confused until Hatsume, who had never stopped grinning, handed over her goggles to him.

“Click the right button twice for thermal imaging, Beauty,” she whispered to him.

And then Togata was able to see Toru as she truly stood, a smile practically splitting her face in two as her hands roved up and down her body. Just her 13 inches of hair had made enough material for a shirt the length of a crop top, with spaghetti straps crossed behind her back. Her bikini-cut bottoms covered her front and backside completely, and there was even a tiny bit of material left over to make a tie for Toru’s hair, so the longer strands of her bob could be pulled back into a small ponytail at the back of her head. She was invisible, but she was covered , for the first time in her life, and Toru couldn’t stop crying as she clung to the feeling of security around all her most intimate parts.

“Now once your hair grows back, I’ll be able to add more to it, of course. This is just the prototype stage. If you take your vitamins or, if you’re like our senpai over here, you find someone with a hair-growth quirk, we’ll be able to add all sorts of pieces to it, such as—”

Hatsume couldn’t get any more words out, crushed as she was in Toru’s vice grip embrace.

“Thank you,” she cried into the engineer’s neck. “Thank you so much.”

Hatsume hummed and patted her back. “All in a day’s work. Glad I could help.” She rubbed Toru’s bare shoulder for a moment before jumping back. “Oh! Wait, I didn’t show you the best part.”

She extracted herself from Toru to head back to the makeshift dressing room, where she brought out the briefcase that all UA students carried their costumes in. Toru’s had previously only contained her white striped gloves. But when Hatsume opened it up, she saw much more.

It almost looked like a miniaturized closet, a rod going across the top of it and a tech-y looking hanger dangling from the middle. On the bottom of the velvet-lined case were a bunch of black discs the size of silver dollars, each with a blinking red light.

“This—” Hatsume said as she pointed to the hanger “—is where you put your costume after you’re done wearing it. The hanger is weight sensitive, so when your costume is on it, it will light up green so you know that it’s there even if you can’t see it. Should it not be in your case and you need to try and locate it—” Hatsume picked up one of the small discs “—use one of these sensors to track it. Your costume gives off a signal that can be registered on one of these from up to 500 meters away. There’s a tiny twist of wires in both pieces that act as a homing beacon. I made them as small as possible so they’re barely visible to the human eye unless you’re dancing in front of a stark white background. Otherwise you should be good.”

Toru twisted and turned about, patting down her sides, unable to even feel the wires Hatsume was talking about. The engineer was good. 

“Why are there so many sensors?” she asked.

“Ah, yes. These also double as tools to be given to your team when you go out on assignment for hero work. Now your teammates can locate you even if you can’t respond to them aloud. Helps with rescue ops and things like that.”

Toru didn’t know what to say. 

“You put a tracking device in my suit so my friends can find me?”

“Yes, essentially.”

Toru swallowed, the emotion in her throat coming close to clawing out of her. How did Hatsume know? How could she have known that Toru was terrified of getting lost or injured during her hero work? Of no one knowing where to look? She’d never told anyone that. She was Hagakure Toru, the upbeat attitude of 1-A, the comic relief when everyone else was feeling overwhelmed. How did she know Toru was petrified that a stealth operation would turn into a mission where she’d be lost forever?

“I can’t take the credit for that idea,” Hatsume continued good-naturedly. “Brains here came up with that one.”

Toru turned to her senpai, who had been standing back the entire time and staying out of the girls’ way as they discussed the details of the costume. He was still wearing Hatsume’s ridiculous-looking goggles, which meant he could still see Toru, though it seemed like he didn’t need the goggles at all for that to be possible. Maybe he’d been the one person truly seeing her this whole time.

She stepped toward him, not at all feeling self-conscious for perhaps the first time in her life and took his hands in hers.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Togata-senpai,” she said, her voice packed with sincerity.

She’d seen so many smiles from him in these past two weeks, but the crooked one that climbed up his face now felt the most genuine out of all of them.

“I’m always here to help,” he told her.

-

No, this was the most genuine smile she’d seen him wear in weeks.

“I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it!”

She laughed good-naturedly as the former-hero Le Million lay on the floor of a cat café, covered in kittens. He’d been shrieking with joy for the past half hour while she sipped her coffee and watched him. This was the least she could do for her upperclassmen after all he’d done for her lately. A small orange kitten crawled over his chest and flicked its tail at Togata’s nose, and he looked like he just won the lottery.

“This is the best day,” he said happily, his hands patting at the floor while an older striped cat batted at his fingers. “I feel like now I owe you something, Hagakure-san. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I absolutely did,” she said, setting down her cup. A cat sitting on the chair across from her scurried away at the noise, not being able to comprehend how the cup had seemingly moved on its own.  “And frankly I owe you about a thousand more cat cafés after all you’ve done for me.”

Togata sat up, holding the striped cat up to his face to give her forehead a kiss before setting her down to run away. He looked at Toru, eyes still full of light. “Now that’s just silly.”

Maybe so, but Toru felt he deserved it nonetheless. She wouldn’t be feeling as happy, as safe, as she felt now without his help. And the trackers…she really couldn’t thank him enough. He’d done so much for her despite barely knowing her. 

She wished she had been able to do the same when she saw him in that hospital bed all those months ago. When he was feeling lost, who had helped out Le Million? Back then, Toru had seen the pain on his face and had only thought of herself. Toru felt the venomous shame coursing through her veins again. Underneath all the smiles and child-like exuberance was a boy who was suffering without his quirk. The fact that she’d envied someone who’d been hurt so deeply still made her stomach twist. The cat café could provide him temporary happiness, but she could see that saving people was the thing that caused him real joy. 

“Togata-senpai?” 

Togata, who’d been dangling a feathered toy in front of an uninterested black cat’s face, looked up.

She was going to ruin his good mood, but she felt like she had to say it. 

“I’m sorry you lost your quirk.”

For once, Togata didn’t plaster an automatic smile to his face. “Why do you say that?”

Toru fiddled with the hem of her uniform skirt awkwardly, unable to look him in the eye. “You seem like a really kind person. I know that you would have made an amazing hero.” She cleared her throat awkwardly. “The fact that you lost your quirk is really unfair.”

Togata remained quiet. Toru did as well, not knowing if she should continue or change the subject to lighten the mood. Hagakure Toru, known for her cheery attitude, was not known for her grace when it came to serious topics. She probably shouldn’t have brought it up. It was out of her own guilt that she felt the need to mention it, and now she was forcing Togata to think about it—

Togata stood up, leaving the bell toy in front of the cat, and sat at the table with her. His voice was uncharacteristically somber when he spoke.

“I won’t lie to you. When I lost my quirk, I thought it was unfair too. I’ve worked hard my entire life to be able to turn my quirk into something useful, and having all that hard work taken from me so suddenly felt like a slap in the face. Like a part of me was taken, you know?”

Toru nodded sympathetically.

“But you know what?” Togata said. “After a while I began to realize that no one can control what is or isn’t fair in their lives. We can only control how we react to it.” 

There was truth in the simplicity of his statement. Toru felt it in her bones every time she’d been dismissed, ignored by people who often forgot about her if she didn’t work so hard to take up space. Life was unfair, and the bitterness she felt in her heart about her own quirk probably wouldn’t go away for a long time. But stewing in hate wasn’t going to help her move forward either.

Togata continued, “I lost my quirk, maybe permanently, but that doesn’t change my purpose. Le Million’s goal is to save a million people. I don’t need to be a hero to do that. Every day that I help someone in need is another person saved, and I use that reminder to stay focused on the future.”

Toru thought about that. “Does that mean I’m another person you saved?”

Togata hummed pensively. “Maybe. But I think that asking for help means that you already did half the work for me. And now that you can do hero work more comfortably, you can save lots of people too!”

The smile forming on his face was infectious. She felt the corners of her lips turning up, hope lighting a fire in her heart that hadn’t been there a month ago. 

Toru put her hands on her hips, but kept a teasing edge to her voice.. “Don’t think that you can use my rescues towards your count, Le Million!” Toru retorted playfully. “If you want to save a million people you need to do it fair and square!”

Togata laughed at her joke—a full, exuberant sound that Toru found she quite liked. The conversation tapered off from there as her senpai located a lone Singapura cat basking in the sunlight a few tables down, but Toru was fine with that. Something told her that this was the beginning of a new chapter for both of them. 

The future was looking brighter for her already, and with a new costume and a new friend, she was excited to see the kind of hero she’d turn out to be.

[angelixskz]

see you again; k.sm

↳ pairing; kim seungmin x reader

↳ word count; 3.4k+

↳ genre; fluff,angst, soulmate!au [reincarnation]

↳ summary; with each goodbye came the same five words because this wasn’t the first time the two of you met and it most definitely would not be the last.

↳ a/n; my skz fic for the month :) this is my first time writing a reincarnation!au, so I don’t know what I’m doing. feedback is always appreciated! please enjoy <3 

↳ warning(s); death, mentions of blood 

He looked so peaceful.

Seungmin glowed under the moon, the light reflecting ethereally on his pale face. He shouldn’t have looked that angelic under the moon’s kiss, not when all the blood was draining from his body and soaking into the material of your clothes. His breathing was calm, way too shallow and much quieter than the hiccups that you relentlessly released as tears streamed down your face. It wasn’t fair how he was able to smile weakly, barely forcing a chuckle out of his mouth as he whispered how silly you were for crying. It wasn’t fair how cold he felt when his hand grasped yours. He mumbled about everyone being too loud with their shouting and the pounding of their feet on the concrete.

You were about to tell him to shut up. You were going to tell him that he was the silly one for taking the arrow to the chest. However, when he languidly blinked his eyes closed and laid more weight onto your arms, the words died in your throat.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me!” you cried out, cupping his face.

“You’re comfy,” he managed to murmur, struggling to open his eyes.

“Seungmin, no,” you frantically brushed your thumb on his cheek, “stay with me.” With your other free hand, you clasped the ring he offered to you just minutes ago. “You didn’t even finish proposing to me.”

Your eyes were open; his eyes were closed. Your temperature was rising; his was lowering. Your pulse pounded in your ears; his was slowing down. You swallowed, his body limp in your arms. He opened his mouth, releasing a promise with his last breath.

You sat up with a gasp, forehead precipitated in sweat and arms shooting upwards as if to lift someone up. You stared down at your clothes. There was no blood. You touched your face. There were some tears. Sighing, you pushed off your blanket and dragged your feet to the kitchen.

The green numbers 4:39 glared from the microwave, casting a tiny glow in the dimly lit apartment. Your fridge hummed loudly as you pressed the dispenser for some water. You relished in the cool contact with the glass cup and savored each drop of water that graced your tongue.

With a satisfied ‘ah’ you placed the cup on the counter. The dream replayed in your mind. There was something about the boy that left you unsettled, like you’ve met him before. You frowned, the name of the unknown boy resting at the tip of your tongue. You dragged out the ‘s’ sound, hoping you’ll remember. It’s not uncommon, however, for your brain to randomly introduce strangers in your dreams and reassure you that you knew them. You only rolled your eyes at your attempts to say the mysterious boy’s name, muttering to yourself that you sounded like a snake. Your focus then drifted to your surroundings.

The apartment was bare. All the, very few, items that belonged to you were safely tucked away in their respective boxes. Your lips pursed into a pout upon remembering that you’d have to carry those boxes down several flights of stairs since the elevator was broken. Clicking your tongue, you refilled your cup once more and made your way back to your bedroom.

A gloomy, discontent overcast sat on your head as the dream lingered in the back of your mind. Bits and pieces were slowly disappearing from your memory. However, those five, muffled promising words stood out to you and quietly drizzled in your ears.

After contemplating for a good ten minutes, you grabbed your keys and made your way to the front door. It was your first day off. A day where you were free to do what you wanted and be stress free. So why not spend that day exploring the area?

As you locked your apartment door, you heard your next door neighbor’s door click shut. In the whole two weeks that you’ve been existing in this new building, you never once saw the person who lived next door.

“Oh, that guy?” the dimpled guard (he always greeted you whenever you passed by) scratched his chin. “Well, I see him out pretty frequently. Most of the time, though, he arrives when you leave, or you leave when he arrives,” he chuckled, “it’s like the two of you always miss each other.”

You pushed Chan’s words to the back of your mind and ignored the disappointment that swirled in your stomach. While you didn’t plan to be best buds with the boy who was a wall away, you thought it’d be nice to actually know someone other than the friendly guard. You shook your head, breaking away your lingering gaze on the gold numbers on the door next to yours.

He has his own life, and so do you.

You found yourself driving to a nearby cafe. It looked fairly busy and your hand hesitated to open the door, for you worried the wait would be long. Waving off the petty concern, you swung open the door. A harsh wave of deja vu hit you when you stepped into the bustling room. The sky dimmed and the people in the cafe faded away.

The stars signaled that the cafe was closed, yet you knocked on the locked door anyway.

He didn’t ignore you, he invited you in. He didn’t shout at you, he offered you some tea. He didn’t sigh in disappointment, he gave you a patient smile. And you knew. You knew he was filled with questions, you knew how hurt he was, yet he sat there. He sat there with expectant eyes and open arms.

You hated it.

You twiddled your thumbs, eyes lowered to the recently cleaned table.

“I’m moving.”

His voice was quiet, stable, but quiet. “Is that why you were avoiding me?”

“I thought it’d be best if you hated me,” you mumbled, a lump lodged in your throat, “that way, it would be easier to say goodbye.”

Seungmin took your hands into his, “First of all, I don’t hate you. I never have, and I never will.”

You sniffled, still refusing to look at him.

“And secondly,” he lifted your chin, “we won’t be saying goodbye.”

There were his eyes. You wanted to laugh at all the scientists who located the galaxy up high in the sky and out of this world when each and every star, each plant, each spec of dust, was floating in Seungmin’s eyes; the galaxy wasn’t up there, it was right here. The corner of his mouth quirked up at the cute furrow of confusion in your brows. “What do you mean, Seung? I’m moving.”

he chuckled, “don’t you remember?”

and there were those five words again.

“I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

You flinched at the touch of the waiter’s hand on your shoulder. You blinked at him, the face of the boy in your flashback disappearing and slowly dissolving into a freckled boy. He stood there with concerned eyes and a tray full of broken glass. His eyes weren’t the same. “I’m fine,” you quickly told him, making your way out towards the exit.

Not a minute later, a guy entered the cafe. “Woah, Felix, what happened here?”

You, on the other hand, sat in your car, head spinning as nausea crept up your throat. You didn’t remember. You don’t know what that boy, s- seu- You cried in frustration as nothing but an ‘s’ sound flowed off your tongue.

Just as the dream you had two weeks, bits and pieces started to fade away. You don’t remember why you were crying, you don’t remember what his reassurances were, and you don’t remember hiss name.

What bothered you the most, were the five words he told you. It was a melody you didn’t know the lyrics to.

“Have a nice night.”

You replied with a brief ‘you too’ before shoving your wallet into your pocket and grabbing the grocery bags filled with junk food. After that incident at the cafe, you’ve been finding it hard to do anything other than laze around your apartment all day.

You let out a yawn. Today was no different. You woke up to lay in bed for the whole morning, only to rummage through your near empty fridge and pushed away your thoughts on finishing the essay that’s due in two days. It could wait, you thought, pressing play on the remote.

You had successfully stared at a blinking cursor for fifteen minutes before feeling the sudden urge to sleep, which you did. You woke up an hour and a half later, the sun setting outside of your window.

Another day was wasted.

Although you barely did anything, your stomach growled for food. That’s how you ended up walking to the convenience store across your apartment complex, hoping to fulfill your hunger with some instant ramyeon.

Your grip on the plastic bags tightened as you passed by an alleyway. The looming darkness caught your eye, but you refused to explore the curiosity. At least, that’s what you were hoping to do. Instead, your feet paused, body frozen as you heard rummaging in the trash can.

And suddenly, the darkness consumed you.

“Come here kitty,” you beckoned, waving an open can of tuna in front of the hissing cat. You frowned, “Okay, okay.” You gently placed it in front of him, squatting calmly as Seungmin, you named him, started to slowly make his way out of the tattered box.

“Hey Seungmin,” you cooed, the cat’s ears flattening at your tone.

“How do you know my name?”

You jumped up, the shaggy, orange cat following suit before scurrying away into the darkness. You turned around and glared at the stranger. “He was just about to eat, you kn-”

Without any warning, the stranger shoved you further into the alleyway, pushing you against the wall and covering your mouth with his hand. You protested, pushing his shoulders and biting his finger. He hissed at the pain, body still pressed against yours as he quickly peeked towards where the lamppost was.

“Help!” you shouted, hearing heavy footsteps coming your way.

His eyes widened, “shut up.”

You only pushed his unmoving figure, mouth opening to shout louder. However, before you could even have a chance to, the stranger put his finger on your lips.

“I will kiss you if you shout again,” he warned.

You blinked at the boy, his face still hard to see under the shadow of the brick walls surrounding the two of you. “Isn’t that like, harassment?”

It was hard to see, but you could tell the boy rolled his eyes. “Just be quiet or else you’ll find out the real definition of harassment, and those guys won’t be as nice as me.”

“Seungmin,” you whispered, his name breezing through your teeth as if that was the first word you ever learned.

He turned his head to you, “So you really do know my name.”

“Well, that’s what I named the cat, but apparently it’s your name too.”

He raised his brows at your comment, about to say something else before the shouting and footsteps got louder. You felt your heartbeat pick up and you squeezed your eyes shut. He pressed you closer to the wall, almost as if the two of you could magically phase through the bricks and disappear.

You held your breath as you heard footsteps falter at the entrance of the alley. Seungmin leaned his forehead against yours, arms clutching around you. It was oddly comforting.

“There’s nothing here, let’s go!” yelled a gruff voice.

For a few minutes the two of you stood there. You slowly opened your eyes, shocked to see the boy already staring at you. It was unfortunate that  your eyes adjusted to the darkness because your, once normally beating heart, picked up the pace and started beating like you finished jogging a marathon.

“I think they’re gone,” you whispered.

He cleared his throat, immediately backing away from you, “right.”

You swallowed, dazed by how cold it felt without him near. Seungmin didn’t spare you a glance, simply turning away and making his way out to the sidewalk.

“Wait,” you called out, catching up to him. Your breath was taken away, words lost at the familiarity you felt thru his gaze. You shook your head, eyes focusing on the cuts he had on his face. “Don’t you want to get bandaged up?”

He grinned at your offer. “Sorry, sweetpea, but I have to keep moving.”

You were disappointed by his rejection.

“But,” he added, “there’s always the possibility…”

“A possibility…” you repeated, trailing off just as he did.

The way his grin widened made your stomach flip, but the five words he uttered, made your head spin.

“I don’t have any money!” you yelped, heart palpitating in your chest when the cat sauntered past you. The night air created goosebumps on your arms and it sadly did not make up for the lost warmth you got from the stranger in your… dream? How odd to randomly dream at a moment like this.

As quickly as the dream appeared, it left.

You let out a loud breath as the cat meowed. You made a face at the cat who tilted her head innocently. “Don’t look at me like that,” the cat meowed again, “I genuinely thought you were a person who was going to mug me.”

The cat walked towards you, rubbing her head against your leg.

“Yeah, yeah,” you tsked, “I get it. You’re cute, but I don’t have any food you can eat.”

The cat then started to purr. You sighed, “Wait here.”

Walking back to the convenience store with your bags, you shot a smile towards the yawning cashier. “You’re back,” he commented.

You planted the cans of cat food on the counter. “Yes I am,” you glanced at his name tag, “Jeongin.”

He scanned the items, “How funny.”

You raised your brows at his statement, handing him your card. “What is?”

“Some guy also bought the same thing just a few minutes ago,” he chuckled.

Those words shouldn’t have weighed so heavily, but they left you feeling empty, like you missed something very important.

“That is funny,” you mumbled, a slight pounding in your head recalling indecipherable words to ring in your ears.

You made your way back to the alleyway. “Kitty, hey kitty!” you called out, slowly approaching the cat. You paused when you realized she was eating. “Huh,” you frowned.

You really felt like you missed something important.

“Are you sure you don’t feel tired?” Chan greeted, gesturing towards your eyes as you exited the elevator.

“Is this your way of telling me I have eye bags?” you pursed, eyes squinting at his accusation.

He shrugged, “I’m just saying that, judging from the weight under your eyes and how you seem to be yawning every time I see you, that maybe you’re tired.”

You yawned. “See,” he pointed out.

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe I’ve been a little restless at night, but”—you wiggled your finger—“that’s just because I feel…”

“Restless?” Chan guessed.

“Wow, you’re so smart,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes at his ‘thank you.’ “Anyways, as I was saying, I’ve been feeling, for a lack of a better word, incomplete lately, like I’m forgetting, or missing something. And I’ve triple checked that I turned in all my assignments due on Friday.”

Chan watched as you took a moment to mentally check off everything that was due.

“Have you ever...dreamt while being awake?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s called daydreaming, y/n,” Chan lightly laughed.

“No, no! Like- like you feel like you’ve been to this place before-.”

Your friend interrupted you, placing a hand on your forehead, “Are you alright? Maybe you should go back to bed.”

You shook your head, pushing off his hand, “I’m fine, it’s just…”

“That deja vu feeling?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, “like I’ve been here before.”

You exhaled sharply and turned to Chan, “Do you have some time to spare?”

“So, you’re telling me that you’ve been having these...dreams ever since you were young?”

You laughed, “Oh no! No, no. It only started having these when I moved here.”

He hummed, And you get a heavy sense of deja vu?”

You nodded your head, “Usually accompanied with a headache.”

“The same guy, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Those, um, dreams?” he clicked his tongue, “they feel real?”

“Strangely, yes. And for some reason, I can never remember the guy’s name, nor the last words he says to me before I’m brought back to reality.”

Chan was silent for a moment, finger tapping on his chin as he pondered. “What if they’re memories?”

“Memories?”

He leaned back in his seat, “Yeah, you know, a recollection of something. What if you’re remembering stuff from your past lives or something.”

“Past lives?”

He chuckled, “Why do you keep repeating everything I say?”

You glared at him, “Because it doesn’t make sense.”

“My grandma used to tell me about soulmates and reincarnation,” he commented, “maybe that’s what’s happening to you.”

“Reincar-” you stopped yourself from repeating what he said upon seeing his raised eyebrows, “What about it?”

“Two people,soulmates, are reincarnated in different lives and in each life, they always find each other.”

“Why would I be getting these dreams then?”

“I don’t know. You’re manifesting,” he suggested, “in hopes that your soulmate will find you soon.”

You gagged, “Soulmates aren’t real.”

“That’s what you think,” he cheekily grinned.

You shook your head, “No, it’s what I know.” You got up from the couch and walked to your mailbox; it’s what you came down to the lobby for anyway.

“You never know, y/n,” Chan called from behind you, tone sing-songy.

You ignored him. “Hey, did the mail come today?”

“Yes it did.”

“Do you recall seeing mail getting put into my box?” you asked, opening and closing the door of your mailbox.

He hummed, “I think so.”

You opened the door for the nth time, disappointed when the mail didn’t magically appear, “I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you don’t have any mail?”

You pursed your lips, “Maybe. If that’s the case, then I came down here for nothing.”

“You got to talk to me, though,” Chan reminded you.

“And what did I get out of talking to you?” you chided, looking at him with crossed arms.

He feigned a hurt expression, “You wound me, you know that?”

“You commented on my eye bags.”

“Like a good friend should,” he smiled, walking you to the elevator, “you know, I think your manifestation will pay off real soon.” He pressed the ‘up’ button, “but for now, you should go back to sleep. Maybe you’ll dream more of your soulmate.”

The doors to the elevator opened. “Again, soulmates-”

“Are closer than you think,” he finished, pushing you into the elevator. “Sweet dreams!”

You glared at him as the doors closed. “Curse you Chan,” you muttered, angrily pressing the ‘9’ button, “putting that stupid thought of soulmates into my head.”

Unfortunately, the thought lingered and overstayed its visit in your mind.

It was simply a coincidence that his face was the same in every dream, you thought, that was just your mind making up your dream boy. You found yourself sounding out the ‘s’ sound.

“What was his name?” you frowned, “seung…” You hummed in uncertainty as you exited the elevator, slowly walking to your apartment. “Seung,” you kept repeating, keys jingling as you attempted to find the right one.

You pushed in the key, struggling to twist it. “Seungcheol? No, that doesn’t sound right.” You pulled out the key, jamming it back inside the keyhole before twisting it again. “Seungmin!” you gasped, the door unlocking.

“Do I know you?”

You paused, his voice ringing in your ears. Quickly, you turned, vocabulary disintegrating when you saw his face. You recognized the slope of his nose and the blush of his lips. You recognized the arch of his brows and the apples of his cheeks. Most of all, you recognized the slight twinkling in his eyes.

He stood there, face scrunched in thought. “I dreamed about you,” he blurted, the thought leaving his mouth before it processed in his brain. “I- yikes, he nervously chuckled, scratching the nape of his neck, “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

Your heart swelled at the red that tinted his ears.

“Seungmin,” you tested out.

He blinked at his name being called

“My dream boy,” you grinned, “would you believe me if I said I dreamt about you too?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” A smile tugged his way into his lips and he looked at the mail in his hands, your name in bold letters. “We’ll see each other again.”

[iwajima]

don’t hate me. (akaashi keiji x m!reader)

summary: you push your feelings down for akaashi for so long that you’ve forgotten every loving memory of him. until, he reminds you.

a/n: this is so bad bc i didn’t edit this at all and theres probably a lot of typo’s but (*´꒳`*) i felt like writing a self indulgent soft fic before sleeping

warnings: nothings really, fluff and anxiety(?)

status : unedited / 1.9k

You honestly didn’t know when your love for Akaashi bloomed in a romantic way. After all these years of being his close friend, you both shared moments that an average person would label as romantic, but to you both it was just friendship. From sleeping together cuddled in the same bed to gifting each other on special days to sunset picnics after practice. Either you two were oblivious or the world was too strict on defining what romance is.

But now you know, you love Akaashi. Seeing him be confronted by a girl with a love letter in her hand made your heart prick with jealousy. Your eyes couldn’t stop glaring at the girl, the thought of her having a chance with him bubbled anxiety that you pushed down and denied. You didn’t even notice that your face was strewn with furrows when Konoha slaps your back.

“Oi, y/n-chan what’s that look on you face?” He looks at your ridiculous expression before following your eyes, when he sees who they’re set on he puts two and two together.

Konoha whistles before snickering at you. Despite Akaashi’s faint body language of disinterest, you still believed in the possibility of him reciprocating the girl’s feelings.

“This is some entertaining shit, don’t tell me you like her–“ You roll your eyes at him, ignoring his teasing, he clearly lacked awareness of how much his words could have affected you.

When you turn around, trying to get away from the scene before you, Konoha follows suit and babbles on about other things. You didn’t blame her, Akaashi was growing into his features and that brought a lot of attention from shallow girls. You just didn’t like the idea of him sharing his love. In your little fumbled head, that meant you weren’t important enough for him to give all his love to.

You spend the day almost ignoring him, which was stupid of you considering if you were losing him you should be trying to win his attention again. But you needed some time to let your brain think.

The rest of your classmates file out as the day ends and you’re left with Akaashi, who’s on cleaning duty with you. Had you not been jealous of the girl due to the entire situation that morning, the atmosphere wouldn’t have been uncomfortable and awkward, at least for you.

“Hey, y/n I haven’t seen you all day, are you okay?” He speaks up when the last student leaves.

He approaches you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You had your head resting on your arms as your face was nuzzled into the inside of your elbow. When you don’t respond, he moves to the other side to place himself in your line of view. You had your eyes closed, but Akaashi had a suspicion that you were well awake.

“Alright then, I guess you’re going to leave me to do all the cleaning.” He laughs, gently patting your shoulder.

You felt guilty, letting him do all the work, but that kinda meant he’s stuck with you a little longer and you were fine with that. The sounds of his soft humming almost made you fall asleep. His voice was soothing, it almost made you cry. Your sudden yearning for his touch confused you, why were you suddenly crushing on Akaashi?

The constant thinking had actually made you fall asleep. The last thought made you fall asleep to a comforting feeling. You had thought of Akaashi and that was bound to make you get a good nap. Just as you were beginning to float to dream land, you were woken up by a hand stroking your hair.

“Y/n, we gotta go now, it’s getting late.” He smiled at you, you looked so peaceful sleeping.

It took you a second to realize you had fallen asleep, but the drowsiness soon left when you see Akaashi looking at you, his proximity a little closer than you thought.

“You owe me one for making me clean everything, luckily the room wasn’t as messy as it usually is.”

You both silently walk home together. Luckily, volleyball practice wasn’t on, so you were able to go home and drown in your sorrows. Your overthinking was broken by Akaashi’s voice slicing through the quiet.

“Hey, are you still sleeping over tonight? we’re still going to the city tomorrow right?” He asks, eyeing your fatigued expression.

“Oh shit– I completely forgot.” You say with wide eyes, realizing you should’ve packed for a sleepover.

“You dumbass, you can borrow my clothes remember? I got extra towels and a toothbrush too. Where has your head been? you seem off today.” He says in worry.

You brush it off, saying you didn’t have the best sleep because you were up too late. He was right, usually you weren’t this… awkward. All your manoeuvres were hesitant and your demeanour was not the usual chill guy he knew. You curse at yourself for not being able to mask your emotions.

But man it felt nice to be sleeping in Akaashi’s bed again. Everytime you inhaled, all you could smell was him. You could almost doze off from it alone, but you wanted to stay awake a little longer to bask in his company. He was curled facing you, one of his legs was resting above yours. You weren’t sure if he was asleep or not. You were face to face with him, noses a few inches away, you didn’t want to stare too long just in case he opened his eyes but you couldn’t.

Your eyes travel from his long lashes, to the tip of his cute little nose, before settling onto his smooth lips that were slightly pouting. You were so close you could kiss him, but that would be weird. Your thoughts fought with each other as it raced with scenarios that could happen.

What were you saying? You can’t keep thinking about this, Akaashi’s your friend and has been since you were in kindergarten. You didn’t even know if he liked guys. Right… if you were to tell him, he would probably call you a freak and a stalker.

The thoughts keep flooding and some hurt more than others. You turn to face the wall, letting a few drops of tears fall. You tried your best to not let out a sound but you couldn’t stop yourself from sniffling. Just as you were about to fall asleep, a voice erupts from behind you.

“Y/n are you jealous of Keiko?”

You freeze. Why would he be saying that? Did he see you stare? Or were you really that obvious? You didn’t know how to respond, you didn’t even want to move. The sound of your heart was beating so loud in your ears that it made you panic even more.

“If you’re wondering why I’m asking you, I’ve known you since we were 4.” His voice was quiet, only loud enough for you to hear, and it sent chills up your spine.

By now your eyes were wide, tears streaming down even more. You bite your lip to prevent your breathing shake. You really couldn’t come up with a response. He continues when you don’t reply.

“It’s been a year, you seriously think I wouldn’t notice?”

Akaashi knows when you gaze at him, but he never meets your eyes. He notices the hugs that were a little longer than usual. He notices your touches grow more and more frequent each time you meet whether it be a faint brush of your fingers when you pass him something or you placing a firm hand in his shoulder as you great him when you arrive to class in the morning.

A year? Had it really been a year. Were you really in love with him this entire time, did you forget or were you oblivious by your own feelings that you couldn’t see how you were acting around him? You wanted to turn and see the look on his face, it was probably disgust. You can’t tell if he’s upset or not, his speech was affected by his tiredness.

“You don’t remember do you?”

Remember?

Akaashi did feel a tinge of disappointment when he saw your lack of response. Maybe you were mad at him because he let that girl Keiko talk to him longer than needed. Maybe you were mad at him because maybe you do remember and he wasn’t showing signs of what he swore he felt. He just wanted you to talk to him.

“I know I should stop letting these girls give me love letters, but I hoped you would’ve stepped in for me and say that I'm not interested. Is that strange?”

He sighs, you haven’t moved an inch. He was hesitant, but he moved closer to you, close enough to feel the heat radiate off your body. Maybe he shouldn’t have confronted you about this, it felt like wrong timing.

“Remember that night you stole alcohol from your parents? You were pissed drunk, maybe they weren’t true words but you said…”

You felt shame creep up to you, a frown settled on your face at your failure to remember. You knew you shouldn’t have drunk most of the bottle.

“You told me that you were in love with me.”

Oh.

Maybe you did remember. You probably shoved that memory down subconsciously to prevent yourself from being embarrassed, you remember, it was a clear small chunk of memory. You also remember the amount of girls you hooked up with to prevent yourself from falling for Akaashi even more, but it obviously didn’t work, you only wanted him even more because those girls weren’t him.

“Do you… you know what nevermind. I’m sorry if you found this weird, forget I said anything–“

“Akaashi.”

You finally turn, eyes slightly red from crying. He was so pretty under the moonlight, his upturned brows and wide worried eyes made your heart skip a beat. You would be lying if you didn’t want to suffocate him in a hug right then and there.

“Tell me what you said that night.” Your voice was stern, but you could tell that you were trying to hide a cry.

“I’m sure you remember–“

“I want to hear you say it again.”

You pull yourself closer to him, eyes never leaving his as you search for something within. You cup his cheek, inching your face closer and closer. Akaashi feels his cheek heat up. Luckily, you couldn’t see his blush under the blue tones from the night.

He hesitates, but says it clearly. The words replayed in your head over and over, you have to make sure you heard it correctly and you weren’t hallucinating. Instead of heartbreak, you felt relief. It wasn’t what you expected for him to feel.

“I love you.”

You wasted no time in pressing your lips against his. And oh how it felt so good to finally be able to do so. Every single memory of your display of affection towards him flashed in your mind. You had been practically hinting at it, but you denied your feelings and called it friendliness.

If you could have a moment you could replay on a loop when you died, it would be this one. You lay almost on top of him with your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. Your leg was placed across his thighs as your arm was resting on his chest, your hand tangled in his hair.  

This was the intimacy you craved, and so did he.

[mamichigo]

Title: at the bottom (where the eyes can't see)

Pairing: Kokichi/Shuichi

Rating: G

Word count: 2,1k

Tags: Hope's Peak AU, Post Hope's Peak, Bittersweet, Fluff and Angst, Pre-Relationship, Aged-up characters

Summary: "Because, one year ago, Kokichi disappeared without a trace before he could even attend the graduation ceremony."

Shuichi meets Kokichi again.

Notes: Gift for participant #32 in the @kokichigiftexchange

*

"Ouma-kun?"

It's too early in the morning to encounter anyone; the only sound at the beach is the quiet murmur of the waves. A lone person stands where the waves come to lap at their bare feet, and the person shivers in what he can only presume is freezing water. Shuichi is compelled to attribute it to a Christmas phantom, a hallucination born out of wishful thinking.

But he recognizes that messy head of hair, the diminutive stature. Kokichi Ouma looks like he hasn't changed at all, just like he stepped out of one of Shuichi's restless dreams.

His feet crunch on the sand, and it's that rather than the whispered name that alerts Kokichi to his presence. He turns with eyes narrowed, but suspicion melts into recognition when he spots Shuichi. To his surprise, that look morphs into horror almost immediately. Kokichi takes a step back and looks around.

"You don't need to run away," Shuichi hurries to reassure him. "If you don't want to talk, that's… That's okay."

It isn't. Just insinuating it is makes him nauseous. Kokichi smiles in a cynic way that tells him he's still just as good at spotting lies. But, right now, as long as he can make Kokichi stay, Shuichi will tell as many white lies as necessary.

Because, one year ago, Kokichi disappeared without a trace before he could even attend the graduation ceremony.

"It's been awhile," Shuichi whispered.

Kokichi's shoulders hunch. Shuichi is sure that if he could, Kokichi would be putting up a physical barrier between the two of them. In the absence of that, he keeps his body language closed off, not even bothering to fully face Shuichi.

"It would've been much longer if I had my way," Kokichi snaps back. There's none of the joking, childish tone that used to always be in his voice.

"Your plan was to never see any of us again, wasn't it?" Shuichi muses to himself. He watches Kokichi's tense form. "Then, why are you here?"

Kokichi scoffs. "It's a big city, as if I ever planned to just accidentally bump into you. Or anyone, for that matter."

"No, but why would you still be in the city at all? It's not what you'd do, if you wanted to disappear."

Kokichi raises his eyebrows at him in challenge. Shuichi tries to tell himself he isn't trembling as well.

"I'd know. I looked for you."

Kokichi's eyes widen, and just for a moment, there's a crack in his mask. He bites at his bottom lip and a pained twitch appears at the corners of his eyes. Kokichi turns his head down and away, staring at something. Shuichi only now realizes Kokichi is clutching something in his hands.

"I wouldn't expect any less from the Ultimate Detective! Ah, you must be an active detective now, so I'm sure you have all kinds of resources at your disposal now. It wouldn't be hard to look for little ol' me, right?" Kokichi swirls to look at him. The smile on his face looks like it hurts his cheeks. "That's what it means to be an Ultimate, right?"

Shuichi shifts his weight, and realizes he has nothing to say to that. Kokichi was right. It was frighteningly easy to look into Kokichi's whereabouts, and even more terrifying to realize even then he couldn't find his missing ex-classmate.

Everywhere he goes, he sees his other classmates, even the ones he is no longer in contact with. On TV, billboards, online forums, on the news. Every single one of them, except Kokichi.

"What have you been up to all this time?" Shuichi asks, like he has done so many times to the silent copy of Kokichi that appears to him whenever he closes his eyes.

"This," Kokichi deadpans. "But that's not really the question you want to ask, is it, Saihara-chan?"

Shuichi looks to Kokichi's shoes, lying on the sand. To his clenched toes, dipped in water. To his fingers, almost purple at the tips where they clutch some mysterious box. Finally, he looks into Kokichi's eyes, and finds nothing but guarded apathy. Shuichi has gotten no better at reading Kokichi than he used to be when they were both attending Hope's Peak.

"What question do you think I want to ask?"

"Oh, please." Kokichi rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. "I'm not in the mood for the charades."

"That used to be all you were in the mood for."

"But we're not at Hope's Peak anymore, are we?"

Shuichi opens and closes his mouth a few times, but can't settle on an answer. Shuichi swallows.

"But you're still you."

"Don't act like you know me."

"Ouma-kun…"

Shuichi tries to touch his arm, if only for the comfort of knowing this Kokichi is not an illusion, but Kokichi knocks his hand away before he can get close enough to do it. Kokichi pins him with an angry look.

"Is it just me, or have you gotten bolder, Saihara-chan? Assertive, even!" Every word drips with sarcasm. "My sincere congratulations!"

Shuichi presses his lips into a straight line. He looks away for a moment, and is reminded of how cold it truly is when a gust of wind makes goosebumps raise on his flesh. Shuichi watches Kokichi's still trembling figure.

"What are you doing here, Ouma-kun?" Shuichi asks again, dread at the back of his throat.

Kokichi hums in thought. He kicks at the water half-heartedly and winces when droplets of it fall on himself. He shakes the box in his hand, and it rattles.

"To dispose of useless things," Kokichi says.

"On a Christmas morning, in the middle of Winter?"

"What can I say, it's a little symbolic this way."

"What's inside the box?"

They look at each other for a moment that's a few eternities too long. Slowly, slowly, a smile tugs at Kokichi's lips. It's small and secretive; it's the same smile Kokichi had given him the last time they talked, framed by pouring rain and dark clouds. Shuichi's breath catches in his throat.

"Nothing worth remembering."

Perhaps it's the shock of the sudden memory that makes him stand there and watch as Kokichi raises his hands above his head and throws the box into the ocean. Kokichi turns like he means to leave, and the box falls into the water with a wet plop. Shuichi looks from one to the other, and chases after the sinking box.

He manages to see Kokichi whip his head back to look at him, but he doesn't have the time to think about that.

"Saihara-chan!" Kokichi yells when his body hits the water.

Shuichi takes a deep breath and dives. The freezing cold shocks him into almost inhaling the water, but Shuichi slaps a hand to his mouth and swallows the urge to gasp for breath. The seawater stings at his open eyes, but he has enough visibility to see the dark polish of the wooden box. Shuichi grabs for it and resurfaces with a gasp.

He doesn't get out of the water immediately, floating there and breathing with his eyes closed. His fingers are slippery, but he cradles the box to his chest and doesn't let go.

"Saihara-chan!" Kokichi yells again. 

Shuichi raises his head slowly. Numbly, he waves to Kokichi. It takes some effort to drag himself out the water with his clothes weighing him down, but Shuichi manages to get back to shore. 

Shuichi never imagined he'd spend his morning diving into the ocean, with a fuming Kokichi glaring at him. He almost laughs. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Kokichi hisses. He gets into Shuichi's personal space, raised to the tip of his toes to grab Shuichi by the lapels of his coat. The seawater in his hair drips onto Kokichi's cheeks. "I know you can be stupid, but this is a new low!"

Shuichi nods numbly. "A-At least…" His teeth chatter. "At least I got it. The box."

Kokichi stares incredulously at the wooden box. Shuichi can nearly see it when the thread that holds him together snaps.

"You think I care?! I was here to throw that away, you idiot! This was supposed to be the last of— Of all this!" Kokichi shook him roughly.

"Wait, Ouma-kun, that hurts—"

"That stupid school, this city, this useless thing they called a talent. I'm getting rid of all of it."

Kokichi continues his barrage, and Shuichi has to step back when Kokichi gets too close. In the frenzy, they end up tangled in each other's feet, and they both fall painfully. Shuichi winces, but Kokichi isn't deterred. If anything, he looks all the more furious.

"You can't stop me from doing it, Saihara-chan," Kokichi says in a fervent whisper.

"You were trying to say goodbye," Shuichi realizes.

For a tense moment, neither of them speak. Kokichi is still furious above him, expression twisted. Shuichi has a feeling that, if he was capable of doing it sincerely, Kokichi would be crying. Shuichi wants to hug him.

He chuckles quietly.

"What are you laughing about?"

"That's the first time you've ever been this sincere with me," Shuichi says with a smile he knows is too soft.

Kokichi sighs exasperatedly and hangs his head. He ends up with his forehead to Shuichi's collarbone. He's still clutching Shuichi's coat tightly.

"I hate you," Kokichi says.

"I missed you," Shuichi answers.

He dares lay a hand on Kokichi's head, and though he flinches, he doesn't say anything about it. Shuichi runs his fingers from his scalp to the tip of his hair. He gently plays with the tips like he so starkly remembers Kokichi doing whenever he was focused on whatever thoughts were on his mind. Shuichi can see it, in his mind's eyes: Kokichi sitting on the table, legs crossed, grinning as he lies through his teeth about one thing or another.

He doesn't have the time to dwell on the memory, as Kokichi grows antsy in the prolonged contact. He pushes himself away and sits on the sand next to Shuichi. He's still within arm's reach, Shuichi notes as he sits up as well.

Kokichi forces him to remove his outer layer and offers his own coat in exchange.

"Thank you."

"Whatever."

Kokichi rests his cheek on his knee and doesn't bother looking at Shuichi again. Shuichi frowns, just a little bit, but concedes that at least Kokichi has yet to leave.

"Why did you disappear?" Shuichi asks.

"There it is, the million dollar question," Kokichi deadpans with a huff. He draws on the sand with his finger, and Shuichi can see he's pouting too. "Does it really matter?"

"I spent the last year searching for any clues of what might have happened to you." Shuichi allows for just a hint of steel to appear in his voice. "It matters."

Kokichi pauses for a moment. Then, he's right back to doodling. Shuichi can identify what looks like the hat he used to wear.

"There's only so much time you can spend on a farce. Every game has an ending. That's part of the fun too. You could say I got bored."

Shuichi observes him. He wonders if taking Kokichi's coat was a good idea, as he's shaking now more than ever. What he can see of his face is pale, with the exception of the underside of his eyes. He looks shockingly smaller. Shuichi realizes it's because his personality is so muted, a stark difference to how he presented himself so loudly before, impossible to ignore.

"Rather than bored, you just sound tired," Shuichi gently says.

"Thanks, Mr. Detective."

There is more to it than Kokichi is saying, but this is already more personal information than Kokichi would ever reveal about himself. They have time, enough for Shuichi to prod at his motivation, to peel the layers of what happened to Kokichi. He can only hope that's true.

"What are you going to do now?" 

"Same thing I've been doing. Which is to say, nothing." Kokichi seems to remember something. He shifts a little to point at the box Shuichi is holding. "Ah, you can keep that. You went through the trouble of throwing yourself into the ocean for it, so you win."

"I didn't know we were playing," Shuichi jokes.

"Aren't we always."

Carefully, Shuichi undoes the clasp that holds the lid closed. Inside the box, they are a number of little trinkets that he doesn't recognize, and a few he does. He sees a star pin he had won for Kokichi in a festival.

At the bottom of it all, there are a couple of pictures. The one at the top had his own face smiling up at him, with a laughing Kokichi clinging to him by the neck, half raised off the floor.

Shuichi turns a fond smile at Kokichi, but he's still resolutely avoiding eye contact. Shuichi keeps that secret to himself, and reaches for his friend's hand instead. Just a touch of his pinky to Kokichi's. Kokichi twitches, but his hand stays right where it is. 

"I'm glad I didn't let you throw it away."

[ketsuyuki-hibana-typed]

Rengoku Kyoujurou x Little Sister Figure!Reader (Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 3| Part 4| Part 5

Requested by @viviandarko @macker000

Now, you've became a Pillar. You're really proud that you could stand with Kyoujurou in the same place.

Being a pillar didn't make any special change, you still being the cute little sister for Kyoujurou and strong big sister for Senjurou.

And apparently, stubborn *ahem*Daughter*ahem* for Shinjurou.

Kyoujurou prohibited you to call him with "Kyoujurou-san". He wanted you to drop the formalities.

"What do you want me to call you then?"

"Ani-ue, or Onii-chan! Nii-chan seems cute too!"

"...I'll go with Aniki."

Every time you're going on mission, both of you will exchange letter, to make sure everything is fine. You're really happy when you received his letter thorough the crow.

When you met him on the Pillars meeting after a long mission, it was really merrier in front of the headquarters.

"Kyoujurou-Anikiiii!!"

"(y/n)!!!"

"WASSHOI! WASSHOI! WASSHOI!" Both of you made swirled motion with your hands.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" Iguro and Sanemi shouted angrily to you.

Sometimes, Kanroji joined you on the Wasshoi Moment, making Iguro (softly towards Kanroji, ofc) and Sanemi goes apopleptic.

Senjurou helped you to learn more about flame breathing since you are Kyoujurou's tsugako, mostly from the scrolls and journals.

"Senjurou, you're really good at rephrasing this! It's easier to understand all of these things now!"

"I'm glad I'm being able to help." He shyly averted his eyes. You patted his head gleefully.

When you did laundry, you really loved to wash and hang Kyoujurou's flame cape and uniform outside.

"I won't let anyone die here!!" You used his cape and stood in front of your clothesline, imitating the Flame Pillar and posing like he held the top of your sword. You grinned like an idiot. "...hehe, just kidding."

"Nee-chan? What are you doing?" Senjurou popped out from engawa.

"Just playing around with Aniki's clothes. Senjurou, wanna try too?"

"Looks fun!"

So both of you shared the cape and saying "Yomoya, yomoya da!" and "Umai! Umai!" just like he did on daily basis.

"You really have fun there, huh?" Kyoujurou was already behind you and lifted both of you up with his big arms. You're panicking when you suddenly floated on the air and the cape completely covered you. He laughed at your appearance.

You often helped him with polishing swords because you were painstaking on take care things more than him. He just sat there while looking at you, giving you blimmering aura.

And sometimes you became irritated because he stared at you for a long time.

When it's autumn, you loved making grilled sweet potato. After Senjurou collected the dried leaves from the yard, you lit the fire and started to grill it.

"Sweet potato?" Kyoujurou peeked behind your back.

"Yeah, it's still hot, so- Aaah.... don't take it yet."

Kyoujurou impatiently ate the grilled sweet potato. Steam came out from his mouth.

"Umai!"

One day at night, Senjurou suddenly awoke from his sleep, sweating and crying. He decided to go to your room.

"Nee-chan? Can- Can I sleep with you?"

You still awake, making report. Senjurou came to you with pillow and blanket on his hand. You saw him with tears droplets on the corner of his eyes.

"Senjurou? What happened? Come here." You stopped your writing and dimmed the lantern light.

He sat on top of your futon.

"I- I have nightmare. You were killed by demon. It's vague. I don't know, blood was everywhere, I saw you there. Ani-ue was there too, he tried to wake you up, but- but- everything went dark, I-"

"Hey, it's okay. I'm here." You hugged him and caressed his back.

He cried. "I don't want to lose you... Not after my mother. I don't want to lose anyone anymore."

"Sshh... I'm here. It's just a nightmare. I won't leave you alone." He seems afraid to go back to sleep. So, you hum the same lullaby you used to sing to your siblings when they're still alive. You pulled his body into your embrace, while slowly stroking his hair. He looked comforted, and slowly drifting into slumber again.

'Warm...' He thought.

You slept with Senjurou that night. He grabbed your hand, not wanting to let it go.

Kyoujurou found both of you on next morning, because he couldn't find Senjurou in his room. He woke you up and when he found Senjurou emerged from the blanket, he became confused.

You explained on what happened. Senjurou slowly wake up. Kyoujurou nodded.

"Senjurou, it's not appropriate to sleep with a girl."

"It's okay." You swayed your hand.

"I'm sorry for bothering you last night, Nee-chan." He bowed while carrying his pillow and blanket.

"You don't need to apologize." He smiled, saying thank you for comforting him and went out to make breakfast.

"Oh, if I'm the one who have bad dream, can I sleep with you too?" Kyoujurou moved towards you.

"Uh... Well..." The redness slowly spread on your cheek. "No."

"Come on, that's not fair! I wanted you to sing for me too!!"

"That's not what I'm talking about!"

People started to curious about your relationship with Kyoujurou, but you always said that he's like a brother to you.

Until that night.

You were with him in that wicked train, you'll never forget how Akaza battered both of you on that fight.

You will never forget his rupture, the view of his intestines almost gushing out from his stomach was a nightmare to you. You even didn't know how many times you said, "Please don't die!" while you brought him to Butterfly Estate, desperately tried to stop him for bleeding more on the abdomen.

You even forget on your own injuries, so after you put him on the bed and he's being taken away by the medic staffs, you collapsed.

He's fine now, fortunately. When you saw him on his ward after the incident, you rushed and hugged him while crying. Kyoujurou patted your hair, saying, "Thank you for brought me here and saved my life."

You always look after him, you didn't leave his side unless there is something really important occured. His stomach still hurt after post surgery, so you're the one who helped him to stand or walk.

Senjurou warned you to not force yourself because you had to rest and recover too. He make take-turns schedule to look after Kyoujurou.

And today, is the day where all of his bandages dispatched from his body. You helped him with that.

"How is your wound, (y/n)?"

"Healed perfectly!" You applied oint treatment on his injured eyes and put the patch back.

"That's good to hear. Thank you for take care of me."

"It's fine, it's fine!" You swayed your hands.

"I should give you my gratitude." He smiled. "After I dismiss from here, what do you want? Just say it, I'll do my best to grant them." You stopped for awhile, and putting out your gifted hairpin from your head. It was from Kyoujurou

"You know... You've done bigger things for me, more than what I'm doing right now. Giving me new hope, new family, new friends. If you weren't there on that time you found me, I'm probably just a 'nothing'." You grinned towards him. "So, I didn't need anything! Thank you for making me your little sister!"

Your glistened eyes made Kyoujurou stunned for awhile. After that, he smiled warmly.

"You see." He moved his face closer to you. You now could see his face clearier than ever. Her pointy nose, red lips, his unique eyebrows and flashy pupils. You know he's handsome even if he's wearing eyepatch, indeed. But you never know he is THIS handsome. You completely enthralled by his charm.

"Wh- what?" You stuttered while clutching into the wet towel.

"I'm tired of playing this 'little sister'."

"What do you mean?" You scared, you scared that he will dump you, he will abandon you, because you didn't do much on the train mission.

Please, Rengoku is the only family I had now.

"Be my wife."

"...yes?" You didn't process his words well inside your mind. He smiled like his usual daily normal dose of sunshine.

And then, bloods started spreading and scattered on your cheek vaguely.

"Aniki, I'm- I didn't think I really fit this position, your wife must be more beautiful and strong than me. I've always thought you as my brother."

"And what if that 'beautiful and strong' criteria were already fulfilled by you?" He cupped your cheek, moving forward to your face, changed his expression from shiny smiling to serious looking.

You freeze on your seat, your head started to spin, your heart throbbed fast when his lips about to touched yours.

Wait, this couldn't be happening right? There's no way! There's no wa-

"Ara, you're here, (y/n)." Shinobu made her entrance inside the ward.

"IT'S ONE HELL OF A NICE DAY INDEED, RIGHT? SHINOBU-SAN?!" You shoved his face and bowed to Shinobu. "I- I forgot to take my report! I'm going to headquarters now! Bye, Aniki! Shinobu-san, please take care of Aniki for awhile!!"

You dashed out while covering your reddened face.

"I didn't say anything about the weather though." She tilted her head. "Did I came in wrong time?"

Kyoujurou chuckled.

"My little sister is cute, isn't she?"

[mcshiiin]

Title: Not My Energy

Pairings: KageHina

Sypnosis: A short, sad songfic about the two where Hinata lost his ability to fly

Song used: Not my Energy by IV of Spades

[A/n: Thank you for reading! I hope u enjoy huhu]

"I've ran out of reasons, reasons to comfort my mind."

Harbingers of daybreak busted his windows open. With gleaming dark eyes and sleek black talons, a crow stared straight to his soul. A sudden prickling sensation running from his toes began clobbering his body, rendering him paralyzed. Panting... Gasping... Drowning his mind in a sea of sorrow.

"Illusions, delusions. Confusions are running inside."

Hinata, despite sinking down the shallow waters feels as if he's floating mid-ar, going "boing boing". Slowly plummeting down the sea floor, he never hit the bottom. Instead, he landed rather harshly on the plywood surface of the gym. A familiar stinging pain on his palm smiled at him viciously. Taken aback, he grabbed his thumping, hollow chest and inhaled as much air as he could. An unforgiving force clashed against his torso, almost obliteraring him before the ceiling collapsed.

"Pale lips and dark lies has conquered the dreamer's eyes."

Poring dreamily at the honey glazed tree tops with hooded eyes, a sigh escaped from his drought ridden lips. While licking away the parchness on his lips, a worried yet kind gaze cut through him from the opened door.

"Sho-kun, you're going to be alright. Don't worry sweetie, we're here for you."

"Nii-chan! Hang in there. I love you!"

The warmth from his sister's hug dissipated into thin air. The soft caress from his Mom ghosted above his puffed out cheeks. Forcing his lips to curl upwards, he fooled them. Just as how their words of affirmation and consolidation were mere lies to comfort him.

" 'Cause there is something in those eyes I can never find, boy."

"Hinata boke..."

Shoyo swore Kageyama's voice were softer than ever. Terrified to face him, the bed ridden boy looked away. His bones shaking. His muscles tensed up.

"I don't want to dive in those same steel blue orbs..."

He kept his mouth silent. He kept his resolve solid. Then it crumbled down.

A feverish touch was ignited from Kageyama's fingertips grazing atop Hinata's trembling hand. The setter is careful enough not to break him, delicately and softly, he slid his hand and interwined it with his partner's. Shoyo's ribcage shattered, his throbbing heart and strained heartstrings tore it down.

His orbs stung with pain as he stared back at steel blue ones.

"I'm sick and tired of the noices, the voices. Everything seems magical."

"We're here for you, Hinata."

"Call us anytime!"

"I'm sure everything will be figured out by the adults. Cheer up, Hinata!"

"Let's buy popsicles when you're discharged, ne Shoyo?"

"Here's some food for you, eat up. You're getting thinner. Ne? I'm the best senpai aren't I?"

"gET WELL SOON AND WE'LL PRAY FOR YOU!"

"Don't worry too much. Idiots don't get sick, tch."

"Tsukki's right, you'll be okay, Hinata."

"I--no we, are here for you. Don't worry about catching up to class, I can teach you anytime!"

"Get some rest and take care please."

"I won't bother you with my words, Hinata-kun. You'll be okay, I'll pray for it."

"Rest up well, kid."

Everything and everyone seemed to pass by in a blur. Their faces muddled together like a murky pond. Indis​cern​ible. Chafing. Quaint. As if it never happened, as if he never heard anything.

"I'm sorry but there's nothing that we can do..."

"D-doctor no-!"

What? He heard nothing. His mother's face didn't crumple to despair. Her hands didn't ball into a fist. Her lips did not quiver. She never looked at him with those eyes.

No. Natsu is a sweet and clingy sister, her hugging him to death is nothing. She always said that his hands are rough, calloused, and big. They're also warm, and emollient. Maybe that's why she's holding it tight. Oh? Natsu is drooling. He chuckled, overseeing the shuddering figure of his dear sister.

 

Such an ethereal dream it is.

"And yes, my mind is awakened, dead conscience. Eveyday's a torture for me."

Panting heavily whilst swimming in a sea if sweat, Shoyo is wide awake. But, awake from what? Running away from what, his reality or his nightmares? Scampering to and fro, for what? Just to slam his head on a rock, trying to shake his dreams up.

He doesn't know what's hounding hin anymore.

He run a hand through his thick tuft of hair, unable to get back to sleep. A frown creeping up on his lips as he tries to pry his gaze to his legs. His world stilled. His breathing stopped. His mind blown to smithereens.

It hurts. The seering pain from mid-thigh down to his calf. It hurts, so he screamed.

"No I am not holding on to the darkness, 'cause you're already in my mind."

Natsu must be lying, his hands isn't big at all! She probably hasn't seen Kageyama's slender, setter hands. They look also pretty. Tobio's obviously taking good care of it, he bet that he goes as far as taking it to the nail salon. He's both dilligent and an idiot. He wants himself to be in a perfect condition so he can exert his best every game.

Shoyo wonders what lotion his setter is using. He want to buy one for himself too. How irksome it is to look at your partner's long fingers, perfectly groomed nails (it must be nice to have a manicure once), and mosturized, vanilla scented palms whilst yours is anything like that.

"Hmm spacing out?"

Tobio snaked his arms to his frail waist. Nudging his face deep into Shoyo's neck. So warm. So cool. So comfortable. Too real.

"Nah, I'm barely hanging."

"And if you would walk alone, then just do it. The clock is ticking backwards."

A tall, tall wall looms before him. The view from the top. He wants to see it. But he never can, unless alone.

And now, he's more alone than ever.

"Onigiri, pork buns, curry, what do you want honey?"

He's out in the cold again. Jumping higher, digging deeper, receiving with his face to no end. Wheezing as his body thrives, playing as his blood pulsiates. His heart more alive than before. His grin toothier than before. Hinata Shoyo loving too hard ever than before.

The pure joy from he gets from being with the team. The steam he emitts whenever Tsukishima pushes his buttons as Yamaguchi fell in line with laughing at him. The always fidgetty Yachi and Asahi-san. His superb senpais. That reminds him, he need to ask Nishinoya-senpai to teach him the rolling thunder double. The hardworking second years, the goddess Kiyoko-san, everyone. Even Daichi-san's roaring voice along with Suga-san's refreshing smile.

And of course, the skull-crusher milk boy who knows no word except Boke.

"I'm going alone."

"I ain't got it all, I don't care. You're not my energy."

Extending his arms, reaching with his hands, everyone is too far away.

Lying awake for hours, figuring how to run, how to fly.

Then, his bed decided to swallow him up.

A stringent touch engulfed his throat that produced an acrid cry from his mouth. The need for air is urgent, but his compressed windpipes aches with the mere presence of oxygen flowing through. For a second he thought the hold loosen, then his limbs. were vehemently ripped apart.

As blood splattered, his lower region were mangled.

"Your tears are in laughter while your smile is in despair."

Happiness looks good in Kageyama and Natsu. No doubt, hands down, bets raised.

Their carefree laughter bounced off the four walls of his room. Pearly white teeth are exposed as their lips ae stretched up to a smile. As far as their drinking game goes, Natsu is losing. Yes, they're drinking milk, much to Kageyama's delight.

Shoyo lost a long atime ago and the two milk heads are on it. The way their eyebrows knits together in concentration, noses scrunched up, and cheeks puffed out is a sight to see. You don't get to watch Kageyama with a child that doesn't cry within his mere presence, let alone play with him.

"I can't hold it in! I'm going to pee!"

The shorter ball of fluff ran outside as fast as her legs could carry her. Just a little bit more... three more steps... two... then one. She got in!

Natsu came back to her brother wiping his tears as he cackle like a rooster. He reminded her of the Kuroo Tetsurou that he once mentioned, bedhead, hyena laugh and all. When she glanced to her Kageyama-nii-chan, she was almost blinded. His higantic smiles were presented at her boldly. A soft glow from the dying sun illuminated his face. She can feel the love strongly eminating from these two.

Just as the puzzle is coming on together, someone had to filp the table and topple off the pieces.

Whimpers and hiccups. Rattling and rustles. Disintegrating and decaying. Shoyo-nii-chan is crying.

One end of his lips tugged upward. Blood-curling smirk emblazoned on his dainty face. And as she peek at the door opened ajar, tears came rolling down her rosy cheeks, staining the fabric of her shirt with pure sadness that a child can't comprehend. A younger sister shouldn't see her brother's soul being chipped off like that, you know.

"The poison of your tongue has killed all your truthful words."

His throat is a sand paper being stroked on a piece of wood that produces a nasty sound. It aches. It's painful to shout. It's straining. He too doesn't like sound coming off from his mouth. Disdainful words that tarnishes their bond, lacerating sentences that makes him bleed too.

"I don't need you!"

Yes I do.

"Go away!"

Please stay.

"I didn't like the food. It was awful."

They're my favorite, thank you.

"When I said I don't wan't to it, it means I don't! Don't force me!"

Maybe I'm a bit hungry?

"I AM OKAY. I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP I CAN DO IT BY MY FUCKING SELF!"

I am a lost cause.

"Pale lips and dark eyes has broken the dreamer's lies."

He inaudibly shrieked one morning when he woke up. The world was wet with dew as it sleepily waved back at him. He tried to wave back, but the shock of living in monochrome froze him. Then he tumbled down with a thud.

For a moment he forgot what predicament he's in and tried to stand up only to out balance himself and landed face first down their wooden floor. Natsu, who was never asleep the entire night, came rushing by to her brother's room beside hers. Clearly shocked and bemused at her nii-chan's bleeding nose and busted lip, she stood frozen. A part of her wants to laugh but the other half actually feels bad. And good thing she did, because the next scene was horrifying.

"AAAAAHHHHH!"

"N-nii-chan..."

"SEND FUCKING HELP!"

A soul was broken.

"There is something in your mind you can never find, boy."

Searching. Wandering. Roaming around an unprecedented area.

What was he seeking?

He alwas have thought that it was the adrenaline. His heart beating so fast, so loud that he can hear it through his ears. An energy flowing deep within, tingling his senses, pricking under his skin. He enjoys the rush, the pain, the smile in his teammates' lips.

Yet when he stared at Kageyama, he realized it wasn't.

What kept him alive...

"Im sick and tired of the voices, the noises. Everything seems magical."

"Hinata boke..."

"Nii-chan."

"Sho-kun!"

"HINATA SHOYO!"

...was love.

"My eyes are hiding the pavements of my vacancy. You can't take the power from me."

Kageyama wish he could hold Shoyo tighter. Peacefully zoning out in his arms, a small drool pooling below his mouth, and beautiful long lashes. So angelic and breathtaking.

Yet he still fears poring directly in his partner's eyes for they scream,

"I'm going to eat you alive."

Placing a kiss atop his head, a sigh escaped his lips. Then, honey-flecked orbs dangerously stared at him. A tremble was awaken inside his body.

"I love you."

The both of then were taken aback by his sudden words. Hinata was left in awe, speechless while Kageyama quickly recovered his composure. He came into terms with his feelings finally just right now, it's now or never.

"I want you more than any perfect toss. It's you that I want to hit my balls. We're partners, aren't we? I want to be by your side, holding you, loving you. We'll drink hundred liters of milk, we'll eat as many pork buns as you want. I want to spend my life with you."

"Kageyama-kun..."

"I know it'a sudden but Hina--!"

"Loving means being alive. Being alive is being able to love,

But you see, living, is not my energy."

-FIN

[crypticcatalys]

Dreams Ive had involving Avatar in no particular order or context.

(This is super long btw)

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

11/1/18

I was a na'vi and i was with neytiri and jake at some waterfall. We were Parachuting i guess because we parashuted to the end on the fall and into a lake. There was a barrier at 8 feet so we swam to a car in a parking lot and bille joe Armstrong was there and we drove to a gas station, i woke up.

11/9/18

I was a na'vi. I was jake and neytiri's kid apparently. And tsu'tey was alive and said he was my weird uncle super loud. We were at some seafood restaurant and it was beside the animal kingdom park. These people where being jerks to us and being racist because we were na'vi. There was a tornado for a second then someone yeled that grace was dying so we started running and hopping animal habitat fences and lines while someone was narrating then the girls from despicable me were there. The park was different the floating mountains were still there but it also looked like a mall. Rumpelstiltskin was there and being evil. And something was at stake? I woke up

11/14/18

I was in some warehouse at first then I was at home. Then me and my friends were walking to my grandmas house. I was a na'vi again i think, and they mentioned we were going to go see another na'vi that looked female with a Hispanic accent named Alex i think and that he sold Rick and Morty balloons. My friend said that he wasn't nice and that the last time they saw him he crapped himself? I woke up after that.

11/23/18

I was in some house and there was a guy there he was abusive so I threw a chair at him and my grandma was there. We ran and then we were at some bridge leading to Flight of passage. The bridge was like a rollercoaster because when i crossed it it kept moving. In the ride queue there were Toruk the First Flight performers and it was actually cool. But the actual ride/link area was like a movie theater and it wasn't even flight of passage. It was a 'modern disney character life' simulation movie thing. I woke up from anger.

11/27/18

I was na'vi and i was in this building (our home?) And it was collapsing. Fire was everywhere and when it was destroyed everyone was holding each other and crying.

12/2/18

I was at the store with my mom and my friend was there. I could fly so i picked my friend up and we were on top of the aisle. Some couple was fighting and me and my friend went back to the floor and we ate these heart shaped sugar cookies. Then i heard the song 'Direhorse' and there were Toruk performers there. They were on this stage type thing that sorta went into the ground. I got excited and one of the performers gave me a spear from the Tipani and it was cool. Then i was Booker Baxter and i was telling raven that i could not tell nia that i could fly because she would be sad? I woke up after that.

12/12/18

I was a avatar driver this time. I was with Grace in her avatar and we were in some auditorium type place. We had left on grace's ikran(i guess she had one) and we went to 7-eleven. Grace was looking or was doing something and she had mentioned her old middle school. Some kid was on the roof of the gas pump area and they hung up a couple of laminated song lyrics. Me and grace went back to the auditorium and it was nature-y all of the seats were gone and it was like a outdoor elivated buffet on a waterfall and the roots of this willow tree at the top of the waterfall sorta made seating areas. Me and grace were at a table across from some Korean group from YouTube rewind and jackie chan was there. They all had twins and they were eating cake. One of them gave me a na'vi doll like the ones at Disney. I started eating then i woke up.

12/18/18

I was in some medieval park? And on some sort of field trip. Some couple was mad and calling for someone to come and pick them up. Then something happened and everyone was yelling and causing chaos. The bus/picnic bar thing we drove there had tables full of cake but the benches were gone. Then grace and jake were there and grace told jake that he needed to eat and he said "ok mom" grace smiled and then i woke up.

12/22/18

I was at my school but it had voltrons colors everywhere and I was helping this one kid in a wheel chair get down the stairs but the first time I went down them it didn't work? We went outside and there were busses that were the color of the lions and we had to get on a certain bus. I put the kid on the yellow bus and I got on the black one but it was purple. We drove somewhere shady and then we were in this haunted house above the floor from another dream I had like 2 months before and it was exactly the same except there was this ghost lady robot thing and she was following us and she touched my friends shoulder, and then I was the only person on the ride. Then I was on the floor and there was this mickey mouse stuffed animal puppet thing and it was sorta bouncing in front of me. Then I sorta went Lucid and made the area change to the Tree of Souls from Avatar. I woke up for a second then I was on the side of some highway and I was on a farm in some tribe. Someone shot a arrow through my finger so this nice old lady and her granddaughter broke the arrow and healed me and it reminded me of the Tawkami. Then there was random klance in this old apartment then I woke up again.

12/28/18

I was in a goldfish commercial area under the bed, then i was in a mansion in pixie hollow and the main cast and queen clarion was there. There was a parade sorta and then a buffet with rainbow fruit on pancakes and sugar. I went through some doors and i was home? But it was different. My room was set up like my grandmas and there was some person in there and then i was in the hallway bathroom at my grandmas and some boy was in there. Then I was on a human vacation base on Pandora with some family. I was a avatar driver and there was a field trip group and a class. Music from Toruk was playing and it was the Tipani's theme. Then me and the family went to this cafe type thing and we were beside Na'vi river journey and i could hear the Shaman singing. I got a chocolate cheesecake with whipped cream and when i started eating i woke up.

1/1/19

Sam Worthington was giving me a tutorial on how to draw Jake but the nose was weird.

1/8/19

I was watching this park and jake was there. He was in his human body at first with max and grace in some lab and grace took his phone. Then jake was in his avatar body and he was playing a game with the omyticaya he said something about the color yellow and everyone jumped and laughed. Some amusement park was being shut down then I woke up.

1/17/19

Connie from SU was playing hidden valley but the characters were the diamonds. Then i was in my culinary class and i was talking about someones mom and saying that she was racist. My teacher got mad at me then i was behind a curtain on a stage and this woman was dressed in leather and talking to a crowd. She was with a guy with a cheap looking ikran mask. Then i was at church and it was my school again. Then my friend was there and I fought her and won. Then i was in the office and was getting writen up but mom wasn't. Then i woke up.

1/22/19

James Cameron and Sigorney Weaver were directing Toruk. I was looking for them in the crowd and fangirling. Toruk looked weird with arms instead of wings. Sigorney said hi to me from the technician booth that was beside my chair. Sam Worthington was there and he and sigorney had a scene in the play as their Avatar characters. Jake had accidentally stole a bow and arrow and grace went 'mom mode' and got mad. Then someone had shot a arrow and it hit him in the head but he had protective gear on so he didn't really die. Then i was back home but my living room window showed the stage of the show an sigorney said hi again and i got really happy. Then i opened my dryer and it was full of nickelodian stuff.

2/4/19

Neytiri and jake were role swapped so he was a born Na'vi and she was a dreamwalker. I was a dreamwalker and neytiri's adopted daughter for some reason. We were talking to Quaritch and he was threatening us because he was about to bomb hometree. We convinced him to let us talk to the na'vi and get them out in time. I woke up in my avatar's nivi and jumped to the branch neytiri was on and we went to go find the others.

2/6/19

Hometree was about to be attacked. The RDA was using these weird missiles underwater and flooded Hometree. Avatar Norm was hanging on somewhere near the top of the tree watching toruk fly through a waterfall that formed while saying "come on, where are you" then the water drained and jake and neytiri floated out of the tree base and jake was dressed in his tawtute clothes and Neytiri was a Tessa Thompson look alike in a purple glittery suit and black heels. They started breathing again and jake said something about being relieved.

2/10/19

I was in some field with my Chromebook and on the Avatar website. It was really colorful and pretty. The trailer for the second movie was up but before i could watch it i had to play this mini game. I was Tsu'tey and i was at this river and Mo'at and Eytukan were on a dock on the otherside. This boat had floated towards me and it was full of tools and weapons and Mo'at said I had to find 3 spear heads. I found them and then i was following the river until i was on a dock. I walked to the end of it and i thought i was at the Metkayina clan and i thought i was going to see Bailey Bass' character but i just saw irl her and a bunch of tawtute. Apparently it was a human village and i was the only Na'vi there. I got scared i think and ran. Then some characters from bunkd were there and Mateo was embarrassed about something so he left and was making his own camp when destiny took a tarp/map and gave it to him so he could make a tent. And the camp was by a cornfield.

3/24/19

I was watching Toruk live and i was onstage. Entu, Ralu, and Tsyal were there. The left part of the Hometree stage was deflated. It was really colorful. The tipani spears were on the center stage area. The omiticaya were harvesting something (maybe fruit)from the still standing part of the Hometree and music was playing but it wasn't from the show's soundtrack. Then there was water and something happened and i was in my room and mom told me to wake up. Then my alarm clock wole me up irl.

4/17/19

Jake and neytiri were hunting a angsìk. Tsu'tey and two other hunters were there. One was Na'vi and one was Polynesian. Jake had went to do his plan and Tsu'tey told neytiri it would not work. But they heard something and when they turned around jake was covered in mud and three angstìk were dead. Tsu'tey said that he was surprised and neytiri was dragging jake to a river to make him clean the mud off.

4/25/19

Backstage of Toruk. Friends with Tsyal and the Tsahìk. Cannibal Hotel.

4/27/19

Broke into some guys house with me grandma. Backstage performing TORUK at school on stage. Changed from Tipani to Omiticaya. Found a green chest cover.

5/22/19

I was in ponyville looking for fluttershy's house then i was on the street that connected mine and my Grandma. It was a part of a dream i had before. A pallulukan was there and my grandma kept talking and it almost heard us. Then Neytiri was there and looking for a kid version of Peyral who was hiding in the house we were beside. It was raining so we went in then suddenly Neytiri was dressed as Tsyal.

6/13/19

I was taking a bath and washing the dishes at the same time. Then I was a Na'vi again and we were preparing to fight the RDA. Except we were hiding in my grandads basement/garage and it was huge. There were 2 separate sleeping areas with over 100 bunk-beds in each area and a cafeteria. It was like the Avatar long house but bigger. Norm was there and he was my uncle and he was in his avatar body. The other clans started arriving and going to find beds and get food. I was embarrassed about something. Neytiri was a human/avatar and toruk makto and my mom again in this dream. She was coming back from somewhere but I woke up before seeing her.

7/8/19

I met James Cameron and talked to him about how much I love Avatar and how many times I watched it this year. And at some point Ralu and Entu were involved.

7/14/19

I was selling newspapers at a grocery store when someone made fanart, and a fanvideo of Asal (my avatar oc). But they shipped her with Entu. But I still left a like because it was nice.

8/2/19

I was in the AVATAR program but everything looked different. The technology looked more alien than human. The sleeping areas were just these bunks cut into walls with glass doors so there was no privacy or quiet because they were in a busy hallway. The base was confusing to walk through. Everything looked the same. The link room was smaller and had three link chambers. But they looked different and were glowing orange and black, or purple. Only jake could link completely. Mine and Norm's wouldn't work. Until mine did after a few tries. I could feel my tail move but then I was put back in my human body. We didn't go outside. Then I was in Neytiri's body and i was flying around the Pandora theme park. I was flying around the floating mountains before I was in the line for flight of passage with my friend. The line queue had a Quaritch robot talking about something and part of the millenial falcon in it. We got on the ride and the chairs were like a movie theater and the screen mention a patronus bracelet. Then I woke up and it felt like I was unlinking.

8/10/19

I was in the school and I had to use magic to change a sink full of water into Vodka but I turned it into champagne. I was being graded on it and I got a B. Then I was on a alien planet with two other people. We were found and brought to a base that was playing Christian Horror movies as a joke. We were taken to a back room were they gave us Toruk makeovers. I had started to put the suit on and and had just started to paint my face when I woke up.

[thekitchensnk]

and the spider lilies bloomed in the fall (chapter 15)

Rating: T Warnings: Sexual themes, violence Pairing: Gin/Ran Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15

“They say that lovers doomed never to see each other again still see the higanbana growing along their path, even to this day.”

A girl collapses on a dusty road one day. A boy takes her home.

The girl lives.

—

(The boy doesn’t.)

As the youngest girls working at the Floating Moon, it was Rangiku, Sayaka and Ayame’s job to wash the dishes after the first meal of the day. They had perfected a routine, with Ayame, ever-meticulous, doing the washing, her arms plunged to the elbow in hot, soapy water, Rangiku drying, and Sayaka dashing around to put away the bowls.

When the second gong sounded, however, they would dart off to the room to get washed, dressed and made-up for the evening’s work, leaving Rangiku to finish washing up. It was one of the few times of the day where she would ever have time to herself, and it felt unnatural. She would stand alone, in the centre of the room, listening to the whir of voices and rushed footsteps around her, and her heart would sink. The brothel was like a heart, with all its segmented valves and chambers, and left to herself, alone, Rangiku felt aimless and lost. She had never done well on her own.

She would quickly finish up whatever washing was left, and trudge up the stairs to the tub where everyone took their baths. She was always the last, and least essential, to get bathed, and so the water was often second or third-hand by the time she got washed, though it was still thick with the jammy, indolic jasmine smell that they used to scent the water, and it could be smelled from several feet away from the tub.

In times to come, when she smelled the scent of jasmine on a noblewoman, she could never help but smile to herself. Jasmine on noblewomen; jasmine on whores. No woman was so different from one another, not deep down.

The tub was small, and she needed to scrunch her knees up almost to her chest to fit in it now, but she could submerge her head entirely, and the water was warm. She dreamed of the day when she could soak there to her heart’s content, knowing that it would never come.

She slipped the ring from her finger. She did not know what metal it was, but she did not want it to rust.

A warm bath had been a revelation after so many years spent bathing in the river. A river-bath had not been so bad in the summer, when the sweat trickled down her back and behind her knees. Their small house had offered little ventilation, and so they had sweltered together in the heat.

His hands had always been cold, but in the night, when the cicadas had sung their night-chorus, they had both roasted. Never one to be shy, he would have no compunctions about stripping off his yukata, letting his bare chest cool in the summer air. She had grown more circumspect, the roaming eyes of men in town teaching her to be shy about her body, and the sight of his bare torso in those months just before he left would have her heart hammering in her chest and her blood pooling in her cheeks, though she had not been able to say why. After that, the cool embrace of the river had been like a balm.

In the present, mind years and miles away, she sank beneath the water, sank until it covered her face. She shut her eyes and felt her heart beat in her chest. With her eyes closed, in the stillness of the warm water, it boomed thickly in her ears.

In winter, they’d had to boil water and leave it outside in the freezing air until it became cool enough to touch. They would wipe themselves down then with whatever rags they had that were still clean. There had been no soap, and certainly no jasmine. The chill of the air on her damp skin had set her hair on end, and she had shivered and breathed heavily with the cruel bite of the cold on her skin. It had seeped into her bones and her teeth had chattered.

They had clung to each other, back then, because there had been no other choice. It had been lie close, or freeze.

(But that was a lie, she knew. It had never been about the cold. Not for her.)

He had always felt the cold worse than she did. Of course he had. He had been so slender, so thin- she could see his jutting collar bones and his sharp shoulders even with his yukata on, and he had always been so pale that he was almost luminous. He had sought her warmth like a snake sought the sun. The cold put him to sleep; it filled him with such a heavy lethargy that he would lie there, half-dozing.

She would always watch him secretly then, bashfully even, and watch his beautiful, drowsing face.

Under the water, her heart constricted in her chest. She wanted to shout, to smash something, to cry. To see him again and kill him; to see him again and kiss him, as she had done once before, in that moment which she held secretly wrapped around her heart.

Why? Why did you leave me?

She screwed up her small hands into fists. She bit at her lip. She screamed through her nose, and a thousand tiny bubbles rose and broke on the surface. But no one could hear her.

She surfaced when she ran out of air, and felt suddenly dizzy with the steam and the heat and the lack of oxygen. She allowed her head to tilt backwards, and her lungs to breathe. The air was thick with the smell of jasmine.

No more thoughts of him tonight, she vowed to herself calmly.

Somewhere down below her, the third gong was ringing. She would have twenty minutes to get ready, and then it would be show time. There would be no chance to think- just the electric beat of music, the liquid joy of sake, the hope of a fist fight and the thrill of a dance. The thought lifted her spirits, and she rose from her bath, still dizzy, but eager to get to work.

She towelled herself down quickly, and threw on the clothes she had been wearing earlier, though she had already done a full afternoon’s work in them, and she set off for her room with determination.

She took the stairs two at a time, pressingly aware that the sun was beginning to set in the sky, and her shift would be starting soon, whether she was ready for it or not. Stampeding down the corridor, she slammed open the paper doors, and they rattled in their frames for several seconds afterwards as she strode into the room.

Ayame, almost unrecognisable with her face painted white and her hair elaborately pinned up, turned her head to her.

"An elephant would make less noise than you," she sniffed. Customary scathing remarks delivered, she turned back to Sayaka, whose hair she had been in the midst of pinning back with a beautiful, fake jade comb, a frown of concentration between her darkened brows.

There was something magical about this- this time, this small and separate space, where clever-handed women worked mysterious wonders on each other's bodies and faces, painting and tucking and working until they were transformed into the stuff of dreams. It was a small zone of hush amidst the tumult of the brothel, a place where, even if only for an hour, quiet reigned as the women readied themselves.

The work of metamorphosis was a team effort. It could not be done alone. For big names like Rin, who were to be dressed in elaborate, layered kimono, the simple effort of putting on her clothes required a band of assistants. Everyone worked as a well-oiled unit, like clockwork, waxing hair, painting faces, burning charcoal for kohl with which to line their hidden eyebrows. The smell of burning lingered in the air, mixing with the heady jasmine which radiated from their bodies.

Ayame cupped Sayaka's jaw gently in her hand, careful beyond measure not to smudge the painstaking work done on her base. Sayaka, rendered immobile, caught Rangiku's eye and grinned helplessly.

"No, no," Ayame chided softly, a thin, crimson-laden brush in her hand. "Don't let up now. You're almost done."

Sayaka gave Rangiku a weak shrug, and her sharp eyes snapped back to Ayame.

"Come here, you," Yuki beckoned, gesturing to a cushion in front of her with a comb. "Stop pestering Ayame-chan."

Rangiku padded gently across the tatami and knelt obediently in front of her. Yuki sighed a long-suffering sigh and raised her arms to the ceiling.

"Come on, Rangiku-chan!" she groaned. "Your hair is still soaked! Ayame-chan, pass me that towel."

Ayame, her eyes still focused on the painstaking task of painting Sayaka's lips, reached down next to her. Her eyes never once leaving Sayaka, she tossed the towel to Yuki, and it soared straight into her open hand.

"Nice one!" Rangiku called appreciatively, only to be disrupted when Yuki vigorously towel dried her hair. Her head shook with the force. She rubbed at her head, and shot Yuki a scowl.

"That's a bit better," Yuki said warmly, running her comb through the tangled at the bottom of Rangiku's hair. "You'd have caught a cold otherwise, working with wet hair."

Rangiku had slept through winter nights so cold that her hair had almost frozen, but she said nothing. She could not help but lean into her touch. No one had ever brushed her hair for her before Yuki, and she relished the sensation; it was so soothing, so comforting to have someone look after her. The sensation put her half to sleep, and she always became pliant and biddable as Yuki brushed through her hair.

It was tangled after a long afternoon of scrubbing, even though she’d remembered to tie it back. It was fortunate for her that Yuki’s hands were so quick and so skilled, obviously well-practiced at the job, and long since used to doing it.

"You're so good at this, Yuki-san," Rangiku mumbled. "You should give up the game and become a hairdresser."

Yuki hummed tunelessly under her breath as she worked, but she let out a soft, warm laugh at Rangiku's words. "It's one of the few ways of getting you to be quiet, you." She paused, eying up a tangle. "I used to do this for Kanae back in the day, and I’ve done it for most girls here since. I'm an old hand at it." She took the comb to the tangle, but held the hair so that it wouldn't tug on Rangiku's scalp as she fought with it. That was part of Yuki's skill- it never hurt when she brushed hair. "She had the most beautiful hair," Yuki said pensively. "So long and sleek and silver. Like starlight. Or the moon." She looked out, unseeing, seemingly spirited away by some memory. "It's a shame what happened to her."

Rangiku laughed sleepily, scarcely able to think of Kanae, the whore whom she had known back when she’d lived with Gin. "That's silly, Yuki-san," she informed her. "Kanae-san has black hair. She's going gray, but her hair's not silver."

Yuki tapped her gently on the nose with the comb. "That shows what you know. Kanae has silver hair and always has done. She dyes it. Started doing it when she was here, because she got tired of all the unpleasant attention she got from it. People were scared of her. They used to shout at her." Yuki paused, and a wistful note entered her voice. "She used to shout right back."

Rangiku fell quiet. She had promised herself not to think of him, but-

"My friend had hair like that," she confessed to Yuki bravely. "I don't think anyone shouted at him though-" She paused, remembering how many times he had infuriated shop keepers, strangers, passers-by, and pretty much everyone else whom he had ever met in town, as if it was a personal challenge he had set himself to piss everyone off as quickly and thoroughly as possible. “Well,” she amended with a small smile, “at least if they did, it wasn’t because of his hair.”

They were both quiet for a moment, Yuki’s hands brushing through her hair rhythmically. Inwardly, Rangiku burned with curiosity, always insatiable for gossip. “What happened to Kanae-san, Yuki-san?” she asked tentatively, biting at her lower lip.

Yuki’s hands slowed.

Rangiku could not see her face, but when she spoke, there was a tight quality to her voice which spoke of years of pain and regret and decisions not taken.

“She was thrown out,” Yuki said simply.

Rangiku tried to turn her neck to see her expression, but it was futile. “Why would Chiyo-san do that?” she asked in confusion.

“Kanae-“ Yuki started, but had to pause. She swallowed, and Rangiku could hear the tremble in her voice.

“Kanae was never easy to live with, you know? She was a spitfire and she spat venom like a snake. Didn’t matter whether you were her best friend or her worst enemy. Even when she first came here, she was all fire and poison. She was only fifteen.” Yuki’s voice was weighty and melancholic. She paused again, and her voice took on an urgent tone. She spoke quickly. “I’m not sure how much of this it is right for me to say. I don’t want to infringe on what little privacy she has left.”

Rangiku was discomfited, and she nodded uncertainly.

“She had already had a child by then. I don’t know whether she gave birth here, or whether it died with her in her first life, and I never asked about it, not once, but that’s why she came here, I think. I never asked. To make enough money to send back to the people who watched after the child she left behind.”

Rangiku felt her breath grow shallow, and she hung on Yuki’s every word. A realisation hung in the air, but she refused to dwell on it even for a moment. It was important, she suddenly felt in her bones, to hear this sorry tale to its conclusion.

“How did you find out about it?” Rangiku asked, sickening dread coiling in her belly.

Yuki’s voice grew distant, and Rangiku was suddenly glad that she couldn’t see the woman’s face.

“She was my best friend. I loved her. I loved her more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life, and I regret to this day that I didn’t run through those doors after her when she left. Of course she told me.” Yuki paused, and Rangiku heard her sigh quietly. “She would have told me anything.”

“Why did she leave?” Rangiku asked gently.

Yuki’s breath hitched. “She got pregnant.”

Rangiku did turn this time. Yuki wasn’t even looking at her anymore; her eyes were dim and distant, as if staring out into the past.

“Yuki-san?” Rangiku asked tremulously.

Yuki looked down at her then, and she smiled a smile as thin and fragile as an egg shell. She cupped her cheek softly, her fingers brushing against Rangiku’s golden hair.

“Rangiku-chan,” she sighed. “The party, the red lanterns, the sake, the music- it’s all beautiful, eh? It’s easy to forget when you’ve got the beat of the music in your bones and you’re making easy money and you’re dressing up in beautiful silks and you get a fine meal every day and everything’s going perfect, perfect, perfect,. But it doesn’t always go perfect. We’re here to work, Rangiku-chan. That’s all. We can stay while we can work, and when we can’t? Out on the streets we go, cold and hungry, nowhere to go. Chiyo is better than almost all of them, but in the end, that’s not saying much, is it? This is a brothel, not a nursery. That’s what happened to Kanae. Pregnant, kicked out, and forced to work on the streets.”

Rangiku’s eyes were wide.

Down below, the final gong rang out, and its vibrations shuddered through the old timber building, sending dust flying from the ceiling. It was time to get to work, but all of a sudden, Rangiku’s heart was not in it.

Yuki pressed her to her chest quickly, and stroked her hair. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “That was a very serious conversation.” She paused. “I’m grateful to you, you know? Because you came here, I know she’s out there. I know she’s alive.” Yuki smiled suddenly. “I know that she still spits fire and that she still dyes her hair, that Kanae is out there, cursing god’s name and who knows who else’s. Love involves so much unhappiness, Rangiku-chan, but I’m not unhappy right now.”

Suddenly, Rangiku got the sense that Yuki hadn’t been entirely truthful when she had said that her policy on love was to wait and see.

Huh, she thought.

Yuki rose. Across the room, Sayaka and Ayame were arm in arm, looking resplendent in emerald green and hibiscus purple cottons. They waved absent-mindedly as they left, their heads together in conversation. Echoing down the corridor, Rangiku could hear Ayame shriek “Sayaka!” in shock, and Sayaka give one of her patented belly laughs.

For the first time in a long time, Rangiku’s chest constricted with worry, with a sudden fear of the ever-shifting and uncertain future. Nothing here was stable; nothing here was safe.

It was inevitable, she realised. Change would come, whether she liked it or not, and it always would, sweeping over her and turning her world on its head again and again and again. There could be no security anywhere, just this- the constant, unending effort of building her life up, like a sandcastle on the seashore. She clenched her fists fiercely.

“Rangiku-chan?” Yuki asked, her voice tender. “I’ll see you down there, alright?”

Rangiku looked up at her quickly, but there was no sign of the pain that had marred Yuki’s face before. It was smooth, still, gentle- her expression as blank as the makeup she had painted on to it.

"Yeah," she said, her voice thin and distracted. "I'll be down in a moment."

It was not until Yuki had slipped down the corridor that she allowed herself to think, to dwell on the ramifications of what she had learned.

Her chest tightened with anxiety at her newly-gained knowledge, and the shock made her dizzy. She had to take several deep breaths to calm herself.

Kanae, the whore who had lived in the town she and Gin had walked to so many times, had silver hair. Hair like moonlight. Hair as beautiful as his.

Silver hair and an abandoned baby.

It had to be.

It made too much sense not to be.

Some part of her had noticed it even the very first time they had met. She had looked at Kanae's high cheekbones and narrow eyes and thought, there's a word for good looks like those- and there had been. Kitsune-gao; fox-featured, for the strange, beautiful face she shared with her son.

"I'll do you one favour," the whore had said, and even after Gin had left, Kanae had refused to tell her why. Rangiku had been too frightened to ask about it the first time round, and too distraught and distracted the second.

Was it because she had been Gin's friend?

But the woman had warned her about him, warned her that he was dangerous- had warned her about her son.

The world was spinning around her head. If she didn't sit for a moment, she would fall. She stumbled. Her mind was filled with a cacophony of questions.

Why would she abandon him? She had been there the whole time, in plain sight. Why? If she was his mother-

Had he even known?

He had never said anything about it, but then- would he have? His secrecy was pathological. He’d never once told her where it was that he went. He was a natural-born liar. Why would he have told her anything?

Deep down, her heart sinking, Rangiku suspected miserably that he had not known.

He had treated Kanae with the same idle curiosity and mocking cruelty with which he’d treated everyone, and she thought (she had to, to think him a full human being) he would not treat his own family like that. Even if it had been hatred, he would have to have felt something for her if he'd known.

(Wouldn’t he?)

The notion that she might have uncovered something about him, that some elusive and fragmentary part of his past belonged to her now, unbeknownst to him, sat like a lead weight in her stomach.

It was simultaneously thrilling and deeply, deeply shameful. She revelled quietly in the fact that something of his was hers now, and he didn't even know it. It was a kind of power, to know someone else's secrets, and she had never known any kind of power over him. It filled her with a kind of giddy thrill. She wanted to gather his secret up and wrap it around her heart where she kept all the secrets of her own, to keep it safe, to keep it warm, to keep it for him. But she felt incredibly guilty too, that it had come into her possession without his consent, and that he could be going about his life unaware that the knowledge even existed. Her throat tightened with anxiety.

He had always been so private. She could not predict how he would feel.

If she were to find him, and if she were to tell him- if she were to say “I’ve discovered something about you, something which you don’t even know yourself” and if she were to divulge the truth, would he be grateful? Would he look at her with appreciation? With thanks? Would his eyes shine with gratitude; would they soften to look at her? Would he care about her again?

Her heart was full and aching with the fantasy. Please, she whispered childishly to herself. Please.

Or-

Would he just hate her more?

She felt suddenly dispirited, and she exhaled shakily.

What did it matter anyway?

He was gone.

He had abandoned her.

He would never see her again.

She was a fool to think otherwise, and a fool twice over to dwell like this on the past of the boy who had left her behind. Her heart trembled.

She was aware that she was sat on the ground.

She picked herself up, her limbs leaden, and she neatened up her yukata numbly, dusting dirt from its skirt.

Down below, music was beginning to play. She could hear the intricate and winding patterns of the shamisen. The sounds of voices in rapt conversation were beginning to murmur through the brothel.

She picked herself up because if she had learnt anything in her small life, it was that no one else was going to do it for it her. She was on her own.

She gave herself a fierce glare.

“Come on, you,” she said aggressively, and she slapped her own cheeks to bring herself back from the edge.

She was late for work, mysteries and secrets be damned, and so she went, arms swinging by her sides in determination.

An uncharitable person might have said that she was just running from her problems.

But another bright night of music was just about to begin, the stirrings and the promise of its abandon hanging tantalisingly ahead of her. Who cared if it was shallow? Who cared if it was an empty, futile attempt to beat back the dark? Who cared if those who gave themselves to the music most fervently were the runaways and fugitives who had decided that reality was too much, too frightening, too lonely? Down below, there would be joy and dancing and sake and fun- blessed, distracting fun.

Fun enough maybe to chase away the image of a teenaged girl cast out onto the streets, like so much rubbish, alone.

Fun enough to chase away the memory of a boy with hair like moonlight, who haunted Rangiku every time she was alone.

[givemestories-givemelife]

NaruHina One Shot -First Kiss-

NARUHINA FLUFFY ONE SHOT 

AN/ I wrote this seven years ago when I was 15, I just came across it again and decided to re-edit it. 

I would really like to get back into writing again. I would like to prepare myself for a multi-chapter fic. 

So if anyone has any writing prompts for me!! Please Babes let me know. I’m so down and up for a challenge. (Although I’d prefer for them to be romantic in some way and for them to be somewhat known characters so I can get a proper vibe for the personalities that way they’re not too ooc.)

Hinata stumbled slightly over a small rock as Naruto guided her with his hands covering her lavender eyes so she couldn’t see. Naruto steadied her with his left hand on her hip to keep her from falling, while keeping his other over her eyes. “Don’t peek.” He raised his voice a bit urgently not wanting her to see his surprise.

Hinata giggled a small blush staining her cheeks. “I can’t see anything with your hand c-covering my eyes Naruto.” She barely even stuttered, warmth lacing her every word. Ever since the young Kunoichi had become closer friends with the Uzumaki her stutter had been greatly improving, along with her confidence. She was delighted when Naruto interrupted her daily training routine at the Hyuga compound saying he had a surprise for her. Metaphorical butterflies nervously started fluttering in her stomach at the thought of Naruto taking the time to plan something special for her. Naruto smiled at the sound of her laughter. The tones as sweet as honey nectar. He laughed a bit sheepishly “Hehe, sorry I just really want this to be a surprise.” Hinata smiled. “I’m sure I will be very surprised.” She comforted while taking a few more steps forward before the blond behind her came to an abrupt stop forcing her to parrot his actions. “We’re here!” Naruto announced loudly removing his callused hand from her glowing pale orbs so she could finally see. Hinata’s smile widened when she was able to open her eyes, she looked around at her surroundings taking in the bright hues of sunlight saturating the familiar grounds. “The academy?” She inquired somewhat confused just as Naruto grabbed her by the shoulder’s spinning her around to face him. Hinata’s eyes widened at the movement and she started blushing madly at the sudden proximity of their faces.

He grinned and stepped out of her line of sight revealing the swing set he always sat on as a kid. With another swing set installed next to it with the words Hina-chan carved into the wooden seat. Hinata just stood there quietly looking at the new swing, and Naruto frowned taking it as a bad sign. “I know, its not really much and, well cheap so I under-” “I love it Naruto.” Hinata said quickly. She understood, she followed him around and would watch him when they were much younger. He spent most of his time sitting on this swing when they were in the academy. Hinata remembered how lonely he looked. Naruto was trying to share something from his past with her, and that made her heart flutter. Naruto grinned at the blushing girl. Scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Hehe, I’m glad.” He said a bit awkwardly before reaching out his hand towards her, expectantly. Hinata managed to blush even harder looking down at the hand that Naruto was waiting for her to take. She shyly reached for it, when their hands touched she could feel the heat spreading from her face down her neck. This wouldn’t be the first time they’d be holding hands, in fact Naruto was always the hands on type never truly understanding the concept of boundaries and personal space. He would drag her all over Konoha, not that she minds, she would dream about walking next to him holding hands. But no matter how many times they touched she always felt like it was the first time, her face would get redder, she would feel faint and just float to wherever Naruto was leading her. The blond led the beautiful girl towards her seat, he sat down and waited for Hinata to do the same. But first the Hyuga patiently traced her name carved in the wood with her fingers, she was wearing a beautiful gentle smile that caused heat to rush to Naruto��s face when her gaze trailed towards him. He swallowed nervously. “Thank you so much Naruto, Its wonderful.” She whispered while taking her seat next to him. They sat there in a calm silence, the birds were chirping and the sun was out in the middle of the sky, there was a light breeze that added perfectly to the moment. “I wanted to share this with you…” Naruto spoke grabbing Hinata attention. He smiled at her. “…This past year, Hinata, you’ve become one of my closest friends. I want to share everything with you.” Hinata’s heart was starting to race with every word Naruto spoke, even though there was a tinge of sadness at the word ‘friends’. Hinata’s blush just kept changing shades darker and darker until she resembled something close to a tomato. Naruto suddenly got very serious “I remember I would sit here almost everyday during lunch, after the teacher’s would yell at me, or the other kids would make fun of me… Or worse, ignore me… I was so-” “Alone.” Hinata finished his sentence. Naruto gave her a slightly confused look. “I-I would w-watch you… And follow you.” Hinata trailed off embarrassed. Naruto blinked a few times. Before all seriousness left his face and he barked out some very loud laughter. Hinata could only stare at the man she loved.  What's so funny? Is he laughing at me?

“Hahahehahhh. I-I forgot that I had a stalker when I was y-younger.” Naruto joked not knowing that his statement was bringing tears to Hinata’s eyes. “I guess I wasn’t as lonely as I…” Naruto turned his head towards the Hyuga who had her head down staring at her lap in shame. “…Thought.” Naruto’s eyes widened in panic.

Did I just make my Hina-chan cry?

He moved his hand to hook his forefinger under her chin and gently stroked his thumb along her ivory jawline raising her head so she would look him in the eye. He used his thumb to wipe away some of her tears. “Hey don’t cry please don’t cry I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-” “I-I’m sorry N-N-Naruto I-I d-din’t m-mean to b-be a c-creepy Sta-stalk-” Hinata tried to speak between small sobs, but was interrupted when Naruto leaned forward and gently placed his lips on her own. Naruto did nothing to further the kiss, Its meant to be simple and gentle, light and soft. This kiss wasn’t meant to be deepened, it doesn’t need it. There’s already so much emotion behind it. So much passion.  Hinata should understand now. Naruto slowly pulled back, his eyes still closed. In contrast Hinata’s eyes were as wide as the sky above them looking at Naruto in pure shock. “N-N-Na-Na-ru-ru-Narut-to-kun?"  Naruto opened his eyes, revealing his indomitable azure orbs. He opened his mouth to speak. But was interrupted by a loud crack. Both Hinata and Naruto snapped their heads up to see that the branch holding their swings was about to snap. Suddenly both highly trained Ninja ungracefully fell to the ground. Reflexes unable to keep up with the emotions swirling around their insides. Naruto on instinct moved quickly above Hinata shielding her from the large branch that landed on his back. Naruto couldn’t help but chuckle sheepishly a little at the situation. "Hehe. I guess the branch couldn’t take the extra weight.” The amusement slipped off his face as he internally cringed for not thinking before speaking.

Did I just call the girl I just kissed fat? “Sorry Hinata, I didn’t mean-” “Naruto… Y-you just K-k-ki-kissed me… Why?” Hinata asked looking up into brilliant blue eyes, wide eyed and completely flushed. Naruto smiled softly down at his Hina-chan and gently kissed her forehead before lowering his head down towards her ear, and whispered. “Because I love you Hinata.”

AN#2/ 

Thank you so much for reading my friend <3

If you liked this story please let me know your thoughts or give me a follow. I always follow back. And my content aint bad... (kinda it’s been a few years since I created a naruto tumblr bit I used to spend hours on it yikes so im new but old) :33 

[golden-redhead]

Oumota Weekend Day #1 - Villain/Hero

Momota is an experienced hero but even he can get into trouble if he's not careful. Good thing that there's someone willing to extend a helping hand.

Read on AO3.

Momota barely had the strength to raise his head, the ringing in his head intensifying with every second, his eyes too blurry to make out the shapes, turning the world into a mess of multicolored blobs. He knew that his enemy was out there, somewhere close by. He knew that he should have called backup when he still had the chance, pride getting the better of him.

It was bad.

It was really, really bad.

With a groan he rested his head back on the hard ground, small rocks digging into his cheek uncomfortably, shards of glass piercing his skin and drawing blood. He couldn’t focus, the world a myriad of colors and smells and sensations, all of that muted by the heavy pressure of pain spreading through his chest and making it hard to breathe. He could feel the metallic taste of blood welling in his mouth but he lacked the strength to spit it out, a thin trail of blood dripping down his chin instead and onto the ground below. He tried to move, tried to crawl, but the spikes of pain surged through his body, making him freeze instantly and hold his breath. He couldn’t even tell what was the main source of pain, his body just hurting all over. Momota had a vague idea that there was something wrong with his left leg from when a powerful kick from the enemy sent him falling through the roof, the sickening noise of a cracking bone mingling with a strangled cry of pain. A broken rib would also explain the agonizing ache and tightness on his chest.  

He didn’t know how long he lied there, his body limited to nothing but pain, thoughts a scattered and disoriented swarm of confusion. He was on the verge of giving in to the darkness creeping and creeping upon the edges of his mind when he felt a hand patting his head in an almost tender manner, touch soft and warm and motherly - that is until suddenly the fingers clenched around the loose strands of hair and yanked. It tore a scream out of his lips and he gritted his teeth and tried to fight the tears that flooded his eyes.

“Who knew it would be that easy, huh?” He heard over the ringing in his ears.

The voice sounded vaguely female, high and shrill. He didn’t know whether it was a friend or enemy but between the hair yanking and the mocking undertone he would bet on the latter. He fought to pry his eyes open but even once they did - a little, just a fraction - all he could make out was the shape of the person’s boots and a cascade of long teal hair brushing against the ground in their crouched position by his side.

The touch turned gentle once more, fingers combing through hair the same way his grandma used to, telling him stories and singing lullabies until his eyes closed and the dreams of stars pulled him into their sweet embrace.

A giggle came from somewhere above his head and the slender fingers left his hair as the person raised to their feet. He let out a small reflexive whimper at the loss of contact, the air around him growing colder as the figure pulled away. He tried to turn to the side but a spark of pain blooming in his chest reminded him of its existence, successfully stopping him from moving any more.

“I almost feel sorry for you,” spoke the voice again, his overwhelmed brain struggling to connect it to the person looming over him. “I’d rather keep you than kill you but Danganronpa’s instructions were clea---ah!”

The monologue was interrupted abruptly by a scream of surprise followed closely by a series of noises, and-

“Only I get to kill Momota-chan,” came a new voice, the pout in it almost audible in the sudden silence. “He’s mine to kill and I will fight you over this!”

He recognized his voice, he’s heard that before, even if he couldn’t match it with a specific face. This one was undeniably male, even though it was laced with a childish undertone. The words made no sense, however, just a blur of vowels and consonants that his worn-out brain couldn’t decipher.

“I thought you were a hero,” spat the first voice and even through a thick layer of pain Momota could hear its confusion, as if the person isn’t sure whether the other is serious or not.  

Then came some new sound that after the longest moment his muddled with agony brain finally registered as a laugh - weird, horse-like laugh - and the second voice spoke up again.

“Maybe I had a change of heart,” it sounded cheerful, too cheerful, how could anyone be this cheerful when there was so much pain. “Or maybe not! Who knows. Momota-chan is mine so take your filthy shapeshifty hands off him.”

Shapeshifter?

Right… He was fighting with a shapeshifter, wasn’t he? They tried to steal some… some simulator of sorts. The memory of Saihara and Tojo trying to explain it to him resurfaced in his brain, breaking through a fog of pain.

The simulator was… some kind of game. A deadly game that trapped your consciousness in the reality that could be shaped and twisted and modified by whoever was in its possession.  He didn’t really understand any of it, simply raising his thumbs up and flashing them both a confident smile, promising to get it back. All he knew was that it was dangerous, able to alter the memories of its victims, erase memories and replace them with new ones. Team Danganronpa, the evil organization that they’ve been fighting against for years wouldn’t hesitate to kill in order get their hands on it, determined to steal it ever since Professor Iidabashi constructed it with Iruma’s assistance, who intended the technology to be used to help survivors of abuse struggling with trauma.  

He lost the track of the conversation after that, but he couldn’t tell whether it was because the voices stopped talking or if he should blame it on his own consciousness slowly slipping away. He felt dizzy, his body burning with pain and begging him to let go, to just let the darkness swallow him whole and cut his suffering. Then there were some sounds, yelling and cursing, followed by what sounded vaguely like an explosion, making Momota flinch much to the protest of his aching muscles. Those were the sounds that throughout his years of being a hero he’s learned to associate with a battleground.  

And then there was silence.

He strained his ears but for the longest moment there was nothing, just the heavy with dust air and twitter of birds above his head.

Momota lied there for what felt like hours, his mind floating somewhere at the edge of falling asleep and limbs numb beneath him. When the sound of footsteps approaching hurriedly reached his ears he was pretty sure he was hallucinating.  

“Momota-chan is so reckless,” said the voice he’s heard before, the second one, the one voice that sounded familiar but he couldn’t tell why. “What a big, big dummy.”

Once more there was a hand in his hair, a different one this time, brushing the loose strands of hair that fell on his face back. The feeling of cool fingers felt almost heavenly against the hot skin of his forehead. He leaned into the touch instinctively, a whimper that in any other circumstances would have been embarrassing escaping his lips involuntarily.

The gentle touch didn’t last long, withdrawing suddenly. A few moments passed and the next thing he could feel was his body being hoisted, the loss of ground under his feet making his head spin violently.

“Ooops, sorry!” Came the voice again, still cheerful. It didn’t sound apologetic at all.

Momota struggled to keep his eyes open but it was a losing battle.

“Geez, Momota-chan, you are the worst hero ever,” was the last thing he heard before the relief of nothingness finally claimed him.

***

He woke up with a groan, all of his muscles aching in agony, consciousness coming back to him slowly and lazily, breaking through the haze that enclosed his mind.

“Oooh, the sleeping beauty is back!”

He blinked, trying to force his eyes to work as they should, the shapes before him coming into focus with apparent difficulty. He was lying across something warm and soft, the satin material soothing and pleasant to touch. He could feel water dripping down his face and after a moment he realized that there was a wet cloth placed on his forehead, bringing relief to his feverish skin.

The first thing he saw was a familiar face dominating his entire field of vision, wide smile stretching on thin lips and a mop of dark hair curling at the tips.

“Ouma,” he rasped. “What the hell are you doing?”

It hurt to talk, words coming out stifled and his throat burning and begging for water. His head was throbbing and the shrill sound of Ouma’s giggles wasn’t helping. His chest felt heavy, covered in what he identified as bandages, wrapped around his torso tightly. His ankle wasn’t throbbing anymore, pain still present but subdued, coated with a heavy layer of some gel that was most likely to prevent the swelling.

“Waiting for you to wake up so I can kill you while you’re awake, duh!”

Momota’s eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion carving deep lines into his forehead. His whole face scrunched up as he tried to remember what happened, make some sense out of the mess that was his head. He was… he was on a mission. The girl he was fighting - the one with shapeshifting powers - changed her form and used a moment of hesitance against him, just when he was about to attack. His own powers, depending on the absorption of lunar energy, during the day were more reliable in defense rather than offense, forcing him to resort to hand to hand combat once the enemy came too close. Saihara even warned him beforehand that Team Danganronpa had their profiles, knew their weaknesses...

His team must have sent Ouma when he didn’t report back.

He swallowed the bile in his throat, the taste of blood still lingering, and forced himself to ask the most urgent question.

“Did you get the machine?”

Ouma rolled his eyes.

“No, because I had to drag someone all the way here,” he drawled, plopping on the bed next to Momota and swinging his legs back and forth like a child.

Momota could feel his stomach sinking. He failed.

“Buuut there’s a but!” Ouma tapped a finger against his lips and tilted his head to the side, a smirk creeping on his face. “I got this!”

He reached to the pocket and swiftly pulled out a small square object with a single wire coming out of it.

Momota squinted, blinking away the darkness and blurriness still threatening at the edges of his vision. It took him a moment to realize what he was looking at.

“A… a chip?”

Ouma clapped his hands enthusiastically, a delighted grin on his face.

“Yay, ten points for Momota-chan!” He announced happily like a host on a TV show.

Momota’s brows furrowed in confusion, Ouma’s teasing ignored in favor of getting the answers.

“What’s so special about the chip?”

“Eh, Whore-chan says that if they don’t have the chip the machine won’t work,” shrugged Ouma. “So it’s pretty much useless without it.”

He hopped off the bed, a mischievous smile playing on his face. “Those Ronpas are going to have a surprise, nishishi!”

“So… the mission was a success!” Momota’s face brightened and he let out a short relieved laugh that quickly transformed into a coughing fit, his insides aching in protest. No laughing for him, then.

Despite that, he couldn’t help but grin widely, leaning against the pillows propping him more comfortably.

“You did good, Ouma,” he praised with his new-found confidence. He reached out his hand to ruffle Ouma’s dark unruly strands. “It’s great to have a sidekick like you!”

Ouma swatted his hand away with a pout.

“Momota-chan is delusional,” he complained. His eyes flickered to Momota’s body, eyeing the heavy coat of bandages wrapped around his broad chest. His expression fell for a second in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of way but he quickly bounced back to his cheerful self. “But I’ll allow it since he has a boo-boo.”

Shortly after that Ouma left, hurrying to take the chip to Iruma and Professor Iidabashi and lock it up securely as per Tojo’s orders. He was almost out of the door when he turned back, flashed Momota a peace sign and ordered him to ‘just get better already’.

And then he was gone, leaving Momota chuckling and drawing the blanket left by Ouma closer in hopes of getting some more sleep before Mikan could come to take a closer look at his injuries, chastising him for being so reckless. He didn’t have to wait long, easily slipping into the comforting embrace of sleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

[delicrieux]

hate you, love you

PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader

summary: (name) and draco had been sworn enemies for years, but that really was just their strange way of confessing love for one another.

also, requested by @hufflepuff-chan​:  Can I request a Draco x hufflepuff reader scenario were the reader has hella guts. She hates him and the feelings are equal. Then they have a huge fight (please make it really angsty and sad) and then he crosses the line and the reader is dumbfounded and left empty. She stops attending their shared classes and doesn't eat in the great hall and isolates herself. And after some time they bump into each other as she heads to her common room and they fight once again and he grabs and kisses her. Extra points if its a heated kiss. Happy ending of course. Bless you

a/n : changed it a bit. ALSO THANK YOU MUCH TO MY WIFE @thehogwartsdormitories FOR THIS AESTHETIC (I LIVE) AND YOU BETTER CHECK HER OUT O R E L S E!!!

feedback is always appreciated xoxo

MASTERLIST.

I’m beginning to recognise that real happiness isn’t something large and looming on the horizon ahead but something small, numerous and already here. The smile of someone you love. A decent breakfast. The warm sunset. Your little everyday joys all lined up in a row.

That was your perspective, coloured in a rosy shade of blush and the friendly yellow uniform of your House. Hufflepuff has the reputation of being the House that accepts, loves, and cherishes everyone that gives them the time of they. Therefore, most assume that every single person in said House is naïve, lacks backbone, and is too idealistic. Too kind, the other Houses rave, you will only get hurt with that sort of mentality!...

Since when is being too kind a bad thing? Happiness needn’t be some grand gesture. Small things matter more. Happiness is giving, not receiving, not fighting. Happiness is peace, is what you think with a smile.

Of course, that beautiful mentality is promptly discarded when you meet a certain Slytherin boy that gets on your nerves more than anyone you have ever met.

You have no trouble dishing out what he rightfully deserves for being a prick. You don’t even try to understand him, unlike you do with others. You refuse to give him your time of day. And while yes, you are considered a nice person by some, you have guts and you are unafraid of confrontation like so many from your house.

Bickering is a constant sight between you and Draco Malfoy. Your friends have grown quite tired of it, really. There hadn’t been an instance in years where the two of you could sit in the same classroom in silence, without firing some sort of antagonistic remark at one another. You cannot recall how you came to hate him. Your first year at Hogwarts was relatively tame, and you hadn’t made your mortal enemy yet. Perhaps you had performed superb in charms, brewed a better potion, or flown more skilfully on a broom than he. Whatever it was, one day you awoke to a letter addressed to you. Curious and a bit frightened, you opened it to find only one sentence scribbled at a piece of parchment.

Get out of my school.

Is all it said, signed by Draco Malfoy himself with his awful eleven year old signature. You had found him after Herbology, putting away his books alone, and making sure his lackeys were away for the moment you walked up to him and hit him on the arm.

“Ow!” He had whined, sending you a glare, “The hell is your problem, (Lastname)?”

Your eyes had widened, “The hell is my—MY problem? You’re the one sending letters telling me to leave Hogwarts!” Noting your frustration, he had smirked.

“Yeah? Well it’s because you should. Face it, you’ll never achieve anything. Best quit while you still have some dignity left.”

That was the day a spiteful fire was born. There was nothing in this world that could make you like Draco Malfoy. This hate was rooted too deeply to simply be torn out.

Alas, years continued with the same model. He notices you walking in the hallways and comments on your lack of poise, whilst you flip him off. In class, students take bets who will attack the other first. It is almost a dance, sort of, a verbal battle that is both fiery and graceful at the same time. While you and he have exchanged numerous insults, neither of you have gone far enough to seriously hurt one another. You hadn’t said a word about his family’s Death Eater status, and in turn he not once mentioned your muggle birth, even if it was the first thing anyone would assume he would make fun of. You fought and teased, but with strange respect. Rumours started to float around that the two of you were secretly in love, merely hiding your feeling behind a charade of hatred. Your friends believed it and never failed to mention it to you. You had dismissed every single thing they dared to comment on.

That is why your heart nearly explodes from hurt when he calls you a ‘Mudblood’.

It had been late in the evening and he was acting odd, odder than his usual pretentious shenanigans. Being a Prefect, or his long lost soulmate as some whispered, you grew concerned when you couldn’t see his obnoxious face during dinner. In turn, too preoccupied with catching him wandering somewhere in the shadows of the Great Hall, you hadn’t touched your meal and left on an empty stomach as soon as you realised he was not coming. Your friends had called after you, but true to your character, when it came to Draco hardly anything else mattered.

The hallways were quiet and empty. Some portraits had already gone to bed, some chatted idly about the dreams they will soon have. You kept your eyes peeled on every moving object or a randomly passing student. You really had no clue where to look for him, or why you were doing so in the first place. His absence tugged on your heartstrings. As if your body has come to despise him so that he was fused with you, in a way. Tired, disappointed, and with an upcoming headache, you decided to head to the kitchens to grab a snack before sneaking into the common room.

Was it luck or something opposite of that, you had passed a classroom in the dungeons that had the door left ajar. You caught a glimpse of his shadowy face and abruptly stopped. It was instinct, really. You were hardly thinking what you were doing, and before long you were asking him, genuinely, your voice void of sarcasm or any ill intent, if he was alright. It scared him, your question. It made him pale, if that was even possible, and stiffen. Surprise shone in his features, but soon that morphed into unfiltered disgust.

“Get out of my sight you mudblood.”

But he does not look at you as he says this. It is a hiss directed at the cupboard with potion bottles, yet it pierces your heart all the same. It is your time to freeze, to lock your jaw and forget to breathe. Your whole train of thought is wiped clean, as if nothing had existed prior and nothing will exist after this moment. Then it all comes crashing down in the most painful way. What respect? What concern? What were you even thinking? He is nothing but a brat, an evil and vile Slytherin prick wanting nothing more but to belittle and hurt you.

You suddenly feel like crying. But you don’t allow yourself to appear so weak, so affected by his comment.

“…Forget I said anything.” You whisper, your voice hollow. With a quick step back you exit the classroom, your eyes never leaving his distraught form, before your fingers grasped the handle and shut the door harshly.

You didn’t have it in you to call him out anymore. Your resolve to destroy him wilted like a daisy seized by the cold wind. You avoided him all together, opting to spend your time in the Common Room or Library, catching up on studies and hanging out with people that did not care about your mudblood status. You rescheduled your classes so you would not have to face him. You pretended that, if you could delete him from the pretty picture of your life, this pain would go away.

It is a shame, really. You had always expected the two of you to end up being friends. Perhaps you bought into the gossip too much.

It is early morning when you run into him. It had been nearly two months since you had faced him properly, and you feel no less prepared or at ease. You gulp. He stares at you as if he had seen a ghost, though soon he looks away shamefully. Silence. Neither of you move from your respective places. He must have just left the Common Room…What a coincidence, so have you.

You press your books closer to your chest. The past you would have flung them at him, chased him off. The present you does not even have the strength to move. He really hurt you, he knows this. He is sorry, though he is unsure of how he should even approach you now. At first you were at even grounds, tied by hatred. Now the two of you are tied by hurt. He would gladly go back to you hating him than seeing you almost afraid of him.

“This probably means nothing to you, but…” He starts hesitantly, watching your expression morph with hostility, “I am sorry. For what I said. I crossed a line, and…” He is unsure how to finish, so he lets his words hang. His ego be damned. Even he can admit to a fault sometimes.

You shake your head, “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“But I do. Mean it. I do mean it.” Draco says, now more confident, “You don’t deserve to be called that. Not by me or anyone else.” Awkwardly, he runs his fingers through his hair, “To be honest, I…I’m not even sure why we fight all the time. And this year has been…a mess and I took it out on you.”

You give him a sad smile, “In another life we might’ve been friends.” You add quietly, “I accept your apology.” Maybe what the other Houses say is right, maybe being too kind is a bad things, “Now, if you’ll excuse me—“ You turn to walk away but he grabs your hand with a desperate ‘Wait!’. You try not to think about how big his hand is, completely engulfing yours. How warm it sis, too. Slowly, you turn to look at him.

“Can you give me a second chance?” He asks you, his eyes boring into your own. You feel heart rising to your cheeks. Confused and unsure how to process this, your brows knit together softly, “I think we can still be friends, and…” His eyes wander down to where your hands connect perfectly, “And…maybe…” Draco is having trouble wording what he wants to say, but you understand him, “Maybe—“

“Let’s start with just friends, alright?” You ask gently, a small smile tilting the corners of your lips. He nods, letting go of your hand but his fingers linger as you part.

“I don’t even deserve as much.” He says, more to himself than you. That all soon melts away, as he smirks and eyes you knowingly, in all his prick-ish glory, “Try not to run away from me anymore, (Lastname). I’ll see you at Charms.”

You can’t help but smile. Back to the good old days, is it?

“Can’t wait to knock your ego down a bunch. It had obviously grown with no one there to show you your place.” You bite back, this time with a beaming smile.

Your relationship had changed drastically from there on out. Your friends took a collective sigh of relief, as the two of you were back to your usual banter. His did, too. But they soon were surprised once more at the sight of you…chatting? Instead of screaming at each other the two of you now bickered in whispers. Instead of frowns and sneer, sneaky smiles and smirks replaced them. Instead of him sitting at the other side of the class, so he could always plainly see you and mock you, he now took a seat next to you and neither of you minded, nor felt the need to explain why.

Before long, one rosy evening at the astronomy tower he had kissed you, and you had kissed back.

Your mentality was right all along. Happiness is the little things. Happiness is his dorky laugh. Happiness is his strange sense of humour. Happiness was there all along, but you never knew. Well, now you do. And you relish in this happiness as you hold his hand and wait for the upcoming summer.

(IN BOLD ARE THOSE I COULDN’T TAG)

forever tags: @scarletraine- @brahwhytho- @smilesfromabove- @pharaohkiller - @victoriaelvendorkweasley-@onehellofdevilotaku- @eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy- @phillipas00- @xxcrowfeatherxx- @cupcakestyleshood- @invisibilityrocks- @nephalem67 - @chwechwechwe - @porpentyna - @lesbianheartbreaker - @banjosanjo - @madswheelers - @sombodymaybeawatson - @disneyfanatic77 - @superanonymousreader - @aliypop​

[airquietworks]

Shatters Mirrors (IzuOcha) (Part 3: Dreaming)

Part 1 :http://airquietworks.tumblr.com/post/168449557395/shattered-mirrors-izuocha-part-1-nightmares Part 2: http://airquietworks.tumblr.com/post/168590182600/shattered-mirrors-part-2-awakening-izuocha

The familiar, blood-curdling scream pierced Ochako’s mind.

There Deku was again, being ripped to pieces by his all-consuming power. She could see him in the distance, a massive chasm of darkness stretched out between them. Its depths were infinite and it looked far too wide for her to get across. She didn’t know if she could make it that far. And what would she even do if she got there?

She tried to cover her ears, to ignore his cries of pain. But it didn’t seem to matter. She could still hear them, loud and clear. She never could disregard them, no matter how much they hurt her.

Inko’s face swam in front of her mind, her words from earlier mixing in with the agonized shouts from Deku. She thought back to the mother’s request; to look out for her son.

Ochako looked down at her fingers, at the gravity-defying power she wielded within them. She thought back to Deku, throwing himself carelessly to stop Overhaul. She looked back to her friend, now helpless, wordlessly crying for help.

She stomped her foot into the dirt and balled her hands into fists.

Ochako was done with this. She could do better than this. She could...she could be a hero. The hero Inko saw in her.

She could look out for him, both on and off the battlefield. That was the least she could do. If she couldn’t stop him from throwing himself into death recklessly, then she would have to make sure to yank him out at the end of it.

Because that’s what a hero would do.

Without another thought, another fear, another trepidation, Ochako tapped her hand and leapt into the oblivion of darkness separating her from her Deku.

She felt the air rush by her hair as she floated, pushing her back and keeping her away from him. She gritted her teeth and pushed onward, willing herself forward. She would not be overcome by this, not anymore.

When she finally felt her feet touch on solid ground, she sprinted towards him. She could see him closely now, body glowing as his scream continued. But the sound grew quieter, as if his pain was relenting — or as if his throat was too raw to continue.

“I’m...I’m...going...to...save you!” Ochako panted, leaping over the rocks that materialized to impede her path.

He was right there, eyes ablaze with green fire, white energy creating a mystic aura around him. She ignored it all as she reached out towards him. He turned his washed-out gaze towards her, screams abating as he looked at her in confusion.

“I’m not gonna sit here and watch you die anymore!” she shouted into the darkness once more, just as her hand connected to his arm.

The inky darkness exploded into a brilliant light and she was consumed.

Ochako’s eyes opened groggily, the dream shocking her into wakefulness. Her head ached as she groaned out about waking up in the middle of the night once again. 

She shambled out of bed and tiptoed over to the washroom. Her body and mind protested but she still sought the familiar refreshment. And perhaps something more. Her toes pattered quickly across the tile flooring of the washroom as she almost ran over to the sink, turning the faucets and splashing cool water across her skin. It did the charm, as usual, slapping her into wakefulness after a disruptive dream.

She looked up into the familiar, mocking glass of the mirror in front of her. The image within looked much the same as it always did. Short, brown hair dishevelled. Eyes, sunk and shrouded in the dark rings around them, looking sleepy and just a little bit annoyed. A mixture of warm sweat and cool tap water dripping across her skin. But there was one key difference. The girl in the mirror wore a smile on her face. A confident smirk, one that challenged the person gazing within. The grin of a hero who fought through fear and nightmares to save the day, proud and unwavering despite the dauntless challenges ahead. There was a spark there, too, in her eyes. It seemed small but it was something she missed seeing in herself. It might not be as brilliant as his but…it could do.

The fierce wind blowing through her hair did little to cool the inferno raging within her heart.

Ochako tried desperately to harness her inner fire into an aura of confidence.

You can do this. You’ve faced worse. This will be fine.

But her inner thoughts could not quite settle the tempest storming through her. It was a struggle to keep her underlying fears and guilt from getting the best of her. To not just jump into the clear blue sky, float down from the dorm rooftop and forget about her upcoming confrontation.

Nevertheless, she stood her ground. She had to talk to Deku. There was no turning back.

The metallic creak of the door to the roof announced his presence behind her. The familiar footsteps were faint in the wind but she could still hear them, so intently she was focused on the boy behind her.

“I...I got your note,” Deku said, nerves coming through in his weak voice. “I wanted...I wanted to say-”

“Can I go first, Deku?” Ochako interjected. A part of her disliked the rudeness, but she had to be the one to cross that bridge first. She was the instigator and had to make amends.

There was a brief pause. “Sure, Uraraka,” Deku replied with a little more surety. “What is it you wanted to tell me?

Her sigh was lost in the howling of the wind. She took a deep breath and reached for the steel within herself; she was going to need it.

“I’m sorry,” Ochako stated while turning around to regard him fiercely. He looked unsure of himself, relenting under her unflinching gaze.

“I haven’t been fair to you, Deku,” Ochako continued, taking a strong step forward. “I was upset by everything that happened but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have said what I did and I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

She bowed her head, taking a couple of breaths after the words painfully tumbled out of her. She had spent a couple of hours rehearsing exactly how she wanted to phrase things but it was still a struggle to lay it all out there.

“Ochako...of course I...there’s nothing you have to apologize for,” Deku stumbled through his response. It figured he would try to deflect the need for her apology, selfless to a fault as he was.

“I did need to,” Ochako lifted her head to regard him with intensity now. His expression was neutral but at least he no longer looked like a lost puppy. “The truth is Deku...I...I…”

She breathed again and closed her eyes. This was the part of her script that always got her. That tore away at her insides. But she had to say it, for both their sakes.

“I envy you.”

The words hung in the air, a lethal explosive that stood as a threat to shattering the bonds between them.

“...What? What do you mean?” Deku responded, eyes beseeching her for truth.

“You’re incredible, Deku. You’re able to do things I can’t even imagine being capable of. But that’s not just because of your quirk,” Ochako explained, holding up her hand and presenting her padded fingertips. “You never give up, no matter how powerful your opponent is. You rush into danger without even thinking about it to save somebody. Even if...even if you put your own life at risk.”

She turned her hand toward herself, looking disdainfully at the skin at her hand. “You’re already such an amazing hero. I look at you and...and I see everything I would like to be. Your passion, your strength, it’s...it’s inspiring.”

Ochako actually smiled a bit at seeing his face go completely red at the unrelenting compliments. He never did take those in stride.

“But…” her face fell knowing the track her practised speech would have to take. Her heart clenched up as those haunting images bubbled to the forefront of her mind once more. “But it’s been hard keeping up with you. I knew it would be but...seeing you fighting Overhaul, completely uncaring of your own life, in the face of someone that terrible...it hurt. At first, I didn’t fully understand why. But now I do.”

Ochako watched his expression carefully as she worked through her heartfelt words. He looked perturbed but she did her utmost to not let that reaction still her.

“No matter how hard I try, I’m never going to be able to be you,” Ochako admitted while flashing him with the mask of a sunny smile. “I can’t hope to be the hero I know you’re going to be. That...that hurt me a lot, at first. But I’ve come to terms with it. I can accept it.”

“Uraraka I-”

“There’s just a little bit more, I promise,” Ochako continued unabated by his attempted interjection. “I just...don’t know if I’ll be able to continue if I stop now. Is that okay?

Deku’s steely stare was difficult to read and thus inspired some more anxiety from her. But he nodded, kindly heeding her request.

“There’s...there’s another part of this, I guess,” Ochako looked away from his face but kept his right arm in her vision. The arm with scars slicing all over the surface of its skin. “Honestly, watching you fighting him and then...what happened after, with you and Nighteye. It terrified me Deku. I…” she gulped, feeling her throat grow dry. Her eyes started to feel a little misty but she pushed down that particular release. She was done with tears over this.

“I haven’t slept well in weeks after seeing that. As your...friend, it makes me worried how unwilling you are to hold back. It makes you a great hero but...but against Overhaul...I thought you were going to die, Deku. I thought I was going to lose you.”

Despite her best efforts, her eyes really did water a bit at the admission. But she powered onward, grabbing onto her fighting spirit to end her monologue.

“But I know I can’t stop you from doing that. It’s...it’s part of who you are. So, I’ve decided to do something else instead,” she proclaimed while thrusting a fist forward.

“The next time you take on a villain like that, I’m going to be right there helping! And if it comes to it, I’m going to make sure you get out of there!”

Channeling all of her positive energy, she gave him the brightest smile she could muster. The type of smile a hero like him would wear. She saw a look of awe spread wide across his face. She liked it.

“Next time, I’m going to be the one saving you!” she declared, giving him a thumbs-up. “You can count on it!”

Ochako held the pose for a moment, before her thumb started to waver and she let it drop. She closed her eyes and tilted her head downward, retreating into herself. She sighed and took a deep breath, preparing for the worst. That was...a little silly. She had put a lot out there. She knew it could permanently damage her friendship. She braced herself for the worst.

“Are you finished now, Uraraka?”

“Yes. Sorry that took so long and I’m sorry I haven’t let you say much. Go right ahead.”

The moment of silence between them felt far too long. She kept her eyes closed and listened intently to his quiet footsteps.

“The first thing I guess I wanted to say, Uraraka is...I accept your apology. I...I don’t know think you needed to apologize to me but I appreciate it all the same. You...what you said right now was very brave.”

“Thank you, Deku,” was all she could squeak out, her heart fluttering with fear and relief as his voice grew closer.

“The second thing is...well...I wanted to say that I am sorry. I shouldn’t have been so reckless in that fight. And I should have considered your feelings sooner.”

That surprised her but she realized she should have expected as much. Of course he would go off thinking he had done something wrong. Even though it really fell on her.

“The third thing...is...well…” his voice sounded close beyond the darkness of her eyelids. It sounds too close.

“Uraraka I...I think you’re the most...the most...incredible girl I’ve ever met,” he stammered, voice coming from above her. She looked up and her eyes were met with his, shining brightly with a familiar passion she admired. What made her face heat up, though was seeing that passion directed towards her.

“Deku…?” she trailed off her question, a little dumbfounded by how his admission and proximity. She could clearly see every freckle on his face.

“Oh, sorry,” Deku apologized again, taking a step slightly back. She found herself missing the closeness but refused to admit it.

“Uraraka you...I...this is hard for me to say…” Deku stumbled through the words while scratching the side of his head. “I...I guess I’m just really flattered. I know what it’s like to not be able to meet the person you look up to. I’m just...having a hard time believing you feel that way about me.”

He blinked bashfully at her as she tried to hold in a sudden urge to combust with embarrassment. Had she come on too strong?

“I’ve been thinking about what happened and I just...I am sorry that I scared you like that,” Deku sighed, his gaze wavering in its confidence. “I’ve been hearing a lot about my recklessness from my teachers, actually. And my mom’s given me an earful about it a few times. I know I can’t...I can’t keep doing that, at least not yet.”

Ochako watched as he met her eyes again with a wide smile and eyes blazing brilliantly towards the horizon. He wasn’t just looking at her this time, not really; he was looking at something beyond her. Somehow, she was just as taken with that.

“I’ve got to keep getting stronger, so I can help people without worrying everyone,” Deku stated, heroic zeal pouring from every note in his voice. “I want to be a hero that can reassure everyone with a smile. I want to be a hero who can inspire people not to be afraid.”

She hung onto his words, her breath stolen and her cheeks suddenly feeling very, very hot.

“I want to be a hero like you, Uravity.” His face was shining like the sun, his heroic smile mimicking hers.

She could feel the wind biting the sweat on her brow, cooling her heated skin. She could feel her heart, thundering hard in her chest, like punches from within her. She could feel the water running down her rosy cheeks, no longer caring to stop the unbidden tears.

What had she done to deserve a friend like him?

Why did that phrase seem inadequate, somehow?

“Deku...you….you…” Ochako stammered, before giving up words and throwing her arms around him. She squeezed him with all her strength, desperate to show him what that had meant to her, which words could not capture.

He went still as a rock at first. She thought he heard him mutter “being hugged by a girl…” under his breath, but she figured she must have imagined it.

Eventually, his arms shakily wrapped around her back, returning the loving embrace.

“You’re the best friend anyone could ask for.” She cried into his shoulder, wishing she could reign in the tears in front of him. But she couldn’t help it; he was just too darn sweet.

“You’re...you’re...you’re…” Deku stuttered, causing her to giggle through her tears. She could imagine his blushing face without looking. “I could say the same….the same thing about you, Uraraka,” he managed to spit it out.

Slowly, she disentangled herself from him and held him at arm's length. She confirmed that indeed, his face was blushing fiercely, likely matching her own face. But his smile was gentle and he looked at her with an adoration that made her head feel a little fuzzy.

Feeling an affectionate impulse, Ochako lifted her feet and pressed her lips to his freckled cheek.

She pulled back as quickly as she came up. Her heart fluttered pleasurably while her face felt like it was on fire. It paled in comparison to Deku’s own embarrassment though, to her delight.

“Wah...wah...wah…” Deku gulped, head turning into the colour of a ripe tomato, his brain apparently short-circuiting. Ochako couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s...that’s a thank you,” Ochako explained, although wishing she had the courage to push things further. But she figured today would be far enough as an exploration of their relationship. For now. “Thanks for putting up with me. And for...for all of that.”

“Don’t mention it,” Deku mumbled in a daze, before shaking his head to recompose himself. “Would you...maybe want to go out and grab something to eat? We haven’t done that in a while.”

Her heart pinged with nostalgia as she remembered the simpler days that felt so long ago, when they were just starting their friendship. They’d go out to places after school all the time, with Iida. She missed that, more than she realized until the suggestion came forward. She wanted it again.

“There’s nothing that would make me happier,” she replied, beaming with enthusiasm.

Maybe she wouldn’t ever catch up to Deku. Maybe she couldn’t hope to hold a candle to him as a hero. She might not be able to save as many people as he could. Maybe she could not be him, even though a part of her so desperately wanted to be.

But as Ochako walked by his side, chatting away amiably with him once again, she knew there were few things she would give this up for. If she couldn’t be like him, then this could be enough.

And she would keep pushing herself to her limit, to try to keep pace. As fragile as her belief in her heroics might be, she never wanted to stop trying. She wanted to save people and she would give her all for that. And she would do her all to keep pace with him, to stay close enough behind him to be able to pull his feet out of the fire.

After all, she had people who looked up to her. For them, she would have to be the best hero she could be.

AN: Thank you to RandomPersonaFanatic from the IzuOcha Discord server for editing this. I hope you all enjoyed my most elaborate work in the MHA fandom yet. It was challenging, but fun to write. 

[ootori-sibs]

Kyoya's second shot

Episode fourteen: Chika's crime!

Tw: hallucinations, self harm (discussed), getting beaten up? Injuries, concussions

He woke up in a cold sweat, he tried to glance to see if Tamaki was still holding him but found himself unable to move, he tried to move his hand, still nothing, the only thing he could move were his eyes. So he looked around, glancing about in the darkness like he was looking for something, and whatever he was hypothetically looking for: he found it.

It was taller, certainly taller then any human- although that was what it looked like. It had long, black, spindly fingers that reached out and curled over his bedsheets, the sheets not seeming to notice its presence. It's eyes were white, glowing in the darkness of his room, Kyoya felt terrified, he couldn't tell what this thing was- it simply didn't make any scientific sense. Everything about it told him that was a demon, here to sentence his soul to damnation for his crimes.

If Kyoya could talk he'd be screaming at it, telling it how he hasn't broken a single law, crimes of passion are just fine, he doesn't deserve hell, not even for his crimes against himself. You only go to hell if you act on your suicidal thoughts, not if you simply cut. Kyoya has done nothing wrong, he is completely innocent…

…but he couldn't speak, he couldn't move a muscle. So he just stared, unable to do anything. He felt tears run down his face as he watched the demon stare back at him, right into his soul. It didn't seem to speak either, only loom over him, flickering from the small amount of moonlight in his room that came in through the shut curtains.

The next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes, he didn't even remember shutting them. The room was a hell of a lot brighter, and he could see Tamaki over by the sofa- he was getting dressed, he clearly hadn’t realised that Kyoya was awake, so Kyoya took the opportunity to ogle his shirtless, pantsless friend. There was no harm in it, if Tamaki wanted privacy he’d have gotten changed in the bathroom instead of in full sight of Kyoya and the huge window to Tamaki’s right. It was a wonderful view, and Kyoya was glad the thought of hell was just a bad dream- he’d certainly be going to hell for this if it were real. He adjusted himself so he was a little more comfortable, enjoying the sight.

He felt his arms itch as he realised that the last time he'd changed his bandages had been Monday… it was now Thursday. He groaned, realising this was exactly the kind of avoidances of self care that Fiyumi got angry about, "Tamaki…" he practically whined, staring over at the blonde.

Tamaki glanced back at him, face instantly lighting up in a way that made Kyoya's heart flutter, "Kyoya! You're awake! How are you feeling mon ami?" Ugh… morning people.

"Can you get me some fresh bandages from the bathroom?" They should be in the first aid kit."

Once the bandages had been given to him, Kyoya had begun to rewrap his arms, most of the scars were scabbed over but the bandages were still better than the fabric of his shirt. Tamaki sat next to him, watching closely for a few moments before gently touching Kyoya's unwrapped arm, "woah… how could you do all that to yourself? Doesn't it hurt?"

"Well yes," Kyoya started, feeling a little better then last night, "that's actually the point… to cause physical pain as a way to relieve bad emotions." He figured it was best to be perfectly honest, he didn't like the idea of lying to Tamaki's face. He sat and let Tamaki trace his scars with a finger, he looked so upset at the idea of Kyoya being hurt- it almost made Kyoya feel guilty.

Tamaki hummed in thought, fornsome reason doing the bandages for Kyoya, "so you hurt yourself because you're already in pain..?" Huh, he understood that pretty quickly. Kyoya nodded and Tamaki suddenly looked overcome with sadness, biting his lip and glancing up into Kyoya's eyes before quickly looking away, "well that explains how skittish you've been as of late… do you know what's causing all this pain?"

He sighed, he wasn't sure if there was any part of this that he could feasibly explain to Tamaki, without losing him. Kyoya shook his head, hanging his head in shame… he wasn't shutting down, but he didn't want to talk about it. Tamaki seemed to understand, pulling him into a gentle hug, "that's alright, you don't have to know everything all the time, I've got you, it's going to be alright. We've got to get ready for school now, okay? If you want, we can spend more time together after school," he leans in, giving a little kiss on the top of Kyoya's head, Kyoya wished he was wearing his make-up now as his cheeks went pink.

It seemed that Tamaki noticed this, pausing quietly and tilting his head a little. He smiled, seemingly amused, "you can be really adorable sometimes mon ami." Oh. Kyoya's blush deepened, staring at Tamaki in shock, he knew that Tamaki liked to say these kinds of things platonically but he couldn't help how it made his heart flutter. He swallowed dryly as Tamaki stood up, tossing Kyoya's uniform to him, "come on then! Get dressed!"

7:30 - Tamaki saw my scars, he also called me cute. He's the most wonderful. I didn't tell him why I caused the scars, he can't know. Never.

Most of the day went by without anything notable happening, and it was nice. Kyoya felt like life was the way it had been before, with the exception of Haruhi and Tamaki being together- but that was wearing thin. Lunchtime rolled around and everything was set, Kyoya sat at his table, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything when the door burst open, ah, here it was.

Chika stood there, fully dressed in his martial art uniform, already in a fighting stance. He'd called out for Honey, and all the hosts gathered around to watch. Kyoya had his laptop open, ready to help the boy win.

The first move was Honey's, he leapt into the air, bringing a kick down to Chika's face- but Chika, managed to dodge, sending a flurry of shurikens up towards him. The fight went off in this fashion for quite a while- just jumping and throwing and hitting and all that flying about, Kyoya didn't claim to be an expert on fighting, but he knew how Chika was going to win. The fight went on for a couple of minutes until Kyoya found the perfect moment and pressed enter on his laptop; two shurikens whizzed back Chika and stuck in the fabric of Honey's trousers, pinning him to the floor.

Honey had paused, seemingly surprised to have been bested, Kyoya closed his laptop and crossed his arms as he watched both boys catch their breath, looking equally surprised. The elder Haninozuka smiled, picking the shurikens up, "oh well done Chika-chan! That's the first time you've beaten me!" Kyoya understood that this was exactly how it was supposed to turn out, feeling pride swell at the sight of his plan going perfectly. He had fulfilled his side of the deal and now Chika had to be fully loyal to the cause, it was perfect.

Chika didn't seem to agree, he stood there, in complete shock. His hands were shaking and his mouth slightly agape- he had previously glanced to where the shurikens had been shot from, and it became increasingly clear he didn't like it. He glanced at Kyoya, and Kyoya noticed his eyes being full of fear and guilt… huh, that's strange, Kyoya couldn't think why.

The boy turned and ran as fast as he possibly could out of the room, tears quite visibly spilling as he slammed the door shut, causing some of the stray rose petals to float up into the air. The hosts stood there in silent surprise for a moment before Honey spoke up, "why is Chika-chan upset..? He won?"

The others were talking, but Kyoya found himself unable to take his eyes off the door, he didn't understand why Chika was upset, Kyoya had done exactly what they'd agreed on; he'd helped Chika win a fight against Honey. He noticed how Haruhi was staring up at him, he glanced down at her, raising a single eyebrow. She turned away at that, going to join the conversation with the others. Kyoya just sighed, he returned to his table and sat down, maybe working on his homework would distract him.

He was cornered by Chika later that day, on his way to the evening session, the kid dragged him aside and pushed him into a wall. Kyoya was always willing to admit that he was a delicate boy, he was obviously going to be hurt by this weapon-in-training's shove, and the stone wall behind him. He blinked at the much smaller boy from where he leant against the wall; Chika was very clearly angry, his eyes red from crying, his entire little body was shaking with rage, his fists clenched and he screamed at Kyoya without an ounce of restraint. "What the fuck is wrong with you!!?"

Kyoya just stared at him, not understanding why the boy was screaming. His head hurt and he was rather sure he had a concussion… he felt so dizzy. Chika clearly wasn't going to let Kyoya speak, he simply continued to scream, "you made me cheat!! I cheated to defeat my brother! That's so dishonourable! I dishonored my family and it's all your fault!!! What's going to happen when they find out?!?" Chika was pacing back and forth now, clearly fuming. Kyoya realised why he was so mad, he must not have realised how Kyoya was planning to help, but that wasn't Kyoya's fault.

"But you agre-"

He was cut off by Chika, bringing him down by a kick to the stomach and forcing Kyoya to slip down the wall onto the floor. "I DON'T CARE!!" Chika screamed again, he'd gone to punch Kyoya but Kyoya was smart enough to move out of the way in time, and Chika hit the wall- Kyoya was almost certain that a hit like that would have caved his skull in… "no wonder all your friends hate you! You're disgusting!!" Kyoya didn't say a word in response, just going still and hanging his head as Chika screamed at him, he didn't understand why Chika was so angry, Kyoya had only done what he had promised he would… and this little weapon was so furious about it…

He wasn't sure when Chika left, it all blended into a blur after that point, the only thing he was aware of now was the pain… and the buzzing of his phone, his phone! Kyoya reached into his bag, turning his phone on, texts from Tamaki… he was late to the meeting. Tamaki was worried about him, asking him why he was late, asking him why he wasn't answering his texts… telling him that Haruhi was late… that they'd taken Haruhi to the infirmary…

Huh, guess Kyoya wasn't going to be able to speak with the school nurse about his injuries. He'd had to head to the nearest hospital instead, oh, maybe he'd bump into his brother…

✍️Mommy dearest (Kyoya) 💜: Sorry Tamaki, but I'm afraid I will not be able to make this meeting.

Not to worry, however, I'm perfectly fine.

I hope Haruhi is alright.

After sending those texts, Kyoya had gotten up, leaning against the wall for support. He found his way to the limo park, knocking on the chauffeur's window, the man rolled his window down, looking at Kyoya. "Hospital, now." He pulled his own door open as the chauffeur nodded, sitting in the back of the limo and laying down.

He was exhausted, he was in pain. He checked his phone again, only to find that Haruhi had been beaten up on her way to the club room, Kyoya remembered the previous night's rage… huh, so this was karma was it? He never wanted to hurt Haruhi, especially not physically… he felt… bad. He couldn't put the blame on his council, they were only doing as they were ordered. Kyoya was the only one to blame for Haruhi getting hurt like that, he was the monster in this situation… hell, who was he kidding? He was the monster of this entire story; Haruhi might be hurting Tamaki, sure, but Kyoya was hurting everyone…

He got to the hospital, explaining the situation to the person at the desk. It turned out that Kyoya had sprained his ankle and gotten himself quite a large bruise over his ribs, not to mention he had been right about the concussion. The doctor had made him lie down for a while, insisting that Kyoya needed to rest. Personally, Kyoya thought it was a stupid idea, he should be doing so much more then just laying down right now, but noooo, he had to lay here for god knows how long. It sucked, he was absolutely bored out of his damned mind.

There was a gentle knock on the doorframe, and Kyoya glanced over to see that Yuuichi was standing by the door, in his work clothes. He sighed, walking into the room, "are you alright Kyoya? I heard you'd gotten hurt."

Kyoya sighed, not meeting his brother's eyes, "nothing really, I'm alright." He didn't want to get his brother up in arms defending him, especially when it was about the council- he couldn't allow that to happen.

Yuuichi frowned, crossing his arms, "from what I heard, you'd been beaten up." Oh great, the doctor was a damn snitch, Kyoya made a note to himself to have that doctor fired.

"What goes on during school hours is none of your concern, Yuuichi, with all due respect."

[negare-boshi]

kinktober 5 — free

i am sorry. this is NOT a smut, nsfw or even kinky. i have been trying to write something different, but the events from these past days aren’t helping me. this is the thing that came out more naturally, and since i want to write every day, here i leave it.

it’s sort of bittersweet, although it’s tender. 

spaceship au.

The ship is eerily silent. One would believe the dead quiet of space wouldn’t bother a crew that has been nursing from its emptiness almost since birth, but it’s not the danger of it what’s making it so spooky.

Oikawa has turned the music off. The low rumble of jazz or the furious beat of hard metal or the annoying but catchy pop always playing on the background has been shut since six this morning, and it’s starting to affect everyone on board.

It’s the materialisation of expectations. As if Oikawa could create matter with his own will, particles seem to shine out of his body. He has been staring out of the command room for hours, now, gaze fixed in an unclear point of the vast immensity surrounding them. It’s not as if he knows the exact spot the coming ship will appear on, but it hasn’t stopped him.

In silent, he waits. And waits. And waits.

*

Tooru’s being awfully cheerful. His smile is so fake it’s actually bothersome and the lack of music would have told Hajime enough about Tooru’s mental state for him not to worry. The addition of Tooru’s floating around, as if Hajime were a piece about to break, doesn’t help Hajime with his mood.

“Jesus, Oikawa, calm down.” Tooru’s smile flinches. “I’m okay. You don’t need to treat me—” Hajime swallows harshly, but the small ocean of sand in his throat doesn’t dissolve. “I’m okay.”

“I know you are,” Oikawa answers too fast. His voice is a hint too high, his eyes a shade too dark, his mouth way too sharp. Hajime shifts uncomfortable on his bed, and tries the foreign feeling of the bed he has always known with this body, half of which he’s starting to properly acknowledge.

Hajime was afraid Tooru would look exactly how he’s watching him now. The uneasiness is understandable, for Hajime’s not the only one who needs to adapt to home with a set of new limbs and pieces. But the cloud of uncertainty on Tooru’s eyes, the way his hands fold on top of each other every two seconds, the way his gaze can’t stay on Hajime more than a heartbeat is exactly what he feared for. Tooru isn’t ready to take Hajime back.

Hajime’s half back. It’s not as if these metal pieces that breathe and crack with his movements, still adapting to his flesh, weren’t part of Hajime. But in Tooru’s reluctance, Hajime feels the sharp stab of his own indecision. After a year in medical facilities across the universe, Hajime has learned to accept this new— pieces of him. It has been difficult and Hajime can’t even count how many times he’d thought of giving up.

But after hours of screams and tears and white rooms empty of Tooru and the Aoba Jousai’s crew, Hajime’d started to see his reality in a new light. He is wounded, yes, but he’s not missing anything. Not because these pieces add to him, but because the crash hadn’t taken from him more than what he allows it to do.

And yet, Tooru’s antics bring the bitter taste of that hesitation back to Hajime’s mouth, nauseas and an upset stomach together with it. Maybe it’s too soon, maybe he should have stayed in the medical facilities—

“I’m glad you’re home, Iwa–chan.”

Hajime can’t bring himself to believe it.

*

It’s midnight when the music comes back. Hajime, cold sweat painting his body, wakes up in a daze. The nightmare lingers on his mouth, dry and sour. Hajime barely remembers it, but for how sore his muscles and nerves feel, he doesn’t have to.

Seconds tick before resentment kicks in. Hajime can’t but hate this stillness, the waking up of the dead. In the other side of the abyss, in those days when he wasn’t hurt and half of him weren’t iron gleam, he’d wake up with a fight. Not a blink and the darkness of his fears becoming another sort of nightmare, no. He’d wake up in a fuss and move around and even make a sound of discomfort.

In the other side of his life Hajime had never been afraid of anything. But in this one, he wakes up with the hands of death tickling his nape, and he can’t even flinch in answer. In this one, the loud melody of a balada is enough to send shivers down his back and bring a tremor to his chapped lips.

Hajime doesn’t stand, the thin blanket of his bed a poor excuse of a shield, but warm enough for him to pretend he’s safe and sound. The smell of his cabin has remained the same on this year, a bit of metal, a bit of wood, a bit of vanilla from that damn candle Tooru had bought him for his birthday three years ago. Maybe it’s the caress of being here again what gives the illusion of safety, and not the blanket.

Doors being opened and closed, of knuckles pounding on metal walls fill the empty space between songs. Hajime finds himself smiling, a tiny thing that feels warm and fuzzy.

He falls asleep with Hanamaki cursing Tooru, and Tooru’s voice, as loud and beautiful as Hajime remembers it.

*

His muscles ache.

The spaceship is shaking.

Hajime’s throat is tight and pulsating. He tries to swallow, but he can’t. He tries to breathe, but he can’t.

The sound of rocks hitting metal, of metal falling into hollow floors, of his stupid vanilla candle and his books falling from their shelves. Hajime hears everything. Feels everything. But his eyes won’t open. His mouth won’t make a sound. Hajime is in lock down, his body paralyzed and his surroundings falling on him.

“Hajime.”

The stillness breaks when Tooru wakes him up from the dream. Hajime stares up at him, so motionless one would think him dead if his heart weren’t pounding as loud as it does. Tooru’s frame looks shadowed by the emergency lights, but Hajime has no problem looking at his features. He’s frowning, that ugly wrinkle of worry breaking his eyebrows.

Hajime wants to take it away, but his arms won’t move. Even out of the dream he’s still as useless as he was inside of it.

“Iwa–chan,” Tooru’s voice is shaky. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.”

“I’ve been calling you for a while.” Tooru tears his gaze away for a beat. Hajime’s chest fills with guilt. “I thought—”

“Sorry,” Hajime says again, the roughness with which it comes out weird and tasteless. “They take— They take some time to react.”

Hajime doesn’t need to explain what they means. Tooru’s eyes are scanning the metal pieces on their own account, taking in what’s left of Hajime’s naked chest.

It looks bad, Hajime knows it does. The patches from his shoulder to his left lung and heart, now half flesh half machine. The arm, mechanisms still visible because Hajime has never been a rich man, and paying for the latest medical advances in this sort of treatments is out of his reach. The bent patch on his right side, covering what was before the shadow of a hipbone and disappearing down his pants.

Hajime knows it looks awful, because he has spent hours on end watching the results of disaster and medicine in front of the mirror. He has had the look on Tooru’s face countless times on his own.

It’s impressive how this is the time it hurts the most.

“Iwa–chan—”

“Just leave.” Hajime turns around, trying to brush Tooru away. “I’m alive. I’m okay. It was just a nightmare.”

Silence fills the room.

Tooru doesn’t leave.

“Will you have more nightmares?” the whisper fills Hajime to the core. He closes his eyes, but it’s already there, inside of him.

Hajime wants to shake his head. Instead, he says, “Probably.”

“Then I won’t leave.”

“You don’t have to see me.”

“What?” there’s actual surprise on that question, so Hajime turns around and faces Tooru with a scowl. Rage is burning up his finally woken up systems, and although it’s unfair to throw it all at Tooru, he can’t help himself.

“You can go. I don’t need your pity. You don’t have to force yourself to look at me— at this disgusting me—”

“Iwa–chan.” Hajime blinks away tears that shouldn’t be there. Tooru’s tone is sharp and plain and tells Hajime he’s pissed off. “I’m not leaving. I’m not pitying you. And I want to look at you.”

Hajime groans, eyes always away from Tooru’s expression, so he misses the blush that stains his cheeks.

“Please, can I sleep with you?”

Without answering, Hajime wiggles to the wall, making room. Tooru manages to fit his tall body into the small space left, his legs tangled with Hajime’s, his face so close Hajime feels his breath on his ear.

“I’m so happy you are here.”

“Oikawa—”

“No.” Hajime stops. “Listen to me. I’ve been— I’ve been really sad without you. I felt—” Tooru’s fingers start caressing Hajime’s shoulder, the fake one. It’s startling for his brain when the touch is sent through, as if he could feel, as if that piece of fake Hajime were, in fact, a real part of him. “It was my fault.”

“Oikawa, no. I don’t blame you. I never blamed you.” Tooru’s crying in silence when Hajime turns his head to look at him. Gods, he’s as ugly as one can get when he cries, but Hajime has never seen something more beautiful. “You thought I’d blame you?”

“It was my fault.”

“It was no one’s fault,” Hajime’s right hand cups Tooru’s face. His real hand, the before the abyss hand. Heat warms it, together with Tooru’s tears. “I’m glad I was the only one who got seriously injured.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t you—” Tooru grabs Hajime’s face and pushes him close, so close their foreheads are touching, their noses are rubbing together, their mouths could be just a plea or a whisper apart. Hajime stares at him, and doesn’t push back. “I’ll never let anything like that happen again. I’ll never let you get hurt again. I will fight any star and any damn black hole to keep you safe.”

Hajime can’t help it. He grins, a sparkle of life in the middle of the darkness. His metal arm still cracks when he moves it, his left shoulder feels Tooru but ghostly compared to how he feels in his right hand. Hajime’s still a bit broken, and in pieces, and yet, he’s finally home.

Tooru whimpers when Hajime kisses him. A soft peck, a caress that pretends comfort rather than anything else. Hajime drinks Tooru’s sobs directly from his lips, and he kisses him again. Hajime’s skin is inflamed and alive when Tooru lets his hand into his hair and keeps him close, close, so close the only thing Hajime sees is Tooru and the only thing Tooru breathes is Hajime.

“Oh, Hajime.”

There’s no need to say anything else. Hajime understands. He has been feeling like a broken doll in a foreign theater for so long, so alone, so dreadful. Tooru’s words are meaningful although so short. Hajime knows.

They kiss each other with growing urgency. Hajime tries to prove himself he’s still alive, no matter the pieces holding him together, and in Tooru’s mouth, he finds his answers. Lips give way to tongues and teeth, and Tooru’s still crying but his mouth can’t seem to stop devouring Hajime’s. As if this were his way of saying I won’t ever let you go. You’re branded by me, now. You are home.

And Hajime is home. When he groans on Tooru’s mouth, he’s home. When his tongue teases Tooru’s lips and cross them, he’s crossing home’s door and saying gleefully, Tadaima. When Tooru answers him with the same need, with the same greed, Hajime’s welcomed with a loud Okaeri. When Tooru never forces his kisses to become something more, although Hajime can feel him against his leg, it’s the soft tug of a hug, the smell of soap and laundry.

This is home. Tooru is home. Hajime has always known, but it’s not until now, half a man half a machine, with the soul scattered in pieces the same way his body is, he finally comprehends. Tooru is his safe port, his spaceship, his night light in a wave of nightmares.

“I thought you’d hate it,” Hajime musters breathlessly.

Tooru has his eyes closed and his lips swallow. “The only thing I hate,” Tooru’s gaze locks with Hajime’s, and for a second it feels as if their heartbeats are in sink, “is that I couldn’t be with you this year. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Hajime kisses him again, swallows Tooru’s sighs and sucks Tooru’s lips. 

Hajime devours this little piece of him and keeps it safe, inside his metal chest now so heated up no one could say it’s not flesh, but something else.

there’s now a nsfw sequel.

[saturatedworld]

After a Dream of Death

As soon as the door of the townhouse was closed, the first thing that the visitor did was drop his suitcase and begin touching the host allover. “Aleksei,” calls Chizuru, the host, bemused by the sudden development. “This can count as harassment.”

“No new wound, new scar, or new broken bone.” Aleksei mumbles to himself. He holds the host’s chin and gives just enough pressure to signal him to open his mouth – the tongue was marked with ink in a strange shape. Aleksei stares inside and concludes, “At least it doesn’t grow larger.”

“It’s a tattoo, why would it?”

At once, Aleksei grabs the man’s shoulders and looks at him in the eye. “You did it, didn’t you? I heard from my intel. What you came here for.”

Chizuru at first only returns his gaze, unmoving, before answering, “I did it.” His expression softens into somberness. “I did it. I avenged Nagato.”

He did it. Those words, that confirmation, slowly sink in. “Do you…” Aleksei’s hands run down Chizuru’s arms. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, squeezing Chizuru’s hands slightly. Chizuru gives a small, quiet nod. “Let’s sit down first.” Aleksei says while guiding the other man, “Don’t worry about courtesy and such for now.”

After sitting down on the couch, Chizuru only stares down blankly. Aleksei can’t help worrying, was it a bad idea to ask about that matter? The silence was momentarily broken when a glaring housemaid showed up to bring them tea – she must have noticed Aleksei’s arrival. The master has been acting like this as of late, so the housemaid whispered to Aleksei’s ear. Worrying.

“That Cups…” Chizuru breathes. Aleksei’s ears perk up and he put down his cup of tea at once, waiting. Steam lightly floats up from Chizuru’s untouched cup. It took another silence before he continues, “It tried to bargain for its life, offered to bring Nagato back to life in exchange for mercy. I wonder if I should have accepted it. But I couldn’t. I hate it. And I couldn’t bear the thought of Nagato hating me.”

“Hate you?” A slight frown forms on Aleksei’s face. “Why would he?”

“The ‘Chi-chan’ that Nagato loved was a kind person. He did all he could to prevent anger and hatred from consuming him. He tried to save as many people as possible, no matter how much they have sinned. He never gave up, never feared, no matter how difficult…” Chizuru trails off, then mumbles, “I’m no longer any of those.”

“That is not—”

“You must have heard, Aleksei,” injects Chizuru, “If nothing else, about how I killed the spies in this city in a misguided sense of justice.” He looks down to his hands. “It was unforgivable. And I have killed even more in my revenge. At the end, I’m no better than Cups. I disposed pawns – people with their own lives and dreams – I disposed of them as I saw fit. I should be de—”

“Don’t say that!” In that single moment, Aleksei’s voice filled the room. His fists are now clenched tight. “Please.” He adds.

“Yes,” mutters Chizuru. “I don’t understand why you value my life so much. It’s not just you, too. Vlad, Robin, Vera…” He trails off again, bites his lip. “I don’t understand what is so special about myself. The resources used to keep me alive can be used to help someone else more worthwhile.”

“I think you are worthwhile, Chizuru-han.” Aleksei says, never taking his eyes off Chizuru’s. “Perhaps you are no longer exactly the same person as you were, but isn’t the fact you’re hurting and regretting now means you still have kindness in yourself? You can understand the pain of those wronged, those left behind; you can hope for and work toward something better. Would Cups have felt the same, had you let it live?”

Another silence. Chizuru fidgets with his fingers. Aleksei takes another sip of his tea as he waits.

“It would not,” mutters Chizuru at last. “It admitted no remorse. It was even prideful enough to give no apology. I hate it. It was everything I hate.”

“Do you…” Aleksei trails off for a short moment, looking for the right word to say. “...hate yourself?” Blunt, perhaps. But it suffices.

For the first time in that conversation, Chizuru is looking at Aleksei again, eye wide. Quietly, Aleksei’s hand reaches for Chizuru’s head, caressing him. Ah, there is a glimmer in Chizuru’s eye at last. That glimmer trickles down, like a falling star.

He pulls the man into an embrace, closely, tightly. “Listen to me, Chizuru-han. Ideally, I wish for you to love yourself. I wish for you to see for yourself what charms you have. I believe in you, Chizuru-han. But even if you can’t do that, even if this terrible world prevents you to, I will still love you. I will make up for that love you lack, so at the very least, please live on for my sake.”

“...Aleksei,” he whispers, “I…”

Realising what he had said, Aleksei with no warning separated himself from Chizuru. “O-Of course I mean I love you platonically!” He blabbers on, “And your friends must think similarly too! Yes! Live for us!” Ah, he has done it. He has made a mess of himself. It would be even harder cover it now. When he recovers a part of his courage to steal a look at Chizuru again, he sees Chizuru’s eye and cheeks red. His eye is no doubt red from crying, and his cheeks red from… He has never seen this face before. It’s almost adorable if not for this awkwardness.

A chuckle. Then a giggle. And, at last, a laugh. Chizuru is laughing. Aleksei, both embarrassed and glad, says nothing. “Haha. Hahaha. You made me remember, there was another reason why I couldn’t accept Cups’ bargain, though I realised it only after the fact.”

“W-What is it?” asks Aleksei, having calmed down enough to speak coherently again.

Chizuru wipes his wet eye with the sleeve of his haori. “It would have put you in a tough spot, after I invited you to live together with me.”

Nevermind, Aleksei can feel it; he will turn into a mush again now.

“Well,” says Aleksei, trying his best to keep himself together. “Neither of us made promises…”

“But I meant it.” Chizuru insists, “If I have to keep enduring everything, I want you by my side.”

Aleksei looks at Chizuru, looks away and sighs. He looks again and looks down. He scratches his head and asks with a quiet voice, “What… do you mean by that?”

“What?”

“Do you…” He can’t ask this while looking at him, no. “Do you love me too? Maybe a little beyond platonically…” Just what is he doing? He shouldn’t be doing any of this, and yet…

Chizuru doesn’t give an immediate answer, but he holds Aleksei’s hands. He holds them, and says, “Thank you, Aleksei. I don’t know if I will be able to live up to your expectations. Frankly, I still don’t know what I want to do now. Perhaps one day I will crack and fall again, but for now, thank you. Thank you for never giving up on me.”

“That’s not…” Aleksei trails off and sighs again. This time, a smile follows after. “Nevermind. You are welcome too.”

[hsj-scenarios]

Yuto as your son? I have this motherly love for him. PLEASE HELP MY THIRST FOR MY SON

I hope you enjoy this Nonnie-chan! I spent an extraordinary amount of time trying to ensure that i gave Yutti an authentic voice! I LOVE YOU! Thanks for trusting me with your prompt! So sorry for taking so long!!

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Title: SoarRelationship: Nakajima Yuto x Reader as his motherRating: PGWarnings: Mild LanguageGenre: Mother’s love, hurt/comfortType: Oneshot

Other: Crossposting from @hsj-scenarios requested fill

Summary:  You saw greatness in your son from the moment he stole your heart–but you could not have imagined that with such greatness would come such painful growth.

Please note: I used a lot of interviews and articles to put together both the timeline and the feel for what I think Yuto would have been like through his tumultuous childhood. Still, I’m far from a Yuto expert and if any emotion I have portrayed here doesn’t feel authentic, I will ask that you give me grace! 

ALSO PLEASE NOTE:

This is a quote from my story:

Johnny’s formed and dissolved groups like people changed their radio station. It was just done, a part of the process of putting together the exact formula of talent Johnny was so gifted at.

In the story, I skip most of the moving around, and based my timeline on the following quotes from Yuto’s 10,000 word interview where he says the following about JJExpress:

When I joined Jr., I was put into JJExpress and became the center of the group.

HS7 was formed in 2007. But before that, there were many rumors such as Yamachan will join JJE, Chinen moved to Tokyo and joined. I never thought this would be a group with 5 members, and still thinking “What’s going to happen with JJE?”, I’m relieved Daichan is also in the group, we’re good friends when I go in JE and we also act together in Engine, I Also a little guilty to Daichan who is older than me, but I became the center of the group, so I did my best to guide everything.

So, I do NOT move him around, like that he went to Tap, nor do I address all of the different places that the other members were floating during this time, despite that having happened, because it must have been a blink as his recollections of it was that he was still concerned about the fate of JJE during the time when HS7 was being formed!

Okay! Onto the story!! Sorry for being so crazy over details!!

The last few months, but in particular, the last few days had been mass chaos and you were doing your best to be the person you were supposed to be. You’d read articles and etiquette guides and plenty of people had counseled you on your responsibilities and how people would be watching you. There were so many social niceties, and exacting expected behavior from you, and you’d honestly felt like the world was spinning faster than you could make sense of.

You were home, having changed into your favorite fuzzy pajamas, your feet still aching from the stylish shoes you’d decided to wear to the rehearsal dinner you and your husband had hosted that evening. It was nice to meet so many people, and of course, you couldn’t help but enjoy yourself, the rehearsal was finished, and everyone was so excited there was an electric aura around everyone.

Why shouldn’t there be?

Yuto, your beloved son, was marrying his longtime girlfriend the next day and you knew in your heart of hearts that he would be so very happy. She was made for him, truly, she took such good care of him–knew him so well, and met all of his needs. Knew when to be forceful so as to get him to snap out of his dark, internal musings. Knew when to be soft and gentle to guide him to understandings. Knew when to laugh, and when to cry. She was amazing, and you couldn’t have asked for a better woman for your son. Not in a million years.

This would be the perfect day.

Well, that was, at least what you continued to tell yourself–and it wasn’t that you didn’t believe it–because you did. But now that you were shuffling through the house, the quiet peacefulness, now that the the glitter and soft candle light, the scent of roses and vanilla, the lovely glow around the intended couple…as those things faded, the stark reality of how much your world was going to change in a few hours became nearly overwhelming.

The house was quiet, and it would stay that way–apart from visits, apart from holidays and events like that, it would remain silent in a way it never was before. Yuto was a loud child. He tapped and drummed and inside these walls he was exuberant and excitable and his laughter, oh how the walls had echoed with it.

You laid in bed, turning away from your husband, because it hurt him to know how much you were hurting, trying to be as quiet as you could be while you wept. It wasn’t that you didn’t want Yuto to be happy, because, of course, you did…but could anyone possibly understand how you were feeling? You were so happy, elated in fact, and you wanted nothing more in all the world than for him to be happy–yes, but there was such a bittersweet layer deep underneath all of your smiles, all of your cheers, all of the support and encouragement that you couldn’t shake off.

You fell asleep, dreaming of the past.

“He’s perfect,” you whispered, looking up at your husband, who was leaning over your shoulder to look at the bundled-up newborn, smiling at you as he nodded, leaning over to kiss your forehead, then kissing his son’s as well, and you felt the pride radiating off of him as he looked at Yuto.

His son.

Our son.

My son.

That night after everyone had finally left you in peace, you’d picked that tiny boy up out of the bassinet, and you laid him on the hospital bed, your legs folded underneath him, and you carefully began to unwrap the tight swaddling.

He stirred, starting to fuss a bit but you shushed him softly, singing a soft tune to keep him distracted as you revealed each tiny miracle of him one bit at a time.

Marveling at his tiny fingers and toes, touching them, and watching his response. Seeing him move, and breathe, and wiggle when it tickled, and you were overwhelmed, quickly wrapping him back up and pulling him up to you, pressing your face into his, tears dripping down onto his cheek, and all you felt was love.

You never knew anything like this before, love so deep and pure. How could such a thing be possible that this tiny boy held part of you inside of him? More than that, how did he manage to steal your heart in mere moments?

You fluttered soft kisses around his soft, tender cheeks, smiling when he began to fuss and then took a deep breath to let out a tiny newborn squall, your body shook with the laughter of how precious it was–tears still wet on your cheeks–and you thought, you wondered, even then if that was what being a mother was–the strange combination of overwhelming happiness and joy, mixed with the knowledge right from the start that this was temporary.

He wasn’t yours to keep. You knew even then, holding this tiny boy who was completely dependent on you for every need he had. A blank slate, waiting to be filled with all of the lessons you would teach him. Years stretched out before but you knew, even then, that there was a time and a place somewhere marked on a calendar that meant your job was done.

Where you will have to trust that you’d done all you could to instill in him all of the qualities he would need to be a happy, successful, productive adult.

You admitted right from the start, your job wasn’t to keep him, to cage him or bind him, no, it was to grow him into a boy who would fly far and high.

Soar.

You decided there, on the very night of his birth–you would make sure that all the days you did get to keep him would be filled with every bit of happiness you could create, with every lesson you could impart, and if you made mistakes, and you knew you would, that the weight of those mistakes would be tempered by his understanding that nothing you would ever want for him was anything other than happiness, joy, and contentment in his life.

I love you, sweet son. You already have stolen my heart. I’ll love you the best I can.

“I swear, he’s going to do it! He is!”

You were so excited, sitting on the floor watching Yuto push himself up onto his knees, his precious tiny face scrunched up in concentration as he grunted, trying to make his legs and arms do what he wanted them to do.

Finally, as like so many times before, he was able to get up, lifting himself onto all fours, and he began to rock back and forth, his face smoothing because he liked that motion.

“I don’t know if he is or not,” your husband murmured absently, still looking at the newspaper he was reading, too absorbed to look up and see history unfolding–but you? You were bent on the fact that you were never going to miss a moment of this.

You glared at him for a moment, but then had to laugh, because this had been repeating for weeks now, and each time was the same, at least for you–the idea that there was just one moment–on single moment between Yuto trying, and doing.  You smiled, watching Yuto rock back and forth for a moment before you whispered, “Yuyu.”

His head wobbled a bit, searching the room for your voice and then he lifted his head and he looked at you, a smile blossoming on his face that lit up the room and your heart.

“Hello, baby boy!” you cooed, and he smiled wider, rocking excitedly back and forth, a giggle bubbling up.

“Come see Momma!” You held your arms open wide, and you gasped when he lifted one small hand up off of the floor, trying to figure it out, trying to discover the secret to movement.

And then he pushed forward, his back leg kicking swiftly out and he tipped over, his face landing in the carpet, and he let out an ear-piercing scream. Not because he was hurt, no, because he was absolutely infuriated, positively indignant that he couldn’t do it. He rolled onto his back, his tiny face red and squished up as he let the anger melt away into frustration, and you moved, crawling over to him.

You leaned over top of him, and he was still crying, but his hand reached up and touched your cheek. You turned your face, kissing his palm softly over and over again and he laughed, a tiny, wet, bubbly laugh but you heard it, turning to look back down at him–moving to lift him up, cradling him in your arms as he took a deep breath, calming down.

“It’s okay, Yuyu–we’ll try again tomorrow!” You soothed him, and his hand rest on your cheek, his eyes wide and unblinking and you felt like he knew an undeniable truth, the words that were left unspoken.

I will always pick you up when you fall.

Yuto was terrified of starting school, shuffling his feet and clinging to your leg, his bottom lip quivering, eyes rimmed in tears, “Please, Momma, I don’t want to go.”

You squatted down, drawing him into your arms, “Yuto, this is not something that can be changed. You must go. It is good for you, and you want to grow up to be a smart, intelligent young man, don’t you?”

He nodded, sniffling and swiping the back of his hand across his eyes.

“Then you have to be brave!” You held his face in your hands, kissing his forehead softly, drawing back, “You are special, Yuyu, your future is before you but you have to take the first step.”

“What if they don’t like me?”

“Then you be kind and loving until they change their mind.”

He shuffled his feet, “But…what if I fail?”

“Then you will try again until you succeed.”

“What if I cry in front of them?”

“Then you will smile even brighter the next day.”

He stared at you, his eyes bouncing back and forth between your own, his hands moving up to hold your wrists, then one of them drew your hand down over his heart, holding it there in the way he had since he was an infant, his eyes wide and his voice so small you wanted to take him back home and hide him and never make him do anything that could potentially hurt him, “I’ll do it for you, Momma.”

Your breath shuddered as you tried to not cry, knowing that it would just agitate him more, nodding your head, “Yes, that’s good, you do it for me! And then later, when it feels right–you can do it for you!”

You tapped his nose with your finger and he laughed, and then you turned him around, facing the door of his classroom, your hand on his back, as you whispered in his ear, “You have to take the first step.”

And then he did.

It had been weeks since you’d sent the letter to Johnny’s Entertainment. You’d mentioned things here and there to Yuto, in an attempt to feel him out about how he might like it. He didn’t seem to have strong feelings about it either way, so you’d picked up an application, and then sent it off–attaching your favorite picture of him and all your hopes for him in that envelope.

You didn’t know why you felt deep inside that he was meant to be more than just average. You knew though, that he certainly was capable of doing so many great things! You saw it in him already, a seed of greatness. A light of something extraordinary, different than what other boys had. You were positive everyone would tell you that you were simply biased, and that you didn’t have a clear view of your son. It did occur to you now and again perhaps you weren’t completely neutral, but honestly, how could you be?

He really was exceptional. You knew it wasn’t just in your head. He could be a Johnny’s.

I just know it.

As time stretched out you began to wonder if you’d been wrong. It hurt you on a deep level, if they rejected Yuto, even without him knowing, isn’t that the same as rejecting you in a way?

You’d pulled the stack of mail in, shifting through it, your heart dropping to the floor when you saw the return address from Johnny’s. You looked around, a strange level of paranoia kicking in at the idea that someone might know what you’d done secretly.

Of course, you were home alone, “Calm down, calm down, goodness!” You pressed your hand into your chest trying to soothe your racing heart, holding the envelope out in your trembling hand.

What if it was a rejection? Could you take it? Would you be able to know that they had not seen in your son what you did?

There was a part of you, a pretty big part of you that wanted to just toss it in the garbage can. After all, Yuto hadn’t actually said he wanted to join and you’d done it without telling him. Nothing had to change, and you could still protect your heart from the feeling of someone looking at your son and finding him lacking.

You weren’t sure you could handle that without storming into Johnny’s offices and having a ‘now listen here’ kind of moment with them all.

You really are going to have to calm down.

You reached to open the envelope, sliding your fingers along the seam, laying the empty part down and then carefully opening the page.

Dear Mrs. Nakajima,

Thank you for the submission of your son’s application and image for consideration of a position within the Johnny’s family. We are pleased to tell you that your son has been scheduled for a group audition.

The information on the time and location are enclosed. He will need to wear clothing that is loose enough to dance in and should have a song prepared to sing.

Thank you for your support of our company and for giving us the opportunity to get to know your son better.

Sincerely,

Johnny’s Entertainment

Your eyes sped through the words again, reading it and then rereading it. Making sure you’d read it correctly, making sure that you weren’t just seeing what you wanted to see.

The paper fell to the floor as you leaned over on the counter, hands on your face, as you cried.

They saw it.

They saw what you saw.

“What are we doing, Mom?” Yuto asked as you drove him closer and closer to his destiny. You didn’t want him nervous so you’d not told him anything about it, thinking it would be better for him to be unaware, but you supposed now was the time to perhaps bring him in on the secret.

“Yuto, do you remember me asking about if you’d like to become a Johnny’s Junior?”

He looked at you from the passenger seat, his head tilted, “Sure.”

“We’re going to an audition for Johnny’s,” quick like ripping off a band-aid.

You weren’t completely sure what kind of response you were expecting to be honest, but the one you received really wasn’t it.

“Alright,” he said firmly, looking out the window.

You tried to get a feel for what he was actually thinking, always such a quiet, introspective child, worried you had to ask, “You’re not upset with me or anything? We don’t have to do this.”

He turned to look at you, and you saw the determination in his eyes, the path was set before him and he’d already made up his mind that he would try and do his best.

“I’m not upset, and I am glad to do it, thank you for making this happen,” he nodded at you and then looked back out the window.

At the audition–you knew, you became fully aware, they did see what you saw in him. That extra spark. That little bit of something that stood out.

He was a Johnny.

Each day, from the day Yuto had been accepted into Johnny’s became a blur. He was so busy, and to you it seemed that he was handling all of the challenges of balancing his new responsibilities at Johnny’s with his school work. You helped him as much as you could.

Packed him good, healthy lunches with lots of protein since you knew the workouts while learning the dance moves was exhausting on his young, growing muscles. You would rub ointment into his aching arms and legs at bedtime, and his eyes would blink slowly, so tired, so exhausted.

Yet, he loved it. You could tell, and when he was open enough to reveal the truth, he would tell you stories that made you know, made you feel sure you’d done the right thing the day you mailed that application.

You watched him growing in confidence, in assurance of his abilities, and while it was certainly challenging, he never complained, and never asked to quit.

You were slicing vegetables for dinner when Yuto flew in the door, his voice high and fast, “You aren’t going to believe what happened! You are not going to believe it! Just ask me! Ask me what happened, go on ask!”

You wiped your hands off on a dish towel, turning to respond when he was right there next to you and you nearly bumped into him, his eyes wide and excited as he looked up at you, “MOM! GUESS!”

You laughed, because he was too cute for words, and you reached down, cupping his face in your hands, and bestowing a quick kiss on his forehead before leaning down, nearly touching his nose, “It is impossible for me to ask anything when you are speaking so quickly and loudly, Yuyu-chan.”

You smiled as the wave of annoyance crossed his features, huffing loudly, “Please ask now.”

“Yuto, what happened?”

“I am in a group! I’ve been placed in a real group! I am! It’s called JJExpress and guess what! Guess what!”

You were tempted to tease him more, but just couldn’t do it as you saw how earnest he was, “What dear?”

“They put me in the center!”

Your breath caught, your hands tightening on his cheeks, and if he noticed he didn’t respond, just continuing to talk excitedly but you couldn’t stop the wave of feelings washing through you.

The center.

It was certainly a testament to the fact that they saw what you saw–but…the center? There’s so much pressure there. It’s a very hard place to be. You have to be good with people. You have to be flexible. You have to be strong in a way that’s different than what people saw as normal strength. You became the person accountable–you became the face of the success or failures of the group.

Yuto could be those things, at least some of the time, but he was a very complex child. It wasn’t wrong to think that he could grow, that just maybe for this goal, he would become those things, but it was terrifying to consider how far from your thoughts for him this position was.

He was so quiet, so internalized, and he didn’t always understand other children, which resulted in many disagreements, and tension that most of the time Yuto didn’t even realize. He was always thinking ahead, his mind worked so fast, and because of that, he didn’t always appreciate the nature of children and the way an average mind worked, being a studious, serious child as he was.

You were concerned, and you kn–

“Momma! Did you hear what I said?”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, releasing his cheeks, “Please tell me again, just the last part.”

“I get to be in a video! A real video! It’s for TOKIO and I get to dance in it!”

“That’s wonderful, sweetheart! I’m so proud of you, you will certainly do your best!”

“I will!”

He hugged you quickly around your waist and flurried off to do his school work. You watched him go, a gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach, because there was something there, something that was troubling you, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

Stop being a worrisome mother!

You shook your head, admonishing yourself. Johnny knew about talent and boys and abilities and futures–you weren’t qualified to make those decisions, he was, and if he thought Yuto was center material, then he could not be wrong.

Right?

You sat the apple slices and tea down on the desk where Yuto was working diligently on his studies. You couldn’t stop yourself, reaching over to tousle his hair, causing him to stop and glare up at you for a moment before he smiled, tilting his head.

“Thanks for the snack, Mom!”

“No matter what happens, Yuyu, promise to do your very best.”

“Of course, I will always do my best, Mom.” He looked at you like it was a strange thing to say, but didn’t pursue it.

“Then your best will certainly be a gift to others.”

He smiled broadly, nodding his head and then turning back to his work. You hovered there for a moment, a feeling swelling up that made you want to grab him into your arms and shelter him. Hold him. Protect him.

From what you didn’t know, and you hoped with all your heart you were wrong.

“We’re home!” Yuto called out, the door slamming shut as he and Ryosuke walked in from school. The two of them had become fast friends, and you were thankful, as Ryosuke was fun and laughed a lot and that brought Yuto out of his internal dialogue, made him engage in the world around him, and because of that, Yuto had become more light-hearted. You’d hoped that it would also teach him patience and understanding as well toward others.

“Welcome home, Yuto! Hello, Ryosuke,” you smiled as they sat their bags down by the door, “How was your day?”

“Fine,” Yuto called out, a tone to his voice you didn’t recognize, kissing your cheek quickly as he passed by heading to the kitchen to no doubt get a snack. They’d had rehearsals immediately after school today and you were sure that they were famished.

Your eyes moved over to look at Ryosuke who was still standing by the door, looking very small and out of place.

“Are you okay, Ryosuke?”

“I am very well, thank you, Mrs. Nakajima!” He bowed quickly, as if snapped out of a daydream, and then moved quickly to where Yuto was calling him from the kitchen.

Ryosuke was always a polite young man, and you felt like he was a very positive influence on Yuto. There was an edge to their friendship, not something you could name or describe, but you saw it none the less. Still, it wasn’t something you found particularly alarming. In the theory that iron sharpens iron, you felt that it was a good thing for your son. He needed someone to push at him and pull him around sometimes. It was good for him to be stretched.

You were walking past the kitchen, inadvertently overhearing the conversation taking place, your brows drawn down as you listened.

“I know how to do my job, Yamada,” Yuto’s tone was sharp, slicing through the air, “As someone who hasn’t even held a microphone, let alone danced beyond the forth row, you should really try to learn by watching others instead of giving unnecessary advice.”

“That wasn’t, I mean, that’s not what I meant, I jus–”

“I know what you meant,” Yuto cut him off, his voice terse and snippy, and you pressed against the wall, your hand on your heart, holding your breath, “I don’t need you to tell me how to do what I do. I’m the center of my gro–”

You couldn’t let this go on, stepping into the doorway, Yuto’s eyes snapped to yours but you just walked past him, acting like you’d come in to get a drink. The boys stood in awkward silence, and then Ryosuke’s voice was soft, “I will be heading home now, thank you for the snack, Mrs. Nakajima.”

“You’re welcome, Ryo–” You’d turned around to give the boy a smile, but he was already gone.

You frowned, and then looked at Yuto who had his eyes cast to the floor, “Tch, Yuto, this is not who you are.”

His eyes stayed focused on the space between you, “No person can be successful without the help of others. The manager of a company cannot effectively run the vast empire of his holdings without the help of all of those who work under him.”

You could tell he was embarrassed by what you’d heard. Embarrassed, but you didn’t sense he was ashamed, “Yuto, look at me, please.”

His eyes raised and as you looked into them, you saw it, the fear, the tiny spark that had set his words aflame.

“Oh, Yuto,” you shifted, moving to hug him gently, “Sometimes we learn the most from those who are looking at the place we are standing from a different point of view.”

He was still, and you wondered if he understood what you’d said, he pushed away from you, to turn to leave the room, his voice soft, “I’ll apologize to him.”

You watched him walk out of the room, your heart surely troubled as you tried to think of what you should do, could do, to help him.

I’ll just continue to support him. That’s the best I can do for now.

Your fears and anxieties began to lessen as time went on. JJExpress was moderately successful despite not being debuted, and Yuto had settled into a routine that seemed to be working for him. You didn’t feel the heavy weight as you watched him grow, as he seemed to be maturing, he seemed to be finding his feet under himself.

You sat the bowl of strawberries down on the desk, ruffling his thick hair, he’d been styling it differently for a television show he was appearing in. It was hard to believe how fast things were happening. Most of the time he seemed to be enjoying himself, he laughed and goofed off, but still…he’d begun suffering stomach pains, and you had no small amount of concern that maybe this was all too much for him. Maybe you shouldn’t have sent the application in?

You knew it was far too late for that–he’d decided this is what he wanted, without hesitation–and on his good days, you saw that he was truly thankful and happy. On his bad days though? You were plagued with doubts and concerns.

One of the biggest worries was that he was always alone. He and Ryosuke were still friendly, if not exactly friends, and you knew that despite the unspoken rivalry between the two, they truly did have a deep abiding care for one another–though everything about their relationship seemed to hang by a tiny thread most of the time. You sensed in Ryosuke someone who could be loyal, supportive, and a truly good friend for Yuto. You wanted that so much for him, and for Ryosuke, too–because you knew how good a friend that Yuto would be as well. Together, they would form a bond that would be unshakable–and they would take the world together–because you sincerely believed if they were aligned they would be unstoppable.

You couldn’t get much information from him about what was happening at school and work these days, and you didn’t have any real desire to be one of those moms who went digging for information–but the nagging in the back of your head wouldn’t go away. The two of you had always been very close, and there was a time he shared all of his thoughts with you, now, it was different, when you would ask he would just shake you off.

“So…when will you be having Ryosuke over again? It’s been quite some time since he’s been around.”

The pencil stopped moving, but he didn’t look up, he just kept his head in the same position, and you wanted to wring your hands together but felt frozen, “Did something happen between you and Ryosuke?”

“No.”

“It would be nice to have him over, I think that you two wou–”

“Mom,” he interrupted you, turning his gaze upon you, “He has his own life and responsibilities. They gave him a mic this year, he just finished shooting a drama–he’s doing just fine, there’s rumors everywhere about him, okay?”

His voice was a hiss when he said the last line, and you wondered if the rumors were something that would effect Yuto personally. You didn’t get to ask, as Yuto took a deep breath, his voice calm, measured, “He’s doing great, and he spends most of his time with Yuri. I’m too busy and I don’t need to be bothered with all of the stresses and friction that comes from spending too much time with my co-workers.”

“Co-workers?” The word sounded wrong coming out of your mouth, mulling it over and realizing he didn’t call them ‘friends’, and you knew that Yuto knew what you were thinking, his eyes narrowing, his jaw working in the way you knew he did when he was agitated.

“Co-workers.”

The word was firm.

Absolute.

He turned back around and started writing again, dismissing you entirely, but you couldn’t just let this go so easily, your hand rest on his shoulder and he stiffened, you tried to say the words so that he would understand, not just hear them, “Yuyu, hard work is truly noble and righteous, we have raised you to always do your best, of course. At the same time, it’s important to remember what you are working so hard for doesn’t reside within the notes of song, the reels of film, or the walls of a concert hall. We work hard for what we carry in our hearts. It is good and right to have people in your life that you trust, care deeply for, and share yourself fully with.”

He made a short noise, turning to look back up at you again, his eyes wide and clear in his determination, “I understand. Thank you, Mom, but I am working toward what is in my heart. To do my best.”

You heard the words he really meant float through your mind, ‘To be the best.’

He reached up to put his hand on top of your hand, squeezing it gently, “I have all of those things right here, you are the one I trust, and that’s enough for now, isn’t it?”

You weren’t sure, you didn’t know, and despite his words making your heart soar you felt unease as well, because being alone wasn’t good, and you weren’t the kind of friend you meant. His expression was so soft, and you stepped into him, hugging his head into your chest, holding him for a moment, squeezing too tight and laughing when he started struggling, fussing for you to let him go.

“Very well,” you smiled, fixing his hair, “I’ll give you time, but Yuto, I am not satisfied with you being alone. If not Ryosuke, then please, for me, try to create a bond between another?”

He studied you for a moment, and you knew that on some level or another that the words had hit the right place within him as his expression softened, and he shook his head, grinning, pulling your hand to his chest, “You shouldn’t say ‘for me’ like that, I know you know how hard it makes things for me.”

“I only say it when I really mean what I am trying to teach you,” you responded honestly, he was old enough to understand, the dynamics between you slowly shifting from that of teacher to counselor.

“Then…” he nodded, releasing the hand he’d been holding, “I will consider it, for you.”

You smiled, kissing him quickly on the forehead,”That’s fine, then later, when it feels right–you can do it for you,” then gestured to the strawberries, as you turned away, “They’re your favorite, I sugared them to be just as sweet as you are!”

You were almost out the door when his voice called out, small and childlike, “Thank you, Momma.”

And you knew he was not just talking about the strawberries, “Of course, Yuyu, I’ll always take care of you.”

Yuto was sitting at the counter, eating his snack, and you were busy tidying up from making his sandwich. He was watching you closely, and you felt like there was something he needed to say but he was hesitant. If nothing else ever bothered you about him in this growing up stage of life–this certainly did! He measured his thoughts, put them through a fine-knit sieve, and what you heard always felt like a small part of a much larger expression.

“They’re making another group–they’re placing me in it,” he muttered, his voice not giving away how he felt about this, and at first you thought he meant there was going to be a new new group, confused about why this felt like a very important statement–Johnny’s formed and dissolved groups like people changed their radio station. It was just done, a part of the process of putting together the exact formula of talent Johnny was so gifted at.

“Only two of us are moving from JJExpress.”

You froze, eyes wide, and he didn’t break your gaze, “W-what?”

“No one else is being moved, except for me and Daiki,” and you saw it, you didn’t hear it, no, his voice gave nothing away but you could see it in his eyes, the fear, the thing that plagued him brought to life from these words. Your heart beating wildly in your chest, and you wanted to grab him and pull him to you and protect him from whatever had put this fear into him.

“What happens to Express?”

“No one knows,” he shook his head, frowning, “There’s speculation, of course, but nothing has been confirmed, all I know is that for now we’ll be part of the new group, Hey Say 7.”

“I see.”

You knew how you responded to this news would either fuel Yuto’s distaste for this change, or give him hope of a positive outcome, but it was hard, because you didn’t fully understand what was happening either–pushing that away you spoke with a smile, “This will be a good thing right!? Perhaps, you will find this to be a bigger step toward debut?”

Yuto scoffed, and then his eyes narrowed, “It’s not just Express being shaken up, they are adding three other people.”

“Do you know any of them?”

Your heart sank, as his expression changed, because you could see it, you knew it before the words left his lips, and then you understood the fear you saw, you knew what he was thinking, and you searched your heart for the words to help him.

“Ryosuke. And Yuri, too.”

Damn, damn, damn, damn!

Yuto never had to say out loud the rivalry he felt with Ryosuke, they got along, it wasn’t some public display, not at all. You were perceptive enough though, had been in the room with the two of them often enough to see it first hand, in fact, you felt certain that everyone could see it from a mile away.

What are they thinking putting them in a group together!?

You took a deep breath, digging deep for the words that would both console and encourage Yuto, falling back on a lesson you’d been teaching him since he was very small, “No matter what happens, Yuyu, promise to do your very best.”

He studied your expression, his jaw tensed and then he smiled, the big, beautiful smile that you loved with all your heart, “Of course, I will always do my best, Mom.”

“Then, no matter what the future holds, your best will certainly be a gift to others.”

Spring passed in a flurry of CD recordings, video shootings and appearances. It seemed to you that despite the new group being formed, nothing had really changed, Yuto was still center, and the other boys were backing him.

They were exceptionally talented. You’d been shocked when you’d realized how well they’d done, their voices fit together, the unique aspects of their physical appearances complemented one another–and once again you were amazed at how Johnny could see things no one else could see.

Yuto seemed to be handling the increase in activities in stride, though the stomach issues that had plagued him seemed to increase, and you’d taken him into the doctor who had given him medicine, thinking perhaps he had an ulcer.

An ulcer, at such a young age?

You’d never heard of such a thing, but the doctor felt sure and as it would turn out, Yuto did seem to respond well to the treatment, and once again, you wrestled with the thought that perhaps you’d made a mistake when you’d sent that application in. Would Yuto have been happier having a normal childhood? Would he have struggled with these many worries and concerns he did now? Such heavy weight on such young shoulders.

Your mind drifted back to a conversation you’d had with him recently, a moment in time where he was candid and lively, and you’d asked him about what he thought about this after all this time, and had said to you, in a clear voice, full of conviction, “I am doing what I love–there was no better path for me than this. All I want now is to debut.”

Yuto is strong, he is capable, he wants to do this–I need to continue to be his support and shelter.

You stood with your back against your closed bedroom door. Arriving home from the arena, rushing to be alone for a moment to gather your thoughts because you knew it wouldn’t be very long before Yuto arrived home, and you had to have your thoughts clear by then.

Your mind was swirling, everything bouncing around, because what had happened was not something you’d imagined.

Not ever.

Yuto had spent the last week sleeping at the dorms with the other boys as they prepared for their performance in the Junior Show. You often felt out of the loop about his projects and events, but this was a far greater disconnect than normal.

He’d sent along a ticket for you knowing that his father would not be able to attend, so of course, you’d attended. As you were waiting for the concert to start, it was always interesting to hear the buzz around you of excited fans and happy trills from fans of all of the Juniors.

Today, the tone was different though. Everyone was whispering and there was a hushed undertone filled with uncertainty…something you couldn’t put your finger on and didn’t dare ask. You knew there was some tension–Johnny’s had never had so many groups prepared for debut at the same time.

Each of the groups had many fans, and they were all quite talented, and the arena was alive with the tension between all of the fans who hoped that their favorite would finally reach the success of debut.

When the first notes of the song Yuto had been practicing for a few weeks rang you, you couldn’t stay in your seat, standing up with the other fans, excited to see him as always.

Nothing could have prepared you for when those colorful drapes fell.

Nothing.

You gasped, taking in the group of ten boys…you recognized many of them, and you could hear the loud chaotic murmuring among the fans. A girl three seats down from you burst into tears, the depth of her cries reaching you from the distance. This was quickly followed by other girls, some sitting down in their seats, heads in their hands, as they wept.

Because you saw it, Yabu Kota and Yaotome Hikaru–the two boys who primarily made up one of the Junior groups rumored to potentially be debuting today–Ya-Ya-yah–they were on stage, along with all five members of Yuto’s group, Hey Say 7. There were a few other boys you weren’t completely familiar with, but you didn’t need to wonder–this was a debut.

This was the secret Johnny’s had kept under wraps.

You were thrilled, of course you were–

This is Yuyu’s debut! He is really there! This is happening! This was his dream!

Even as the excited words rushed over your mind, you were instantly plagued with what this would mean for these boys as you watched them. You knew for a fact that Yuri hadn’t even turned fourteen yet. These boys, they were so young, just a bunch of babies really, they hadn’t had the time to gain the kind of experience that the other groups had.

In fact, you shuddered to think of how the older, more experienced groups who were bypassed to give these boys the fast track to debut were going to feel about this? You’d even realized, with a heavy heart, that some of those boys were actually back dancing for these ten boys, something that could not possibly set well with anyone, not the boys in the spotlight, nor the other performers behind them.

There were fans who were excited, so there was a happy energy there, but mixed in that emotion, were the fans who were devastated.

Fans who realized this was the death knoll for their beloved Ya-Ya-yah, upset with the two members being put into such a large group where they would have to fight for the spotlight. Fans who realized that Yuto and Kei were on stage with this group and not their own group, JJExpress, meaning the other three members were not included in the debut.

Fears gripped the collective fandom about what this meant for their current favorite groups. Others were inconsolable because their favorites, the older, more experienced performers weren’t given the debut–confused and angry that their group had been passed over for this unexpected one.

They’re just so young.

So inexperienced.

Now, because of the way this had happened, they’d start out with so many obstacles in the way, having to win over the fans from the two former groups, having to settle the nerves and feelings of all of the fans of the groups, and the members of those groups who’d been passed over.

They would be going through all of their growing pains right there in the spotlight, right there in front of the cameras and fans, because they weren’t prepared for this. They just weren’t.

And your heart was terrified for Yuto–because he had already struggled trying to balance his center role with five members–and now it had doubled, adding to the group two of the more revered older Juniors, and it made you shake wondering how he would deal with this, how he was dealing with it.

You heard the door open and close, but he didn’t call out for you, so you turned, taking a deep breath and moving into the living room. He was still standing in the entryway, having dropped his bags, and his head was downcast. You stepped forward and he lifted his head, his face instantly crumpling, and then rushed across the room toward you.

You felt the energy rolling off of him before he’d reached you, your arms opening and grabbing him to you as he collapsed, a deep mournful sob breaking the air around you, and you held him as he cried, as he finally let the pent-up emotions he’d been concealing see the light of day.

And as you held him, giving him the freedom to lean on you, one thought rushed through your mind over and over and over again, getting louder and louder.

Johnny, what have you done?

Yuto had somehow found the strength within himself to carry on, despite the heavy weight he was feeling toward the entire situation. They’d actually performed their official debut concert at Tokyo Dome which made them the youngest performers to ever play there.

They’d done well, and you’d been so proud of them. You’d started to consider that maybe everything was going to work out after all. Perhaps you’d been a little too worried, a little too paranoid.  A nice routine had settled, and Yuto seemed to be taking all of the activities and work in stride, more confident than you’d seen him before.

He was trying hard to get along with the boys, trying to be less severe, less troublesome, to be less serious, but it was an ongoing challenge for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a sense of humor, or didn’t know how to have fun…it was just that he was bent on success, taking everything seriously, and would become easily annoyed when others goofed off and he considered it a time to be attentive. You were proud of his efforts though, at least he was doing what he could, you considered that the rest might come with maturity.

You knew, even without him telling you that he carried a great deal of weight and stress on his shoulders. How couldn’t he in reality? Every few weeks he would sit with you in front of the television, and you’d turn on some random program, pop some popcorn, and you’d talk, and laugh and be stupid or serious or silly.

“You know–Yuto, you were born with excess energy, charisma and charm–you have an extreme abundance of it,” you mentioned one night, musing as you ruffled his hair, “You should smile more. Since you were small, you were a very serious boy, often having a frown on your face–but my goodness, when you open up and share yourself, you dazzle the world with your smile–you make others smile because your enthusiasm is positively contagious.”

He’d thrown a piece of popcorn at you for embarrassing him, grabbing the remote to turn the TV up louder in a silent protest to what he’d come to call ‘Mom-mode Overload’.

Sometimes he said things that clued you into his true feelings–other times were just light-hearted and fun and nothing new was revealed.

Either way, you sensed that Yuto walked away a little less consumed with the heaviness of his burdens, and that, after all, was what you were there for.

You wanted to believe that he was okay, that things were going to work out–that you were just an overprotective mother.

You wanted to believe it–but your mother’s intuition–it never rest, it never settled down, it hadn’t for quite some time, and to you it felt like you were always one breath away from impending doom. You never let on with Yuto, you smiled, and encouraged him, and held him, and loved him right where he was.

But inside? In the innermost part of your soul?

You felt the storm coming.

Yuto burst through the door, slamming it so hard you feared he was going to knock it off the hinges.

“Yuto–what in the world are yo–” your words faded off as you took in his disposition, his face red, his eyes rimmed with tears, and he stomped past you to go into his room, slamming the door violently.

You walked to the door, knocking on it, your hand reaching for the knob, when a thunderous sound came from within. Crashing and breaking and screaming, and you tried to open the door but he’d locked it. His screams were filled with desperation, and now you were, rushing through the house trying to find something to pick the lock with.

It sounded like he was going to bring the house down on you, and you began to murmur, “Please, please, please,” over and over again as you searched, realizing you had a hairpin that would work, rushing to his door, and then your heart sinking when you realized it had gone silent.

Panic swelled up in you, your hands shaking violently as you put the pin into the lock trying to open it.

Damn it. Calm down!

Relief washed over you as you felt it slide and you turned the knob, opening the door, rushing into the room. It looked like a bomb went off.

Maybe it did after all of this time.

Yuto’s bookcase had been knocked over, everything spilled into the floor, the contents off the top of his dresser were thrown all over the room, broken glass and debris littering the floor, and there in the middle of the chaos, among the ruins, was Yuto, his body curled into a ball, shaking and crying.

You rushed to him, glad that there was no glass where he was, as you knelt on the floor to lean over him, “Yuto! Yuyu! What has happened, please, what’s happened?”

You reached out to console him and the moment your fingers touched his skin, he bolted up, a deep, mournful wail filling the air as he scrambled into your arms, his shuddering breaths, the broken sobs, and his whispered words each piercing your heart in equal measure.

“They–they…R-R-Ryosuke, Mo-omma, they ma-made h-hi…. I d-do-on’t under-s-st-stand what-t I did wr-rong, Mo-m-mma!”

You couldn’t make sense of his words, but the fact that he’d said Ryosuke’s name caused a deep, terrible fear to grip your heart to swell up instantly.

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, okay, Yuyu, please, whatever has happened, we’ll figure it out.”

“We c-can’t,” he sobbed as the words forced from his throat, broken, between gasps, “Th-they re-rep-plac-ced me. I-I-I’m n-not th-the c-cent-ter n-now–h-h-he i-is-s!”

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t take a breath–it felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out and your head was spinning.

Please, no, please, please, no!

You felt the tears wet on your face before you’d realized you were crying, holding him there in your arms as he sobbed, and you couldn’t stop it as you curled around him, your heart breaking into a million pieces as you listened to the depth of his pain be revealed through his mourning.

You didn’t know how long you’d sat there, crying together, and you didn’t know when it’d stopped, when you both had run out of tears and energy and words.

His hand was gripped onto your shirt, his fist had been holding it for hours now, and he slowly released it, grabbing your hand and pulling it into his chest, to his heart, just like he always did, and you wanted to kill someone for what they’d done to your son. You wanted to go over to Johnny’s and bring a day of reckoning to all of them!

Starting with Yuto’s manager, who must have known about these changes but didn’t bother to forewarn you or Yuto! He let him find this out at the same time as the other members, right there in front of a crowd as they moved him out of the center position and shifted Ryosuke into it.

Yuto had said that Ryosuke had argued over the change with the staff, which you found endearing, because it wasn’t his fault that Johnny’s had screwed everything up from the start. Ryosuke had spoken up, spoken out of turn, questioning the director, telling him that there was a mistake when they’d moved him into the center position, but the man had turned the paper around, pointing to the diagram that they’d been given from Johnny’s and asked, “You are Yamada, correct?”

“Yes.”

“There’s no mistake.”

The group had been forced to spend the entire day working and filming after this upheaval, pretending to be okay, acting normal for everyone around them, because they knew they were being filmed for the documentary, but you knew, you knew, that despite what the film might show, those were ten completely and utterly broken boys.

You knew there was no way they didn’t all feel the power of this change to the depths of their souls. It would be impossible.

“I’m sorry,” Yuto’s voice, hoarse and roughened from crying, whispered, his head turned up to look at you, “I’m sorry I broke things.”

“Shh,” you whispered, shaking your head, “We’ll fix it, everything will be okay I promise.”

You had no idea how you were going to make that promise come true, not in the least, but you said it none the less.

“I’m sorry I let you down,” he whispered, his eyes filled with pain, and you grabbed his chin in your hand, holding him still, his eyes wide at the abrupt movement.

“Yuto!” your voice was so loud he jumped, but you were glad because you needed him to listen, “You are the same boy in this moment as the one that left this house this morning! Nothing has changed!”

You tried to lower your voice, but your tone was still infused with fire as you spoke, “My pride, my love, and my admiration for you is not dependent on where you stand on a stage or in a formation! It’s not about how many lines you get to sing or if you are first or last! I am proud of you for being you! Nothing will change that! Certainly, not this!”

His eyes brimmed with tears, and you reached forward to swipe the one that finally rolled down his cheek, his voice soft, “…but, why? I…I didn’t…it’s just…”

You stopped him, your words firm with conviction, “I love you, and you have always tried your best, there is no other expectation.”

He stared at you for a moment and then nodded, his voice small, “It…I think…that it…it’s my fault.”

“Hmm?”

“I…I think I got comfortable,” he whispered, “I didn’t think that you could lose your position, so I…I just wasn’t trying, not the way I should have. Maybe I wasn’t doing my best after all?”

“I know you better than that,” you smiled, “I won’t even entertain that kind of thought–there is another explanation, Yuto.”

“I can’t think of one.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to understand all of the answers today, and you won’t learn anything if I tell you the answer. When you figure it out, then we’ll talk, okay?”

He started to say something and then you both jumped when someone knocked on the door, he shifted to give you room to stand up, and you looked around doing an inventory of the damage quickly, “I’ll be right back, don’t move, there’s glass everywhere.”

He nodded, and you rushed to the door, swinging it open.

Your hand flew out without thought, making solid contact against the man’s face, his head jerking to the side as the satisfying smack sounded loudly, his hand lifting to cradle his face as he shook his head.

“I deserved that.”

“Damn right you deserved it, you bastard! How could you let them do this to Yuto!?”

“Can I please come inside, it would be better for everyone if the world wasn’t privy to these kinds of conversations.”

You growled, “Fine!” shifting to the side to allow Yuto’s manager to enter.

“Explain yourself,” you hissed.

“I didn’t know, not until today, and I wasn’t at the filming. They called me after they’d already made the change.”

“You didn’t know?” You shook your head, narrowing your eyes, “Tell the truth, you coward!”

“I didn’t know…officially,” he admitted, shrinking when you lifted your hand to rub your eyes, which made you roll your eyes despite your anger.

“They’d been talking about this for a while,” he whispered, “but, I thought they would see how earnest Yuto was and drop it. I defended him, and whether you believe it or not, I fought for him, even up until today.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms, your face tight with frustration, “You should have told him! You let him walk in there today to be completely blindsided by this! In front of his group members! In front of staff! You dishonored him!”

“I should have told him,” he nodded, “I’m sorry–I just…I honestly didn’t think they would do it. I didn’t really believe them when they discussed it.”

“It’s fine,” both of your heads jerked to the side to see Yuto standing in the room, his face a mess, his clothing disheveled, his hair a wreck, but his posture spoke of something strong and assured.

“Yuto, I owe you an apology, I did–”

“Don’t apologize, it’s fine,” he moved over toward you, to stand next to you, his voice was soft as he spoke, but his words were powerful, “Ryosuke has worked hard, he has never stopped working hard from the very start, no one has worked harder than him–certainly, not even me. I can complain and say many things against others who have positions they don’t deserve, but I cannot say it against him. There is no truth in the idea that he doesn’t deserve what he has, because he earned it. I let him have it through my own complacency.”

The manager’s eyes were wide, “Is that true?”

“Unfortunately,” Yuto nodded, eyes cast to the ground, “It occurs to me even now that I knew inside that they were making changes, I saw it but refused to admit it.”

“Hmm,” the manager put his hand on his chin, “Then, what do you want to do?”

“Support my group, from whatever place they believe I am best suited for, to help them, and to be the best we can be as Jump.”

Your heart swelled, and you wanted to hug him but you knew he’d die of embarrassment so you just remained silent.

“I’ll find out, get to the bottom of what this means for you,” he nodded, shuffling toward the door, “for now, take a deep breath, we’ll get it all sorted.”

You wondered how he could make something so complex sound so simple.

A few months had passed, and while Yuto had spoken to you a few times about things that were happening at work, he mostly avoided talking about it and threw himself into school and other activities, taking up several new hobbies which you thoroughly encouraged.

He’d come home from school on a rare day off from work, and was sitting at the counter while you made him a bowl of noodles, his voice soft when he spoke, “I wanted to thank you, Mom.”

You glanced over, laughing, “I haven’t even given you the soup yet, silly!”

He smiled, shaking his head, his fingers thrumming on the counter and you knew he’d been especially focused on his studies in drum lessons, smiling at his excess energy, “Not for that! For…giving me time to figure out the explanation myself.”

“Oh,” you tilted your head, wondering if he wanted to discuss it or not, “You did figure it out?”

Yuto nodded, standing up and moving into the kitchen, grabbing a bottled water from the fridge, taking a sip and then leaning against the counter opposite of you.

“I think I did,” he shifted, nervous energy radiating from him, “I think…I wasn’t really ever going to be good as a center. Not because I couldn’t do it, but because my temperament wasn’t suited for it.”

You hummed, processing what he was saying.

“I’ve watched Ryosuke over these last few months, and I see that he is natural at it, he’s…he’s just that, just was one of those people born ace. Does that make sense?”

You nodded once, tentative, not wanting him to sell himself short just because Ryosuke was a different kind of person.

“It isn’t a struggle for him like it was for me, he just somehow has all the attitude and strength and power necessary to do it–and I fought to do it, I struggled with every aspect of it, but he doesn’t–he bridges the gap between all of us. Even on my best day–I wasn’t as good at it as he is on his worst day.”

You started to say something, but he held his hand up, “I know what you would say, and you’d be partially right, but I am not saying anything bad about myself by praising him–he is nothing like me, we are very different people, and in this case, Johnny saw the truth–Ryosuke should have always been the center. He was born for it.”

You couldn’t argue with him, it was the truth that set you on edge from the very start of everything.

“I am better at supporting my group from the other point of view. You taught me that, right?” His eyes shifted to look at you.

“What’s that?”

“That sometimes people can learn a lot from the ones who are looking at them from a different view.”

You nodded, “Yes, I did.”

“Then, that’s what I can be? Right? See, now I can do something that is more like me…I can help the group in a way…maybe no one else could? By seeing them from a different view and making sure I guide them?”

You hummed in agreement, letting him get his thoughts out.

“Maybe…maybe it’s better that I am watching over them instead of them always watching me.”

He took a shuddering breath, his head dropping down, “That’s hard.”

You moved over to him, and he shuffled forward, letting you wrap your arms around him, his forehead pressed onto your shoulder.

“I don’t want to keep feeling angry and sad and hurt and embarrassed.”

You rubbed your hand gently on his back, trying to soothe him, “Yuyu, it won’t feel like that always, you will make up your mind and then things will be okay again.”

“Make up my mind about what?”

“That you’ll keep your promise.”

“My promise?”

“That no matter what happens, you will do your best.”

He hummed in understanding, his arms moving to hug you back, his voice a whisper, “…because then–my best will be a gift to everyone else.”

You smiled, “Yes.”

“I thought that everyone else was the world,” he took a deep breath, “…but now I think–it was always Jump–it was always my members, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, I think it was.”

He was silent for a moment, contemplating, gathering his thoughts, “It would be an honor to watch over my group and help them from my unique point of view. To give them my strength, my power, and my abilities that only I possess.”

“Yes, and because you had experience as the center, you will have experienced a level of understanding others would not have.”

He sighed, “I want to feel better about it, I don’t, I am saying all of this, but it’s not real in my heart yet.”

You pushed on his shoulders, making him lean up so you could look into his eyes, “I think, Yuyu, that once your feelings are not so raw, that you will discover that the truth was real in your heart the whole time, and that this is just the natural result of the truth expressed into your life.”

“I wanted this to happen?”

“Maybe not that exact way of saying it, but just try to close your eyes and take a deep breath, feel if the weight is still there.”

He did as you asked, his eyes closing, his body tense, and you hoped you were right about this, you hoped he could see it for himself.

He was still for so long you wondered if he was actually thinking about it or not, and then you saw the lines, the tension slowly draining from his face, and his eyes popped open and they were his eyes, the bright, excited, filled with wonder eyes you’d missed for such a very long time, wide and twinkling with the joy that was all Yuto.

“It’s really gone,” his voice was filled with emotion, “I–I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

You smiled, “Everything will fall into good order, and Yuto, I know how you think about things, but I need you to think about what I am saying to you. That group? Your members? They love you, they support you and this is also something that has undoubtedly deeply affected everyone in your group.”

He seemed to startle as if this was the first moment he’d considered that, having been so wrapped up in his own acceptance and understanding of the events, his eyes wide, his voice worried, “Ryosuke…”

“Yes, him most of all,” you nodded, brushing his hair out of his eyes, “You just need to remember, he did his best too, and it was not against you–he is under the same authority you are. He didn’t have any power over this either.”

“It is good he didn’t hold back,” Yuto spoke, voice laced with sincerity, his fingers twisting together, “He really did earn it.”

“Then support him where he is, and be open to accepting his support in return.”

He stared at you for a moment, and you thought maybe he was going to say no, but then he nodded, “I’ll try.”

It wasn’t a no, it wasn’t a yes, but you felt like this might be the best response you could expect all things considered.

That will be enough for now.

Time seemed to pass quickly, seasons moving in order–you wondered at when exactly things had become calm and normal again, and one day you realized, the boys had grown up right before your eyes.

Yuto was, as always, eagerly awaiting his snack, this time a special strawberry jam on toast, which he’d asked for specifically.

“The four of us from 7 went out together the other night, in celebration of us all turning twenty,” he laughed, clearly remembering something that had happened, and then he continued, “We talked.”

You smiled, glad to see him so carefree and happy, “Well, as opposed to staying silent the entire time…”

“No,” he laughed, “I mean we talk talked. About important things.”

“Ah,” you nodded, curious, “I see.”

“Ryosuke–you know what, Mom? He was really brave, and suddenly he told me the truth…”

You tilted your head, “The truth?”

“He didn’t like me for a long time,” he laughed, his fingers tapping the counter, “and I told him I didn’t particularly like him either.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you imagined these boys talking about these things, finally, after all this time.

“He told me…that he had really struggled with wanting to quit, with the feelings he had after he was moved into the center position–how uncomfortable the attention made him feel. That all he wanted for us was for everyone to know all of our names. That there were times he wanted to stop the way the spotlight shined on him, and that he asked to quit the group last year when they wanted him to go solo–because he didn’t want to betray us.”

“He…it was all true, what you’d thought, the times you’d told me how he must be feeling. He confirmed it with his own words.”

You smiled, glad that Yuto seemed so clearheaded and relaxed about all of it.

“I told him the truth, too,” he smiled, laughing at the way your eyes widened, “…and it was good, we were honest and things suddenly changed, and I felt it and he felt it and suddenly–everything made sense again in the world.”

His eyes twinkled, “He said he would no longer call me Yuto-kun–he made up a new name for me.”

“Oh,” you found the way he was talking so amusing, “What is it?”

“Yutti,” he laughed, and you saw how much this made him happy–despite always saying he was thankful for the way Ryosuke respected him, there was always that underlying feeling that a wall deeper and wider than the Great Wall was standing between them. You sensed that the wall had surely been destroyed and you made an internal promise to send Ryosuke a note later.

“I’m proud of you,” you nodded, smiling, filled with such delight at this, teasing him, “I’m glad you two finally discussed it, despite the fact that I told you to do that years ago.”

He mock frowned, “You actually told me ‘when you are ready’, and I was finally ready! Well, I guess Ryosuke was actually ready, and he made me address it whether I was ready or not!”

You both laughed then, and you saw the missing part of him that had been covered up by the stress, worry, and weight of the life he’d led as it flooded back into him, and you were filled with joy. He moved around the counter, he loomed over you, having grown so much so fast, and you looked up at him, finding him smiling broadly, as he grabbed your hand and pulled it up to his heart, “Thanks for always helping me, for always being there, Mom.”

You wanted to cry, wanted to grab him up and hold him like you used to, but he was far too grown, far too big for such things, so you settled for resting your hand on his cheek, smiling at the handsome, kind, generous, talented, thoughtful young man you’d raised, “I’ll always be here, Yuyu.”

He hugged you then, his arms tight around you as he whispered, “Thanks Mom. I love you!”

You woke, bolting up in bed, your eyes wide as you grabbed your cellphone to look at the time. You groaned, rubbing your eyes as you realized the alarm was about to go off. You tapped your phone, turning it off, and looking next to you where your husband was sound asleep. Relieved that you hadn’t disturbed him.

You turned, setting your feet on the floor, and then you remembered.

Yuto is getting married today.

Today everything will change. Today, you would have to smile and be happy in front of everyone–act like your heart wasn’t being shred in your chest. Because you knew.

You’d watched how other people’s lives had changed when their sons married. Things were different. It couldn’t be the same anymore…and the weight of that was heavy in your heart.

You thought over your dream, the sweet memories lingering, settling over you like a blanket, and you felt warm, and you knew, despite the pain in your heart, this is how it was meant to be.

You had done your job, you had raised him, and he was an amazing young man, and he would be just as amazing as a husband and one day a father. It was time for you to let him go, and let his wife take over.

You held no illusions, you held no impossible dreams, you wanted to accept what was, and with that thought, you slipped on your robe, padding out of the room to his room.

You opened the door, quietly, moving toward his bed, and took in his sleeping form. He looked so small there, still clutching that teddy bear, and you wanted to laugh because he was getting married today but he was sleeping with a teddy bear.

You could see the tiny baby boy, you could see the rambunctious toddler, the terrified little boy on the first day of school, and the boy who grew day by day and year by year into this young man. You couldn’t be more proud of him, it was impossible.

You stood there, and you bent your mind around the truth of what you wanted for him, of the truth that this was what you’d always prepared him for, what you’d done all alone to teach him and grow him–it wasn’t for him to stay, it was for him to fly.

Soar.

Your mind flooded with the checklist of what you dreamed of for your son as you stood there looking at him.

I want you to be happy–truly happy, joyful, complete,

I want you to have all you ever dreamed of, all you truly deserve.

I want you to love deeply, to live joyfully, and to slow down and enjoy every minute.

I want you to be strong when facing troubles, and I want you to not just survive them but thrive through them.

I want you to take pleasure in the simple things, and to not be afraid to be extravagant when the time calls for it.

I want you to have what you need, and to cherish what you have.

I want you to be satisfied, to find satisfaction in the purest of life, in the slow steady movement of time, to never want for what you don’t have–and to share selflessly what you do have.

I don’t want you to worry, to be afraid, to wander lost, but to only follow your heart, to follow your soul, because it would never lead you astray.

I want for you–everything I’ve dreamed of for you.

And there it was, wasn’t it? The bottom line of the day–of this moment, resting in the simple truth–that your part of the equation was already written–now Yuto had to go forward in his life and do the rest.

You had knelt down on your knees beside the bed, and you didn’t know you were crying, didn’t know you were shaking, and you jumped when Yuto’s sleepy voice whispered, “Mom, what’s wrong?”

You laughed, waving your hand, waving him off, but he grabbed it, and pulled it to his heart, and you couldn’t stop the sob that bubbled up from deep inside, shaking your head, not wanting him to be thinking about you, worried about you, not today.

Damn it, you were supposed to be strong! Stop this, stop it now!

He didn’t move, he just stared at you, blinking softly, squeezing your hand gently, and then his words were like a healing balm across an open wound, “Momma, you will always be the first girl I ever loved.”

You laughed softly, and he did too, because you were laughing and crying at the same time and he thought there probably wasn’t anything sweeter than that, “I remember it all,” his voice was so soft, the words meant to be pressed like a rose between the pages of your heart, and you heard the emotion, the love he was using to engrave them, “I remember everything, and I feel it, I feel it, too.”

And you nodded, because looking into his eyes, you believed it was true, your hand digging into your robe pocket to pull out the envelope you’d put in there the night before, “This is for you.”

He took it from your hand, and you quickly responded, “Today will be busy, read it when you can,” you leaned forward, kissing his forehead, and he pulled you back when you tried to stand, kissing your cheek softly, “I love you, Momma.”

“I love you too, Yuyu, now get up,” you clapped your hands together, smiling broadly, “Let’s get you married!”

My precious Yuyu,

I know most Moms write these really serious letters telling their sons all of this important advice about life, living, and love.

Well, to be perfectly honest, if I have waited until now to try to teach you those things I have been a horrible failure as a mother.

I hope that I have lived my life as an example of the things I wanted you to know about being an adult, about how to love, honor, and cherish your spouse, and about living every day to the fullest.

So, no, I didn’t write this letter to tell you any of that–I wrote it because I have a sincere request, so please, do this one thing for me today.

For the love of God, please, put a pack of tissues in your pocket, okay? Because I don’t want to be out there during our mother-son dance with snot dripping down my face while everyone watches trying to pretend they don’t see it–plus, pictures.

Just, please, save me from my snot.

I love you!

LET’S DO THIS THING!

Momma

You didn’t know, after all, how could you have known, that from one moment to the next Yuto’s presence would change, the composition of his very being would become something other, but as he moved you around the room to the music, all you could see was that there was something new there emanating from him.

A sense of assurance, a sense of joy, a sense of completeness–like the thing that had been missing had finally been revealed, and you were so thankful, so full of happiness, any reservation you had fell away, because this is all you ever wanted for him–all you’d ever dreamed of for him.

And…you cried–because you were happy, because you were sad–because you were nothing but a big bundle of conflicting emotions, and you laughed, the tears wet on your cheeks when Yuto moved his hand from your waist for a moment and then drew it up between the of you, holding a tissue in his fingertips for you.

“Th-thank you,’ you whispered, grateful when he turned you away from the crowd so you could wipe your nose.

The song changed and others began to move around you to dance to the next song, but he still stayed there, swaying you softly for just one more moment, and when he spoke, his voice was firm, full of conviction, “Mom, I’ll always take care of you.”

You looked into his eyes, a smile blossoming across your face, and he saw it, he saw that you understood, and he squeezed your hand, drawing it up to his heart to hold it there.

He leaned forward to kiss your cheek, then hugged you tightly, whispering, “I love you, Mom, I’m still your little boy, I will always be no matter how grown I am,” and you held him tightly, didn’t want to let him go, but you knew you had to, your voice firm when you spoke.

“Always?”

“Always.”

When he released your hand, turning, his eyes drifting around the room seeking his bride, seeing a new facet of who he was come to life right before your eyes. His entire body was radiating with love, and when she saw him, her eyes lit up brightly, smiling, her position shifting as if she were being drawn to him when she saw him moving toward her–and you realized…he had taken flight, he was moving steadily toward his future, into a beautiful life.

In that moment, you felt a thread of pride and love and joy and deep-rooted understanding weaving through all of your memories–because you’d given him this, the ability, the knowledge, and then the freedom to fly, and he didn’t just fly.

He soared.