#couldn’t make spider lilies look good so I went with those instead

[littl3d0ll-art]

You get two today cuz I’m indecisive on the flowers

[lunacellestia]

M!Drider x F!PlusSize!Reader

"Goodbye Mrs. Baker!"

"And to you too dearie! Stay safe!"

The basket rested on your arm as you said your goodbyes to the lonely woman.

A widower she was, left alone by her husband who passed on several years prior.

"He was my first love, and at my age, it's simply too soon to go after another. Besides, he was all I ever needed and he's still here.. Not physically but I hear his voice every so often, telling me to go on and that he'll see me soon, only when it's time." She had said one day, her shaky hand resting over her heart, her face scrunched up with a content smile.

Your eyes glanced towards her ring, the shade of emerald in the shape of an oval.

Somehow it was still gleaming, despite it being decades old.

You wondered briefly if she ever got it polished, but decided to keep that question for another time.

You sipped your tea and smiled at her, nodding as she went into her tales of her past.

"May I see some old photos of you both Mrs. Baker?"

"Why of course! Just give me a moment dear."

Together you both looked at the photos of her beloved and her together.

In her youth, her hair was a bright orange, going from flowy and wild to a nice pixie cut as the pages went on.

Her love, a man a bit taller than her, had on biker clothes in select photos, his hair darker than the women's on boxes you see on hair dye boxes.

"He was such a mad lad that one. Always getting into trouble."

"He was your little trouble maker."

"Indeed he was." She giggled

You let out a small sigh as your memories of that day came to an end, instead opting to focus on the small dirt path in front of you.

"What a wonderful lady. But still.. I wonder, is love really that strong?" You muttered to yourself.

You had never been in love; it was a bit odd to you, but you've just never felt the connection.

You've had crushes, had your fair share of cry days when they were taken. You've had those that fawned over you and vice versa, but its never been like others describe it.

"I guess I'm just too.. Myself for love." You sighed and continued on your journey towards your home.

You checked your basket once you arrived, seeing that the goods you purchased were still in tact, not a thing gone and not a thing broken or spilled.

"Can never be too careful these days, those in the forest are mischievous and take what they want. Pranks and all." One of the local men had told you.

The fairies that inhabited this area were a bit too... Chaotic for their own good.

They loved to play pranks and annoy the people when they could, sometimes getting upset if they didn't get the reaction they wanted.

You headed inside and closed your door, locking it and listening to the click.

All was silent for a moment as you checked around silently for any signs of something.

You didn't want to deal with a fairy that had snuck it's way inside by mistake or even purposely.

Heading into the kitchen, you unpacked your things and put them away then headed to your couch and went onto your phone.

'We can cross that off the list. I need to get some silks tomorrow and get to working on some clothes.'

A knock sounded as you jumped a bit and held your chest, caught off guard and frightened a bit.

"C-coming!"

'Could that be one of the fairies playing pranks? No... I don't want to play their games right now. Besides, I'm already inside.'

You headed to the door, albeit a bit cautiously and peaked out the window first.

You squinted a bit seeing a hint of something but nothing too clear.

Besides, you didn't want to make it obvious that you were staring.

Letting out the smallest of breaths, you unlocked the door and opened it a bit, peering out and up.

"Yes..? Can I.. Help you?"

"Apologies for coming so abruptly my dear. I wanted to catch you before you came all the way to me later tomorrow."

You blinked and opened the door more, seeing your supplier of the very silks you needed.

"Raveed!"

"Yes?" He asked, raising his brow amused.

You opened your mouth then closed it, getting a little shy and embarrassed under his gaze.

'Worried for nothing.' You thought with a small sigh.

"Sorry.. It's nothing. I just couldn't help but to get a little scared. Anyways, what was it that you needed again?"

"Well, I won't be available tomorrow. I have some matters to attend to. So I wanted to provide you with some silk now."

"Oh that's fine! I could've waited though, you didn't have to do that for me."

"Nonsense, I couldn't let my favorite girl go on without her supplies. What kind of supplier would I be hmm?"

"I suppose you have a point. Come in! I'll make you something?"

"I'll just take some water if that's alright dear."

"That's fine, give me a moment." You said and stepped aside so he could come in.

It was a bit of a squeeze, his lower half having to turn a bit in order to come in.

Raveed was a drider, and like many, he had the lower half of a spider.

Though he only had two arms instead of four like some, he had 8 legs, each slim and proper.

His hands as well were slender, with beautifully manicured nails, evident of how well he'd taken care of them over the years.

Just as his appearence had showed, his aura and air were the same, not once betraying him.

He had a handful of admirers, even those who feared driders, mostly due to their fear of spiders.

His skin was like the shade of mocha, his eyes, 6 in total with three on each side, were dark and dreamy.

His hair, long and braided to the side, was the color of night, mixed with some white as he had dyed it in (or, you assume so, you never asked if that was natural for him).

His lower half was also a simple black with some crackles and specks of fuchsia.

You had thought he hailed from a prestigious family with his looks and way of speaking, but he always waved you off and let out a small chuckle.

"Had I been, I would've had you as a queen by now. You, by my side, as we ruled together."

You had brushed his words off each time and chuckled nervously.

He always had a way of making you flustered, so much so that you may have developed the smallest of crushes on him, though never anything too grand to consider it love.

You closed the door behind him once he was safely inside, and proceeded to make your way to the kitchen.

He stayed and instead looked around while you poured him a glass of water and came back out.

"Here you go Raveed."

"Thank you dearest. Now, shall we get started?"

"Huh?"

"With my silk."

"I-I'm not sure how I'm supposed to be of assistance."

He chuckled lightly and shook his head a bit.

"I'm not as shy as I was when I was younger. I used to hate others seeing me produce it. But it is my job now."

You turned away and pretended to busy yourself with a task.

"I-I see! Well! I'll leave you to it! I still don't wish to intrude on you."

"You aren't, and this is your home after all."

"Y-yes but-"

"Dearest, you aren't scared of me are you? I hope I don't frighten you so at times." He said somberly.

You turned back quickly and waved your hands.

You have shied away from him before, but not necessarily because he was scary, you were just a bit nervous to be around him.

"Its not that really!"

He inched towards her a bit and gently cupped her cheek after setting down the cup

"You're so beautiful you know?"

"What?"

"You're so beautiful. And so bashful too. I absolutely adore that about you, my dearest spider lily." He said softly, his thumb stroking your cheek.

You swallowed and felt a nervous laugh bubble up in your throat, not knowing what exactly to say or do.

"Ahh, is that so?"

" 'Is that so' Indeed it is. I would never lie to you. Well, maybe aside from another part of the reason on why I came to see you. I did come to see you to give you the thread you needed for the silk but.. I also came to see YOU. Do you understand me now?"

"I... I think so? I'm - you're here for me?"

"Spider Lily, I'd like to take you on a date."

Your mind felt boggled and your mouth dry; a date?

"Are you sure about that? I mean I.. Don't know if I can give you the best company and-"

"You are already wonderful company dearest."

"I think I'm immune to love!"

He blinked, all six of his eyes in unison as he bit his lip holding back a small laugh.

"And why do you say that?"

"I've never.. Fallen in love."

At that, his eyes widened a bit, before a calm smile graced his lips.

He stepped back for a moment and opted for your hand, dipping his head down and pressing a small kiss to it.

"Will you be so kind as to grant me the honor of allowing me to show you just how you may fall in love?"

You swallowed, a bit scared of his words, scared of disappointing him if you didn't feel the same love he felt.

You had a crush on him... But was that all? Strangely, you felt something growing in you.

"I... Alright."

He grinned, one full of teeth, sharp and on display.

"Oh dearest spider lily, you will not regret this choice you've made. I can assure you of that and then some." He declared, kissing your forehead.

"Now! Onto the silk finally!"

You both laughed a bit; onto the silk he goes.

[sapphire-dreamsky]

Here’s to 1000 years of Loneliness

Starring: Sukuna | Reader | Prime Ryomen Sukuna

Pairing: Sukuna/Reader

Setting: Prime Age of Sorcery

Inspiration

When you woke up, you didn't expect to wake up on a hard surface. You were pretty sure that if it weren't for Sukuna's arms around you, you would be shivering, teeth clacking because it was cold. But Sukuna's body was like a furnace. He radiated heat as naturally as he radiated curse energy.

Turning your head left and right, you found yourself confused. Where were you? You didn't recognise the surroundings. Were you dreaming?

You pinched yourself just in case.

Nope.

You were very much awake.

Where the fuck were you?

Wiggling out of Sukuna’s grasp, you pay no mind to his groans of annoyance.

Looking around, you realise that you were not in your home. 

In fact, you were in some sort of red spider lilies field. The flowers were beautiful. They reminded you of Sukuna’s eyes a bit. 

Anyway. Back to the enigma. Where were you and how did you arrive here? (A/N: Got no idea on this one. Plot hole for you, plot convenience for me. Enjoy your vacation though😏.)

You hear some shuffling behind you. You turn around, only to be met with the red curious eyes of your boyfriend.

‘‘What the-?’’

Sukuna was as perplexed as you. However, the more he looks around, the more he recognises the area.

‘‘I know this place. How-?’’

Suddenly, without much explanation for his odd behaviour, the curse grabs your hand and turns on his heels, marching towards the forest surrounding the area. 

You tried your best to keep up but it was difficult with his long strides.

You had to practically run behind him to keep up.

‘‘Sukuna...wait...you are too quick!’’

He looks at you with a teasing glint. 

Suddenly, you are thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potato.

‘‘Hey!’’

However, he pays you no mind. In fact, he seems to march even more quickly. 

Because your back was turned, you couldn’t understand why he suddenly stopped. However, by his appreciative ‘hmm’, you guess it was a good sign. Maybe he found the way back?

He doesn’t really let you down. In fact, with a confidence that could only belong to Sukuna, he makes his way into a shrine as if he owned the place.

You could only see the entrance getting smaller as he marches inside.

‘‘Aaahhh. It feels so good to be back home!’’

‘Home?’

Before you could ask what he meant, a booming voice could be heard from the inside of the temple.

A voice so similar and yet so different from your Sukuna. Is it his dad?

‘‘Who dares cross the threshold of my territory without even waiting for my servants to welcome you in? You got some balls.’’

Out from the shadows emerges Sukuna, in all his four arms glory. His face was nothing like the current Sukuna. Cold and hard, he glares down at the shorter curse who does not appear intimidated at all. In fact, Sukuna grins at his younger self.

‘‘Oh oh! Damn I knew I looked nice but I didn’t know to that extent. Human, look at my former form! Wasn’t it marvelous? Look at those muscles! Man, I miss those. And look at how tall I was! I wished that this body could be as tall as I was back then! I had a field day intimidating everyone!’’

‘‘Wait what?!’’ Now you were confused. Sukuna lets you down from his shoulder gently. Then he turns you around and you have to crane your neck to even see the face of Sukuna? But it wasn’t really Sukuna too? 

Indeed, the man standing in front of you is nothing like your current Sukuna. In fact, you were panicking in your mind. You were pretty sure your body was trembling too.

This curse is Sukuna in his prime. What if he kills your Sukuna? 

‘‘Uhm…’’

‘‘I can’t believe I looked so good though! No wonder everyone cowered before me back then! I didn’t even have to deploy my curse energy before they all scurried away like little rabbits!’’

Your Sukuna began gleefully laughing as if this situation was even remotely funny. While you could agree that Prime Sukuna (You started calling him that because calling him Sukuna too would be too confusing), was indeed handsome, his face did not appear to find this situation hilarious. And you had to agree with him here. 

There was nothing funny about this situation. 

‘‘You brought in a sacrifice I see. Nice one. You chose well.’’

Prime Sukuna inspects you over with his four eyes. However, unlike your Sukuna, these eyes were cold and harsh. You felt a shiver run up your back. Your instincts were telling you to run. But if Prime Sukuna was anything like your Sukuna, this would only set him off further. 

Your Sukuna stopped laughing. However, his smirk was still in place. He puts an arm around your shoulders as if this situation was normal.

‘‘They are nice, aren’t they? They can even cook very well! I have never tasted better food than theirs!’’

Prime Sukuna huffs, crosses his four arms.

‘‘Oh yeah? I would have to be the judge of that.’’

‘‘Well, you kind of already judged that. Well, technically I did. But I’m you.’’

‘‘I can see that. But why are you so short? Did I get hit by a curse or something?’’

‘‘No. You were sealed but then reincarnated into the 21st century. I won’t tell you the details because it could be bad to change the future and all that.’’

Sukuna waves his hand around dismissively. You look at him inquisitively. He could have just warned his past self here. There was no one to stop him.

‘‘Anyway. Let’s sit and speak for a bit. We got stuck here apparently. Let me introduce you to my brat. Technically they are yours too but not now.’’

‘‘Prime Sukuna merely nods to you.

Both Sukuna went on to sit at a table where there was a big jug of sake. He pours some for his shorter self and some for yourself. 

Sukuna began telling him his adventures in the future as they both drank and laughed. 

This situation was strange. Weird even. But seeing your Sukuna so careless and free, laughing with himself (?) as he drinks sake is a sight that you would give anything to see again. 

You realised as Prime Sukuna leads you both to his personal chambers to sleep, that they weren’t that different after all. Perhaps Prime Sukuna was indeed a violent, cruel and ruthless curse who wreaked havoc everywhere he went. But as you watched him interact, you realise that he isn’t that much different from his present self.

He still had this same habit as his present self as your Sukuna showed him his phone and took selfies with it, showing it to his past self who was so confused by all this.

As soon as you dropped your head on the pillow, sleep overcame you.

However, Sukuna was not sleepy. He watched over you, mind battling with the endless possibilities. If he told his prime self when, where and how he will be sealed, he would still be able to wreak havoc everywhere. If he tells everything to him, he would not have to go through more than 1000 years of loneliness. He would not have to watch as time goes on without him. He would not have to be an observer. He would live through these 1000 years and destroy whoever came in his way. But would he meet you? If he didn’t get sealed, would he take the time to get to know you? A mere human who was too awkward for their own good. A human who made him feel love for the first time. A human who understands him and accepts him just as he is. A human who doesn’t cower in fear when he loses his temper and wants to destroy everything because he is not from this time. He doesn’t understand this era he was reincarnated into. And he hates not understanding.

Prime Sukuna watches his future self think while he watches your sleeping form. A question pounds his head as he looks at his weaker self.

‘‘Are they worth not telling me when we first met, how I will be sealed?’’

Sukuna didn’t know how to answer his past self. He didn’t know if he would understand. He knows how his mind works because he used to believe that love was not for him. Love is stupid and makes you weak. But you make him stronger. His desire to protect you makes him stronger than he ever was. He hates how cliche it sounds, but that’s how he feels every time he is with you. He will complain about the era he was reincarnated into countless times. He misses his old form, his old raw power. But then, if he were to tell him everything. Would he have met you? What if indeed his past self escapes from his future self telling him about the sealing and who the sorcerers were and continues to wreak havoc as he goes from village to village? You were not from a clan of sorcerers. You would be fine. But then, what if his past self accidentally kills your ancestors during his rampages? Sukuna didn’t know who your ancestors were. He wouldn’t be able to warn his past self that they were the ancestors of his future partner. Besides, what is it to say that he would even spare them? He never knew love nor loneliness. To him, it would be like any other family. Nothing special about them. So, instead of telling his old self all that, he merely smiles slightly.

‘‘Yeah. They are worth everything.’’

His younger self looks at the bright honest happy smile that his future self is sporting. He chuckles silently so as to not wake you. He brings his glass of sake to his lips, muttering, ‘‘well, here’s to 1000 years of loneliness I guess?’’

Sukuna brings his own glass to his lips, a smile still on his face as he thinks back to all these moments spent together. ‘‘Yeah. Here’s to 1000 years of loneliness.’’

[zer0-is-me]

Chapter 3 - The Olympians

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

A/N:

I need to stop writing at 1 AM. Oh well, I went to bed at 12(i think-) yesterday so i probably am not sleep deprived.

For now.

Anywho, without further ado, this is the third chapter! read on :)

Previously:

Katsuki stared at the newly named, 'Kibo’s, hand, before ignoring it completely. He stood up, stretching, and turned to leave.

He paused right before he was about to jump to the floor, and sighed.

“ Name’s Valour. If we’re doing your cringe-y ass shit, the vigilante of courage and bravery.”

As an afterthought, he added, “ And, no, I’m not using your name, dumb fuck.”

And then, he was gone.

Izuku couldn't get them out of his head.

The vigilante from the night before, that was.

It was just so... so... well, he couldn't really describe it. Take intriguing and confusing along with a hint of amusement, mix them up, and there you have it.

But seriously, it kept on bugging him. He knew it was too early to tell, and he knew Valour, as they called themselves, probably wouldn't be seen again for a while (they had mentioned, after all, that they usually patrolled in a different neighbourhood). And yet he couldn't help but feel that them meeting up would be important somehow.

That, because of the certain chain of events that led to another, something good would come out of it.

He quickly brushed that feeling off when Valour was nowhere to be seen for the next week. They'd probably forgotten all about him, anyway. Soon, instead of thinking about the mysterious figure that had saved him that day, his thoughts were plagued with rightful worry.

His mom wasn't getting better.

She had been in a car crash. Izuku wasn't with her - he was at school when it had happened. Sometimes he wished he had been. Then maybe he would be in her position instead.

Inko had suffered a traumatic brain injury during the crash, and it was moderate, according to the doctors. She might recover mostly, though that would be around twelve months away.

He had cried rivers that day. Not in front of the doctors, no, but when he was locked away in his room.

He remembered feeling numb when they had told him the news right up until he had forced himself to work on homework. It all crashed onto him in one thought, and he remembered clutching his pencil in such a knuckle-white grip that it cracked. His homework page looked a lot like it had been dipped into a swimming pool afterwards.

It had been two months ago.

Since then, Izuku had tried to keep moving. He'd never let a tear drop since that night, sucking it up and braving the kids from school's taunts and bullying. (He deserved it for not being there for her when it happened, anyway.) He'd found a job - since his mother couldn't make money for them anymore - at a convenience store which was conveniently placed close by.

... Convenient.

He tried his best in school and studied hard, hoping that his mom would be proud if- no, when she got out.

And Izuku knew that he should stop his vigilant activities. He knew it would be better for him - to instead try and balance visiting his mother, studying, school and work only, than try to shove vigilantism into it. Every night, he'd tell himself that it wasn't worth it; that the heroes would be able to fill his place easily, and he wasn't doing much anyway. That he should sleep a full eight hours for once.

And yet every night, Kibo left the house and travelled to the neighbouring neighbourhood, ready to save people.

The kids at school didn't make it much better, though.

Kacchan's tauntings and shoves never seemed to stop, even if he'd never seriously hurt him more than a bruise or two. It didn't bother Izuku much, actually - more like an annoying brother who just loved to be an asshole to you and say mean things.

What really bothered him were the other kids at school - those who'd place spider lilies on his desk, like a request for him to die, or punch and kick him between classes and after school.

Those things... they eventually kind of got to him. He'd stare at a blade for a second or a minute, before putting it out of sight.

His only motive to keep going at this point was the people he'd save as a vigilante, and his mother.

He couldn't leave her without a son.

...

Izuku was putting on his costume. Yup, he was going for another night of vigilantism. (An awesome conversation changer, he knows.)

(A week and two days had passed since he had met Valour. He wasn't sure why he was tracking this.)

As he walked through alleyways and shadows to get to the next neighbourhood, he decided to do something he hadn't in years.

He stayed in his home neighbourhood.

Who knew, maybe there would be more crime here.

" Tch. Man, shut up. I know what I'm talking about."

Well that's convenient.

He heard it from a nearby alleyway and went to take a look. Innocent people usually wouldn't be talking in a secluded alleyway at 2AM. Peering around the corner, three men stood. The same person spoke - he had large horns coming from his forehead (sort of like demon ones).

" I'm telling you-"

Another interrupted. He looked tall and strong, and had red, glowing eyes. " Look, we get that you want money. We all want it. But seriously, a quirk trafficking ring? That's a bit too far."

The remaining man had a long crooked nose and dark eyes, like the kind of villains you'd see in a more or less kid-friendly film, and his stature was thin and crooked.

" No, no," he said. " I want to hear where this goes. Go on."

He did. " Thank you. What I was saying, was I heard about a trafficking ring. It's... Well, apparently, the organization's lead by people who call themselves, 'The Olympians'. Obviously, they trade and sell kids with good quirks. There's a twist, though. If they are trading with another quirk trafficking ring, and not selling, they'll insist on doing something called 'The Tournament'. From what I've heard of it, that's how they decide who gets what kid. Not sure what happens there, though."

" Interesting," the thin man said. " Thank you, Nakamura."

" You're welcome, Ito."

The other with glowing eyes huffed. " How do we know you're lying or not?"

'Nakamura' growled. " Well, Kobayashi, you'll know if you take my word, won't you?"

'Kobayashi' scoffed, " What are we even supposed to do with that information? Where even is it?"

Nakamura sighed, " You idiot, if you look at-"

He cut off and his hand shot up to his neck, clawing at something that wasn't there. Kobayashi scowled. " Call me that again, asshole, and see what happens. You need to remember who's best between me and you."

Nakamura dropped to the ground and gasped for air. " F-Fine! Fine."

He scowled at the ground, " If- If you look at where kids have gone missing lately, y-you'll realise that they disappear in a specific location and time. I don't- don't have the info, b-but I'm sure if you dug around, you'd find it."

Kobayashi sighed, " Well. You're really quite useless."

He raised his hand, but Nakamura stuttered out, " W-Wait! I have connections. I can get you whatever you need."

Kobayashi smirked, " Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Ito, the thin guy, chuckled darkly. " Oh, you didn't have to be so tough on the newbie, Kobayashi."

" Well it worked, Ito, didn't it?" Kobayashi said.

" Of course."

Nakamura was slowly getting to his feet, when he heard a near-silent scrape of shoes on cement. None of the men seemed to hear it, but Izuku knew he had heard something. He looked up just in time to see a figure dodge out of sight from the rooftop overhead.

He made a split second decision and climbed the building, hoping to see who else had been eavesdropping.

He'd definitely try to turn these guys in, but curiosity got the better of him in that moment.

A/N:

Whoooo another chapter posted! This took way too long, sorry!

Ooooh we got some new people :0 Who will they be, and what part will they play?

Btw, if you haven't figured it out already, the chapters will be in the perspective of the two boys one at a time - so in one chapter, it'll be Izuku, the next, katsuki, the next izuku, etc.

I hope you have a wonderful day, bye byeee! <3

✨@mymanbakugou ✨ (damn this taglist is lonely. If anyone else wants to be tagged, just tell me :))

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- PRIORI INCANTATEM

Harry recognized that he was supposed to read next, and he was actually as surprised with himself as everyone else as he indicated he wanted his turn. There was something about what was fixing to come, some part of this nightmare night in the graveyard that, though the worst night of his adolescent life, held a meaning to him. It involved his parents, of that he'd known from the moment he arrived, and Harry wanted to be the one to regain the moment with his own words. So despite the fact that he had to let go of his hold on his mother and father, Harry took the book, straightened his back, and let the memories of that night come in without a fight.

Harry scrambled to find his feet to support his weight before the ropes were untied.

Lily groaned as she remembered Harry was injured on top of everything, that spider bite and his sprained ankle all on the same leg, there was hardly a chance of him properly dueling, let alone making a run for it.

Wormtail used his new hand to easily tear away Harry's restraints, and just as roughly pulled the material out of his mouth.

"Why do you call him that?" James demanded of Harry in a tone he'd never heard before.

Harry flinched at the near demonic look in his dad's eye, but explained himself calmly enough. "Because that rat deserves that nickname, it's the only way I've ever known him as that traitorous word."

The Marauders disagreed, thinking that backstabber didn't deserve a single thing they'd ever given him, and that name was one of the most important ones to them. However, they could see Harry's side, he'd never known Peter the person, but the man who'd gotten his parents killed while using that name.

Lily still wondered why Voldemort did, but she thought Harry had said it unintentionally. Voldemort had made it clear that while he rewarded Pettigrew for the help he'd given, Voldemort wanted to constantly remind him of what he'd lost. Using that nickname every time was rubbing salt in the wound, a slap in the face every day to remind him of what he'd once done.

Harry knew how much this hurt them every single second to be reminded of who they were hearing do this to him, but he couldn't see how using a different name would actually make it better as he forced himself on.

  The moment he landed, his first thought was to try and run, but that was made impossible as his damaged leg shook beneath him, and the Death Eaters closed ranks. Just beyond them, Wormtail was returning with Harry's wand, which he roughly gave back without looking at him.

Lily noticed for the first time that this seemed to be a common thing, the rat hadn't been looking at Harry all night it seemed. She hoped it was because he couldn't stand to see what he was doing to Harry, and to James through it, but most likely it was his own shame for his cause in this, always his own feelings first before he'd let himself think of others.

Harry had no choice but to turn back and face Voldemort as he asked if Harry had ever been taught to duel.

"I don't think watching Snape blast Lockhart across a room should count," Remus muttered. He'd been trying to come up with an escape plan for Harry since he'd arrived, and dueling his way out was very bottom of the list for the poor kid.

Harry distantly remembered once attending a dueling club, where the only spell he'd learned was Expelliarmus.

Harry felt an odd swooping feeling flow through his chest. He'd felt something for that spell the moment he'd first seen it used, and now even his own thoughts trying to mock him for how useless it was didn't quite cover the hope that was trying to bubble in him now, he was certain he'd found his solution.

What good would that do him, even if he did manage to disarm Voldemort he was outnumbered thirty to one.

"Thirty?" Sirius yelped in concern. "I'd only counted seven besides Voldemort."

Harry gave him a look of exasperation, the point still stood of how outnumbered he really was. It was that expression he was giving his godfather, 'really, you're pointing that out now?', that somehow managed to convince Sirius to smile back. He could see that Harry was still only just below panicking levels of the situation he remembered being in, but for just a moment he'd turned and talked to him like this was all normal, something they all needed.

He had never learned anything that could possibly fit him for this.

"I don't think anybody's actually trained for that situation," Remus agreed, "Dumbledore himself would feel a little trapped."

"You really are something not to just be on the ground begging for your life," James agreed without a hint of mocking.

He knew he was facing the thing against which Moody had always warned,

Harry said Moody's name a bit odd, certainly not in the normal way he had before this, but even he didn't seem to notice he'd done it, and it was such a small thing nobody paid much mind.

Avada Kedavra, and more unprotected than the first time where his mother had died to protect him from it.

Lily honestly wished that would quit being mentioned so much, for no matter how true it was she'd do the same every time, it hurt all the more she never could again.

Voldemort took it upon himself to tell Harry what to do, saying first they were to bow to each other.

"I hate formalities," Sirius sneered, "no one ever actually bothers with that kind of mess when your life's on the line."

Dumbledore would want him to show his manners.

"I don't give a damn what Dumbledore would want," James seethed, "he needs to stop talking to you like this."

Since Harry wished Voldemort would stop talking to him period, he agreed.

Harry was told to bow to his death.

Despite the monster trying to claw its way out of Harry's chest, screaming for him to run away from this, there was also a surreal moment tucked in there where Harry realized he wasn't dead, hadn't died this night. Instead he got something infinitely better for his night of misery.

Voldemort smiled at him then, like a cat playing with its dinner, but Harry refused to move. He was not going to let Voldemort taunt him into this before he died.

James didn't care if it went without saying, he never grew tired of telling his son he was proud of the way he was taking this, and the small smile he received in that moment never dimmed no matter how many times he saw it.

Voldemort wasn't having that, his wand appearing and an invisible force bending Harry's spine into the mockery of submission, while the Death Eaters around him laughed all the harder.

Remus was remise that he had no clue what spell that was, as he'd have loved to do the same thing to Voldemort as just the start of the retribution he'd get for doing this to Harry.

Sirius was just pleased Harry had stopped taking note of every little thing that rat had been doing. He wasn't sure what would have hurt more, to know he was laughing along, or to see him simply standing there, watching and doing nothing.

Voldemort released him and Harry immediately straightened back upright, and Voldemort gave a cruel grin again as he praised this, saying how Harry was going to die proud, straight-backed like his father.

James watched his two friends shake automatically as that was mentioned again, and he couldn't blame them, he knew he'd have felt the same way if that was constantly brought up about one of them. He wanted to say something, offer up some word as a promise to his brothers, but the words failed him as he replayed that last moment again in his head, what he'd died trying to protect. Somehow, he still couldn't hate the way his life ended, even if it was leaving those behind.

Done with his fun, Voldemort raised his wand and began the duel, by again hitting Harry with Curcio.

Harry's voice wasn't coming out in any way normal as flashes of remembered pain from that curse came pouring back over him, but he forced himself to press through that, because there was something more precious to him that happened this night, and it was another kind of pain, but almost a good kind.

Harry's scream of misery couldn't define the pain his body was in, falling to the floor again and writhing in place, when it stopped as suddenly as it had started.

James was now convinced his life was going to end any moment now the longer he had to listen to that curse being placed on his son, the thought of what had happened to Frank and Alice now weighing on him worse than ever. He could not just sit here and picture this being done without doing something!

Harry rolled back to his feet at once, but it was in no way intimidating, as he stood trembling as much as Wormtail had before his hand had been replaced.

James hadn't meant for that something to snap at Harry, "Don't you ever compare yourself to that thing!"

"What can I say, the memory sort of stuck with me," Harry muttered back without looking up.

Voldemort crooned to him if he wanted a break, asking if Harry wanted some breathing room before that was done to him again. Those pitiless red eyes watched his progress, death promising in the slits.

Harry was now more glad than ever he was the one getting this out, distorted words they were in his own voice from remembered pain, as a solemn reminder to those around him that at least that one thing hadn't been true that night.

Harry knew what he really wanted, to see him beg, which was not going to happen.

Considering Lily had mostly been in a state of the worst anger of her life with the situation Harry was in, she didn't think she'd told him enough how proud she was of her young man, and the answering gleam she saw in her own eyes imaged into his face was the best feeling in the world.

Voldemort grew impatient when he didn't get his wish, demanding Harry answer him, and using the Imperius Curse.

Remus wasn't sure if that was full blown hysteria trying to crack through as he felt his lips twist in a smile, for the irony of their griping about Moody putting this curse on Harry for the good it could do, and look how right that mad old Auror was.

Harry felt, for the third time in his life,

"Only the third time?" Sirius was sure that was his ears cracking, not his voice as he forced out anything like a mocking tone for this. "Moody placed that on you a ton more times to make sure you threw it off completely. You never even gave us that number."

Harry gave an unhelpful answer of muttering about how his mind hadn't exactly been going for specifics at a time like this, not wanting to put Sirius down when he'd been trying to help. It wasn't assisting his own mind that recently every time Moody's name had been mentioned he felt an even sharper poke to his conscious, which had been paining him more and more since he'd arrived here.

as everything melted away, leaving him the happiest he'd been in his life as all the worry and pain evaporated, all he had to do was answer no.

A firm voice snapped right back, that still wasn't happening. He wouldn't answer!

Even though James had already watched Harry pull this off once, this ranked right up there with his Seeker skills of impressive abilities. Moody in a classroom was one thing, not that he'd expect the man to go easy but still. This was Voldemort behind that curse, and Harry was still fighting back!

The battle didn't last long, before Harry threw the curse off altogether.

Silence rung in the graveyard, no one was laughing now.

"You show those pushovers what it's really like to stand up to that pompous idiot," Sirius nodded sharply.

Voldemort stood there for a long beat in surprise, his Death Eater's as frozen in shock.

"I'm sure they're all wondering why they never bothered to grow a spine and do that," Remus muttered.

Voldemort whispered to Harry that in not answering, he was disobeying. Obedience was a virtue that every man should learn before death, and Voldemort offered more pain should teach that lesson.

"Well now he's just being a hypocrite," James forced an eye roll, forced just one small second of a joke. "I'm sure Dumbledore's told him to stand down and he's never done it."

"Right, don't do what Voldemort does, I'll keep that in mind," Harry genuinely grinned at him.

Voldemort raised his wand again, but this time Harry was ready as his honed Quidditch skills flung him aside behind a gravestone, the crack of the spell missing sending shards everywhere.

"There's my boy," James whispered to himself, the image of Harry flying proud in the sky was one he'd envisioned since he'd first held his son, now instead of a broomstick those reflexes were being used to save his life.

Voldemort mockingly called to him this was not hide-and-seek as he continued approaching,

Harry felt himself flushing as he got that out, and it wasn't hard to realize that Harry felt ashamed of what he was now telling them he'd done. James wasn't going to stand for that, giving Harry a friendly nudge as he promised, "no one on earth could fault you for trying to catch your breath Fleetfoot."

Harry did look around at him in surprise for that, and James shrugged without remorse. "I found I'm partial to that for your Marauder nickname, covers all the bases really."

Harry's face stayed red, but for a completely different reason as he turned back to the book, more pleased than he'd ever been in his life for his dad actually insisting upon this as more than a joke, especially after another nickname he'd once endowed kept stabbing him in every way possible.

his soft voice calling for Harry to come back out, he'd end this game now. Voldemort could not promise it wouldn't hurt, he had never died.

"I'm pretty sure during the time where you didn't have a body, you were some classification of dead," Remus grumbled.

"Wish he'd stayed that way," Sirius quietly agreed.

Harry only remained crouched where he was for a few beats more as reason came back to him. He was no more going to sit here cowering than beg for his life. His muscles were already springing to his command, prepared to die upright like his father.

"I'd rather you not die at all," Lily murmured to herself, but aloud for her son's ears, "least you really did get the best parts of your father."

"There aren't any bad parts of me for him to get," James forced out just to simply pitch his voice into the conversation, he couldn't stand watching Sirius and Remus' face when they heard that any more than it felt right for his own ears to process.

Harry was back around before the next taunt could be given, shooting the spell for his foe, Expelliarmus,

"That's really the spell you went with?" Sirius shook his head affectionately, his long hair falling into his face to avoid his too wet eyes.

"Can't even fault him for it," Remus sighed, his voice coming out a bit too thick which no one blatantly noticed. "What better way to get out of this than to disarm the lot of them."

at the same time Voldemort cried Avada Kedavra.

"Not my son you bastard!" Lily howled in outrage, her wand the only thing steady in her as every part of her was telling her to block that curse from being near her baby.

Green met red in midair, but then the two colors merged into one, and Harry's wand began vibrating in his hand that he could not unclench.

"Err, that's not supposed to happen," Remus muttered uselessly. When two spells met in midair, they ricochet off each other, so one should have hopefully killed a Death Eater, preferably a pathetic rat among them, and the other should have disarmed one while Harry tried to break out of the ranks.

The color was now one thin narrow beam keeping the two wands connected, a deep gold.

One glance up showed Harry that no one around him had any more clear idea of what was going on than he had at the time, but whatever it was, this was the moment he'd been waiting for. Once Cedric had died, he'd shut down and hadn't been able to think of anything else until Voldemort had cut him free, where the very feeling he'd felt had now been trying to rise to the surface. Harry leaned just that little bit more into his parents, for some unearthly reason, almost excited to continue.

Voldemort's unpigmented face showed just as much shock, his own hand clearly trying to break this connection but having no more success, and then it got stranger.

The two were lifted off their feet by seemingly nothing, and carried away from the graves into a clear area before gently being set back down.

Sirius was mouthing wordlessly as he tried to wrap his head around this, tried to even vaguely pull a piece of information from his deflating brain on what could be happening, but there wasn't a speck.

The Death Eaters ran after them, shouting for instructions on what to do, most drawing wands.

Lily may not know what was happening, but she suddenly wasn't as sure she liked it. At first it had seemed some cosmic force was actively trying to save her son, taking him away from that unholy place, but now locked like he was, he had no way to defend himself from the other wands that could just as easily kill.

The deep ichor color keeping them connected was continuing to act all on its own, thin cords shooting from it and soon encasing them in a dome that the Death Eaters cries could not come through.

James wished he had a clue what was being done to his son, but so long as it actually seemed to be helping him he couldn't find the urge to complain about it. Was this odd, never before heard of magic the way his son survived this night? If so, he'd go out and learn it right now.

Instead all Harry could now hear was a noise he'd only heard once before, but something precious to him that filled him with warmth, phoenix song.

"Is, Fawkes going to show back up, or-" Remus struggled to get out a coherent thought, but that didn't make sense. Harry hadn't done anything grand like he had before to summon Fawkes to him, though now he thought about it that would have been a good idea to get the bird to try and summon him away. Not the point, and no one had an answer for him, Harry had only paused in shock before gathering himself back enough to keep going.

It was the sound of hope, and it gave Harry new resolve to do everything in him not to break this connection.

Lily was running her hand through his hair for as much comforting him through what he was reading as a warming to herself to remind her where her baby was. This still wasn't a particularly good thing happening, but finally it was a new moment, something shining down promising hope was coming.

The moment he promised the music he'd do no such thing, the harder it became to do.

Sirius longed for a time where he could have been hearing about this and laughing, Harry talking to music, and then of course what he'd just described felt like it described life. All he was really thinking on though was how much he desperately wished he was there with his pup, when he needed someone now more than ever.

His strip of wood was now vibrating so hard in his hand it was a wonder it hadn't disintegrated yet, and still something new was happening. Beads of light were appearing in the center of their merged stream, and they were slowly heading towards Harry's wand. The closer they got, the harder his whole arm shook.

Because this wasn't confusing and weird enough before. They'd all worn out of shock by now, so instead they were trying to comprehend what purpose this could hold, how and why this was happening to their Harry.

Some instinct, whether the song or some innate feeling, told Harry that what he needed was for the opposite, so concentrating harder than he ever had on anything in his life, his mind focused on those little beads, and slowly but surely, they began reversing course, and were now going for Voldemort's wand.

Now Harry could feel his own voice rising with strength, some powerful moment about to return to him, almost a peace settling over him as something of the warmth he was surrounded in now was leaping eagerly to return to his mind.

Voldemort looked almost as astonished as he did fearful.

"Congratulations Harry, not many people can say they made Voldemort piss himself moments after his rebirth," Sirius murmured.

It happened after such a tiring mental struggle Harry nearly sunk to the ground again in a new kind of pain, but finally the beads connected with that strip of wood, and Voldemort's wand began trembling harder than ever as screams of pain echoed from its contents, and a smoky fist arose from within, the ghostly image of the hand he'd created for Wormtail.

Remus choked as he realized what was being described, yet Prior Incantato certainly didn't have this magical property normally, so even just guessing that this could be a form of what was happening didn't help him at all.

The wand wasn't done yet, as the next thing to arise was even bigger, more solid and dense as first a gray, misty head, then a torso emerged, before finally Cedric Diggory stood before them.

Lily felt a whole new swell of emotion blooming in her as she heard of that poor young man who'd been simply tossed aside, and now making an appearance like this. His whole future ahead of him, gone, but now what was this? Good or bad?

Cedric took in the scene around him, and Harry couldn't quite tell what he was, not entirely a ghost as he looked too solid, but it spoke to him in his same voice, telling Harry to hold on.

Harry couldn't imagine how anyone else was processing this, he certainly was having a hard time getting past his own wonder. For just that one moment, Cedric was back, he was alive and hadn't suffered for Harry's existence. His throat almost swelled shut right then, as for a moment he thought this was his reward for suffering this night, Cedric being spared just a few more moments of life, but no. There was something soft resonating in him, gently encouraging him on.

Voldemort had no more knowledge of what was going on than him, fear tracing his scarlet eyes as he looked upon the being.

Remus would have been far more concerned if Voldemort had understood what was going on, as that couldn't mean it was anything good. Instead, he couldn't explain even to himself, but he was almost eagerly listening to Harry, his every being exuding that they should all be feeling this way.

Still the magic was continuing, as another was already forcing itself out as well, an older man who emerged just like Cedric and stood beside him, leaning on a walking stick as he took them both in. His first thought as he caught sight of Voldemort was to say his surprise of how he had been a real wizard.

James was surprised when he felt an honest smile flit across his face, that old man really had been something in his last moments, and like Cedric, it felt like a miracle he was being granted any extra time, no matter how mind blowing this feat of magic was.

He turned eyes on Harry next and gave the same advice, to keep fighting and don't stop. Though Harry had no intentions of doing so as yet another figure was coming out, and soon Bertha Jorkins stood among them.

Sirius was surprised at the burn that ran through him. He knew so many people from his school years set to die, and even just a random girl he'd never even liked being presented in this way still managed to set him off.

Her conviction was the same as the men, insisting to Harry that whatever he did, not to let go!

James shook his head for a moment as he considered, really stopped and thought, about what was going on. Harry was getting encouragement from a ghost against Voldemort!

The three figures began prowling their circumference of the golden enclosure, in opposition to the Death Eaters doing the same on the outside. They would whisper more encouragement to Harry as they passed, and hiss something unheard to Voldemort when near him.

"I can guarantee they weren't nice," Lily sneered.

Harry took a moment to stop, and just stare at her with a new smile they'd never seen before, and it was that look that suddenly had Sirius realizing just what exactly order these magical ghosts were appearing in, and why Harry could conceivably be happy for any of this...

Now more than ever Harry had no desire to make this stop, as he watched another coming through the wand, the woman he'd thought about more tonight than any other. Lily Potter materialized before him.

Lily and James were crying, and not even bothering to hide it. They didn't see the point as they now understood what Harry was seeing for the first time in his life, their echo, their shadows, but it was still more of them than even that mirror or any picture could hold.

She whispered to him his father was coming,

Harry felt something warm curling tight in his heart and promising to never leave as he heard his mother's first words. He had never considered his dementor memory as counting, as his parents last dying words were more heart aching to think of than something like this.

just hold on a little longer.

Her words rang true, as the final man to emerge, James Potter blossomed between them.

"I knew it," Harry whispered, unable to express into words how much it meant to him he was really seeing them now, as before he'd come here this was as close as he'd ever get to them.

There was hardly an inches height difference, their features so similar it ached as James looked him in the eye, and explained that once the connection broke, they would only linger for a moment. Harry had to use that time to get back to the Portkey, it would get him back to Hogwarts.

It really did feel like this was zapping the life out of Remus to hear about, because thinking about James as anything other than the Prongs huddled into his family right now, alive and breathing through a heavy chest but still as solid and alive as he'd always been. Still Remus' first response was to poke at his friend's comment, just like he always did to keep him on track, and ask what on earth that Cup was going to do, why would it be set as a two way Portkey? He couldn't get the words to actually move past his lips, it was too heart wrenching to even consider James in this way to move past it and say anything else.

Harry promised he understood, his own wand beginning to slip out of his fingers regardless to show he couldn't have held much longer.

Harry almost hated his wand in that moment, for forcing him to think of anything else other than drinking in as much of them as he could. It was enough to drown out another powerful feeling trying to remind him that though this was the most precious memory he had, it may not be the only one like it.

Cedric got in his final words as well, asking Harry to take his body back with him.

Harry wished that he could instead be living in a time where he could brush that off as a joke, like he'd ever leave any part of Cedric behind for the Death Eater's to do anything with, instead this came out as solemnly as his parents first words to him.

Harry swore he'd do this, and his father's voice urged him to break the connection, now!

Harry obeyed, with the hardest pull he'd ever had to do in his life the wands broke free, and Harry spun on the spot and ran like he never had before. The shadowy figures remained for a few moments longer, swarming Voldemort and blocking Harry from view.

Sirius made a wretched noise, rubbing at his streaming nose as he tried to get out, "see, not even your own graves could stop you helping him out." He'd meant it for James, and there was most certainly some form of happiness resonating in him for that being true.

Lily hummed in agreement, her hands never stopping the motion of curling through his hair. Her throat to restricted to get out anything more articulate until he was really away from that place.

Harry broke through the stunned rank of Death Eaters, took no notice of any of his injuries as his feet flew over gravestones and zigzagged a pattern around any oncoming spells.

From behind, Voldemort demanded he be stunned.

Harry could practically feel the mad adrenaline pumping through his veins again, his mind sprinting as fast as he'd forced his ungainly feet to move, and the others were so tight and desperate for Harry to be free now none of them would have questioned why Voldemort hadn't bothered to send that curse rather than telling someone else. Could it be because he longer trusted his own wand to do the deed? There was something significant in that train of thought, but Harry wanted to be done with his chapter already, so that he could set this book aside and really hug his parents again in gratitude for what they'd done for him even one more time.

He made it to Cedric's body, but the Cup still lay ten feet away. Harry couldn't carry Cedric, but his pursuers approach would be upon him in moments. Harry twisted on the spot and met the red eyes of Voldemort one last time as he cried Accio, summoning the Triwizard Cup to him.

James felt a wild gasp of relief finally escape him, watching Harry finish off the last few lines with gratitude so he could just stop, and think for a minute!

The silver cup was caught in his hand, and Voldemort's scream of fury was drowned out with the howl of wind carrying him away.

Harry snapped the book shut hard, and then proceeded to hug both of his parents to him as tightly as he'd ever been able to in his life.

James still hadn't even begun to fully process everything he'd just heard about the night of Voldemort's return, he was still too busy clinging to his only child and his wife to think past much of anything except for the fact that he never wanted to let go of either of them. That night could have so easily gone wrong, Harry could have never been here now, but instead would have remained like Cedric, dead and lost to the rest of the world forever. Whatever that magic was that had saved him, somehow his miracle had been granted, and he had finally been able to do just one thing for Harry, even beyond the grave. Later he could question how his ghost or whatever had even known the way to get back, later he would think about how that had all come to pass, later...

[fallenangelofsalt]

Separation Anxiety 1

This fanfiction is an non-canon scenario of @saline-coelacanth‘s Fusion AU.

The fusions are owned by them, and this could be considered an AU of a AU, but if the creator wishes for me to delete this fic, i will do it. 

This fic will include my personal headcanons, and it is my first time writing one. Constructive criticism is apreciated, and please do point out grammar errors. English is not my first language.

Please don’t expect regular updates on this fic. I am very lazy and have a procrastination habit, so there will probably be large time gaps between each update, but sometimes i go on creativity sprees, so maybe there will be times i’ll update twice in a day, who knows.

This fic will mostly be centered around Jay’s fusions, especially Ridge.

This chapter is mostly a flashback, and centers around how the situation came to happen. I hope i did a good job at it, it was particularly hard to figure out how to write the begining.

And, @saline-coelacanth, if you’re reading this, i hope you enjoy it, and that i didn’t make anyone too OOC.

It’s funny how much people hide from each other.

It makes you wonder if you really know your friends as much as you claim.

Secrets can be dangerous, but then again, anything can be.

So why not keep your cards close to your chest? Why not prevent them from knowing?

It’s all your fault, after all...

~~~

Ridge was in the kitchen, waiting for the blueberry pie to finish baking. He recently found out baking helped calm his nerves, and right now he was very, very nervous.

Why? Oh well, like many other stories, it began innocently, leaving no time to back away before it all went downhill.

~~~

Jay was nervous. The ninja just had to be visiting this of all islands.

The Tiger Widow Island.

Jay shivered, wrapping his arms around himself in hopes of finding some comfort as he and his brothers walked through the island’s flora. He had never planned in returning here, but Sensei Wu had insisted they check out the unknown land.

Pushing back his memories as best as he could as they explored, he did his best to make sure they avoided the spider’s nest. But he coudn’t help but remember how terrified he had been, how the tiger widow tried over and over again to sink it’s fangs in his body, how close he had been to--

“Hey, look!” Jay startled at Kai’s shout, having been too immersed on his thoughts to notice they had reached a clearing, a big flower bed in it’s center.

He apreciated the distraction, but he still felt as if he were in danger. There was something weird about those flowers...

“Those flowers look kind of weird, don’t they?” asked Kai, as he inspected the plants.

Zane stepped inside the flower bed, careful to not crush any flowers, and crouched next to Kai. “Indeed they do. It looks like many species of plants were mixed to make these ones. They all look different but... Similar.”

The flowers all had different shapes and colors, some looking like fusions of two(or more) common ones. Patterns of circles, spirals, ink stains and even very complex designs were printed on their petals. Some had the shape of roses, some of sunflowers, daisies, lilies...

“You could even say they look... Fused.” Said Cole with a short laugh, moving to stand close to the red and white ninjas with Jay close behind.

“Are you calling our fusions flowers?” Asked Jay halfheartedy.

“Nah, only yours are.” Cole had a teasing grin on his face, trying to rile Jay up. He had been nervous and quiet the entire time in the island, it was starting to get disturbing.

To Cole’s disappointment and confusion, Jay only winced before looking away, staring at the ground like he wanted it to swallow him whole.

And then there was alarm, “THEY’RE GLOWING!”

And the flowers indeed were glowing. An eerie white mist rose from them, and Cole could feel himself growing sleepy.

The last thing before he fell asleep was the feeling of being torn apart.

~~~

Swift woke up slowly, blinking sleep out of his eyes as he stared at the sleeping bodies of the other 5 fusions.

...

It took him loger than he would like to admit to realize what was wrong about the fact that he was staring at 5 fusions instead of 1.

He stood quickly, rushing to shake Vulcan -the closest- awake. Once he started to get up, he went to shake Techtonic awake, ignoring Vulcan’s shocked “WHAT THE HELL!?“ as he no doubt realized their problem.

Techtonic cracked an eye open, “Swift? Vulcan?” confusion bled into his voice as he stared at both of them, before turning to search for Fleet, who was still asleep a couple feet away from them.

The three ones awake went to wake up their partners. Fleet immediately glued himself to Techtonic’s side, shaking as he stared at their surroundings with wild, uncharacteristic fear. Chip leaned on Vulcan, looking dizzy and weak.

But Ridge, he looked like he was in pain, holding his head and curling into a ball. “Ridge?” Nothing. “Ridge, please, you need to get up.” Ridge slowly stood, looking like he was about to start crying in both pain and panic.

“Ok, so everyone agrees the flowers did this, right?” Nods all around.

“Alright, so now we need to-”

“We need to get off this island!”

Swift stared at Fleet, surprised by the interruption.

“Would it not be best to find a way to go back to normal?” Said Techtonic

“We can do that in the Bounty! We need to get off this island RIGHT NOW”

“But Fleet-”

“WE HAVE TO GO! NOW!”

Swift was getting frustrated now. A quick glance at Vulcan proved he was not the only one, while Techtonic looked a little concerned. “Fleet-”

“IT’S ALMOST NIGHT! IT GOES OUT AT NIGHT!! WE HAVE TO GO BEFORE IT KILLS US!!!”

“Got- gotta leave-”

They all turned towards the one who spoke, Ridge.

~~~

Ridge wanted to go back to sleep. There were too many memories, -none of them good- rushing through his head, that felt like it was about to explode, the pain was too much, and he was close to having a panic attack. Maybe he was in the middle of one, though. It would explain why it was so hard to breathe.

But Fleet was right, they needed to get away from this island before the tiger widow-

“THEN LET IT BITE YOU!“

A whine left his mouth as the pain spiked. But he managed to speak.

“Gotta leave- befor- before it comes- ahh-”

The last thing he saw before passing out was the other’s panicked faces.

~~~

They managed to get aboard the Bounty before night came. It only took a short amount of time after that for Fleet to calm down and for Chip to regain his strenght. Ridge only woke up after an hour.

Wu did not know anything that could have resulted in their current predictament, and when they tried to unfuse the only result was pain.

When Fleet, Chip and Ridge were asked about what happened with them, there weren’t any good answers either.

“I, i just knew that something was there. Something dangerous, that could kill us in mere seconds if it found us. I don’t know if it came from Kai or Jay, it- it felt like both, but i was really scared, like i knew there was no way out, like i was going to die.”

“I felt... Tired. Like something precious to me was taken away and there was no way to get it back. I felt abandoned and powerless, and it also felt like it came from both Jay and Zane.”

Then it came Ridge’s turn. He had looked at his hands, not really wanting to talk about it. “It was painful, in many ways, like Jay and Cole had the worst fight ever and then fused. My head hurt like crazy, and my emotions were so negative i probably had a panic attack. There were a lot of memories, all of them bad, but i couldn’t grasp any of them. But Jay was hurt and Cole was angry and, and-”

Ridge then shut up before going to the kitchen. He needed to bake something and relax. A chocolate pie seemed like a good option.

~~~

So now he’s taking the pie out of the oven, carefully placing it on the table, next to the first one and the other 18 pies he had baked.

...Maybe he went a little overboard.

[minervahopebeyond]

Blood Petals.

Hi, everyone! Here is the second chapter. I checked everyting but im sorry if you find any grammatic or vocabulary errors... I hope you like this one! I had a lot of fun writing it..

Chapter 2: Grimmauld Place.

He was the first to get out of there with Sirius and Mr. Potter, they apparated to a house in London. He was still dizzie from the apparition when he saw the little piece of paper that his cousin was showing him.

“The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London.”

Suddenly a new house appeared in front of them. It was marvelous, Draco had never seen a Fidelius Charm in his life. He smiled a little, ancient magic was so breathtaking.

Sirius opened the door. Inside, the place was disgusting, he could see that the house was once really pretty; but all the expensive furniture were cover up with dust, there was spider webs in the corners of the hallway, it was very dark and it all smelled as if a bloody window hadn’t been opened in ages.

“This place is awful, one would think that you would have a very nice, vanilla smelling, headquarters but no you have this instead.”

It was a joke, really. Apparently he just sucked at not hurting people’s feelings because his cousin had a painful look in his eyes and Mr. Potter was looking at him like he just said a really disrespectful thing.

“I didn’t mean-“

“Don’t worry, little cousin. I know it’s not much but it’s the safest place we had. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, there’s probably no one that hates it in here as much as I do.”

“I don’t know, Padfoot. I would probably burn it to the ground if I could” Mr. Potter said with a dashing smile. It was really like seeing Potter with brown eyes, the resemblance was uncanny. His appearance was of a twenty-one year old, he came back exactly as he had left, so young but you could see he felt older than that... He had this fatherly thing in his eyes, very fierce and protective look.

Draco saw how Sirius was being pulled into a bone crushing hug. His cousin hugged the other man even tighter while tears started to appeared in his grey eyes. He hided his head in Mr. Potter’s neck, maybe to be closer to him or maybe to stop the tears from coming out completely.

“I missed you every fucking day, James”

His voice was so raw and painful to hear. Draco could not even begin to imagine what would it be to lose someone so close to you. Because maybe for Potter this was an opportunity to finally have a family, but for Sirius it must had been as his wildest dream came to life, after so much pain, so much wait. Because Sirius actually knew what he was missing, without James Potter in his life, Draco could hear it so clearly in those words.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

They heard the rest of the Order arrive. Sirius put distance between them very quickly and tried to clean his tears before anyone could see. It was a lot of people in a hallway so they moved everyone to the kitchen. Apparently only the golden trio were allowed to come into the headquarters, because the other students where nowhere to be found. They all sat at the table; Moody, Professor Lupin, the Weasley’s parents, his cousin, Mr Potter and Nymphadora Tonks. He knew who she was because mother exchanged letters with Aunt Andromeda once or twice a year, and if mother was in a good mood she would let Draco read them with her. This was all behind father’s back of course (Merlin forbid he would let his wife decide if she wanted or not to keep a relationship with her own sister), it was because of this that Draco had learned from a young age that there were things that you weren’t supposed to tell Father, not ever. At the sound of another apparition he frowned. Who else was coming?

“ Where is he? My godson, where is he??”

Oh no. Not good. Aunt Bella always said that Severus wasn’t a loyal follower, he thought she was joking. He stood from his chair quickly and looked frantically for a place to hide. Not good. He thought as he hided under the table, in the end that was opposite to the kitchen door and (this is just a coincidence, he did not do this on purpose) next to Potter’s chair. The prat who live looked down to where he was hiding with as if Draco had utterly lost it.

“Ignore me as always, Potter. Do as you are told just this once.”

He heard him muttered something about how fucking weird this day was and Draco couldn’t agree more. He watched Severus move around the table, even when Draco only could see his legs he noticed he was very pissed off.

“Snivellus, if you are here to make a scene you can just leave.”

“How calm you are, Black. Considering that the thing that’s sitting beside you could be a dark being.”

“Shut it, you greasy git.”

“Sirius, we are all adults here.” That was professor Lupin, of course. He always was kind at Hogwarts, he had understood when Draco didn’t want to face the boggart in third year, just smiled and said that he would give him a paperwork to keep his marks up.

He heard all in the table gasp, the feet of Severus were on duel position and that could just not be. He pushed Potter’s leg with his hand. He always was afraid that even being hateful or defensive that the boy would see through him, notice how his heart beated at any kind of proximity. Draco got up and looked at Severus.

“I’m here.” Severus turned to look at him then.

“You stupid, careless boy. What did you do? Blood magic? You clearly are more brainless than I thought.”

“Nobody knows what you are talking about, Snape. Leave the poor kid alone.” Mr. Potter spoke with such calm and commanding tone, eyes focused only on Severus as he said it. So that was where Potter got he’s morals from.

“I beg you, Potter, do not insult my intelligence. I know for a fact what is my godson capable of. There is no need to hide it” He kept his eyes on Draco then, something shifted in them. He felt guilty instantly, when he accepted, he thought about how two years where enough to get everything settled but now, looking at Severus, he couldn’t imagine saying goodbye. Because he knew he was the only family he had left. “What did you bargain? Please tell me.”

“You know. All you want is for me to confirm it, which I am, confirming it.”

Pain took over his expression, he shook his head and took a deep breath. It was done, no going back, and Severus knew that of course.

“We will find a way. I promess.”

No, they wouldn’t. Potter was unbelievable straight so that meant a sure death. He was fine with it. Poor Severus, though, he didn’t know how terminal this was.

“Why was it him?” Granger asked quietly, and he understood that the question was actually ‘why wasn’t Lily Potter’. She thought it was because of the blood status clearly. How would Draco Malfoy bring a mudblood back to life to be with his son if there was a pureblood option on the table? It was things like this that made him want to be a bad person on bloody purpose. He glared at her. Apparently for a know it all she didn’t have all the answers. Then he said in almost an annoyed tone:

“It’s mandatory to have a blood connection on the ritual, to call for the soul you want. Potters and Malfoys wedded a lot of generations ago. And it’s only one soul per ritual.”

Potter frowned then, like he was thinking of something, plotting. Draco lost his cool at that.

“Don’t even fucking think about it. It’s a soul for a soul. I didn’t just bring your father from the other side to have you sell your soul to save your mother. You can’t have all in life, Potter. Be bloody grateful for what I did and enjoy having both, your father and your godfather in your life once they can clear Sirius name.”

Those piercing green eyes were looking at him, their fights were always so consuming, once they were started they couldn’t stop. Whoever said the most hurtful thing won and he could see in Potter’s eyes that he was determined to win this one. So Draco just stood there, waiting for it.

“Are you actually trying to make me believe that you risked your own pathetic life to bring my father here?” He snorted, mean and so bloody arrogant, Draco could just had punched him in the face.

“Yes.”

“Sure, Malfoy.”

Mr. Potter just stared at his son, then at Sirius as if he was asking what the hell was wrong with him. Why was he like this? But it was expected. Potter spent eleven years of his life not having friends or family, he was fiercely protective of his own because he didn’t have any people for so long and Draco... well, Draco was the big bully that hurt them.

“How are you alive then?”

“Because, Potter, I was given two years to get something impossible to get or else bye bye living realm” He said it with a mocking tone, trying to light the mood. Severus flinched at that and the room went very quiet before exploding with exclamations and questions all at once.

“Are you kidding, kid?”

“What do you have to get?”

“We can help you! You have to tell us!”

“This is exactly why it’s a forbbiden practice. It’s barbarian!”

“Maybe we can fool her? There must be a way..”

“WOULD YOU ALL JUST SHUT UP”

Probably it wasn’t the best way to react to a bunch of worried Gryffindors but Draco prefered to die than be pitied by anyone. He chose this, he was going to fucking own it.

“Thank you for your concern but this is my problem now. I did what I did and there is no solution other than get this stupid thing I have to get.”

“ What did Death asked for?” Of course Weasley was the sentimental of the three of them. As if he cared, he should be bloody happy if ‘the ferret’ ceased to exist.

“I’m sorry. Did something of what I just said made you think that I had any intentions of sharing my disgraces with you, Weasley?”

Potter pulled a face of disgust at that. Good, the balance of nature had been restored at last. Too bad it was going to kill Draco. He thought that he should start a list of ‘must do’ before he dies. The good thing about knowing that you are going to die it’s that nothing matters as much, no repercutions, no guilt.

“Black, could Draco stay here? He clearly can’t go back to the Manor and he can’t stay at my house because it would blow my cover.”

“Excuse you? I’m not staying in the same roof as the prat who lived, Severus. Stop saying nonsense.”

“Well, you should have thought about that before you did this. I don’t have a choice and you don’t either.”

Potter looked alarmed. He searched for his godfathers eyes trying to say that ‘No, he is not staying here, no bloody way’ And Draco couldn’t agree more. But apparently they were the only ones with logic in the headquarters because Sirius called the house elf and instructed him to fix his cousin a bedroom as well as one for Harry and James too. Before he could complain about the situation Mr. Potter looked at him with warm eyes and said:

“It’s the least that we can do. You can’t imagine how grateful I am for what you did. I understand if you don’t want help with whatever you have to look for... But if you change your mind I’ll be glad to help.” And what was Draco supposed to say to that, he only nodded and muttered a ‘thank you’.

Draco found himself later that night, in the room that used to belong to Regulus Arcturus Black, looking at the enchanted ceeling full of stars. Wondering if when the time comes, the day that he joins Death at the other side, if he could ask to be a star instead of a wandering soul. It felt more soothing to be a shinning star than wait in the afterlife until his love ones join him, like Mr. Potter had done. He was more selfish than that, clearly. Maybe he could be a shooting star and fly across the night sky... it would be as if everyday was a quidditch game at night, he would chase the other stars as if they were snitches... He slowly closed his eyes and let himself fall sleep.

Comment, like or reblog if you like it, please! I will be updating the 3rd chapter soon as I can. You can also find me in AO3 as MinervaHope. Thank you for readind!!

[ochard-fics]

Bad Ideas - A Spider-man Story

Chapter Index: 1, 2

Pronouns used for (Y/N): they/them

Genre: Enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, young love

Warnings: None

Word count: +7.1k

Summary: Though  you moved across the country about half a year ago, you are still  trying to find your footing in the strange streets of New York. On top  of that, you are desperately trying to balance your demanding school  life at Midtown School of Science and Technology, where you like  everyone but you was much more talented and smarter than you could ever  imagine to be. Among those students is the one whom you loathe the most:  Peter Benjamin Parker, the boy who’s success both in school and in  Stark Industries is constantly shoved in your face. The only person who  helps you escape those troubles is Spider-man, the hero of Queens and  your crush.

A/N: Hello all! Thank you for waiting so patiently for the next chapter in the series. I hope you are all staying safe and healthy during these unfortunate times. Please enjoy this chapter! Comments, reblogs, likes and feedback is greatly appreciated!

A HUMONGOUS thank you to @tinybabyrat​ who helped me out while I wrote this!

---

Chapter 2 - Peter Parker, the nuisance

How did everything go south so fast? You thought your Tuesday was looking up. No major tests or quizzes today, no horrible mile run in P.E., and no over-cooked rice in the cafeteria lunch! However, the universe decided to say fuck you and here you were, sitting uncomfortably in your guidance councilor’s office. Ms. Lee was busy typing away at her computer, her thick, wavy black hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Your eyes began to wander around your surroundings, like the wall calendar pinned to the corkboard behind her, that showed Claude Monet’s Water Lilies painting for the month of February. Or the several post-it notes of various bright colors with reminders, and then photos of her and her wife, Ms. Narvaez, happily smiling together with their two rescue dogs Fritz and Sadie, who were mutts. Waiting in there started to feel like forever until Ms. Lee straightened her posture and turned her figure towards you, clasping her hands as she put her arms on her desk.

    “Hey kid,” she greeted you with a warm smile, “I can see that you want to know what you’re in my office.” You replied with a stiff nod, looking at her with meek eyes.

“I wanted to talk to you about your current progress in school, particularly your general education courses” she states, adjusting her square, wire-framed glasses on the bridge of her nose, “I need you to take a look for yourself.” She takes the frame of the monitor and it toward you, where you could see your current report card displayed upon the screen.

    “From the looks of it,” she says, looking over at the monitor, “Your grades have gone down significantly since you started your year here at MSST.” Oof, that was not good news whatsoever. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably as she continued speaking.

    “I have noticed that math and chemistry have been particularly difficult for you,” she mentions, “Is there a reason why?” You looked down, fiddling with your thumbs, a habit you had recently formed out of anxiety.

“W-well,” you stutter as your voice cracks, “I’ve always had a hard time with math. A-and chemistry has a lot of concepts about it that are hard for me to understand.” Which was true. Anything having to do with math you immediately panicked upon seeing. Math, to you, was a whole other language that you still couldn’t understand. Which was rich, considering you could speak four languages fluently. Chemistry was a lot like math and it even included it, so it was just another layer of confusion for you. 

 “I understand your frustration with the subjects,” she says with a nod, “You are not the only student here that struggles with them.” Yeah, you thought, like 12 kids out of the who knows how many here? This was a science and tech school for crying out loud; everyone around you was a prodigy! Well, except for Flash Thompson. “(Y/N),” Ms. Lee begins, “Do you know your current GPA*?” She looks up at you, to which you give her a shrug. 

“It’s currently a 2.78,” She says as she points to the top of the report card, where it was displayed, “It’s not a bad score. However, compared to your GPA from your previous school year it has dropped significantly.” You furrowed your brows, waiting to see where she was going with this.

Ms. Lee looks at you very seriously and says, “If your grades continue to decline, you could potentially fail your junior year, and will have to repeat.”  A lump formed in your throat upon this new information. Repeating a year of high school was up there with your biggest fears, along with heights and your dad. The mere idea of failing school started to make you internally panic.

Ms. Lee looks at you sympathetically, folding her hands upon her desk once again.

"I understand that moving across the country is incredibly difficult,” she starts, “You know that I'm from L.A. as well. I miss it dearly. All of my family and childhood friends reside there. I miss going to my favorite boba shops with my friends, I miss going to Malibu, and I even miss the forty-minute drives to go from one place to another! But oh boy, do I not miss the traffic." This made you chuckle, which brought a smile to her motherly face.

"However, I had to move here for college,” she continues, and you listened intently, “It was incredibly difficult for me to adjust to life here. Manhattan felt like a whole new world in comparison to Los Angeles. On top of that, I didn't know anyone here. I was alone, and the loneliness took a toll on my performance in school. Though you know what got me back up?" You shook your head in response. 

"I got help. With the suggestion of a councilor I made a study group with a few of my classmates so we could all assist one another. As time went by, they eventually became my closest friends throughout college, and Manhattan as a whole. Additionally, when I didn't understand something in class, I went to the teacher for clarification. If they could provide it, of course." 

"I will admit, it was incredibly hard for me to ask for academic aid," she looks down at her folded hands as she continues to reminisce about her past, "I grew up with this idea that I couldn’t do anything without my parent’s help. I depended on them to solve my problems and it damaged my self confidence. Then culminated this sense of guilt, because I felt like I was totally helpless. Though I tried to be self-sufficient, I was met with criticism because I would make mistakes. This led me to develop a perfectionism complex, and if I didn’t get something right on the first try I just gave up. It felt suffocating.” 

“From the information you have told me these past months,” she looks up at you, “You are in that current situation. You’re afraid to ask for help because you think of it as a sign of dependence. That you cannot do anything without help. Which is unfortunate, because help shouldn’t have to feel like a burden.” Shit, she was right on the ball. All your life your parents would hold your hand whether you liked it or not. And just like she experienced, when you tried to be independent and failed, it only confirmed to your parents that you couldn’t do anything without them. That’s why you felt guilt whenever you were offered help; it was because it made you feel weak. Then when you tried to grasp at something on your own, you’d slip, and you would get frustrated and surrender your attempts all together. It was exhausting.

“Speaking of your parents,” she glances over at the computer monitor and back at you, “Are they aware of your current grades?” You shook your head in response, looking back down at your twiddling thumbs.

“Haven’t shown them any of my assignments this year,” you replied honestly, “My dad used to check up on my work, and then instead of trying to help me with corrections he’d take over my homework and make sure it was perfect. I-I got fed up with him doing everything for me so I told him to stop. He got mad and told me to never go back to him if I needed help with school.”  Ms. Lee listened in intently as you spoke to her, which was what you really appreciated about her. She was like a therapist, very patient, and willing to listen to your troubles. Which was nice, considering that there was at least one adult in your life that was willing to listen to your troubles.

    “I think it was very mature of you to tell your dad that,” she assures you, “Especially considering what you’ve told me about him. You wanted him to help you, not enabling you. How else will you learn, but through making your own mistakes?” If only your dad could listen in to the conversation you two were having, maybe he’d finally realize that he’s been wrong. But knowing your dad, he’d probably call Ms. Lee a fraud of a councilor so mauve it was best that he wasn’t there.

“I know you want to be independent of him,” she continues, “Any child would want to break away from that type of environment. It’s a pity that your father cannot be more supportive of you and your endeavors. You’re incredibly talented, (Y/N).” The compliment was very sweet of her, but for some reason, you believed she was saying that just to be nice. You heard her let out a worn-out sigh.

“Look,” she starts, turning the monitor back to face her, “In order for you to get into the college of your choice, art or not, you need to get a 3.0 or higher.”

“I can’t afford art college,” you admitted, “My parents would never help me with it, either.”

“There are several colleges that aren’t art universities but have excellent art programs,” she replies, typing on her keyboard, “Many of them being in California. And they cost half the price.” You looked up as this greatly piqued your interest. She turns the screen back to you and you look up, looking at the list of public schools that were ranked the top ten best art programs in the country, the majority of them being, as she said, in your home state. Your eyes widened in interest.

“You’re a smart very kid,” Ms. Lee assures you, but you give her a look, “You are. And if you can pull your grades up to a 3.0 or higher, you can apply for scholarships from these schools.” Damn scholarships always feel like a carrot on a stick, taunting you with their possibilities. However, with the amount you were being paid by Delmar for your work, you wouldn’t have a chance at paying for your college of choice. A scholarship could save you big time, and without the guilt of being a burden on your parents.

“If you can get them up by the end of the semester,” Ms. Lee says, “You’ll be secured for a scholarship. Maybe even more than one.” You chewed the inside of your lip, contemplating this information. Damn it, it seemed too good to be true. Getting your grades back up was much harder than bombing them, which you thought was totally unfair. The GPA system felt like a whole scam.

“This means you need to, pardon my language, kick your ass into gear,” she says, making you smile at her profanity, “But because math and chemistry are the classes that are giving you the most trouble, you will require extra help with them.” You raised a brow at her, sensing that she was getting somewhere with this. What was she up to?

“I'll set you up with a tutor,” she reveals, turning to you, “And don’t worry, they’ll be someone from school so your parents won’t have to pull out any pocket money. Your eyes widened in shock. A tutor? Was she being serious?!

You opened your mouth to object but she continues, “I talked to Cobwell and we’ve found the perfect tutor for you. A classmate of yours, actually.”

“W-wait, can’t I get tutoring from Cobwell? Or do those group tutoring sessions that student resources hold?” you asked, the idea of one it being one of your classmates sounding much worse than the tutoring itself.

“We did consider that,” she says, “But Cobwell just got assigned to assist Harrington with the academic decathlon, and we believe that because of your current situation, one-on-one would work for you best focus-wise.” You slumped back in your chair. Maybe you should have taken up Cobwell’s help when you had the chance. Now, you were going to be stuck spending an hour or more on subjects you hate with a burning passion with someone you probably don’t like. Speaking of which, you asked Ms. Lee who they chose to be your tutor.

“Oh, glad you asked,” she said, giving you a smile, “It’s Peter Parker.” 

It took every inch of your body to hold the urge to scream. You did pray, though, that she was bluffing you. She had to be! But you saw no sign that she was fucking with you. You felt your body go into a cold sweat. You leaned toward Ms. Lee, horror in your eyes.

“Do you have anyone else but him?!” You cried, “Anyone?! I can not have him tutor me! Anyone but that loser!” Ms. Lee raises a brow at you, unamused by your reaction.

“Why not?” She asks, “He’s in all of your classes, as well as being the top student in math and chemistry.” You leaned back into the chair, letting a troubled and dramatic groan out.

“He’s a total numbskull!” you said exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air, “Flash Thompson will never let down that I’m going to be babysat by Parker.”

“You should be more concerned about your grades than your reputation, (Y/N),” Ms. Lee comments, making you purse your lips, “Additionally, I’m making the tutoring mandatory. So if I find out that you purposely ditch Parker, you will be penalized.” You frowned upon hearing this. Of all things you wanted to happen in your life, being forced to be in the same room as Peter Parker was the last thing you wanted. And you were going to get punished if you ignored him?! Not cool.

“Plus,” she continues, “If you give him a chance, you’ll see that you both have much more in common than you think.” This has to be some cruel prank, it just has to! If you found out that the Norse god of mischief Loki was behind this, you would make sure to find him and kick his ass all the way to another dimension.

“B-but,” you leaned towards her, eyes narrowing suspiciously, “What if he becomes negligent again? MJ told me what he did last year with the decathlon team.” She hums in response, leaning back on her chair.

“I assure you that Peter will not do such a thing,” she replies, “Actually, the other reason why we chose him as your tutor is that he has to complete community service hours due to his misbehavior last semester.

“I’m community service now?!” you exclaimed. How humiliating!  You dropped your head into your hands, letting out a dramatic groan.

“Look, I understand that you’re uncomfortable,” Ms. Lee says, sitting up in her chair, “But you deserve the help. And part of being independent is knowing when you need it. And you don’t have to feel ashamed to ask for it.” You looked up at her, seeing that she was watching you sincerely. You knew she meant well, it was her job, after all. Yet this was the worst possible situation you could've put it. Yet again, it is your fault for procrastinating assistance with school for this long. Still, you would’ve taken anyone but Parker as your tutor. Even Flash Thompson! You let out a huff and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to process all of this very unfortunate information.

“Peter is a nice kid,” she assures you, though you give her a look that says you think otherwise, “Don’t be afraid to be vulnerable with him, it’ll help him help you. ” She points at you, and though she wasn’t doing it you could almost feel her finger pressing down on your chest. You bit your bottom lip, feeling unsure. Opening up to other people has become much harder for you since the move, and it’ll be much harder in an academic setting. Now, you have to do it with a person you deeply despise. She really was asking too much out of you.

You let out another sigh and straightened yourself then asked her “How often do I have to meet with him?” Please just once a month, you begged in your head.

“At least twice a week,” she answers, “I would like for you to meet with him tomorrow after school. The sooner you guys work the quicker you can improve.” A low groan was let out of you, earning a frown from her.

“I’ll be meeting with Parker tomorrow morning,” she said, turning to type on the computer, “You both will be in charge of scheduling hours. If you do it right, it shouldn’t affect art club hours or your feeding times for the animals in the biology laboratory.” You pouted. Junior year was already very hard, and this just added to the difficulty of it all. Would this tutoring even work? 

“You’re a smart kid,” Ms. Lee says, “And I know you can do this. But you will need to be committed to this. Understand?”     “Yes ma’am,” you said, begrudgingly.

-

    The next day you arrived to class earlier than usual. The meeting with Ms. Lee gave you the thoughts of possibly failing school and having to work with the person you despised kept running through your thoughts, making it impossible to go to sleep. You noticed that the hall in which your locker was located had a speckle of people around, either chatting with their friends or just chilling by their lockers. You were leaning against yours, occupied with your phone as you watched yesterday's news on the touchscreen. You watched as the news anchor, the lady you had watched before at the bodega that there was yet another bodega stick-up that led to a fight between the robbers and Spider-man, this time in Hell’s Kitchen. The news cut to footage that showed him apprehending them, but took a few hits to the face and chest in the process. Your brows furrowed, worrying if he was okay since those hits looked pretty bad. He had mentioned to you before that he was able to heal quicker because of his powers, but you still couldn’t help but wonder if he was all right. 

    You heard your name being called out to you and you looked up to see Ned, who was approaching you with a wide smile spread across his face. Leaning away from your locker, you were about to give him a wave until you smelled something very putrid, making you cover your nose.

    “Hey there!” he says, greeting you, “Have you seen Peter? I gotta give him his backpack.” He then held up a black and blue backpack, and you realized where the smell came from.

    “Oh my god,” you said, scrunching your face, “Why the hell does that smell so bad?”

    “Oh,” Ned looked at it, “I found it in a dumpster. Peter lost it.”

    “How the hell did he lose it?” you asked with a frown.

“Ah,” Ned shifts uncomfortably, “Pete’s a bit clumsy sometimes, heh…” His face said that it was something else, but the smell prevented you from pressing any further.

“Why the heck did you bring it to school?!” You asked him, “It’s stinking up the whole hall!” You weren’t wrong, students around you were looking at the both of you and frowning as they too tried to cover their noses from the stench. 

“Yeah,” Ned agrees, putting it down beside him, “I tried to put some spray-on air freshener on it but not even the smell of clean sheets could contain the scent of New York trash. Ned was a nice guy, but like Peter, he was also a bit goofy. Having enough of the smell, you turned to open your locker, where you rummaged through it until you found what you were looking for. Ned watched quizzically as you pulled out a beige-colored canvas tote bag. You turned and held it out to Ned.

“Take Peter’s supplies out of the backpack and put them in that,” you ordered Ned, who took the bag and looked at it in awe, “I have it as a backup in case I had paint spill in my backpack.”

“This is so cool!” Ned exclaims, holding up to his face,  “And it even has a zipper in the opening! Did you make this?” You nodded. Last year you had taken a sewing class and had made a handful of items, tote bags being one of them. You had decided to make a few of them, some in which you gave as gifts to your friends and some that you made out of commission for your mom’s friends. Sewing, oddly enough, was something that you were pretty good at.

“Don’t tell Peter that I made it,” you said sternly, “Nor that I gave this to him. I don’t want him to know I did something nice.” Ned raised a brow at you but didn’t object.

“B-besides,” you added, motioning your head towards Peter’s backpack “I don’t want to smell that thing any longer.” 

“Oh, right,” Ned said, unzipping the backpack, “I should probably throw this out. Sucks, ‘cuz he only got this two weeks ago.”

“Peter seems pretty careless,” You commented to Ned, watching him take out Peter’s supplies and putting them in the canvas bag.

“Nah,” Ned replies with a shrug, “He was much worse last year. He lost five backpacks within two months! At one point his aunt May threatened to let him go to school without one.” you furrowed your brows, concerned. What was Ms. Lee thinking!? 

“And he’s going to be in charge of tutoring me?” you thought out loud, “I can’t believe this.”

“Peter’s going to tutor you?” Ned looks up, surprised. You told him about your meeting with Ms. Lee yesterday, explaining the whole situation. He listened, then nodded as you finished wrapping the story up.

“Well, I think you’re in good hands,” Ned reassures you, “Peter can be a doofus but he’s the smartest person I know. You’ll be passing in no time!” And speaking of the devil, you noticed from the corner of your eye that Peter Parker himself was jogging up to the two of you. As he approached, you noticed that his lip has a pretty nasty cut on it. 

“Whoa, what the hell is up with that?” You exclaimed, pointing to your lip to mirror where the injury was on his face, “Did you get mugged or something?”

“Uh,” Peter looked over at Ned, who shifted his eyes at you, “Y-yeah! You know how aggressive New Yorkers are!” He says, then lets out a nervous chuckle. 

“Right,” you said, narrowing your eyes at his suspicious behavior, “Did they take anything?” Before Peter could respond, Ned jumped in.

“His backpack!” he answers for him loudly, holding up the smelly bag yet again, causing both you and Peter to wince from the smell, “I found your backpack, Pete! The ones the muggers took! In the dumpster! What a coincidence! Haha!” Why on earth were these two acting so suspicious? They weren’t telling you something, though you wondered what was so secretive that they were trying to hide it from you? Then, you remembered something that MJ had mentioned to you the other day.

“Wait,” you raised a brow at the both of them, “Weren’t you guys hanging out yesterday? MJ told me you guys were going to the video game store in Hell’s Kitchen. You didn’t get mugged, Ned.” A look of panic plastered upon both of the boy's faces, and they exchanged looks with each other.

“T-the mugging happened when I was going home!” Peter stutters, his voice becoming higher, something you noticed he does when he’s nervous. Or lying.

“Y-yeah!” Ned says, nodding, “A-and I just happened to come across his backpack on my way back home!” This wasn’t the first time that they have acted like this with you before. One time they were like this with you while you were working at the bodega, where Peter had a pretty nasty black eye, and another time was when you caught Ned helping Peter skip the academic decathlon due to the Stark Internship, where the next day he had bruises on his knuckles. Dude seemed to get bruised up quite often, now that you thought about it. Before you could press any further with the two, Peter noticed the canvas bag.

“What’s that for?” Peter asks, pointing to it. Ned holds it out to him, telling him that his supplies are in there now.

“This is really nice!” Peter exclaims, taking the bag with excitement. You avert your eyes to the side as he asks his friend “Did you just have this with you, Ned?”

“Uh,” Ned turned to you, and you looked over at him. You better not tell him, you thought as your eyes met. Ned looks over to Peter.

“Yeah!” he replies, looking back to his pal, “It was just sitting in my locker. Luckily I had it on me today at this exact time.” He lets out another nervous laugh. 

“I actually really like the look of it,” Peter says, admiring the bag, “I might use this as my book bag from now on.” That actually caught you by surprise. Did he like it that much? Hm, better not get careless with it, then you thought to yourself. Peter seems to then remember something, turning to you.

“Oh, (Y/N),” He starts, pulling the canvas bag through his arm and up to his shoulder, “I actually just met with Ms. Lee. She told me about the whole tutoring. thing.” You internally groaned. It was evident that you two would talk about that today, but not this early.

“She said she wanted us to meet today, right?” he asks, “Would it be okay if I could have your number?” You raised a brow at him. What the hell was he getting at?

“Why?” you asked, frowning.

“Oh,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “S-since we’re going to be working together it would be good if we had each other’s numbers. For scheduling and whatnot.” You closed your eyes and clenched your teeth. For long enough you’ve avoided having to have contact with this guy after school. Now, you would no longer be blessed with that privilege.

“Fine,” you said, begrudgingly. You swung your backpack to your chest and opened it, rummaging through it for your pencil pack. You found it and pulled a blue ballpoint pen from it, then swung it to the back once again

“Gimme your arm,” you said holding your hand out. He then held his arm close to his chest, giving you a wide-eyed, confused expression.

“W-why?” He asked. You gave him a look.

“I’d rather write it on your arm than a piece of paper so you don’t lose it,” you replied, “Once I gave my number to the president of the art club and she lost the paper, and then Flash found it and wouldn’t stop airdropping terrible memes from 2006.” That was the most annoying day of your life. You had to ask MJ to threaten him to stop because even when you blocked him he kept finding a way to send you stupid memes. 

To this, he shrugged, understanding your reasoning. He pulled his blue sweater sleeve down to reveal his forearm, which you noticed was actually kind of fit. You moved it closer to him, grabbing his bare forearm gently and pulled it closer to you so you could write your cell phone number. You scribbled it horizontally, then once you were finished you pulled his sleeve down to cover it. The first warning bell of the day rings throughout the school, and you could see now that the hall was full of students, who began to shuffle past each other to get to their first-period class. The boys and you turned to look at each other.

“I’ll text you after school?” Peter says.

“Yeah,” you said, pulling your backpack straps up to your shoulder, “Let’s get to class.”

-

    For the rest of the day, you were dreading the eventual meeting with Peter. During all of your classes together you desperately avoided talking to him as much as possible because you were so pissed at the idea of having to work with him. However, as the end of the school day wrapped up, you could not avoid him any longer. As you walked to your locker, you felt your phone vibrate and pulled it out of the pocket of your yellow windbreaker and saw that you received a text from an unknown number.

Hey, it’s Peter! it read, Let’s meet in the library. You let off a small huff and typed back k. You shoved your phone back into the pocket and trudged your way over to the library. Upon entering, you noticed that it was a bit crowded today but still remained moderately quiet (as libraries should be). Several students were huddled by the study tables, hunched over intently scribbling notes while others were at the computers, doing research for papers, or watching youtube videos. You scanned around for an empty study table that both you and Peter could occupy until you spotted one near the graphic novels section. You made your way over to it, plopping your backpack on one of the chairs to save for Peter. 

Deciding to kill some time, you unzipped your red backpack and pulled out your sketchbook and pencil pack. Grabbing your mechanical pencil from the orange pouch, you flipped through your rugged hard-bound sketchbook to a blank page, where you then began to draw. You started to sketch those around you, like one student who was pretending to study but he was really watching Netflix on his phone, a girl that was coding on one of the computers, and the librarian, Mr. Fill. Soon you transitioned to drawing animals from the biology lab, like a starfish from the biology lab’s man-made tide pool, a garden eel named Pickles, the pink zebra beauty tarantula Zelda, and the corn snake Sir Elote II. 

You then felt your mind drift and began to draw Spider-man, whom you’ve doodled more times than you can count. If anyone were to look through your sketchbook (which you let few do), they would find several pages full of sketches of the blue and red hero of Queens. To you, it was genuinely embarrassing how much you drew him. It was hard not to think about him when you had such a hard crush on him. You wondered what he would say if he knew you were drawing all of this fanart of him.

    “Ooh, nice eel!” You heard a voice whisper to you. You looked up and saw Peter, who was looming over you as you drew in your sketchbook, making you jump a bit.

    He takes your backpack from the chair beside you and sets it down beside you, then asks, “Does it have a name?” 

“No…?” you answered as you watched him sit down beside you.

    “Well,” he makes a goofy smile, “If you name it, its name should be Eel-i,” A silence hung over you as you looked at him, giving him the blankest look you have ever given anyone.

    “G-get it?” his voice quivers, his smile wavering from your lack of response, “Like Eli?”

    “I did,” you responded with a deadpan tone, “But that was probably the worst joke I have ever heard. And I work for a middle-aged dad.” His mouth pursed into a tight line and his ears went red, embarrassed at his horrible attempt of lightening the mood. 

    “So,” you let out a sigh, “have you ever tutored someone before?”     “Nope,” he says, shaking his head in response as he tucked himself into the table, “What about you? Have you been tutored before?” You nodded in response. Back home you used to have a tutor in grade and middle school, who was actually your favorite teacher in the third grade. However, because of your dad seeing tutoring as a waste of money, you were forced to stop sessions when you went to high school, where he took on as a tutor. However, with your dad’s lack of patience, tutoring turned into a session in which he would criticize how slowly you understood the topics you were going over. At one point, it became too much for you, and you stopped asking for help with school-related subjects altogether.

    “Great!” he exclaims, but in a controlled whisper as to not disrupt the students around him, “One of us has experience with this! So, I guess we should just go over what you’re having a hard time with.”

    “Alright,” You put your elbow on the table and rested your head on the palm of your head, looking over at Peter, “Which subject are we talking about? Math or chemistry?”

“Uh,” Peter furrowed his brows in thought, “Chemistry? Since we had that quiz a couple of days ago.” 

“I have a hard time with all of it.” You replied. 

He blinks, a bit unsure of what to say. “U-uh, What do you mean by that?”

“It means what it means. I have a hard time with all of it. That’s why I’m in this position in the first place.”

“W-well, what part of the quiz did you have a hard time with? Maybe we can go over that today?” 

“Hm,” you rubbed your chin in thought, digging into your brain trying to remember what was on that quiz since you tried to block it out of your memory. You thought for a few more seconds until you remembered something, then looked up at Peter and replied, “Well, bond energy got very confusing.”

“Great!” Peter exclaims, his eyes lighting up, “I mean, it’s not great that it was confusing for you, but great in the sense that we can start looking at that today.”

And so you did. Peter opened up the chemistry textbook and began to re-teach chemical bonds to you, despite both of you learning about them last week in class. Ten minutes in, you were able to pay some attention to what he was saying. However, twenty minutes in you started feeling your focus float away. You tried to grab at it like a piece of paper floating away in the wing, yet everything Peter was saying just went over your head. It didn’t really help that he kept saying “Right?” after stating something (“It depends on strength and interactions between cations and anions in lattice, right?”), and you just nodded in response even though you had no idea what the hell he was talking about. Thirty minutes passed and your focus completely turned off, and suddenly you could hear the sounds of keyboards being typed on, the scribbling of pens, and, oh shit, is that a fly in the library? Your focus had gone to anything else but Peter, who took notice when you wouldn’t respond to a question he asked you. 

“Hey,” he turns to you with a concerned look in his hooded eyes, “You doing okay?” He put his hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your daze.

“I-,” you looked over but averted your eyes away from him. You felt face heating up from embarrassment. Darn it, what’s wrong with you? Why was focusing on something such a task?!

“How about we take a break?” Peter suggests, closing the chemistry textbook and getting up and stretching his arms, “I’m going to grab something from the vending machine. Do you want anything?” You shook your head in response, then watched as he grabbed his wallet from the tote bag and headed out of the library. You let out a frustrated groan, which was a little too loud because it earned you a hush from Mr. Fill who just happened to pass by. You put your head in your hands, letting out a huff, and tried to figure out what was causing you to be like this right now.

As you thought back to the last thirty minutes, you realized that Peter was the one making the session so agonizingly dreadful. It felt like you were back in chemistry class all over again, and no offense to Mr. Cobwell but that wasn’t the most interesting class to you. Contemplating on everything that Peter was doing wrong, you also noted other faults such as his pacing while he , his assumption that you understand what he’s talking about, and his mundane voice that he used when he was explaining everything to you, making you want to fall asleep. You pressed your nails into your pals, newly-made fists shaking as your frustration with Parker grew. It wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t keep up! It was his fault for being so bad at teaching you! You looked up and saw that Peter had returned, two water bottles in each hand. 

He approached you and set one bottle in front of you, saying “Thought you might be thirsty,” He got you a water bottle from the vending machine? Huh...that’s odd, you think.

Without saying a word, you looked down at your insulated water bottle that was tucked in one of the side-pockets of your backpack. He followed your eyes and noticed this, and his eyes widened with realization. He whispered an “Oh” to himself, but you turned back to the plastic one and took it out of courtesy, saying you could use it as a refill as you placed it in your backpack. He apologizes and sits back down in his chair. You give him a hollow thank you, to which he seems pretty pleased by. 

“Okay,” he begins with a nod, re-opening the textbook and turning to the chapter you guys were just going over, “U-um, was there something that you needed some clarification on?” All of it, you thought, but you felt like that would’ve not been the least bit helpful to him. Wanting to protect your ego and get the hell out of here, you just pointed to a random section on the page that read Hybrid orbitals. He looked to where you pointed and nodded.

He says, grabbing his pencil, “Let’s go over that again.” You held the urge to let out a groan. Time to suffer more! However, about twenty-five minutes in and you grew incredibly bored with Peter’s dull rambling. Your mind checked out and instead of paying attention, you began drawing circles instead of taking notes in your notebook, to which Peter noticed.

He put his pencil down and turned to you, asking “Hey (Y/N), You listening?” You jumped in surprise, looking up to see him catching you in the act. Without thinking you nodded, but he made an expression that thought otherwise.

“Right,” he then points with his pencil to a diagram on the textbook page, “Can you explain to me what this is?” You gazed down at what he was referring to, and your mind went blank. What on earth were you guys talking about again? The lack of sleep from last night had made you loopy and exhausted earlier than usual, making it hard to think straight. You tried your hardest to think of what the hell that could possibly be, but you couldn’t think of anything for the life of you. 

“It’s...a bond?” you answered, looking up at him sheepishly.

“Okay…” he leaned forward a bit, “But...what kind of bond?”

“A…” You looked back at the diagram, then back at him, “Chemical one?”

“Yes,” he replied, but you could tell he was trying to get more out of you, “But it’s a special kind of chemical one. It’s a…?”

“Very special chemical bond,” you replied without thinking, and you wanted to kick yourself in the head for such a dumb answer. Peter blinks at you blankly. 

“It’s a hybridized orbital,” he responds, “You weren’t paying attention.” You felt your face heat up. It’s one thing to not be paying attention a, but getting caught was so much worse

“S-sorry,” you said shyly, hunching over out of habit, “B-but it’s not my fault this stuff is so boring!”

“I get that it’s difficult to understand,” Peter assures you, leaning back in his chair, “But when something seems confusing, you need to tell me at the moment.” You frowned at him. Who was he to tell you what you do?

“Well sorry,” you sarcastically say as you crossed your arms in a huff, “It’s a bit difficult when the person you’re listening to is incredibly mundane.” 

“Excuse me?” He turns to you, annoyed, “I asked you several times if you understood what we were talking about.”

“Yeah, but you kept assuming that I knew what you were blabbering about. You were going too fast, too. Not my fault I can’t keep up with you.” 

“Then you should’ve told me to slow down!” he exclaims irritably, “I’m here to help you, not confuse you.” You let out a sarcastic laugh and. What was his problem?! Why was he getting annoyed at you? It’s not your fault you were telling the truth! He just can’t take criticism.

“Well, some help you are.” You looked over at him, “Can’t believe the smartest kid in our grade can’t figure out how to teach someone.” He clenched his jaw.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he says, trying to control his current aggravation, “But in order for me to help you, I need your feedback. If you had just said something-”

“You want feedback?” You raised your voice and turned to him, cutting him off, “I’ll give to you feedback! You’re boring to listen to, you have the talking pace of the Roadrunner, and you have the personality of a stalk of celery. You’re built like one, too.” Students around you began to stop what they were doing and watch the two of you make a scene in the library.

“What the hell is your problem with me?!” he asks irritably, “I’ve been trying to be nice to you since you got here, but all you do is treat me like shit. Even when I’m doing nothing you act maliciously towards me! What have I done to piss you off so much?” 

“You exist.” you spit out angrily. A heavy silence hung over the both of you as you stared daggers at each other, the students around you holding their breaths in anticipating. However, you had enough of his stupidity, so you grabbed your notebook and backpack and stormed out of the library, ignoring the looks and whispers you were receiving from the students that were observing you. As you exited the room, you reached for your phone to text your mom that you were heading home. As you pulled it out of your pocket, it slipped from your fingers and bounced three times onto the school’s hallway until it ended with a cracking sound. You felt your heart clench in fear and rushed to go pick it up. A spew of cusses left your mouth as you saw three cracks upon the screen.

------

Annotations

*=GPA stands for Grade Point Average

[higanbanawritings]

Under the Shadow of the Moon

Chapter One: A long Dream

Ryoka stared directly into the middle pair of the man’s eyes. All six of them, narrowing in on her form sensing the aura of fear radiating off of her body. Ryoka felt a combination of fear and sleepiness. It was like she was in a nightmare that she couldn’t wake up from. One moment she was living with her parents and her younger brother, Momiji. And within a blink she was now sitting across from this man…. No this demon. She was only here because she agreed that he could feed on her blood in exchange for sparing her life and the lives of her family.

Even though she was scared out of her mind sleepiness was beginning to overtake her. All she wanted to do was sleep; Today was exhausting physically, emotionally and mentally. And the events leading up to this moment only made it feel like she was in a long dream. She allowed herself to be willingly given to this man… no this demon in order to save the lives of her parents and her younger brother. She wholly belonged to him now and it saddened her to know that her freedom was ripped from her in one snatch.

This whole situation still felt like a long and tiring dream.

⁕⚘⁕⚘⁕⚘⁕⚘⁕⚘

Ryoka was walking home after a long day of sewing garments at the boutique. She was an apprentice for Madame Toshiko who was famous for sewing the most beautiful traditional and western clothing. Ryoka worked tirelessly under her to prove that she was worthy of learning the madame’s skills. It was hard work and she was pretty sure that her boss took advantage of the fact that Ririka was young, naive and passionate about fashion in order to make her work longer hours in the name of “perfecting her craft”. But Ririka didn’t mind. The job paid well and within a couple of years she would be able to open her own boutique and make a name for herself in the emerging Japanese fashion scene. She could finally be independent from her family and not have to depend on anyone. She had the freedom to travel Japan even the world. She just needed the opportunity to come to her and this was it.

“EEEeeeeee! PLEASE SPARE US!”

The scream tore Ryoka away from her thoughts. She froze. It was her mother. It sounded like her mother. Ryoka picked her legs. Her family was in trouble and she had to do something. Anything at all to protect them. Ryoka ignored the burning in her chest. She couldn’t stop when her family needed her most. That was until she saw him . She immediately stopped in her tracks when she saw her family huddled together and cowering. In front of them was a tall man. He had long dark hair with red tips and wore a traditional patterned kimono with black hakama pants. He was also holding a katana which was pointed towards her family.

“A burglar and he’s armed. ” Ryoka knew that whatever she did it had to be the right move or things could be much worse.

She remembered that she had gotten paid a healthy sum today from work. Even though she had planned to use this money to buy herself new clothes for the upcoming festival she knew it was better to part with money and earn more in the future than be cut down by a burglar. She immediately ran in front of her family, holding her arms out shielding them from the towering figure, making her purse visible to the burglar. When she was able to get a good look at his face her breath hitched in her throat. This man had three sets of eyes on his face with red sclera and yellow irises. His middle set of eyes seemed to be engraved with the mark of ‘Upper Moon One’, and red markings resembling flames were seen on his face and neck.

It was then that Ryoka realized that this was no man but that he was a demon. She always had thought that demons were simply myths used to scare children into behaving but this creature before her was the real deal. He had no intention of robbing her family. No he was capable of doing much worse.

‘He’s going to eat all of us! Momiji, he’s too young to die like this! I’ve got to do something! I need to do something!”

She closed her eyes, and her head was pounding. There was something she should be able to do. And then it comes to her.

⁕⚘⁕⚘⁕⚘⁕⚘⁕⚘

Tennouji Ryoka was born a sickly child. Her parents Tohru and Katsumi had tried everything in their power to find a cure but could not. They even visited the most esteemed western doctors that money could buy, but it proved to be futile. In a moment of desperation, they went to a traditional healer named Chiyo who had been able to cure Ryoka.

“What do you mean?” Tohru asked.

“The blood of your daughter, Ryoka. It’s not normal.” Lady Chiyo answered. The old woman took one long inhale of her pipe before puffing out a cloud of smoke. Tohru and Katsumi covered their coughs so as not to offend Chiyo.

“But how could you tell?” Tohru asked, his eyes tearing up from the smoke around him.

“The scent she gives off. It’s one of those who carries abnormal blood inside them. It’s what is making her sick.”

“Did someone curse my daughter? Who would do this? We haven’t done anything to anyone to deserve such cruelty.” Katsumi broke down sobbing. She didn’t know why her daughter had to suffer from a blood disease.

“As far as I can tell she is not cursed. However, I fear that she will live a life of hardship.” Chiyo then got up and walked towards a chest sitting atop a high shelf. She took it down and opened it. She rummaged through the chest until she found exactly what she was looking for. It was a small sack.

“This will be a long process but you will need to bring your daughter here so that I can properly administer this medicine to her.” Chiyo stated.

“What is it?” Tohru asked hesitantly. He already had his doubts about visiting a traditional healer to help Ryoka and this wasn’t helping to ease his worries at all.

“Crushed blue spider lily. I came from a long line of medical healers and while I was young, I happened to stumble upon old documents from an ancestor of mine. He had written about how he was healing a young man who had been sick for his whole life and did not have much time to live. He beloved that this flower, the Blue spider lily was the key to healing that man. Unfortunately, my ancestor had mysteriously disappeared before he was able to write down the results of this medicine. Administering this medicine would be risky, but it’s a risk we cannot afford to take.”

Chiyo’s cure had worked. At least in the beginning. Ryoka seemed to make a full recovery. She was even able to run long distances without collapsing from exhaustion. However, side effects started showing up. Although Ryoka had been cured from her previous ailment it seemed as though she was not out of the woods yet. And it didn’t seem like she would ever be. Unfortunately, Lady Chiyo had died of a heart attack and with it was any possible cure to Ryoka's new "condition".

⁕⚘⁕⚘⁕⚘⁕⚘⁕⚘

Ryoka immediately prostrated herself on the floor. Keeping her head low and trying her best not to look up even when she heard the demon’s katana being pointed at her. She wasn’t going to let her fear stop her from keeping her family alive.

“Please, sir. Please spare my parents and my younger brother.” Ririka was on the ground pleading for her family with her head bowed low in front of the demon. She dared to not look up at the katana that was pointed at her. She knew it would only add to her and she couldn’t mess up her only chance to save the lives of her family.

“Hoo? And why should I spare your family girl.” The demon asked ,mocking Ryoka’s pathetic position.

“Because you can have me instead. My body produces a lot of blood. More than my body needs. My blood is also rare according to our late village healer. So you can feed on it and it’ll nourish more than eating my whole family can.”

“Ryoka! No!” Her mother wailed.

“Please don’t take my daughter. Eat me but please spare my wife and children.” Her father, a usually stoic man cried out, choking on his own sobs. Her brother was quiet. Tears streaming down his face as he could only watch his sister giving herself away to a demon.

Kokushibou, the demon, couldn’t help but smirk a little. In front of him were four pathetic humans begging and wailing for their lives. It would be better to just kill them all, but the girl’s offer did intrigue him. Hunting for food did take time away from completing his other missions for Lord Muzan.

Ryoka tried her best to stay strong in front of the tall demon despite the pleading of her parents. She then hears the sheathing of a katana back into its scabbard.

“Very well. I’ll come back for you in two months time. I’ll need to prepare your new home. And I believe you’re well aware of what will happen if you try to go back on your promise?” Ryoka nodded, forcing back tears.

“Yes I understand.”

⁕⚘⁕⚘⁕⚘⁕⚘⁕⚘

Two months came and went. And Ryoka stood on the veranda of her family’s home with some of her belongings on the night of a full moon. She was standing alone. It was much easier that way. The day had already been filled with tearful goodbyes and Ririka was sure that she had no tears left to cry.

“It is time.” The six eyed demon appeared suddenly before her. This was it. Ryoka had to leave her old life behind along with those she loved and cared for.

But before she could take her first step Ririka felt a tug on her kimono sleeve.

“Nee-san Please don’t leave us. I’m praying to the gods and buddha to not have this demon take you away. So please stay with us. I promise I’ll be good and listen to mom and dad… just don’t leave us.” Ryoka looked into the teary warm chocolate eyes of her little brother, Momoji. She knelt down pulling him into a hug and trying to put on her bravest face for him.

“ Momiji, be a good boy. And do your best to look after mom and dad. I’m praying for you to live a long and fruitful life. Just know that no matter what, nee-san will always love you. She held onto Momiji for a few more moments before pulling away, picking up her belongings and walking over to the demon.

It hurt Ryoka to hear her family pleading for her to come back while she followed the six-eyed demon into the night.

“My name is Kokushibou. I thought that it was important for you to know who I am.” The demon, Kokushibou, spoke as they walked towards their new ‘home’.

“Tennouji Ryoka.”

“Hmm. Well then, Ryoka let’s make this a painless experience for the both of us.”

⁕⚘⁕⚘⁕⚘⁕⚘⁕⚘

“You seem forlorn!” A voice tore her away from her thoughts. It was Kokushibou he was still sitting across from her.

“I know it may seem cruel to take you away from your family. But rest assured I will take care of you.” Kokushibou spoke to her softly, setting a futon for her to sleep on.

Ryoka pursed her lips. She wanted to snap at him. Tell him to go to hell. Tell him that he was a monster for ripping her away from her family and holding their lives over her head. She opted to hold her tongue in fear of angering him. However, that didn’t mean that she was placated. She was still seeing red and she felt hot inside.

Actually, she really did feel hot inside. Like she was having a fever or something. It was becoming more difficult to breath and her head felt light and heavy at the same time. She was trying to keep her composure so as to not alert Kokushibou. His back was still turned to her, talking to her about their arrangement.

“ I have convinced his lordship to let me keep you. However, you must give him your blood as payment. Considering your ‘condition’ that should not be a problem?

As if on cue Ryoka’s nose started to bleed. It was a part of her ‘condition’ as a result of the ‘cure’ Lady Chiyo had given her.. Her body produced too much blood and if she did not drain her body of excess blood it would leak out of her nose, ears , eyes or even mouth.

Kokushibou smelt the blood and immediately came to her side. Grabbing her chin, he forced her to face him . Grabbing a cloth, Kokushibou wiped the blood from her nose. But he could tell by the reddening of her face that she needed to release more blood. He pulled down the shoulder of her kimono. Positioning his mouth over her neck, Kokushibou bites down and starts to drink Ririka’s blood. Ririka gasps from the pain, however soon enough, she begins to feel relief as Kokushibou sucking the excess blood from her body.

It went on like this for a while. Kokushibou released his mouth from Ririka’s neck obviously having his hunger satisfied. Ririka was still panting. Her body was still hot and she needed to cool down.

“Marechi.” Kokushibou stated

“What?” Ryoka asked, still in a daze.

“You have rare blood. Marechi. His lordship will be pleased to know that you can produce marechi blood without risking your life.” Ryoka was waning in and out of consciousness. but she could’ve sworn that he was talking about using her as a blood factory.

Ryoka didn’t have the energy to argue with him about giving her blood away to other demons. She was too tired and she wanted to sleep.

“Good, I am going to meet with his Lordship. My scent covers the area surrounding this estate so weaker demons will be deterred from attacking you. .I should not be gone for long.” And with that he left. But not before breaking off pieces of his sword and leaving them around so that he can keep an eye on her even when he is away.

A few moments passed before Ririka was sure that he was gone.She crawled over to her futon and lied. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep, lamenting her new life as the possession of a demon.

Thanks for reading. You can also find this story on my AO3 page under the username camelliasinspring.

[ichigo-daifuku]

Crossroads

SLBP Fanfiction [Read on AO3]

Sakakibara Yasumasa/MC

The fleeting companionship of the Divine General and the kitchen wench who both fell like leaves in autumn.

Mature | Mild Sexual Content

This oneshot is set after certain events of Ieyasu's Act 1(!!!), but for the sake of the plot, this MC is not Ieyasu's MC. Think of it as an AU of a sort. ʕ•̀ω•́ʔ✧

Word Count: ~5.1k

Part 3 of 春夏秋冬 | Shunkashūtō

落葉 | Rakuyou

Fallen leaves.

Beneath the glow of the waxing moon, a man and a woman sat in front of each other.

Pampas grass decorated the entrance of a bustling teahouse in Mikawa. The leaves of deciduous trees had begun to metamorphose into warmer colors, the slight chill in the night air welcoming the customers for dinner. In a far corner table hidden from prying eyes, Yasumasa had a row of chestnut manju on a ceramic plate while his companion, a woman with long dark hair, had seasonal daifuku shaped like rabbits on hers. He was quite fond of this particular teahouse; everything they served him suited his picky palate, although if he were to be asked, he would not answer with those exact words. As he took a bite of the sweet treat, a glance across the table made him aware of the eyes trained on him intently.

“What are you looking at, you irritating little thing?” he challenged.

She chuckled and took a sip of her tea, unperturbed. “Another irritating little thing.” With a sigh, she set the cup down on the table and shifted her gaze towards the cloudy expanse of the sky. “Do you think there really is a bunny making mochi in the moon?”

“What a foolish question. Of course, there is nothing.” He followed her line of sight, only there was not much to see, except for the moon shining down the land like a happy smile in its crescent phase.

Absentmindedly, she took a bite of the tidbit of daifuku on the small dessert stick. “By the way, Lord Yasumasa, that house…”

“What house?” He took a sip of his own drink and feigned ignorance in hopes that she would drop the subject. 

“That house where we… you know… don’t make me say it.” Her voice transitioned into whispers with every word spoken, her embarrassment apparent with the way her eyelashes fluttered when she cast her gaze downwards and fiddled with what was left of her food.

It irked him that she insisted to approach the subject matter right then and there, but at the same time, he knew they could not avoid it forever. Yasumasa leaned back and crossed his arms. “What was that? Speak louder, woman.”

“That house where we just had our… our secret tryst! It’s yours, isn’t it?” She opted to move her face closer to him instead of speaking louder. “Is that where you stayed when you… left?”

“You don’t need to sugarcoat everything. You mean after I betrayed the Tokugawa.”

“Well, if you prefer to put it that way, yeah…”

“Hmph.”

“Lord Ieyasu said that you requested for a second chance.”

“...I did.” 

His quiet admission took him back to the time when he committed the greatest mistake of his life. With his subsequent decision to redeem whatever he could of himself, he had received permission from Tokugawa Ieyasu to stay on the outskirts of Mikawa and live in a house an average resident would live in. Every morning, Yasumasa would wake up before sunrise and farm some land near his dwelling. Afternoons meant honing his skills in swordsmanship, a craft he was proud of and sought to even improve on. When the sky darkened, he would light a lantern in the silent company of books of strategy and philosophy. He spent his days in simplicity, struggling but striving to deserve his second chance at living. 

Those patterned days ended on a certain afternoon. The morning started out with farming as usual, and with the thought that his crops would soon produce yield, he took his lunch in a nearby teahouse alone. As Yasumasa was making his way back to his house, he was greeted by the sight of a man dressed in dignified finery, looking so out of place as he stood near the humble abode’s entrance.

“Milord Ieyasu!” Yasumasa strode over to him and bowed in respect.

A usual smile graced upon Ieyasu’s lips. “I was beginning to think you’d already died.”

“I have not, Milord.”

“Good. Show me around.”

Although still overcome with surprise, Yasumasa gave his lord a warm welcome to the residence. He had to admit, it was strange to be so casually strolling around with him again. It reminded Yasumasa of those times in the past when he still served as Ieyasu's page, when circumstances were complicated but also simpler.

“Never thought you’d be one to take care of flowers,” Ieyasu commented and gestured over the colorful bunch of chrysanthemums around the compact space of the yard.

“They were already there when I arrived. Might as well.” Yasumasa stopped in front of the flowers as Ieyasu did and waited for his lord to reveal the purpose of his sudden visit.

“Yasumasa,” Ieyasu began after a few moments, the tone of his voice grave and serious, “another war is upon Mikawa’s horizons. I want you to return to the castle.”

At Ieyasu's words, Yasumasa felt suddenly aware of the empty weight of the swords detached from his hips. He clenched his fists in frustration with himself. “But Milord, I don't deserve it… I have yet to prove myself worthy.” 

“You can, in the battlefield,” Ieyasu turned to him with an expression bare of any mockery, “I will lead the Tokugawa to victory, one you will see with your very own eyes should you decide to fight under my banners again.”

Yasumasa witnessed the determination that burned brightly in Ieyasu’s eyes and believed in the greatness his lord was meant to accomplish—that they were meant to accomplish as lord and retainer. He had wished for death during the crucial moment of his failure, but it was Ieyasu who cut the ropes that bound him, freeing him not only of his crimes but also of his weaknesses. Reverent, Yasumasa bowed his head to the ground and swore that his faith would never falter again. “On my life, Milord.” 

He took the leap and returned to Hamamatsu as a retainer—a Divine General. From the second Yasumasa stepped on the castle grounds, the rift his mistake cost him had been palpable. But somehow, the strained relationship he shared with the other retainers was nothing new. They trusted him so little, yet he could place no fault in them. He was similar to the person Ieyasu used to be: arrogant, independent to a fault, and able to put trust in no one. Day by day, Yasumasa witnessed how what he once considered as his lord’s weakness had become the strength that bound the clan together tighter than ever. His mind couldn't help but race with the possibility of the person he could become. That was when he saw her again.

Now, she was right in front of him, a small chuckle bubbling from her lips.

“Ah, no, we are not husband and wife,” she corrected the shopkeeper who Yasumasa had failed to notice the approach of earlier.

“Is that so? Pardon me, then,” the shopkeeper turned to him, “Anything else I may get for you, young man?”

“No, thank you.”

The shopkeeper nodded with a smile of recognition and left. 

Yasumasa resumed eating and dared to peek at the woman who sat across him. As if she felt his gaze, she looked back at him with a quizzical expression, but it caught Yasumasa so off guard that he had to look away. During the first few days of his return to Hamamatsu, the two of them barely had a chance to speak with each other. Truth to be told, Yasumasa went out of his way to avoid her. It was futile; living in the same castle and working for the same man made their encounters inevitable. The first few times were simple greetings, he would respond with a nod and go on his way. Soon, there were words exchanged as they touched on safe discussion topics, which consisted of only a few possible matters. When they found themselves on the verge of the dangerous, he would often find excuses to leave or to make her leave, but she was stubborn, filling in the voids in their conversations with her kindness and enthusiasm. 

“Look, Lord Yasumasa! There are red spider lilies growing around there!” She motioned towards the distant woods where clusters of the flowers grew, barely visible in the darkness.

He scoffed. “How unsightly.”

“They say that red spider lilies grow on paths where people part, did you know that?”

“Or there could be graves somewhere near the area and they were planted there to ward off pests.”

“Maybe.”

The two of them finished the last of their meal at around the same time. She turned his way to ask him of his thoughts about it, but it was then that Yasumasa spotted the short trail of powder on her cheek, no doubt from the daifuku. With a click of his tongue, “You eat like a child,” he chided in mild displeasure and tossed a handkerchief into her direction.

The suddenness of his actions made her struggle to catch the item, but she did so successfully. “Is this clean?”

“Do you think I would carry around something filthy?”

“I suppose not.”

“You’re so bothersome.”

The way back to the castle was quiet, save for their footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves. Yasumasa's thoughts remained on her, the woman beside him who had become a prominent figure in his mind for a long, long time. He had been indifferent towards her back when she still dressed as a man to conceal her identity, but once all of her secrets were revealed, he became nothing but resentful. In the course of her earlier days as a woman in the castle, Yasumasa had been reprimanding some retainers when he saw her pass by and chat with the other generals.

“You don’t care for Yasumasa, do you.” Tadakatsu's words had been more of a statement rather than a query. The mention of his name caught Yasumasa’s attention; he had no choice but to listen.

Her eyes widened, taken aback by the assumption. “Huh?! I… It’s not that I don’t like him, not at all…”

“You don’t have to pretend. It’s written all over your face,” Tadakatsu continued, voicing out Yasumasa’s own thoughts.

To add to the vitriol thrown at him in secret, “I don’t like him either,” Toramatsu declared without hesitation.

Yasumasa had gathered that they didn’t know he was within hearing distance, yet back then, he couldn't care less what they thought of him. But as he regarded her, a mere step or two away from him as she strolled along the pathway in a manner that he would describe as almost happily, he found the memory leaving a bitter taste in his mouth—although he knew that she has most likely forgotten about it already. The light of the moon seemed to bounce with her hair whenever she moved. He clenched his fists at the memory of its silkiness between his fingers.

The reality of it all sunk in: they had slept together, and they both wanted it. Questions echoed like gongs in his mind. For someone who once could not deny outrightly that she did not care for him, she treated him with kindness, like she held no grudges for every mistake he has committed and actually cared. Something in her drew him in, even long ago despite his hostility towards her and especially now that his views in life were linked with a new resolve. It was the first time he felt that way for anyone. The raw attraction unnerved him. The slight flush of her cheeks when they happened to be in each other's company gave him thoughts he immediately crushed. He could not dare think of something when there was none. The next thing he knew, the beginnings of subtle, innocent touches and occasional close proximity ended with the two of them laying on the bedding he once spent lonely nights on.

“I will defile you. Are you sure this is what you want?” he had asked her then, giving her a final chance for a way out should she want it. He knew not what to do with himself. He had desired her in secret for so long, and though the frustration would eat him alive, he was prepared to accept her decision and understand the reason for her refusal. In truth, he expected her to flee and say that all of it had been a mistake, but like a moth drawn to a flame, she touched his cheek ever so gently and nodded, her answer clear with the fervent kiss she bestowed upon his lips. 

Yasumasa made his stop by a tree a few minutes or so away from the castle. Once she realized he was not beside her anymore, her steps faltered one by one until she ceased moving as well. He kept his demeanor in check before speaking, “Enter the gates first. I’ll go in a short while.”

She turned to face him slowly. “Why?”

“This can never happen again. Keep your mouth shut and no one will know.”

“You regret it?” she snapped, each word laced with self-deprecation and disbelief, “You seriously regret it?”

He sneered. “What do you think? Of course, I do.” 

Her knuckles tightened over the knot of the cloth that contained the package of white rice dumplings she insisted on bringing back for everyone. “Well, I don’t.” Upset, she spun around swiftly and began to storm inside the castle grounds without him, just the way he wanted to.

As she disappeared from his sight, a strong gust of wind blew, making a few leaves fall weightlessly to the earth. 

“Damn it!” Yasumasa cursed, overcome with anger directed at no one but himself. He was nothing but a liar. What would people say about her associating herself with the likes of him, someone who had the nerve to betray the clan and come back? He should know better. She was too good for him—too good to him. It was far from anything he deserved. He needed to do everything he could to stop her from coming too close to him and to stop him from ruining her even more.

But perhaps, it was too late.

Beneath the glow of the waning moon, a man and a woman sat in front of each other.

Chrysanthemums bloomed all over the backyard of a small home in the outskirts of Mikawa. Seasons had gone by and changes, both subtle and tangible, happened as they drifted from one to another. Traces of warm colors in the leaves developed fully into vivid shades of red, some deep oranges, while others shone golden. Though in the night, all of them were the same, dark as their shadows.

“They make it very lively even though no one really lives here, don’t they? Especially during twilight,” the woman commented at the hidden medley of autumn hues and took a slow, dainty sip of her sake. “So, why did you call me here? It’s not like our usual meetings, from what I gather.” She placed the half-empty cup down on the table with a faint thud and raised her gaze to meet the jade green eyes of her companion, Yasumasa.

He had been wrong when he said that what happened on their first night together could never happen again. It happened more times than she could count, not only in his residence but also in other places. It was risky, thrilling, altogether rewarding. When she happened to pass by those areas, memories of their times together would take her head in the clouds, and with burning cheeks, she would look away with a secret smile. They had visited his old dwelling far too often that soon enough, she became familiar with its every nook and cranny, including where he kept his precious tea set, the one which has been passed down to the heirs of the Sakakibara clan for many generations. If the two of them were to be around during afternoons, she would expect to find Yasumasa hanging around the chrysanthemums in the garden he kept—those flowers he claimed he wasn’t taking care of but were all blooming so beautifully. Contrary to what he insisted, she recognized the special care he gave them, reminiscent of how one would treat a bonsai, only a single wrong move with the latter could be fixed through the passage of time, but the former would not be as resilient, having a single chance to bloom during its season.

Most of all, she knew him, Yasumasa. Once, she had woken up in the middle of the night with his side of the bedding warm but empty. She got up and slid the doors open to find him seated on the floor, silent as the still night air. The same thing kept him up at night time and again; Yasumasa recognized the value of trust at this point in his life, although the idea was still foreign to his comprehension. He would never admit it, but she knew he would like to be able to build that trust with his comrades, akin to the way his lord came to the light. As he stared into the dark space, struggling still to reconcile who he was and who he wanted to be, she believed he would get there one day, he was stubborn that way.

“No one holds a grudge against you, you know? Not even Lord Ieyasu. Lord Tadakatsu is worried. I’m sure he misses his friend.” She leaned against a pillar and pulled the fabric of her robes tighter against her body to protect herself from the chill. “Forgive yourself, Yasumasa. We have.”

He was so quiet that she thought he did not hear a word she uttered, but then he stood up and met her eyes, his stare determined and passionate. “Even you?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I haven’t.” She walked closer and reached to embrace Yasumasa by the waist. In an instant, she was warmed, the steady beating of his heart a soothing sound. She spoke the truth; she did not hate him. In fact, she already had an inkling even at that time that it had grown to be quite the opposite. Every single encounter with him strengthened the attachment she felt, almost like a bond. There had been times when she made sure she had at least a swipe of rouge on her lips whenever there was a chance they would pass by each other, and she felt like she tried too hard. Yasumasa had already witnessed her at her best and worst, at her most pleasured and most vulnerable. It all sounded a bit backwards in her head, she didn’t know whether to smile or frown at the idea.

They were the castle’s open secret. Almost everyone suspected it, yet no one dared to ask either of them for confirmation or denial. It seemed that the idea of them together was an odd one. A mismatched pair of chopsticks, that was what they looked like. Scandalous curiosities were disregarded in order to avoid evoking Yasumasa’s ire. She supposed it was something she should be grateful for—if someone did dare to ask, she would not know how to answer. Long ago, he considered her his enemy. Were they friends? Not quite. She wouldn’t do what she does with him with a mere friend, of that she was sure. They were not explicitly lovers either. Still, she found no desire to lay with another man, and she suspected that he was not sleeping with another, with majority of his time spent on training and military campaigns along with the frequency of their activities when he wasn’t occupied with either of the two. It wasn’t that they were only good enough to be intimate companions and not… more. No, it was rooted on something deeper. No matter how strongly she felt for him, whatever was between them was fragile, as it was impermanent. Regardless, she cared for him deeply, knew him far enough to trust him in spite of the mistakes he made in the past. As much as she tried to keep those thoughts at the back of her mind, it bothered her time and again, but she decided that she would cross the bridge when she gets there.

However, as she sat in front of Yasumasa in the place full of their memories, she knew that the moment to cross the bridge has come.

“Lord Ieyasu has granted me the domain in Tatebayashi,” Yasumasa stated with pride. Their most difficult battle had resulted in the Tokugawa’s greatest victory. A new beginning was in the entire land’s horizons, the prospect of peace closer than ever. She couldn’t be prouder of everyone in the clan.

“Sakakibara Yasumasa, Lord of Tatebayashi,” his name and new title rolled off her tongue, and she smiled. “Congratulations.” He had come so far. She was happy for him.

He drank his sake in response, eyes trained on her all the while, holding her in place.

“Is there something else you wish to tell me, Yasumasa?”

“Why? Do you have something you wish to tell me?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” she broached the subject and fiddled with the hem of her kimono. “Soon, I won’t be under Lord Ieyasu’s employ any longer.”

He stilled as he took in the implication of her words, but quickly recovered as he moved to set the empty cup down on the table. “And? Where are you going now?”

“For now, the plan is to go back home to Kyoto.” As a young girl, she had a lot of dreams, one of which was to take over the restaurant as her late father did. Many years had passed since then and circumstances changed. The kind of future she envisioned as a young girl has shifted into something else now that she was a woman—one who has met someone.

If he were to ask her to come with him, she would say yes... yet she knew he would not. It has always been that way—close enough to cross the boundaries they set in silence but never doing so. He said nothing. She expected it, but no matter how much she knew that she would never receive those few specific words, a part of her still longed to hear them. Her little ray of hope dimmed, and she blinked a few times in an attempt to quell her emotions. She wondered where it went wrong or if it had been wrong from the very first night they spent together. Whatever the answer was, she found that she still had no regrets in terms of the intimacy they shared. Alone in her innermost thoughts, she gave him a bittersweet smile.

“One last time?” Her proposition had been a whisper, but in a few seconds, the low table, pair of cups, and empty bottles of sake had been set aside. Her hand clutched his as she led him inside the house all the way to his chambers, where she pulled him in for a kiss once the doors slid close.

Every time she would remember that instance when Yasumasa mocked that she possessed the body that would drive no man to lust, she wanted to burst into laughter. It pleased her to see him this way, almost pliant and very responsive to her kisses and touches, as if his hatred of women never existed, or at the very least, was shelved away in particular moments where she was involved.

“How long has it been, Yasumasa? Years?” she whispered right next to his ear, her fingertips tracing a line from his jaw to his neck and further down to the inside of his collar, “Aren’t you a hypocrite? Still going to pretend you never wanted this, hm?”

He hissed and kept her lips occupied from talking by taking them with his own. His palm felt warm against her lower back as he pulled her even closer. For a moment, she allowed herself to forget everything. She was never the kitchen wench, just a woman who wanted him; and he was never a Divine General, just a man who desired her. Lost in his every touch, she has never felt so free, her body pinned down the bedding with his own, perfectly fitting together. In their final hours, she eagerly accepted all that he had to give her, again and again. She cried for him, not the inevitable separation that would prove change was constant once they go out of the doors of that little house, the one she unconsciously considered home on certain days of her life.

The journey back to the castle was slow and steady, contrary to the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that ran through her mind and heart. Above all, the sights she took in evoked a strange sense of nostalgia. Her vacant eyes followed the movements of the autumn leaves as they clung to the tree branches, and even without the disturbance of the wind, fell to the earth constantly. Yasumasa’s horse would let out an occasional whinny, and she would pat its back in response, knowing that it would be their final trip together. Soon enough, they neared their destination, the end of their journey. The castle, tall and glinting in the light of dawn, stood in their field of vision from the woods. Yasumasa pulled in the reins, and they came to a halt. Minutes passed, but both of them stayed quiet and unmoving. 

“After we cross the gates, I will never speak to you again.” She felt proud of herself for breaking the silence with a voice filled with conviction. It gave her enough courage to adjust her seat so she could face him. The moment she did, her lips drew into a fond smile. She reached for the maple leaf that had gone stuck in his copper locks and pulled it away. It crumbled at the most gentle of her touches, fluttering in uneven fragments towards the ground. “I suppose this is goodbye, then.”

“...So, it is.”

“Have a good life, Lord Yasumasa. Be happy.”

His lips parted and closed, as though he wanted to say something but thought otherwise. It took a few more moments of silence before he finally replied, “You, too. Be happy.”

As she moved to alight, his arms tightened around her waist so slightly that she almost missed it. In the split second her eyes locked with his, the two of them found their way together in a desperate kiss that left her emotional and breathless. Seconds spent on pulling away solely to breathe were followed with another bittersweet meeting of their lips, over and over, as if the two of them were reluctant to part and were pouring all the words left unsaid with each caress. Her eyes began to water, but before tears could fall, she gathered enough courage and drew herself away from him. She alighted from the saddle and brushed off the invisible dirt from her kimono. Fallen leaves crumbled underneath her sandals, but without ever once looking back, she marched inside the castle grounds on her own.

With every step, a piece of her fell apart as she relinquished everything she had with him. 

Cruel, the hands of fate were cruel. It seemed that all they had gone through had not been enough, that even the days of their departure were one and the same. She had packed all of the little things she acquired over the years, each item tied with a memory she would hold dear for the rest of her life. A day before she was set to leave, she and Tadatsugu, whose wisdom she considered greater than anyone, looked after the plants on the castle grounds like they would on a regular day. In the midst of doing so, he thanked her for her service and the great cuisine she introduced the whole clan to. She went to town with her dear friends, Toramatsu and Tadakatsu, with whom she shared countless moments of laughter and tears over the years, and who respected her silent decision to keep all of the things she wanted under wraps to herself. Finally, she visited Ieyasu before sunset to express all the gratitude she had for him. In the Shogun’s grand library, a copy of her recipe book was placed neatly in one of the shelves at nightfall. True to her word, she did not seek Yasumasa again, and neither did he.

She bowed in greeting to the few people who would accompany her on the journey back to Kyoto and proceeded to wave everyone goodbye, ready to go home. She passed by Yasumasa and his men preparing to leave. From her peripheral vision, she noticed him pause in his stacking of his luggage to train his eyes on her every movement. The sight of him awakened her thoughts of the impossibility that it could have been the two of them who would be off to Tatebayashi that day. The roads they would take were in the opposite directions of each other, that was the way their circumstances were always meant to be. 

An unexpected gift waited for her in the palanquin. With a smile, she picked up the arrangement of bright red chrysanthemums and boarded inside. After the curtains were drawn and they departed, the mask she wore for so long finally shattered. She clamped her hand over her mouth to prevent any sound from escaping the four corners of the small space as tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped on the scarlet flowers on her lap. She wept at the knowledge that the moment he would open his food compartment in the middle of his journey, he would find a package of chestnut manju wrapped intricately with the pristine white handkerchief he once owned, each piece made with her best wishes for his life and eternal happiness.

In a little house on the outskirts of Mikawa, a garden once filled with the most colorful flowers turned bleak as they wilted through the passage of many seasons. In time, mysterious red spider lilies sprung in their place in such large numbers, it prompted the villagers to forlornly believe that it was either a place where someone had passed away, or where lovers had parted, never to meet again.

Beyond grateful to @photoproses reading through my initial draft and brainstorming with me!

Happy Mid-Autumn Festival (and Friday the 13th)! 🎑

Thank you for reading this story! 🍁

春夏秋冬 | Shunkashūtō [AO3]

lit. spring, summer, autumn, winter

春 || Heartstrings (Tokugawa Ieyasu/MC)

夏 || Sunkissed (Honda Tadakatsu/MC)

秋 || Crossroads (Sakakibara Yasumasa/MC)

| 秋 | Destiny [Crossroads Alternate Ending]

冬 || ???

Ichigo Daifuku's Masterlist

[vermiculus-incipiens]

OOC INFORMATION:

What’s your name? Cleo

Preferred pronouns: she/her

Timezone: CET

IC INFORMATION:

Character Name: James Fleamont Amias Potter With names such as Euphemia and Fleamont, his parents really wanted their son to have a less ancient name. They had quarrelled over possible options (one of such being John to James terror because he could have shared a name with the John bloody Lennon!) and finally settled for James. As his mother argued, it has a nice ring to it and was historical enough that he could never face any pureblooded elitist discrimination over it. They did add more traditional names as his second and third since they felt it was a necessity.

What’s a hobby or pastime that your character enjoys?: James can be found doing anything and everything for as long as he is being active. If he is not stationary he’s good. That means flying on his broom, hiking in the Highlands, strolling through Muggle London or meeting for a cuppa (or a pint) with his friends are all very valid ways of spending his free time. Any activity that keeps him moving is what he needs to stay sane, however, with Lily’s pregnancy James is all the more content to spend his days prepping the house for a child. He has found immense pleasure in setting the nursery and putting together the crib without the use of magic. He’s settling down into the role of a father, something that feels is so much more important the closer they are to meeting their child and it’s helping him mature even more. And maybe, just maybe, Harry is going to be falling asleep to James reading him transmutation textbooks instead of fairy tales.

Do you have any preferred ships or anti-ships?: Would I be joining such a group if I didn’t like Jily?

What do you think your character’s Boggart would be? If their greatest fear isn’t something that could easily take a solid form, what is it? Why?: Tw:accident As a child growing up in an old magical house, James has had a misfortune of seeing several boggarts. In fact, around his seventh birthday, the Potters actually had a huge problem with one that kept reappearing in his very own closet for close to two weeks. It kept scaring him, especially at night, because even though he knew what it was, a magical creature set on showing him his biggest fears was not exactly something he could just ignore and go to sleep. But as a child, he used to see all the regular things. Snakes and spiders and then an occasional bloodied pirate. Until one of their neighbours died in a freak accident. Dorothea Hayward was in her forties when she misstepped on a stair and fell down two floors breaking her neck in the process. It reverberated strongly within the Potter’s household because she was Euphemia’s best friend and their most frequent visitor. She also used to babysit James whenever the need arose and she always baked the most tooth-rottingly sweet pies. To be honest, she was more of an aunt to him than his actual aunts were. He was eight when he finally understood what death meant and around that same time realised that his parents were much older than regular parents were meant to be. It is normal for a child to get separation anxiety at a certain point in life, but his turned into a regular trauma. He couldn’t sleep at night and when he did, he’d wake up screaming for them after having seen various visions of their demise. It lessened slightly after he actually went to school, but he always worried that every goodbye could be the last one. Fortunately, the school was more or less void of boggarts because he didn’t exactly fancy the idea of his schoolmates seeing him shatter at the sole thought of becoming an orphan. Now, as he’s all grown up and fighting a war, he hasn’t seen a single boggart in years but if he did it would most likely resemble a tragedy striking their family — Lily losing their child, Lily dying or any of the boys doing so while he is unable to save them.

What’s your character’s biggest pet peeve?: James cannot understand how some people can choose to be neutral in this war. It’s impossible for him to believe that there are others so absolutely uncaring about the whole thing and deciding to stray clear of the conflict. Obviously, he cannot understand how people can think other’s so far below them to start actively targeting them, but somehow the fact, that there are blood purists out there is much more comprehensible than the existence of those who claim to be neutral. Especially, since no one can stay untouched by the war in the long run.

What would you consider to be an eccentricity of your character?: Despite having spent his whole adult life actively fighting in a war, James had never stopped being loyal to a fault. He values loyalty and friendship above all else and is physically unable to distrust those closest to him. In general, he either trusts you completely or believes you are a Death Eater even though there are so many shades of grey in real life, It, to some extent, has to do with his disbelief in not choosing a side. You are either with him or against and that’s naive, but it is something that allows him to stay sane.

What is/was your character’s favorite subject in school? Why?: Transfiguration became James’ favourite subject the minute Minerva McGonagall introduced herself to the class. She was an imposing witch, one that simply demanded respect and would not have it any other way, but boy, was she fun to mess with. It simply became a thing of honour for him to make McGonagall crack with laughter over one of his pranks, and while he never achieved that goal, he was certain that the occasional sudden glint in her eyes was more than just a reflection of light. It helped matters greatly that James simply had a knack for transfiguration and loved to study it, quickly moving to more advanced spells and techniques while at school and then further exploring the subject after graduation.

What time of day is your character’s favorite? What time of year?: James loves early mornings. While he is also a person who enjoys sleeping almost as much as flying, it might be surprising how much he enjoys seeing a day be born. Holding a cup of coffee in one hand and stroking their ginger cat with another, he likes to just look out of the window of their soon-to-be-born baby and relax. In moments like this, he can imagine having no worries while at the same time bracing himself for the incoming day. Of course, it’s not every day that he wakes up early enough, but it’s definitely a frequent occurrence.

What’s your character’s Patronus? If they can’t conjure one, what would it be if they could? Why?: When James had first conjured a corporeal Patronus, he hadn’t been surprised to see the mighty deer. He had heard before that the spell usually took on a form identical to that of a person’s animagus (however, most books said it the other way around as teenagers shouldn’t be able to master that kind of magic) and yet he still felt proud. A deer Patronus indicates that the wizard has a strong intuition, especially towards anything dangerous. Deers are also presented as majestic animals, filled with grace and gentleness. The meanings associated with the deer combine both soft, gentle qualities with strength and determination. And he’s not ashamed of that symbolism.

What is your character’s biggest vice (bad habit or immoral craving)?: James can’t stay put. There’s a huge reservoir of energy deep inside of him that needs to find an outlet regularly and that usually means he doesn’t stop fidgeting or else he gets cranky and can explode. He bores easily and needs constant stimulation. That also sometimes can mean he rushes headfirst into action before thinking things through, which had caused him a few mistakes and injuries in the past. He had to put actual effort into changing that side of himself and he had been somewhat successful (a part of his growing up process) in slowing down, but not entirely and definitely not always. However, it does still require effort and when emotions take over him he loses that control.

Is your character an introvert or extrovert? How well do they handle social situations?: As a child James used to crave attention. While his parents loved him and made sure he wasn’t lacking in anything they were old and tired and most of the time he was left alone to his own devices simply because they couldn’t keep up. Going to Hogwarts was a dream come true to him because not only could he finally start learning magic, but he was also surrounded by hundreds of people around his age. And James easily thrives while surrounded by others. In a social situation he likes to make sure everyone feels included. No one can be left alone or feel down when there are others in the room. James will make sure of that.

What is your character’s diet like? What’s his or her favorite food?: There is a lot of food that James doesn’t like. He’s beyond picky, something that always drove his mother mad, but he’s stubborn and always had been and if he says that he will not eat this or that – won’t. And it’s not about him not eating things that could be considered garbage, either. It’s not about only stuffing his mouth with expensive and good in quality ingredients, but rather the few dishes he likes the taste of, and he can live solely on those. In fact, if faced with a necessity (or under no supervision) he’d be happy to eat the same thing seven days in a raw. For as long as there is no corn in it or pineapple, or it’s a pizza with nothing else, but pepperoni and mushrooms.

How do you think your character’s psychological issues have manifested and changed your character up to this point?: James doesn’t really notice any physical changes in himself. When he looks into the mirror, he doesn’t notice the wrinkles that are showing on his face and shouldn’t have place on a twenty-year-old or how his jaw is tight whenever he’s not smiling. In fact, he himself tries really hard not to change too much. It’s a small rebellion on his part as he is not allowing the war to force itself onto his person. He refuses to stop trusting people to keep a grip on anything he recognizes from the life before the war. Or actually, his life before he took a part in this war since he was still at school when it started. But he’s quieter now. He still jokes and messes around, but it’s more forced since he knows it’s inappropriate. There are people dying every day because of the war and if he keeps joking it’s like he’s mocking their sacrifice. But some people want to pretend that nothing has changed, so he tries to bring smiles to people’s faces during particularly tedious meetings. And usually, for a moment, it feels like everything is good with the world again. He really wants the war to end, even if it’s hard to imagine. The war has been going on for so many years now, that perhaps a world without it is impossible. It’s wearing him down… Making him anxiously reach for his wand at the slightest of rustles and observe his surroundings even if he’s somewhere supposedly safe. He doesn’t want this kind of life for his child, for his wife and for his extended family and friends. He has already lost so much to the war. Both his and Lily’s parents were dead and that meant, that were anything to happen to the two of them, their child wouldn’t even have grandparents that could take care of him. This war needed to end and it needed to end soon.

Give us a headcanon for your character. Anything is acceptable.: James would love to have a huge family. At least four kids and preferably with as small age gaps as possible so no child of his could ever feel lonely. But with Harry surprising them, they can’t really fulfill that particular dream so he will make sure that his son is never alone.

[sumeshi-t]

higanbana;

A/N: Okay, a bit late I guess but I started writing this 19th July. Didn't make it in time. Also I forgot which blog I saw the prompts from lmao this is also kinda self-indulgent but hey what’s the use of making self-inserts for your self right

Pairing: OikawaxReader

Wordcount: 3,303 trash

Genre: angst??? try-hard angst yeah im sorry got lost in how to end it i--

*higanbana = red spider lilies. they are associated with final goodbyes, and legend has it that these flowers grow wherever people part ways for good.

tagging some cute lil haikyuu friends :( @floofwrites @akaashit-baeji @sportanime-maniac

•》》》》》》》••《《《《《《《《•●•》》》》》》》••《《《《《《《•

"(y/n)?" Iwaizumi's voice sounded strained, tired even, as he spoke to you through his phone's mouthpiece. You ask what was bothering him on such a fine weekend afternoon. 

"It's been... bugging me for days now, it's such a pain in the ass." 

You hum, taking your time chewing the chips you've put in your mouth. You were binge watching movies on your free day when he called. "Well, you know, that isn't really part of my job. But congratulations on devirginizing your ass, I guess." 

Iwaizumi stutters, and you could clearly see the image of horror and embarrassment on his face in your mind. "T-That's not what I meant!" He clears his throat, before continuing. "Just... I feel like playing again. And I think I've become rusty for the past year."

He hears you gasp, and he wasted no more time in setting a meeting place before completely hanging up on you.

Warmth spreads throughout your chest at his sudden call and the reason why he wanted to meet up suddenly made you giddy. 

You and Iwaizumi go a long way back—way back middle school. By the time you graduated from college, he finally got accepted to play and be part of the National team. So you mustered enough courage and confidence, gathered some experience before applying for the team's physical therapist.

Luckily though, you got hired, and even received compliments from the coach saying that they have never seen the players perform to "such an extent".

It was a fun experience, the team had a great run during those times but one day, Iwaizumi decided to quit. Until now, you never knew why, but soon after he did, you also bid farewell to the team and began working in hospitals or nursing facilities.

So hearing that he wanted to play again set you in a good mood; you even start rummaging through your old files for the training regimen you used to give him, and brought it along with you.

You passed by a convenience store, grabbed two bottles of a light alcoholic drink, the celebratory mood getting to you.

Until you felt utter disappointment, confusion, and even a little annoyed at seeing who was there on the bench, waiting.

"(y/n)-chan~!" 

It was him. 

You suddenly wished that aliens were real so they could just take him. 

"You still call me that? Stop it. Where's Hajime?" You still weren't sitting, tempted to throw the bottles to his good-looking face before he could answer your question. 

Oikawa pouted, scooting over to make space beside him for you on the bench. "First name basis? You two that close already?" 

You didn't even try to understand the underlying tones that statement had. "None of your business. Now if you're not gonna tell me where he is, I'm gonna have to leave. Nice seeing you," 

As you turned around to leave, Oikawa stops you by saying, "I had him call you so we could meet here. So obviously, he's not coming." 

You hesitated, but with a deep sigh, you wordlessly made your way to the bench, placing all the stuff you brought between you and the brunette. He looks down at what you did, and when you weren't looking at him, Oikawa pops open both bottles with a little trick, trying not to smile that you decided to stay. He places your drink next to you, as he holds his own and takes a sip.

Oikawa just looks at you in silence, as your eyes focus on the red spider lilies before you; lined in a straight path, some surrounding the tree nearby. Both your face and his was unreadable, and when you couldn't bear the silence much longer, you took a breath before speaking.

"You didn't have to do that." your eyes narrowed, still refusing to look at Oikawa. 

"Do what?" the way he was feigning innocence got on your nerves a bit but you decided to settle things as mature as adults could be.

"...this whole thing, making Hajime set this up. There's actually, absolutely, no need for it."

"I just need an excuse to hang out with you." He answered immediately, gauging your reaction. Oikawa takes another sip of his drink, "It's been a while since we last talked, (y/n)-chan. I tried texting or calling you but I figured you probably changed numbers."

You bit your bottom lip, looking down on your feet. You take a single gulp of the alcohol and leaned back on your seat, trying to at least relax and feel more comfortable in your own space.

"Why? Felt bored?" You finally spare him a quick glance, and your ex had a long leg over the other, both hands now inside the pockets of his jersey jacket. There was a small flag of Japan by the chest and only then did you remember that he was now also a member of the volleyball National team; perhaps even their captain—you didn't know. Ever since leaving the team, you didn't bother catching up to any news about them. 

When Oikawa didn't answer your question, you mumble, "I heard... you were doing good." 

He shrugs, "More or less... and you?" The brunette sighs, scratching the back of his head. He turned to you with a  slight pout, which you couldn't tear your eyes off of. "Why are we talking like we have sticks up our asses? Iwa-chan sure is rubbing off on you real good." Oikawa whines, his nose stuck in the air after grunting. 

You didn't know why but you found it ridiculous, that you were reminded of the times when you were younger. A chuckle escapes your lips, making his brows raise at your sudden reaction. "God, are you six or something? Trying to be all cute and whiny?"

Oikawa smirks, "So first it's 'nice seeing you'; and now you're saying I'm cute? (y/n)-chan, I'm very flattered. But there's no need to tell me what I already know." He even had the audacity to wink at you and stick his tongue out.

You lightly punch his shoulder, rolling your eyes at his display of narcissism. "Hah, some things... really don't change." 

Oikawa's short burst of playful attitude came to a progressive stop, his calm demeanor slowly resurfacing. "Yeah... guess you could say that."

He then rummages through the files you brought along for Iwaizumi, and he hums in acknowledgment. "So you did become a PT." Oikawa was mumbling to himself, and you didn't even try to take back the folder he was holding. 

'It's better to have minimal physical contact as much as possible.'

You notice his brows scrunching together, and assumed that he was trying to read through the small fonts you used, as Oikawa wasn't wearing his glasses. But what you didn't know was that he was actually glaring at Iwaizumi's photo.

He returns the folder to you, "Think you can be my therapist?" Then, his other hand pats his bad knee thrice.

The question caught you off-guard; just as quick as the good memories flashed by, the bad and painful ones that replaced it were the hardest to ignore. It triggered the memory that began the downfall of your relationship with Oikawa.

See, you and him had made the relationship work through  some similarities and despite of your differences.

You were understanding and supportive of his passion and commitment to his volleyball career. You went to his games and cheered him on no matter the results were; when you had free time, you'd wait until night for him to be done with practice. Meanwhile, he never felt as though you were dragging him down; he even learned to appreciate classic rom-coms because of you and had some of your favorites next to his sci-fi stash; and of course, he fueled the drive you had for achieving your dreams of becoming a doctor.

The amount of selfies you've taken with him is unreal; your gallery also full of memes you both send to Iwaizumi even during dead hours of the night. You hated his gut sometimes, and he doesn't like it when even you nag at him; you were both stubborn, had a little pride here and there—but you knew you felt the happiest when with him, and he always told you that he felt the same.

College came. You were in different universities, but was in the same one as Iwaizumi's. When you were still a freshman, you still had some time to spare; meet up after practice, or him waiting for your class to end. 

It was interesting: you knew one way or another, a match between your university and his would be inevitable.

And Oikawa's team always won. 

But as the semesters went on, both of you spent less and less time together, talked more on occasion than how it used to be. 

For you that was fine, you understood that careers must be prioritized than relationships because both of you were at that age which would decide your individual futures. 

Sometimes you'd get jealous at some of your friends when they're gushing about their own adventures in the romance department that you even mockingly ask yourself if you're actually single.

The relationship just came to a point where you felt like you were the only one trying, making it an effort to meet or hang out.

You had to admit to yourself: it was tiring. And all these, you had no choice but to rant it all out on Iwaizumi—which was part of the reason why you two became much closer. It was completely platonic for you though, no doubt about that.

There was a particular match, you finally had some spare time from your busy schedule and brain-draining program, that you managed to watch it. Though, you were a little late, having arrived halfway through. 

Every step you took closer to the stands, the more you became eager to feel the rush of adrenaline through your veins, of having your throat going dry from screaming and cheering—

But you didn't expect that you'd instead have to swallow a lump in your throat and push back tears. 

When you arrived, the first thing you saw was your boyfriend, Oikawa, lying on the floor of the court, clutching his knee, teeth gritted, sweat and probably some tears on his pained face. And Iwaizumi, on the other side of the net, frozen in shock at what was happening to his bestest friend.

Next thing you knew, you were in the hospital.

It was a bad fall they said.

Probably the court was too slippery. A little misstep.

The worst was that maybe it was the beginning of the end of his career. 

The following days, weeks, weren't really the best. You could say bad things turned to worse things. 

The doctor was a bit too pessimistic for your liking, saying that Oikawa might never be able to use that knee again for volleyball, post-surgery. 

"Since when did you know about this? Was it after the Karasuno match? Or during your freshman year in college? Tooru... please..." you asked him, as he stared ahead at the wall, the usual cheerful dork now seemed to have aged ten more years at the hurtful words of his own doctor. 

Oikawa didn't answer. He didn't know how to answer and he felt that everything came crashing down as he began building his walls higher, keeping everything and everyone out—even you.

You reached out to caress his knee, and you noted the flinch he made under your touch. "Hey... I know it's hard right now, but... trust me, I don't think what the doctor said was true." You pursed your lips; still no reaction from him. 

"I mean... this is why rehabilitation medicine exists! I believe that this could still be worked on and you'll be in your best state in a few month's time, Tooru." You were speaking from your little therapist-to-be heart, the passion, the blood, sweat and tears you've shed so far serving as fuel to strengthen your resolve in wanting to help heal your boyfriend.

You pulled your hand away when Oikawa let out a scoff. 

He gave you a ridiculing look, "What do you know? I don't see you having any problem with your knee."

"T-Tooru... I—"

"Why? Just because you're a student now, you honestly think you could be my therapist?"

Were you hurt? Very. But then there was a voice in your head saying that Oikawa was in much more pain than you could imagine. And so you waited. Patiently. Diligently. 

You didn't want to let him see you crumble at his mere words that only stemmed from his self-loathing. This isn't him, this isn't him. It was your new mantra. 

You could only take so much. 

You still end up crying it out on Iwaizumi. He was able to provide you with the head space you could breathe in. You didn't realize that Oikawa could sense this. That was your mistake, you knew that but only after the split.

"Why don't you leave me alone? All I see from you now is pity. Guess what, (y/n), I don't need any of that from you. Right? I don't make you happy anymore right? You think I didn't know you've already found someone better?" 

This was his mistake. 

The memory of your tears, of your trembling hands, and voice breaking—still stung in his mind. 

"Not once did I pity you, Tooru, because that's not what you need. All this time, I've endured every word you hurled at me like I'm your least favorite person in the world." You sniffed, swallowed. 

"But if that's what's going to make you better, make you happier—then I'll go. I hope you understand how much I've exceeded my limits, only for you to throw me out over and over again."

You gripped hard on the doorknob, and said your final words. "And leave Iwa-kun out of this. I didn't think you would actually doubt a friend and your own girlfriend." You bitterly smile, causing the tears that pooled in your lids to fall.

"Maybe I was wrong to assume that I could become your stronghold through this. I'm sorry for disappointing you, Tooru. Get well soon,"

"And we never talked after that." he murmured, eyes reddening, jaw clenched in an attempt to fight his own tears from falling. 

And you?

You've downed half of your bottle in one go. 

You refuse to look at him because you knew your heart's wounds would reopen and be like onions to your eyes. You let the alcohol spread to make you numb. More, more, you said.

"It's embarrassing but... since you left I have no one to talk to. The days I spent in the hospital was a lot bearable when you used to visit me." 

You took another swig of the alcohol. Another bitter smile  on your lips more bitter than what was burning your throat. "Then don't talk to me now like you're coming back."

"Don't you want me back?"

Your heart ached at his question. You bit your lip, sniffing, trying to find the right answer—your heart wanted yes, but your mind wanted no. "Did I even mean anything to you? Was that all I was to you—just another person you could talk to?"

Oikawa winced at your words. "(y/n), I—I... of course not! You're worth more than that to me!" there was a shaky exhale, and a quick intake of air right after. You figured that he was choking on his own fought back sobs. "I... I'm sorry but I just miss you so, so, so much."

This time, you tried looking him in the eye—and all you could see was a mirror of your own pain. His ears were already red, indicating the emotions he was holding back on you—a trait of his that you can't seem to forget.

"There's a difference between missing someone and missing having someone, Oikawa." He flinched at how much you tried to put distance between the two of you for calling him that way. Oikawa tried to answer but you continued, "I, for one, miss you because I..." you gasped, letting the tears stream down your face. "Because I never stopped loving you, Tooru."

Oikawa was frozen in his seat, watching you as you harshly wiped tear streaks from your face, finishing your drink then gathering your things and standing up to leave. You quickly walked away without looking back, and that was the only time the brunette finally found how to move his limbs. He was so at a loss that he forgot his own unfinished drink on the bench.

"W-Wait, (y/n)-chan! (y/n)," Oikawa chased after you, unable to control his own strength once he grabbed your arm, making all your things fall to the grass. You pull your arm away but he holds you by the shoulders.

"Why are you leaving? I'm not going to push you away anymore, (y/n)." His grip on you got tighter, as if he was restraining himself from pulling you close to him and capturing your body in his. 

You look down, avoiding his stare, seeing red spider lilies once more by your feet where your things were scattered. 

His hands slide down to grasp your hands in his. They're still as warm as I remember them to be. 

"...Real feelings don't just go away."

"So why did you let me leave?" Your lips trembled, voice coming out in a whisper, voice cracking in the end. 

"(y/n), I know that what I did and said was wrong. I let my pride get in the way between us; I let my sadness eat me away." His hands were shaking now, a bit sweaty too. He sniffed, "You saw the messed up parts of me and stayed. But I was a jerk, a big asshole, for pushing you away. It was selfish of me... I... I didn't see that my in-actions would cause us to fall apart."

To your surprise, he pulled you in, burying his face near the crook of your neck. You could feel something wet seep into your shirt. "My biggest mistake was thinking I could live without you."

"But... I can see you're doing well now without me. Because you only waited this long to try and reach me? Why now when you could've done it before?" 

Oikawa hugs you tighter, shaking his head. "I just don't want to lose you; not again, not anymore. I love you (y/n), I never did stop."

Soon, he pulls away, eyes searching yours. You look up at him, and he wipes the tears from your face. "Can I be selfish one last time? Please give me another chance—I'll make it up to you."

You all but gently removed his touch from yours, and suddenly the air around you grew cold. 

"Tooru, I... I love you, I miss you, I forgive you. It was nice meeting you but... I don't think I'm ready to open my heart for you again. Maybe not now. Maybe not ever. Because I've made up my mind long ago to love you from afar."

You smiled softly and used the back of your hand to wipe his tears. Then, you stood on your tiptoes and placed a peck to his nose before turning away. 

Oikawa could only watch in silence at your retreating figure, wondering if this was the best thing for one or both of you. Everything now was even more unsure for him; except for the fact that a new-found determination sprang in his chest. 

Oikawa Tooru was going to win your heart back, no matter what it takes.

[starlight-matrix]

Nabari no Ou 15th Anniversary!

@nabaridays wrote up some prompts to celebrate the 15th anniversary of NnO and as it’s my favorite manga series of all time, I had to join the fun!

Unfortunately, I wasn’t aware of the prompts’ existence until we were about four or five days in, so instead of starting in the middle of the prompt list, I wrote all mine up in a Google Doc and decided to do a big masterpost in the day of the anniversary. And here it is! Beware for a lot of reading, this shit’s at 4.1k words.

- Catherine Lynne / catielynnelove.tumblr.com Fan of NnO since 2012 -

DAY 01 (Jun. 3rd) - Favorites

My favorite character has always been Miharu, though I do struggle to choose between him and Yoite. I have always been fascinated by his apathetic nature, the way he uses is as a shield while loving the people in his life so incredibly fiercely. He appears neutral and uncaring, but the moment you look beneath the surface, you recognize that he would give his life for those he loves in a heartbeat - and has shown this on multiple occasions.

I also love his development over the series. His apathetic facade slowly falls out of use after he meets Yoite, and he learns that feeling your emotions is important, that letting the people you love know when you’re happy or sad or pissed the fuck off is important.

In the first few chapters we as readers honestly can’t tell a whole heck of a lot from what we’re shown of Miharu. He’s plain, uninteresting, even to us (unless you’re the kind of person who automatically reads between the lines, but let’s face it, not a lot of people are). But by the end of the series, he’s such a vibrant and expressive character that I marvel at Kamatani’s ability to drastically a character’s personality in a way that feels so gradual and natural.

Another reason Miharu is my favorite character is because I tend to see parts of myself in him, as many people do with the characters they like most. I can understand and relate to his apathy in the beginning of the story. His memory of his parents deaths is so deeply traumatic and that the very fibre of his being (objectively, Shinra) locked the memory, and most of his childhood, away for years to come. Because at that time in his life, the pain of it all would’ve broken him.

(E/N: I now remember that Asahi actually erased Miharu’s memories of that event, but I think a good chunk of this will still make sense, and I’m lazy, so I’m not gonna edit it out. Enjoy.)

Emotions, especially ones he didn’t understand - or couldn’t understand, like his feelings toward his childhood that didn’t quite make sense because of his augmented memories - were simply so overwhelming that Miharu pretty much just went “lol don’t wanna deal with those so yEET now they’re gone” and locked them up in a box to be dealt with at a much, much later date. That speaks to me, as a person who has struggled with depression, and the fact that he finds a way to recover from this is very reassuring.

Overall, Miharu is a very complex and realistic character that undergoes more vivid character development than I’ve seen in almost any western media. I love him very much.

DAY 02 (Jun. 4th) - What got you into Nabari no Ou?

This is actually quite a funny story, so buckle up for a wild ride y’all!

When I was 12 years old (God, this sounds like the setup for an angsty villain backstory), my family had a housemate who liked anime. One day I came to beg for him to let me use his video game console to play Little Big Planet and he happened to be watching the second half of the anime - I distinctly remember the second Alya Academy episode being the first one I ever saw. It was my first anime experience outside of a Studio Ghibli film, and to this day remains close to my heart, even though the anime adaptation itself really… just… well, it sucked.

After I finished watching it with him, I went and found the first half of the series on Netflix (back when Netflix did the whole send-a-DVD-to-your-house thing) and watched the whole thing from episode one. And then very quickly became obsessed. I probably watched the anime four times in two months. I had every single one of the English VAs names memorized. I was dedicated.

Eventually I looked up the manga online, and HOO BOI, this is the point where my Nabari no Ou origin story becomes ridiculously hilarious (and stupid).

When I read the manga, I was disturbed by the idea of Kouichi being a villain-type character, as he had been one of my favorites when I watched the anime. And, at the time I was first reading the manga, the apparent “ending” from my perspective was the scene where Kouichi takes the newly-made hijutsu scroll from a bleeding, dying Thobari.

Looking back, I figure the website I was reading it on just didn’t have all the chapters, or perhaps I had happened to start reading while the manga was on hiatus, but at that age I didn’t know of or understand either of those concepts and accepted that sad scene as the end of the manga.

And as such, I wrote the manga off as terrible and ignored it for years.

Flash forward to about 2014, two or three years after writing the manga off as a Fat Mistake, I finally decided to give it another shot. And BY GOD did I cry reading it a second time. Whether it was the two years of maturity, my experiences during those two years, or simply the fact that I read the whole thing that time - I was sobbing in my desk chair over NnO.

It was the most beautiful story I’d ever read. Even now, after five more years of reading beautiful manga, Nabari no Ou remains my absolute favorite, and likely always will.

DAY 03 - What are your favorite scenes?

I’ve always had a soft spot for the Alya Academy arc, even back when all I’d shunned the manga and all I had to go off of was the inaccurate anime adaptation, simply because of how well the character relationships are shown during those sequences (this is one thing the anime did really well in my opinion, actually - Shijima’s verbal reflection on how humans connect to each other and how important those connections are is stunning). Not to mention the displays of how the characters care for one another regardless of what side of the war they’re technically on.

I’ve always loved Subaru as a character, too. I find her motivations to be very realistic and really quite understandable, and I love the little easter eggs in later chapters that imply the Kouga ninja are helping Miharu’s side of the fight even though they’re not visibly involved. The scores from the Alya Academy arc are especially chilling and memorable as well.

Another of my favorites are the chapters following Miharu and Yoite’s escape from the Kairoshuu and their travels afterward. They feel mundane and peaceful, yet blanketed with this layer of grief, like we’re all aware that at any moment their calm could be destroyed and lost forever.  

The scenes about Yoite’s gender were very special to me as a teen still learning about the LGBT spectrum and how different people could be, and the scene of Yoite bandaging Miharu’s aching feet? My heart literally swells every single time I think about it! It was so sweet and loving, my fragile fangirl heart does flips when I read over it.

DAY 04 (Jun. 6th) - Photos & Fashion

I like to think that Miharu keeps every photograph he’s taken and has them stored safely away in a box or chest or drawer. In my experience, people who have lost loved ones tend to treasure photographs, more than someone who hasn’t experienced loss might. A lot of times a photo is all someone has of someone they loved outside of a memory, and contrary to popular belief, if you don’t look at someone - physically or in a photo - for a long time, you do forget how they look.

Miharu has lost many people: his parents, Yoite, Kouichi and Shijima, even Shinra, in a way - so I imagine this observation would be doubly true of him. Especially if he has Yukimi as an example to go by - pretty sure that guy has kept every photograph he’s ever taken in his life!

(As far as fashion goes, I honestly think everyone’s fashion in NnO is horrendous, so...)

DAY 05 (Jun. 7th) - Favorite character design in the series?

Gosh, it’s hard to choose, I love so many of them! Gau is fascinating to me because I figure his hair must be difficult to draw, with all those little curls and cowlicks. Shijima’s too, with the way it frames her face and leaves just a tiny little opening for her eyes to peer out at you through.

But, as with most of these character-specific prompts, my answer will have to be Miharu. The idea that Asahi reshaped his face to look more like her own when she used Shinra to save him is very interesting, and the fact that Kamatani manages to draw Miharu in a way that both clearly shows their resemblance to one another and establishes Miharu as his own character with his own unique features and gestures and ways of carrying himself is incredible.

Miharu’s stance are also very telling to me as a reader: he often stands loosely, almost lazily, as if he really couldn’t care less about where he is and what they’re doing, which rings true for a good chunk of the story. It matches well with his (mostly) fake apathy and kind of makes him seem bland and boring as a character. But as the story progresses, he becomes more open, shows affection more easily. He’s quicker to stand up for his beliefs and the people he loves. All of this shows in the way he carries himself throughout later chapters.

DAY 06 (Jun. 8th) - Favorite location in the series?

The Shimizu estate, without a doubt.

The secluded area, the forest in every direction, the house itself - it’s all so beautiful to me. Ot gives me the feeling of rural Japan and more traditional Japanese living. Even after the house has burned away and all that’s left is a field full of Spider Lilies, there’s a kind of sober beauty lying over the place, made even more intense when Shirogamon stands watch over it.

DAY 07 (Jun. 9th) - Positive Influences

The thing that I preach about the most when I talk about NnO to others is the fact that the series has no absolutes. There is no true right or wrong, no clear villains nothing that actually puts our heroes above anyone else. Which, in a way, means that are really are no heroes in the story at all, which is a very rare and interesting way to tell a story.

The entire series deal with a greyscale in morality. There’s no bad vs. good or moral vs. immoral, just your own goals and people whose goals don’t match yours. Opinions and ambitions differ vastly even between people on the same side of the fight - Thobari and Raimei want to seal the Shinrabanshou, Kouichi wants to use it to defeat his immortality, Miharu even changes side on a few occasions - yet they all work together together to achieve their own very different ends.

Even those who can be coded as villain on the surface have something motivating them to do what they do, and more often than not, those motivations are understandable to the reader and actually have you sympathizing with the character. Hattori wanted to rid the world of the need for war. Subaru wanted to save the person she loved most in the world. Yamase wanted to win his family back (I think? It’s been a while).

Even Katarou and Kannuki, two characters who have practically nothing to redeem them, at least have motivations that are pretty damn realistic. Kannuki wanted to capitalize on Kouga’s Forbidden Art and use it to grow Alya Academy’s profit and power through the surface world. A Lot of people are like this in real life, and while you may not sympathize with him over it, it is a motivation that is true of our own world as well as the one in this story.

An Katarou, as far as I understand, is obsessed with Shinra herself, rather than the hijutsu and the power it holds. He manipulated hundreds of people and hundreds of situations to suit his own needs, then literally got himself killed - just to see her one last time. And… yeah, I don’t think anyone really sympathized with him, but hey, I can see what pushed him to do what he did.

To me, Katarou is symbolic of someone with an addiction - their mind is so clouded by a need for some specific thing that all other human aspects of that person just fall away, and they’ll do whatever it takes to get what they want.

I also appreciate how the characters handle their differences throughout the story. Their honesty with each other, the way they support each other even when they’re all heading in opposite direction. The Alya Academy arc (I really love this arc okay) especially shows this, in how the ninja from Banten and Kairoshuu - two very opposing factions - fight together against the Kouga without hesitation, despite the fact that in most other situations, they’d be fighting each other.

It’s a wonderful thing to promote: that even though people might have different opinions or goals, it doesn’t mean they have to hate each other.

DAY 08 (Jun. 10th) - Favorite Extra?

I am IN LOVE with the little between-chapter 4koma pieces, especially the ones from the Alya Academy arc (God, I’ve talked so much about this arc). Subaru fantasizing about Miharu being her little brother and making her birthday cake? Adorable. Miharu and Yoite getting stuck behind a bookshelf and terrifying an opponent by asking for help out? Hilarious.

I love that Kamatani put those in, both as a peek into happier aspects of the world he created, and as a way to add a bit of sun in between the much darker, much sadder chapters.

DAY 09 (Jun. 11th) - Headcanons

I’m not much of a headcanon person, to be honest, and especially not with this series. It feels off to me, to try and add to something that’s already so perfect. However, I do agree with a couple of headcanons I’ve seen - particularly the ones theorizing that Yukimi is aro-ace. It makes a lot of sense to me in how his character is portrayed when nearly every other character in the series has a romantic match, and as an ace person myself, more representation is always welcome.

DAY 10 (Jun. 12th) - Alternate Universe

I once started (and quickly abandoned out of shame) a very cringey, very out-of-character fanfic, in which the Nabari world didn’t exist and all the characters meet through natural means in the surface world. Other than that, however, I’ve not put much thought into Nabari no Ou AUs.

But something I would LOVE to see is a crossover between NnO and Shimanami Tasogare, as the two stores canonically take place in the same location - NnO being in Banten, a fictional town  based on the real town of Onomichi, and Shimanami Tasogare being confirmed to take place in plain old Onomichi itself. It’s been a while since I’ve read Shimanami Tasogare, but I remember the leader/owner of the little house the cast gathers in as giving me a distinctly Nabari-world vibe, and I think it would be interesting to see the NnO characters react to a community like the one presented in Shimanami Tasogare.

(And also perhaps have some romantic relationships and sexualities proven canon. Perhaps.)

DAY 11 (Jun. 13th) - Favorite song from the OST?

It’s a firm tie between the opening theme and the second ending theme. I have every song in the OST memorized after years of hearing them day in and day out, but those two themes always give me this tingling nostalgic feeling, like rereading a book from your childhood or finding a toy as an adult that you’d thought was lost forever. The animation and symbolism in those themes are also very telling of the series and the character’s connections to each other (a bit obviously, at times), and the lyrics are special to me in a way I can’t describe. They’re precious to me, and  to me experience of NnO as a whole, considering I started with the anime first (a bad idea).

DAY 12 (Jun. 14th) - Are there any songs that make you think of NnO?

“Neopolitan Dreams” by Lisa Mitchell ( X ) ( X )

I once watched a cute Raimei/Kouichi AMV set to this song listened to the lyrics, I understood how the author had put them together. I very much feel like the lyrics echo Raimei’s thoughts on how Kouichi starts to act in later chapters, becoming more and more distant until he almost appears to be an antagonist rather than one of the perceived heroes. The song also makes me think of Raimei’s stubbornness and pride, her unwillingness to accept option besides her own conclusions until she’s had the full story and nothing less.

I can never get their faces out of my head while listening to this song, which I guess means the song reminds me more of Raimei and Kouichi than NnO in general, but it still counts, right?

DAY 13 (Jun. 15th) - Food

I’ve never really thought too hard on it, but now that I am, it’s actually very interesting to note how different characters use food - the Rokujo Okonomiyaki shop, in particular - to their advantage.

Thobari uses his (implied, before the start of the overall plot) regular visits to try and get Miharu to believe him about the Shinrabanshou and the Nabari world. Thobari uses the close proximity to explain his motives to Miharu, who physically cannot leave the situation, lest the food burn to a damn crisp (and I figure Naoko wouldn’t be pleased if that happened every time Thobari came in). He also very clearly uses this to keep tabs on Miharu when outside of a school setting where Miharu has no choice to be in Thobari’s sight, and later, as a way to either catch up on what’s going on in the Nabari world or - as in several cases - simply demand answers from Miharu.

Raimei uses the shop as a way to get closer to Miharu. She charms her way into getting free food (and sometimes, free lodging as well) and I assume her thinking is probably something on the lines of “Free Food + Spend Time With Miharu = Information on Where Raikou Might Be.” Of course, this likely isn’t her motive in later chapters, because, well, character development.

Food is also an important bonding thing for Yoite and Yukimi. In a lot of the scenes where we see Yoite and Yukimi in their home, they’re eating together, and I always took it as a display of their familial relationship - cooking dinner for Yoite the way a dutiful older sibling would for their younger sibling - thoughI doubt either of them would admit they’re like brothers. The significance of lemonade should also be noted for this topic - I could go on for ages about it.

(But I won’t unless people ask me to, because this piece is long enough already!)

I don’t have much memory of this scene being as big a deal in the manga as it was in the anime - but I also haven’t seen either in a while, so I could be wrong - but the birthday cake scene from the latter half of the anime left an impact on me even back when I’d only seen the anime, and it was the first thing that came to mind when I saw the prompt was “food.” Gau’s pride in the cake he made and his determination to get any kind of praise out of Yoite is very touching, especially when you take into account that Yoite literally saved Gau’s life, and that Gau knows this, as well.

The Kairoshuu - particularly Yukimi, Raikou, Gau, and Kazuho - are all shown bonding on more than one occasion at Kazuho and her husband’s sushi shop, and there is significance to those occasions in the rather heavy conversations they have during those visits. And there’s also the time Miharu cooked okonomiyaki for all the main Kairoshuu member after he’d first joined their clan - similar to how a recently hired employee would bring cookies for their new boss.

Food has a lot of significance in Nabari no Ou, no matter where you look.

DAY 14 (Jun. 16th) - Favorite village, and thoughts on the Forbidden Arts?

As far as morals and motivations go, I would have to choose Banten, as their (or at least Thobari’s) main opinion is that the Shinrabanshou shouldn’t be used because it throws off the balance of the universe. I definitely understand this opinion, because a lot of things can go wrong if the wrong kind of person is making wishes to Shinra and having them granted.

Although, I think that if anyone were to use the ability in a way that leaves the balance of the world intact, it would be Miharu, and this is even shown in the series itself. He doesn’t have the kind of greed or anger that would taint a person’s motivations when making their wishes, he just wants to do what is best for others- especially Yoite. Yoite is important to him, and therefore Yoite’s wish is also important to Miharu. And, as we see in later chapters, Miharu puts granting Yoite’s wish above even his own happiness. I feel I would make a similar decision were I in his shoes.

(For aesthetic, though, I’d choose Fuuma. Their village is hidden and surrounded by forest and in that lovely traditional Japanese style, and their uniforms are great. If Saraba were Chief I’d join.)

DAY 15 (Jun. 17th) - Favorite minor/supporting character

Gau! Definitely Gau! Gosh I love him so much. He’s optimistic and tries his best to look for the best in situations and in people, and his smile is so freaking sunshiney, I bet he lights up rooms with it. He’s awkward and quirky and I can relate so hard. But he’s also strong? He stands up to other ninja even though he really doesn’t have the physical ability to defend himself or others. He puts his life in danger to tell Raimei the truth about her family immediately after swearing silence to Raikou, his boss, who could 100% kill him if he found out Gau had broken his promise. And I bet you Gau would’ve told Raikou about him telling Raimei as soon as he’d gone home, if the bullshit at the Shimizu property hadn’t gone down the way it did.

And speaking of that scene- he throws himself in front of Raikou’s katana to save the life of a girl he hadn’t known for more than a day, who had threatened to kill him, who was seeking to kill the person he treasured most in the world. Who does that?! Gau apparently. He literally gives his life for just the possibility that Raikou and Raimei can make up and be happy siblings again. He gives his life so that the person he loves can maybe reconcile with someone else they loved.

He makes a conscious effort to include Yoite in conversations in which he would otherwise be largely ignored, and while I doubt Yoite would care either way, it’s the thought that counts, right? And, at least in the anime (it’s been a while since I read the manga) he puts his life on the line to help Yoite and Miharu even though, as I said before, he can’t really defend himself all that well.

Basically, I’m in love with Gau and want him to be happy. Sweet baby!

DAY 16 (Jun. 18th) - Free Day

I don’t really have anything else to say but I’m posting all of these today (I was late for the original posting by like four days so I figured I’d write them all out and post them together) so I’ll count this as my day 16 entry! Thank you so much if you’ve read this far, I know it was probably daunting to look at this long as fucking post but I’m glad you took the time to read my personal reflection on NnO! This manga means a lot to me and it’s nice to discover other people who love it as much as I do (I’ve literally met two people in my entire life who’ve read it without me suggesting it).

Keep the love going y’all, I hope to see you again! And feel free to hit me up if you’d like to talk about NnO, I’d love to connect with other fans! Seeya owo

[mystical-flute]

Next to Normal (1/?)

Petunia's worst nightmare comes true in the form of her son's floating game console.

Also on Ao3 || Buy me a ko-fi

Number Four Privet Drive was quiet, aside from the radio playing softly in the living room, as one Petunia Dursley stood dusting off the photos on the mantle, as she did every morning at ten-thirty. Everything was progressing along just as it should, just as it did every day.

Petunia turned, finished with the dusting, and went over to the cupboard under the stairs, grimacing at the spider web. No matter how many times Petunia cleaned this place, the spider webs just grew back.

She couldn't fathom putting anything in here other than cleaning supplies.

Letting out a soft sigh, Petunia made a mental note to fit in cleaning the cupboard in between the rounds of laundry, and went out to sweep her small front stoop.

"Good morning Petunia! Beautiful day isn't it?" called Alice Wexler from across the road.

Petunia gave the woman a polite smile and nod. "Indeed it is! Almost too perfect for March, wouldn't you say?"

"It does seem that way! But we should enjoy it while we have it, right?"

"Indeed. I think Dudley and I will head over to the park when I go pick him up from school," Petunia hummed with a wave as she retreated back inside when she heard the phone begin to ring. That was strange. Marge didn't usually call until dinnertime.

"Hello? Dursley residence."

"Mrs. Dursley, hello. This is Mrs. Nolan, Dudley's teacher. Do you have a moment to talk?"

Dudley's teacher? Her little Dudder? What a strange phone call to get. "Oh! Of course I do Mrs. Nolan. What can I do for you?" she asked with a small frown.

The teacher heaved out a sigh. "Well… it appears Dudley has gotten into a bit of trouble this afternoon. He somehow threw an eraser across the room and hit the board. He claims he didn't do it, but there are… well, a lot of witnesses."

Oh no. This was a phone call parents dreaded.

"Why Mrs. Nolan, I'm sure there must be some kind of misunderstanding," Petunia said smoothly. Dudley was strong, yes, but would he go so far as to throw something across the room? Her Dudders would never do such a thing! "I know Dudley might not be the best student in terms of grades, but I know for a fact he would never throw an eraser!"

"Mrs. Dursley, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to give him some sort of punishment – "

"I said my son is innocent. You will do no such thing!" Petunia protested.

A resigned sigh met her ears. "Very well, Mrs. Dursley. Can you please ask Dudley what really happened, at least? Maybe he'll talk to you instead of me."

Petunia smiled, pleased with the arrangement. "Of course I can, Mrs. Nolan. Thank you very much for seeing it my way."

"You're welcome. Bye now."

Petunia hung up the phone, content, until the end of the day when it was time to get Dudley from school.

"Dudley dear, how was school today?" she asked smoothly.

"Something really cool happened mum!" he said, practically bouncing on his toes as they walked down the lane.

Petunia smiled. "Oh? And what was that?"

"The teacher's eraser flew across the room! It was like magic! No one saw who threw it, and I don't think anyone did!"

Magic?

Color began to drain from her face as they entered the house. "Magic?" she whispered. "And why do you say that, Dudley? You know magic isn't real."

"I know Mum, but it was so weird! And so cool! Besides, it's not like the teacher didn't deserve it. She was really annoying today…"

Petunia pretended she didn't hear that last part as she gave Dudley a bowl of crisps to eat. "Just because you didn't see who did it doesn't mean it was magic, Dudley. And don't worry, I've already spoken to your teacher. She will not be blaming you."

Dudley smiled up at her. "Thanks Mummy."

"Only the best for you, my dear, sweet boy," Petunia replied with a smile. "Now, why don't you head upstairs and play some of your video games before dinner?"

Dudley nodded and got up, heading upstairs as Petunia prepared a roast and potatoes.

"Whoa!" she heard the muffled cry of her son. When he was playing his games, it wasn't unusual for him to cry out during a particularly hard part, it was a bit strange for him to be so… quiet with his shouts.

So it was with a small frown that Petunia set down the knife she was using and made her way upstairs. "Dudley? Is everything alright in there?"

"Mum! Come here! You have to see this. It's so cool!"

Petunia let out a soft sigh. Usually when Dudley showed her things he deemed cool in his video games, it was a new way to kill another character. Hardly the sort of thing that Petunia wanted her son to be interested in, but she couldn't convince him otherwise. Even so, he wanted to show her something, so Petunia pushed his bedroom door open…

And nearly fainted at the sight.

Her son's  game controller was floating in the air, while her son was sitting on his bed in awe. Excitement was written on his face as he glanced from Petunia to the floating controller.

She felt her legs almost give way, but she kept herself steady with her hand resting on the handle of the door to keep herself upright. She couldn't stand this. She couldn't stand the thought that her son could be like her – her sister. The woman she hadn't spoken to in years because she'd gotten everything and Petunia was only left with the scraps. She couldn't stand the thought of Dudley being a – a freak like her!

"It's time to do your homework, Dudley," she managed to whisper. "Turn off your game and do your homework."

"But – "

"Now!" she said sharply. Much sharper of a tone than she'd ever used with him before.

Sensing the unease with his mother, Dudley scurried off to do as she asked. As he disappeared down the stairs, Petunia let her legs drop to the floor.

She couldn't tell Vernon. Not yet. Not knowing how he'd react.

Petunia was cornered. Completely and utterly cornered, and left with only one option.

She had to call her sister.

Taking a deep breath, Petunia steadied her nerves and made her way to the phone she and Vernon kept in their bedroom, pulling out the number she'd kept hidden for a rainy day, and dialed while praying to whatever god was out there that they hadn't gotten rid of the phone.

"Potter residence, Harry speaking."

Petunia's breath caught in her throat at the voice. She remembered getting that announcement. She hadn't sent anything. Had thrown out the announcement, but she remembered getting it in the mail. Harry… her nephew's name was Harry. A perfectly ordinary name, surprisingly.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Harry, if no one's there, hang up the phone!"

"Lily…" she whispered when she heard her sister's voice, jolted back into the reality of the situation. "Hello… yes, I need to speak with Lily, please."

"Oh. Okay. Mum! Phone for you!"

There was a brief pause as the phone changed hands, and finally there was a soft "hello?" on the other line.

"Lily… I… it's me. Petunia."

Another pause, this time of shock. For a moment, Petunia could have sworn her sister had stopped breathing, until she heard a whispered "Tunie?"

"Yes. Lily I… I don't know what to do."

"What is it? Are you okay?"

"Physically yes, I'm fine… I'm not sure about mentally right now."

"What happened?"

Petunia took a deep breath. "I think my son – my Dudley – has magic."

"You… think he's a wizard? What makes you think that?"

She placed a hand on her forehead. "The… he has this video game thing, I don't know if you keep up with technology anymore but… it was floating. They aren't supposed to do that, Lily."

Lily sighed on the other end of the line. "Okay. I'll get in contact with Professor Dumbledore and let him know. I imagine… he'll be in contact soon, if Dudley is. Does Vernon know?"

"He's not home from work yet… I don't know how to tell him," Petunia whispered.

"Petunia… I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I know how much you consider me to be a freak. I'm sorry that your son might have to go through his parents hating him because he's a wizard."

Petunia stiffened, pinching her brow as she tried not to scream. "Lily… I don't know what to do."

Lily was quiet over the phone for a moment before Petunia heard her voice again. "What do you want of your son, Petunia?"

"I want him to be normal!"

"Petunia, this is the new normal for him. He's not a Muggle, and you have a choice to either be a good, supportive mother to him, or you can do to him what you did to me, and end up pushing him away. But if you want to continue to live in denial, wait and see if he gets his Hogwarts letter. If he doesn't, then congratulations, you were seeing things."

She stared, dumbfounded at Lily's words. "Lily, I – "

"Those are your only two options, Petunia. Now, I'm sorry to cut this short, but we're having dinner tonight with some friends and their children. Bye… Tunie."

"Bye Lily…" she whispered, her voice shaking as she ended the call and put the phone down on the bedside table, before resting her head in her hands.  This was a nightmare scenario for Petunia, something she never expected would happen. Yes, Lily was a witch, and that wasn't right, wasn't normal, but for her son, her Dudley to be one…

And then there was Vernon. Her dear husband Vernon. He hated magic more than Petunia did. How was he going to react to this?

Still… normal. She had to pretend – for now – that everything was normal.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Petunia rose to her feet and went back downstairs to finish cooking dinner. It needed to be done at exactly five-thirty after all, and she had wasted enough time already.

"Mum? I'm done with my homework…" Dudley's voice, unusually quiet, murmured into the room right as Petunia was finishing mashing potatoes.

"I'm glad, Dudley," Petunia said. "You can watch TV now. Your father will be home soon."

Dudley nodded, shuffling a little in the kitchen's doorway. "Mum, are you mad?"

Petunia sighed, setting the beaters down and looking at her son. Her beloved son. If he was a wizard… could she turn her back on him like she had Lily?

"No, Dudders, I'm not mad at you. I know you couldn't help what happened earlier," she said, putting her hands lovingly on his shoulders. "And I promise, I'll tell you what I think happened, but for now, maybe we can keep it our little secret? I don't think your father needs to know about this quite yet."

Dudley frowned. "Why not?"

"Because I still need to talk to some other people about this. If you keep it a secret for your father, I promise we'll go to the shops after you get out of school tomorrow, and you can get whatever games you'd like."

He lit up at that and happily wandered into the living room, and moments later Petunia heard the television flash to life, and normalcy seemed to be returning to the Dursley household with Vernon's arrival home from work. As always, Vernon's coat and hat were hung up neatly, his briefcase put carefully next to the coffee table, he'd ruffled Dudley's hair, given her a kiss, and the family settled in to dinner, with Petunia's heartbeat beginning to slow to a normal pace.

Or, it would have, if not ten minutes later, the fireplace hadn't lit up in a brilliant shade of white, and Albus Dumbledore appeared in the middle of their living room.

"Hello Petunia. It's been quite a while, hasn't it?"

[halothenthehorns]

ARAGOG

  ARAGOG

Remus took the book very unwillingly, not looking any kind of excited to see how right they were about those 'attacks a day.'

The weather was showing its end of the year spirit, showing the brightest of blue skies and the grounds bursting with garden life.

"Sounds lovely," Lily sighed, wishing her favourite time of year wasn't so amok due to the events of this year.

The inside of the castle was the opposite. Every face inside was now permanently etched with worry and fear now that Dumbledore was gone. Harry and Ron were now barred from entering the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey fearing that someone could return and finish off the students inside.

All five of them winced, James saying, "err, yeah I guess that could be a possibility. We still don't even know why those students were attacked."

"Man this is depressing," Sirius huffed,"makes me wish for the old years where the students were just being hauled out of school because of paranoid parents."

"That wasn't any more comforting," Remus snorted.

The corridors were barren, students could no longer linger around and chat as usual, and any laughter that could be heard faded quickly.

"Now that I remember," Lily sighed.

"I couldn't stand that after my third week," James sighed, "I grew up in a pretty quiet house, I wasn't going to stand a quiet school!"

Harry kept turning Dumbledore's last words over in his head, but who was he supposed to ask for help? The teachers looked just as confused and scared as anyone.

"I thought he meant it more metaphorically," Lily grinned, "not literally."

While Harry smiled at his mother for the light comment, he also sighed, wishing he had someone to turn to back then.

Hagrid's comment was much easier to understand, but the problem was there seemed no spiders around. Ron wasn't very eager to help find them.

"Yeah," Remus nodded, "I picture Ron looking for spiders like Sirius looking for a dragon's nest."

Sirius huffed and muttered something under his breath.

They didn't get much of a chance to look though, as they were being herded through the corridors by teachers, much to Harry's exasperation.

"As would I," they all agreed, that sounding annoying.

The only person who looked to be enjoying this new mood was Draco, who had been seen strutting about and preening in pleasure.

"He's really trying his hardest to make himself not look suspicious, huh?" Sirius laughed.

Harry wasn't sure what he was so happy about,

"He's pleased because his wish came true," James growled to himself, "wasn't he the one who wished it was Hermione that got petrified next?"

"Thanks for that reminder," Harry grumbled, his fists balling up all over again.

"Are we sure Malfoy doesn't have something to do with this?" Sirius asked. "Cause if you ask me, he's still taking this too lightly."

"Well, since nobody but Muggleborns have been attacked yet, I'd have to say he doesn't have anything to worry about," Lily sighed.

until he overheard him talking loudly in their next Potions about how happy he was his own father had been the one to get rid of Dumbledore.

"Oh yes, now let's brag about your father getting rid of the greatest headmaster ever," Remus growled.

"I will genuinely sob if someone doesn't punch that kid in the face soon," Sirius hissed.

Going on in high spirits about how the next Headmaster hopefully wouldn't even want to close the Chamber.

"I shudder at the thought," James sneered.

"What, is he hoping his dad will be the new headmaster as well?" Lily asked.

"Wouldn't surprise me," Sirius gagged at the thought.

McGonagall surely wouldn't last long.

"No," Remus snapped, "if the worst happens and Dumbledore really can't come back, they'd have to kick her out as well before being able to replace with their own Headmaster. Even then,

McGonagall has her own right to designate her own second."

"You kind of scare me when you start ranting like that," James told him honestly.

Remus shrugged, only simmering down slightly.

Then Malfoy turned to Snape and asked if he was going to get the job next?

"Then I'm sure I'd roll over in my grave," James hissed to himself.

Harry suddenly felt like he'd been sucker punched between the eyes, but surely he must be misunderstanding Malfoy. There was no way in Merlin's pants that Snape could ever get ahold of that position...right?

Snape was clearly pleased, unable to suppress a horrid looking smile,

"I'm sure he's just sobbing with grief," Sirius grumbled.

but he corrected Malfoy that he was sure Dumbledore would be back soon. Malfoy disregarded this and said that Snape would have Mr. Malfoy's vote should he apply, how Lucius had always said Snape was the best teacher at this school.

"If he kisses up to him anymore, I'm going to be forced to make a very lame brown nose joke," Sirius huffed.

"For the love of Merlin, please don't," James groaned. "Since most of your jokes are bad enough as is."

Snape was still smirking as he turned away, thankfully missing Seamus faking vomiting into his cauldron.

All five of them cracked up laughing at this, finding it a more than appropriate response.

Malfoy was still talking, saying how he was stunned the Mudbloods hadn't jumped and left themselves yet,

Remus finished that sentence with a foul taste in his mouth. He hated how casually this child threw that word around.

and said that he was positive the next one would die. He was just sorry it wasn't Granger.

"I can't believe this," Lily gasped, losing a shade of colour. "Who could say something like that? Let alone a child?"

The other three boys agreed, but Harry puzzled over something. He had a distinct feeling that, when it came down to it, Draco wasn't a killer. What on earth could possess him to think this? No one noticed his silent questions, Remus was already done agreeing with Lily and moving past this.

The class was moving towards the door now, cutting off Ron's attempts from lunging at Malfoy.

"Attempts?" Sirius frowned in annoyance, "who's stopping him?"

"Sirius think about it," Remus sighed, "he's in Snape's classroom."

"I don't care," James snapped, backing up his friend, "I'll take fifty detentions just to punch that git in the face for saying something like that."

Harry shook his head sadly from side to side, saying, "while I agree with you, Snape would have stopped Ron before he even started. Then he would have gotten the detentions, without the

satisfaction."

"I love it when you reason things out like that," Remus grinned, "shows a lot more thought than these two ever did, or even Lily for that matter."

"I've no idea what you're talking about," she grinned.

"Don't even," James huffed, sitting back in his seat, "we all know you've got a temper, and you would have cursed this kid sky high given half the chance. So far the only one who can keep their heads in this sort of thing is Remus, and Harry it seems."

Harry just smiled and shrugged.

Harry and Dean were holding him back from doing anything rash, despite Ron's very verbal protests that he didn't need his wand to kill Malfoy with his hands.

"There's that to," Remus chuckled, "he doesn't want to go puking slugs up again now does he?"

"Like he said though," Sirius shrugged, "fists can work just fine."

Harry and Dean still wouldn't release him until Snape had escorted them all to Herbology, when the Slytherins went back inside and they were standing outside the greenhouses. The class seemed very off with two of their numbers now missing.

All five of them shivered at once, hating to hear that aloud once more.

Sprout set them the assignment to prune an Abyssinian Shrivelfig, and Harry turned to see himself facing Ernie Macmillan.

"Not this one again," James groaned, placing his face in his hands, "I already want to punch one twelve year old in the face today!"

"I really hope he's not going to start throwing insults at you again in the middle of class," Lily huffed.

Harry tensed up for another fight, but Ernie surprised him by apologizing to Harry for ever thinking it was him.

"What's this?" Sirius asked, craning around and trying to pull away the book.

"Knock it off Padfoot," Remus griped, keeping the book closer to himself, "and let me read. I think I like where this is going."

He said how he was foolish to think Harry could hurt Hermione. Then he offered his hand.

"Well that was nice," Lily said, brightening at once.

James hesitated for a moment before nodding and saying, "any kid who can admit they were wrong, and then apologizes like that. Yeah, guess this kid's not all bad."

"Still a gullible idiot," Sirius grinned, then nodded along saying, "but not all bad."

"Well this couldn't have worked out better," Remus smirked, agreeing full heartedly with the other two, "hopefully the rest of the school follows that same line of thinking, and you'll stop getting rumours following you around."

"I sure hope so," Harry agreed.

Harry took it and let the whole matter go, so Ernie called over his friend Hannah and they all started working on the same plant. Ernie began the conversation by stating how he'd instead come up with a new idea for the Heir of Slytherin, Malfoy.

"Now he's at least more on the right track," Sirius grinned.

"To bad he's wrong," James huffed.

Ron snarked back that he must feel so smart, clearly not as forgiving of his earlier slight as Harry was.

"And that's how a real friend does," Sirius nodded, "even if your mate stupidly gets over it, you hold a grudge for him."

"That doesn't make any sense," Lily rolled her eyes at him.

Sirius just shrugged, it made perfect sense to him.

When Ernie asked if Harry agreed, Harry said no so forcefully, it made the two Hufflepuffs stare.

"Well that wasn't very thought out," Remus out right laughed this time, "you should have at least given a good reason as to why you thought not, or even better agreed with them. Just because you know they're wrong, doesn't mean you can't indulge them."

"I didn't see the point in spreading rumours," Harry defended, "I hate them, even aimed at people I don't like."

"Maybe he's less like Remus then I thought," Sirius grinned.

Then Harry's attention was distracted by spotting some spiders scuttling over the grass through a crack, and Harry hit Ron's hand with the shears to get his attention.

"Ouch," Sirius winced, "what was that for?"

"To get his attention," Harry pointed out.

"A simple poke would have been kinder," James laughed.

When he pointed out what he saw, Ron looked far from happy, and when Harry followed their path further he noticed that they must be heading for the Forbidden Forest.

Lily then said something very unladylike.

"Mum?" Harry asked in concern.

"You're not actually going to follow them in there are you?" She demanded, going a little wide eyed.

Harry mulled that over for a moment before shrugging and saying, "if I give you one of my gut answers again, are you still going to be mad if I'm right?"

"That's a yes then," she moaned, beginning to gnaw on her lip at once.

"This can't be good," Sirius huffed, "this can not be good."

Harry thought back to the stories these boys had been telling him about the Forbidden Forest, and then agreed out loud with Sirius.

"So you lot have never seen where the spider's den is?" Lily asked pitifully.

"Nope," James shook his head sadly. "We followed them in pretty far once, but then we came across some that were twice the size of us. We hightailed it out of there and never went back."

"Why would Hagrid say to follow them anyways?" Remus demanded. "It didn't even occur to me that when he said to follow the spiders, he meant the ones that would lead him into the forest!"

"Where else did you think they would lead?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, maybe to the chamber, or if you followed them backwards, to where the monster was hidden. Not to their den!"

"This isn't going to be good," Harry sighed, before encouraging Remus to go on anyways. None of them looked the least bit happy about this.

Ron looked even unhappier about that.

"Can't imagine why," Sirius muttered.

When that class let out, Professor Sprout had to take them all to their DADA class.

"Great," James huffed, "even more of an annoyance to deal with."

"Believe it or not, I'd take a double Dark Arts class with him over that bleeding forest," Lily shuddered.

Harry and Ron fell behind to the back of the group as Harry whispered to Ron that tonight they were going to put the invisibility cloak back on and head out there. They'd take Fang along, since he always travelled the forest with Hagrid.

"Now that's fair," Remus nodded, "last year Hagrid did say nothing would hurt you with Fang around."

"Think that holds true for the giant spiders?" Sirius asked. "They saw me and didn't have a problem trying to eat us."

"I don't think it works with just any dog," James disagreed. "It might just be Hagrid's dog in particular."

"Here's hoping," Lily murmured.

Ron agreed without any enthusiasm. Then he voiced out loud a common rumour that werewolves had been seen stalking that forest.

"So glad that rumour never died out," Sirius chuckled as a brief distraction.

Harry chose not to answer that,

"Oh that was comforting I'm sure," Lily muttered.

and instead reminded Ron of some of the good things going around there, like the centaurs and unicorns. Ron had never had the pleasure of being in the forest before, and Harry's one escaped had not led him to want another go. They'd reached their next class by this point, and Lockhart came bounding in with high spirits.

"As blundering and useless as always then," Remus grumbled to himself.

When he saw the students all sitting quietly and tense, he demanded to know what they were so upset about.

"I'm not even going to answer that," Sirius declared.

"Thank you," Lily said sincerely.

No one bothered to answer him, and Lockhart was all too happy to point out to them that the danger the school was in was gone! The person who'd done these terrible things had been arrested.

"Oh please," James huffed.

Dean demanded to know how he knew that, and Lockhart laughed lightly before pointing out that the Ministry would have never arrested Hagrid if they weren't positive he was the one.

"And here I thought he couldn't get more stupid," Lily said in disbelief.

"The Minister was covering his own arse by taking in someone who hadn't done a thing wrong-" Sirius began hotly.

"Yes Sirius, we know, and it is wrong," Remus pacified, "but stop that now so I can read."

Sirius slouched back and kept up his muttering anyways.

Ron shouted back that yes they sure would. Lockhart brushed him off by saying he knew far more about the goings on of the situation then Ron.

"You flatter yourself too much," Remus snapped in disgust.

"Besides, I doubt you know a touch more about anything over a toddler. I'm one hundred percent sure my little four month old upstairs could do more magic than him," James growled.

Ron was about to bite back and say he definitely knew otherwise, but Harry kicked him.

"Ron seems to be getting attacked by you a lot today," Lily grinned.

"He is acting out," Remus noted in surprise.

"I'd be even worse if one of my friends had been attacked," Sirius defended.

Shushing him and reminding him that they weren't actually supposed to know anything. Still, Harry was half tempted himself to chuck Gadding with Ghouls at Lockhart by the end of class.

"Slow applause for your show of strength anyways," James sighed.

He contented himself with instead writing a note to Ron that they were going to do it tonight.

"Can't you do it never?" Lily muttered under her breath.

Ron hesitated, glanced at Hermione's empty seat,

"Best motive for doing anything ever," Sirius agreed.

and nodded his agreement. That night drew on much longer than usual, the twins having come over and decided to play a few rounds of Exploding Snap,

'Well that was rather nice of them,' Lily thought, noting they hadn't really been known to do this yet, and she couldn't help but wonder if Ron's siblings were trying to be extra nice to him in sympathy for the temporary loss of his friend.

while Ginny slumped in Hermione's usual chair and looking rather morose about it. Harry and Ron kept losing on purpose,

"I guess I can see the point of doing that," Sirius shrugged, "but still, wouldn't that look a bit suspicious?"

"They didn't seem to notice," Harry shrugged.

and finally Fred and George grew tired and went to bed along with their sister. Harry and Ron took the chance, went upstairs for the cloak, and once again left the tower.

"Well here you go boys," Lily snarked, "Harry and Ron are finally doing something with the cloak you should approve of."

"Please Lily," James moaned, "is now really the time for that? Yes, we snuck into the forest all the time, but we never intended to go find giant man eating spiders, except for one time! Then we didn't again when we realized how bad they were, give us some credit."

Lily tried for a smirk, she had been trying to push some humour into the room, but it didn't seem to hold the same effect.

They once again had problems with stealth, the teachers still constantly patrolling all of the floors, but they still managed to make it onto the grounds without getting caught.

"It really should be harder to get out of the school," Lily noted.

"Nah," Sirius disagreed, "I insist they make it easy on purpose. The teachers know we need out of the castle more than they allow." Present time excluded of course, where they were clearly going out of the way to stop them.

"Soundless logic as that is," Lily snorted.

Ron tried to convince himself that maybe the spiders hadn't really been headed for the forest, they could have veered off in another direction.

"Poor kid," Remus winced, "boy is he in for surprise."

They made it to Hagrid's hut, and Harry let Fang out

"Oh, please tell me that someone's been letting him out," Lily fretted.

"I think someone said something about McGonagall taking him out," Harry soothed.

"That's an adorable thought," James grinned, "picturing her coming out and around and taking Fang out to go potty."

who began barking with mad joy. Harry quickly fed him some of Hagrid's food which promptly sealed the dog's jaw shut.

Sirius started laughing very loudly, and it took him a moment to calm down before he breathed out, "I think that's base torture."

Harry decided to leave his cloak inside Hagrid's place, as he didn't really think he'd have use for it in the already dark forest.

"I disagree," James scoffed at once, "there are plenty of reasons you don't want to be seen in the forest. Fold it up and carry it or something."

Harry just shrugged, he had nothing to say to that and it was already done.

They walked over to the edge of the forest, where Fang promptly lifted a leg and pissed on the nearby trees.

"Well at least he's going to have a good time," Remus chuckled.

Harry took out his wand and used the spell Lumos to light the tip of it, giving him a glow of light. Ron said he'd do the same, but his wand would probably set the whole forest on fire if he tried.

"That's probably true," Sirius snickered.

Harry glanced around at his feet, and sure enough, came across some spiders heading in. Ron sighed, but didn't argue the point and led them inside.

"That's some friend," James grinned from ear to ear, "walking into literally a real fear just to find out a secret that might help his friend."

"Best kind of friend there is," Sirius and Remus both grinned, Sirius privately thinking he'd brave a dozen dragons' den if it would stop this catastrophe of a future he was hearing about.

It wasn't easy, keeping track of the tiny black crawlers going over leaves and through bushes. Many times Harry lost sight of them and it took some time to come across some more. Deep into the woods, they caught sight of them again, heading off the path.

Lily shuddered in disgust, remembering Hagrid's words clearly about not leaving the paths, though also trying to comfort herself with knowing that these four boys in the room had obviously ventured off the path and seemed to be alright. Still, she herself didn't much like the idea, no matter how much she heard about it.

Harry hesitated as he clearly remembered Hagrid's words of warning against this,

"Sound advice," Lily sighed out loud this time, "wish you would have followed it," clearly to herself.

but Hagrid wasn't here, and they had to do something. Harry was startled out of thinking when something cold touched Harry's hand, and he startled so bad he jumped onto Ron's foot, but it only turned out to be Fang's nose.

"Jumpy much," Sirius said in forced light tones, not finding it remotely funny.

Ron shrugged it off and pointed out they'd come this far already, they may as well keep going.

"No, the correct response to that was, we shouldn't go any farther," Remus muttered under his breath.

So deeper they went, until Harry's tiny light was the only break in the darkness. At some point the ground began to slope beneath them,

"And that's about when we ran into the giant spiders," James nodded in remembrance, "when the ground began sloping towards the middle of the forest."

"That was not comforting, in the slightest," his wife informed him.

and Fang scared them both again by barking.

"Not good," they all muttered. Anything Fang barked at was never good.

"Thought Fang had his jaw glued shut?" James randomly giggled as a distraction.

"It wears off," Harry reminded, pointing out how he'd earlier wrenched his jaw apart to snap at Hagrid about his crack in wanting a signed photo.

Ron was going pale with fear, his eyes shifting around to figure out what had startled the dog. Harry whispered that he could sense something big, listening intently.

"Please tell me you just run away once you find them," Remus hissed without any conviction.

They both remained tense and frozen, Ron consistently muttering 'no' under his breath,

Even as Remus read that, he could hear the faint echoing of it in the room from the other occupants. No one wanted Harry anywhere near...well anything that was big and in the forest.

and Harry could feel himself growing even more stressed as time elapsed and nothing happened. When Harry said this out loud, Ron muttered whatever it was, was probably getting ready to pounce.

"I don't want Ron to answer questions anymore," Lily muttered.

Still they stood there, until finally a bright flash of light,

"Light?" Sirius asked in confusion.

"You think a teacher followed them out?" Remus asked curiously.

"Nah, or they would have been stopped long before this," James disagreed.

"Then what would cause a light in the forest?" Sirius asked redundantly.

Since none of them had a real answer, Remus read.

came boring down on them. Fang startled and tried to make a run for it, but only managed to get tangled up in a thorny bush.

Lily very much wanted to feel sympathy for the poor dog, but she was far more worried about her little Hare Bare and his extremely vulnerable, wandless, friend.

Harry was blinded and blinking spots out of his eyes, when Ron sighed in relief and exclaimed it was the car!

"The car?" they all repeated in confusion.

The fear that had been mounting in Harry's face suddenly relaxed again to confusion and slight amusement. "What on earth would the car be doing there?"

"Did no one ever go and get that thing out of there?" Remus demanded, rubbing at his chest from delayed fear.

"Wow, that car's just been running around the forest this whole time?" Sirius asked, slightly bemused, and trying to shake off his want of screaming from the mounting fear.

"Better it than Fluffy," James muttered.

Ron wasn't wrong. Harry finally made out the shape of Mr. Weasley's Anglia, which was scratched and muddied, but nudging up to Ron like an old dog greeting its owner.

"Wow, Mr. Weasley must have had the car for ages for it to be so imbued with magic," Lily said, rather impressed.

"Kind of want to enchant my bike like that now," Sirius said, grinning brightly, "looks like it might be loyal."

Lily dearly wanted to smack him for that, not finding it funny in the slightest.

Ron was laughing with relief as he patted the hood and noted that the car must have been running around the forest this whole time turning wild. Harry went over and got Fang untangled from the bush, and then joined Ron while putting his wand away.

"No," James shook his head frantically, "I'd still keep that out." He couldn't quite get the image out of his mind of the last time Harry had been in the forest. Sure he had better backup then Malfoy now, at least Ron wouldn't run at the first sight of trouble, but with a broken wand he still didn't feel that secure about the place as normal.

It didn't hold Harry's interest long though, as he told Ron they'd lost their trail of spiders and they had to get going.

"Can't you just get in and go back to school," Lily groaned.

"Now what would have been the point of going out there?" Harry asked rhetorically.

Ron did not respond. He was looking ten feet above Harry's head.

Remus' voice began pitching with fear, this didn't seem good.

A fixed look of terror in place.

"Well that's not good," Sirius whispered, right in line with Remus' line of thinking.

Harry didn't even get a chance to turn around, as something caught him around the middle and he found himself dangling upside down.

Lily's mouth was half sagged open, like she wanted to scream but couldn't find the air. Harry gave her a very concerned look and asked, "ah, Mum?"

"Ten, ten feet," she stuttered, then gave a great shiver as if trying to shake them off herself.

"I, dang yeah, they were about that big," James was a little off colour as well.

"I hate acromantulas," Sirius muttered, rubbing goose bumps out of his arm.

"But I'm fine," Harry reassured at once, "and this trip is really important, I'm sure of that."

"So long as you and Ron come out with all four limbs," Remus huffed.

Harry tried to get loose, but whatever was holding him seemed not to even notice. Harry spotted Ron and Fang in the exact same situation, all of them being carried away farther into the forest.

"Fang's probably why they didn't eat you outright," Remus reasoned aloud, "like Hagrid said, the spiders must have recognized Fang and knew not to attack."

"I really kind of want to know now how Hagrid made a pact with spiders," Sirius said honestly.

"Whatever he did, thank Merlin for it," Lily shuddered again one more time, that horrid mental image of her boy being clutched in a sea of spiders still not quite leaving her, "because it's

probably what saved these boys' lives."

Harry caught sight of what was carrying him, and wished he hadn't. Six legs were marching along, while the front two were holding him aloft above sharp pincers.

All five of them gave one last wince of disgust, hoping the book would quite describing this now.

There were dozens more all moving across the leaves, and before he knew it the car had faded away.

"Wish the car had gone to protect them or something," James muttered.

"I think it was trying to," Sirius offered, "seems a bit of a coincidence it just showed up then yeah? Personally I think it was trying to warn them to get out of there."

"Too bad they didn't listen," Lily huffed, giving Harry a sidelong look which he sheepishly ignored.

When Harry's vision adjusted to the dark ground again, he saw the floor of the forest was nothing but a carpet of the smaller spiders.

"Okay, I don't even have a fear of spiders, and I'm starting to freak out," James gaped.

"Poor Ron," Sirius agreed, "and you," he added on thoughtfully to Harry when he saw his pup watching him.

They were brought into a natural den, surrounded on all sides by the carthorse sized arachnids.

"How big do they get?" Lily asked in disgust.

"They keep growing until they die," Remus seemed to be regretting having to answer, but willing to anyways for their benefit, "and they can live for up to sixty or seventy years. They also have some form of a hierarchy, a dominant male and female, that continue reproducing until the mother of the group is too weak to fend off the young. Once they grow too old, their young will eat them, and a new hierarchy will start to form."

"That was more than I ever wanted to know about them," Lily grumbled, "but thanks all the same."

They were dropped onto a thankfully spider free patch of leaves, and Harry was now staring at the largest spider web he'd ever seen in his life. Fang was dropped on one side, the dog nonstop whimpering, his tail tucked up tight beneath him. Ron fell on his other side, his eyes so wide they looked likely to fall out of his head, and his mouth seemed frozen in a scream he couldn't get out.

"He must be living in a nightmare right now," Sirius said pityingly.

"There goes any hope of Ron getting over his fear of spiders," James agreed.

Harry's ears then tuned into the fact that the spiders were speaking.

"They speak?" James demanded in disgust.

"How smart are they?" Lily yelped.

"Human smart," Sirius and Remus both said.

"They just get better and better," Harry muttered.

They were calling out the name Aragog.

Harry went bright eyed for a moment, nodding to himself as yet another name slide into place in his mind. It wasn't a very important name, of that he was sure, but one that he felt he should have remembered vividly and feeling pleased he now could.

The largest spider of all came climbing up the web, equal in size to a small elephant, each of its eyes pure white. This spider was blind.

"That is almost funny," Sirius said curiously.

"Just as dangerous without his eyes," Remus disagreed, "so whatever you're thinking, the answer's no."

"You're no fun," Sirius told him, while privately he was scoffing. Like he really wanted to go anywhere near those things.

The underling spiders announced they'd brought humans, and Aragog at once asked if it was Hagrid. When they said no, he simply said to kill them,

"Yeesh, harsh much," James winced, going several shades paler.

that he'd been sleeping.

"And now we know not to disturb you during your nap," Sirius grumbled, "next time, we'll give you notice."

Harry found his tongue and shouted out that he was a friend of Hagrid's.

Remus nodded, knowing on instinct this was the best thing to say right then.

Aragog hesitated then, telling how Hagrid had never sent people into their place before. Harry explained that Hagrid was in trouble, and was shocked to hear Aragog repeat this with concern in his pincers.

"Aw," Lily said in surprise.

"Wow, I'm genuinely impressed," Remus agreed, "most acromantulas don't form human bonds. In fact, I'm almost positive this is the same giant spider that Riddle tried to kill, and Hagrid

protected."

"It would make sense," James nodded.

"Well then thank Merlin for Hagrid's oddity with monsters," Sirius shrugged.

Then he asked what had happened, and Harry said that Hagrid had been blamed for something going on at the school, that he'd been sent away to Azkaban. This didn't seem to be the right thing to say, as the spiders all around him began smashing their pincers, making it sound like a horrid mockery of applause.

"Not a good idea to be agitating them right now," Sirius fretted.

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry responded calmly, giving all of them a chance to give him a weak smile.

Aragog protested that all that had happened years ago. Harry spoke of how it was all happening again, then asked if Aragog was the monster from the Chamber. Aragog denied he was, stating that he came from an egg from far away, and Hagrid had taken him in.

"Oh that's even better," James muttered, "seems Hagrid is the one who started the Acromantula colony in the forest himself."

"Yeah, Hagrid just lost some brownie points with me," Sirius grumbled, taking back his earlier comment a bit.

He'd hidden him up in the castle and fed him scraps from the table.

Lily might not like the idea of giant man eating spiders much, especially ones that so casually said her son could be eaten, but she did feel grains of pity for this creature and could understand why it felt so partial to Hagrid now.

Hagrid had been a good friend to him over the years, even acquiring a female named Mosag.

"A little too much goodness if you ask me," Remus frowned, "I think giving him a girlfriend was going just a bit far."

"Oh but it's so much fun picturing it," Sirius grinned, "think of little Hagrid talking to a lonely Aragog, and then him asking about girls and whether Mosag liked this or-" he stopped when

Remus smacked him, even though Remus didn't seem to notice the nasty glare Sirius was now giving him.

Harry confirmed that Aragog had never hurt anyone, and Aragog said he never had, though it was in his nature, he'd never harmed a human out of respect for Hagrid.

"Bet your kids can't say the same," James muttered to himself, having heard a few stories in his time of other students wandering into the forest and not coming back out.

The girl who had been killed all those years ago had been found in a bathroom,

Harry nodded to himself, saying aloud, "that's it. That was the important thing I remembered about this night."

"So you went out there only to find out it was Myrtle who died," Sirius frowned. "Honestly, you could have just sat around and talked to her with much less deadly results."

"I didn't know that then," Harry defended.

"Guess there's no point in arguing it then," Remus butt in before Sirius could respond.

and Aragog had never left his cupboard. Harry asked if he did know what had killed her, and Aragog actually sounded afraid as he remembered begging Hagrid to let him run away when he heard the creature moving through the castle.

"Well this just got unbelievably creepier," Lily frowned, "I'd hate to meet what scares an acromantula."

Remus nodded to himself, as if he needed more proof of what he thought was in the bowels of the castle.

All around Harry, the other spiders were growing with agitation, inching closer and still rustling their pincers.

"Could you please stop describing that now," James groaned, trying to ignore the fact that it was getting hard to hear at all from the harsh thumping in his chest.

"Kay, you got your information," Sirius said, starting to bounce in place again, "can you please leave now."

Harry had his own look of unease in place, but he was still determined to talk to the spider as long as possible.

Aragog then snapped that he did not speak the name of the creature,

"Which is a real shame, cause I would have liked to known by then," Harry muttered mostly to himself.

he'd never even told Hagrid. Harry was starting to feel closed in, all he could see around him were infinite spiders of all sizes still getting closer. Aragog seemed to be back away now, clearly growing weary of talking.

"Now, we were wanting to leave," Harry agreed with Sirius, forcing back a sense of unease that was starting to build.

Harry couldn't help but notice this, and said that they'd just be on their way then. Aragog disagreed,

"I'm sorry, I'm starting to wish Hagrid hadn't ever found this stupid spider," James snarled, "cause I don't like it."

"Agreed," everyone else muttered.

saying that he may be able to stop his children from attacking Hagrid, but not any random person that came in. He called a goodbye to the friend of Hagrid.

Remus couldn't help yet another shiver of fear and disgust as he read that. Acromantulas were extremely hard to kill, so how on earth had his cub gotten out of this? He didn't wait for the stony silence to erupt into outrage at the spider, he simply read on swiftly.

Harry and Ron jolted to their feet, Harry pulling his wand out despite knowing it was no good, he definitely didn't know any spells to get him out of this mess, but knowing if he was going to die he was going to go out fighting.

Then he had to stop again to choke off a strangled sob. All he could picture was James, doing this same thing for his soon perished life-he jumped slightly when Sirius nudged him in the ribs, hard. His eyes were too bright, he looked like he was trying to force himself not to blink to hold back tears, but one glance over to the couch showed that the little family of three were having their own issues with that sentence. Knowing Harry was fine and alive only slightly comforted him as he forced himself to keep reading.

Before anything else could be done though, another to bright light came barrelling onto the scene, as Mr. Weasley's car came hurtling down the slope.

Lily blinked once, twice, then she burst out in half hysterical laughter. "I-I'm sorry," she gasped, looking around at Harry and finally getting out, "I am so sorry for having yelled at you for taking that car to school."

Harry grinned at her, never having held the scolding against her, but pleased all the same she didn't seem to be holding that against him anymore.

Almost giddy with excitement and laughing at this bit of circumstance, Remus now read eagerly.

It came swerving to a stop right in front of Harry and Ron, doors thrown open.

"Definitely going to be enchanting my bike," Sirius said with real conviction now, watching Lily warily to see if she was going to get mad at him again, "it seems like it will be handier than harm."

Lily pursed her lips, but then chose to say nothing. While she was still a woman of the law before a lot a things, she decided just then she might be able to turn a deaf ear to what he had just said...the benefits seemed far more important just then.

Both boys lunged inside, Ron grabbing up Fang and hauling him in as well. The doors slammed shut and the car revved off of its own accord, knocking into many spiders on the way.

"They deserve it," James muttered mostly to himself, though no one would have disagreed. They were all still just a little winded at yet another horrifying deadly experience that happened to Harry, heart rates weren't even considering going back to normal until Harry and Ron were far away from that den.

The car followed its own path, somehow knowing where the widest gaps in the trees were.

"I hope that car never leaves the forest now," Sirius grinned wildly, "can you imagine the sight of that?"

"It seems to come in handy," James agreed.

Harry glanced over at Ron and found his mouth was still frozen open, though his eyes looked a little less huge.

"Ron seems to have gotten quite a bout of bad luck this year," Remus noticed with a slight wince.

"Walking into the forest into his worst nightmare," James agreed, "takes some kind of kid not to have run screaming."

"Didn't you hear though?" Sirius asked, trying to keep a straight face, "he was silently screaming the whole time."

"Knock it off you three," Lily finally cut in, "enough of your joking around, this isn't funny."

"We didn't say it was," James defended, now massaging his chest and hoping his heart rate would go back to normal before the next catastrophe, "we're just sympathizing with Ron."

Lily watched them for a moment more before shrugging and letting it go.

Harry asked if he was okay,

"I'm going to guess the answer to that is no," Remus said sadly.

and Ron seemed unable to find the words to answer. The car carried them all the way out until they could finally see the moon above again.

"Now for the love of anything, please tell me you don't go back in there!" Lily moaned.

"Ah," Harry wanted to fervently agree with his mother, but he had a sinking feeling it would be a lie if he agreed, so he instead said nothing. They all noticed this, and it didn't improve a mood one bit.

When the car parked itself and opened its doors again, Fang launched himself out, running full pelt back to Hagrid's with his tail still tucked between his legs.

"Poor dog," Sirius said in sympathy.

Harry stumbled out as well, thankful feeling had returned to his limbs, while Ron tumbled out and just sat in the grass. The car gave one more slight rev of its engine before turning tail and going back into the forest.

"Sweet," James said, finally finding a grin again, "I can't wait to spread the rumour about a car trundling the forest."

"Let's see how many people you can get to believe that," Remus snorted.

Harry went back into Hagrid's and grabbed his cloak and came out to find Ron vomiting over by the pumpkins.

All five of them winced, hoping Ron wasn't going to do something worse like pass out. He had just lived through his worst nightmare, so the kid could afford to be more than a little queasy, but it would be really bad for the two of them to not be in bed in the morning and Ron passing out would make that all the harder.

He finally found his voice again when he ran out of vomit and swore he'd never forgive Hagrid for leading them into this.

"That does make me really wonder what Hagrid was thinking," Lily agreed with Ron.

James opened his mouth to say something, but then Remus caught sight of the next sentence and read loudly.

Harry offered that Hagrid must have thought Aragog wouldn't hurt friends of his.

"Thought?" Lily hissed, "well he shouldn't have tested that theory on Harry."

"He was scared," James defended, "and desperate. Maybe he thought Aragog would give Harry some more useful information about why he was in Azkaban."

Lily didn't think that excused Hagrid's negligence, but she couldn't find it in her heart to be too angry with him either. He hadn't known what was going to happen, of that she was sure, so to hold a grudge for it would be petty, so she let the matter go.

Ron still wasn't happy, demanding to know what the point of them going in there was!

"Another piece to the puzzle," Harry sighed, "which you guys mostly worked out already."

"Don't feel too bad," James said at once, "we're older, and time really does add on to experience. Plus, this is kind of something no one your age should even be looking into, so the fact that you do know what you do is kind of amazing in itself."

"Yeah, don't beat yourself up because you weren't old yet," Remus agreed.

Harry couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face then.

Harry reminded that Hagrid hadn't opened the Chamber, that he was innocent. Ron snorted in disbelief, clearly thinking that hiding an acromantula away in the school wasn't exactly innocent.

"Well innocent of murdering the girl then," Harry amended.

"Close enough anyways," Sirius chuckled.

They made their way back to the castle as Harry mulled over all that he'd heard tonight. The way Aragog had been speaking made this monster sound something like a Voldemort creature.

"Now that's a creepy parallel," Lily said, not liking the comparison one bit.

Harry collapsed back onto his bed and still wondered over the whole thing, like how Riddle had obviously got the wrong person, but the Heir of Slytherin was still out there. Was it the same person then who was doing this now?

"That is still a big question," Remus agreed.

There was one other thing, and Harry realized what it was as he jerked upright with a start, waking Ron who awoke with a muffled scream of fear.

"Nightmares," James said with a frown, "boy's going to be having nightmares for a month."

"Can't even blame him," Sirius agreed.

Harry quickly explained his epiphany, how Aragog had said a girl had died in a bathroom, what if she was still in there?

"I still say that mad trip was worth figuring that out," Harry shrugged, quickly adding on, "though

I hope to never repeat the process."

"Guess I'm going to have to live with that," Lily grumbled.

Ron had to rub some sleep out of his eyes before he caught on, whispering the name Moaning Myrtle.

"Yeah, whoever would have suspected that nutter," Remus agreed as he passed Lily the book.

[thekitchensnk]

and the spider lilies bloomed in the fall (chapter 7)

Rating: T Warnings: Violent imagery Pairing: Gin/Ran Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 “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.)

She frowned in concentration, and her tongue stuck out from between her teeth. She stared with pin-point focus at the knife in her hands, her gaze absolutely ferocious and directed at the object of her wrath.

“Don’t move. Don’t move a muscle. Don’t. Even. Breath,” she gritted out.

Cold sweat coated the back of his neck.

“Nah, Ran-chan-“ Gin attempted, trying to placate her.

“No!” she shouted with determination. “I’ve got this. Don’t you dare.”

With a swish of the knife and a few colourful expletives, she cut carefully at the last of his lopsided, unevenly chopped hair.

“Aha! There,” she said with triumph, her hands on her hips. “All done. You should have a look at your reflection in the river. I’ve done a brilliant job, even if I say so myself.” She puffed up with pride and laughed magnificently. “The girls in town will be fighting after you.”

“Ya’ did say so ya’self,” he pointed out grumpily. “And have those hags in town after me? Thanks a bunch, Rangiku. Done me a real favour there.”

Her satisfaction was incorrigible, and her self-praise had known no bounds even then.

“You’re just being petulant because you cut it lopsided when you did it yourself, and you looked stupid for a whole week because you wouldn’t let me fix it. Face it, I’m the best and you’re the worst!” she sang.

“I was cuttin’ it with a knife!” he said defensively.

“So was I!”

That’s why he had been nervous to let her fix his hair, though he would never say as much out loud. Any man would be nervous with a sharp blade pointed at his neck. “Yeah, well-“ she had him cornered, and he knew it –“let’s see how well ya’ did, then. Can’t be possibly be worse than my job,” he muttered. “Pass me the water?”

She passed one of their water jugs obediently, and he traipsed outside with it. He found a level, flat stretch of rock, and poured the water out onto it. He went silent for a moment, reaching down into the dark plains where his power lay. He inhaled, and reached out for it, and instead of throwing it at the water and the rock, the way he had once done, he shaped it to his intent, feeling the contours and implications of the word frozen in his mind. Stillness, he thought. Fixed. Cold. He looked at the curve of the water, and imagined its fluidity.

The amorphous puddle in front of him froze slowly, and he exhaled in triumph.

Next to him, Rangiku whooped.

“That’s amazing! Have you been practicing?! When did you learn to do that?”

It had taken a degree of incredibly fine, precise control. The power they had loathed being shaped in such measured, purposeful ways. It was as if he was missing some element of the process, some set of commands or rules. The water would unfreeze in seconds, he knew- his power couldn’t really do ice- and so he bent quickly to look at himself in the ice.

There was nothing lopsided about his hair at all anymore. She had done a very good job, he had to admit it. He glared.

“Alright, ya’ win. Ya’ the hair cutting champ.”

He saw her reflected in the impromptu mirror he had made, and her hand made its way to his head, her fingers threading delicately through its newly cut strands; her hand ghosted down to his neck, and tenderly, so tenderly it could break his heart, she brushed away some of the remnants which still lay there.

“Whoops! Missed some. Sorry,” she said, barely thinking about it.

Goosebumps rose on his neck at the casual intimacy of her touch, and he watched her, unaware, in the reflection, turning over in his mind how often it felt like there was no dividing line between him and her, that they were two halves of the same thing made whole; gold and silver, boy and girl, light and dark.

When she turned to look at her own reflection, he looked away quickly, as if burnt, suddenly shy to be caught.

She frowned slightly, and her hand left his neck to play with the ends of her own hair.

"It's getting long," she mused. She turned to look at him, and his gaze jerked upwards, to look her in her forget-me-not eyes. "Will you cut it for me?"

The knife was in her hand and she offered it to him, and for some reason, his mouth went dry.

"After the job I did on my hair? Ya'd trust me after that?" he tried to stall for time.

“Yes," she said simply. "It's different, cutting someone else's hair. You can see properly. You’ll be fine." She paused. “If you leave me bald, I will get my revenge. You know that, right?”

His eyes went to the knife that she held out to him, and he was haunted, suddenly, by the thought of driving it pommel deep through her neck until the blade stuck out her trachea, by the thought of arterial spray and the crimson of her blood splattering over the plants and across his chest, about its hot liquid warmth gushing out over his body and going cold in the morning air; how her body would go slack, and her eyes dull, and her skin gray, and how her mouth would gape in the way that all corpse mouths seemed to gape.

If she only knew the things he had done with that knife, and how easy, how simple, they had been- like drawing water from the river, or pulling carrots from the ground.

Did the ability to imagine doing such things to her make him capable of them? He didn’t know, and he didn't want to know.

He shivered in the warm air, feeling a little sick, but took the proffered knife. Reluctantly, he bid her to sit down in front of him anyway.

Her amber hair lay slightly askew, and he could see a glimpse of her neck, made golden by the sun, between its strands. It would be so easy, he thought, and yet. And his mind kept butting up against that thought. It would have been the simplest thing in the world, like snuffing out a lantern, and yet-

Could he?

He would sooner stab himself.

She bared her neck to him, and let him hold his knife there, millimetres from her, and she did not flinch for a second. It was as if she didn’t realise at all that with one slip, he could end her.

She trusts me, and the truth of that settled across his shoulders like a blanket, like a burden. She trusts me with her life. He felt sick.

Would I trust her with mine?

With a sure and certain hand, he began to cut, and unaware of the thoughts which had raced through his small head, she chattered on blithely.

---

One day in the early autumn, he took her to a sunny spot in the garden and made a cheerful announcement. "This spot is for ya'. Ya' grow whatever ya' want here- onions, scallions, garlic, cress, cabbage, whatever ya' want. I’ll help ya’."

It had come so out of the blue that she was completely thrown.

"What?" she asked dumbly.

He moved from foot to foot energetically. "The garden is ours, but I want ya' to have this bit for ya'self. I'll help ya' turn over the earth so that we can start growin' things."

"To grow anything?" she asked.

"Anythin'," he reaffirmed impatiently.

She hesitated for a moment, but he knew her face too well for it to slip past unnoticed.

"What's the matter?" he asked immediately.

"Nothing," she said a bit too quickly.

"I know what 'nothin'' looks like," he said. "Spill."

She bit her lip, and her ears started to go pink with embarrassment.

"Could we grow flowers?" and for some reason, she felt shy. She looked up at him, and he was grinning. "Don't laugh at me!" she demanded, her face hot.

He laughed, but it was a happy, care-free thing, a laugh which rose up into the sky and into the winds, and carried her up there with it. He would be sad to pass up on regular scallions, but there was always the occasional patch growing wild in the woods, so it would not be too much of a loss.

"I'm not laughin' at ya'," he said easily. "It's ya' patch of the garden. I wanted ya' to grow what ya' wanted. If Ran-chan wants flowers, she'll get flowers. Come down here and help me turn over the soil." He beckoned her closer. "It's a mucky job, so ya'll want to hitch ya' yukata up, like so," He had gathered the fabric above his knees and tied it before kneeling on the threadbare grass.

She had followed suit, and knelt beside him, her calf bumping absent-mindedly against his. Her limbs had been thin and starved once, he recalled, when she came to him, but they had grown healthy and strong in the time since. The sight pleased him

"We're just goin' to turn over the earth with our hands," he said cheerfully. "Ain't got no spade or fork to use."

She glared at him. "You didn't say that we'd have to put our hands in the mud for this."

"Nah, Ran-chan, that's just life. Gotta get ya' hands dirty sometimes and muck in if you want flowers."

The ground gave way easily, even only using their hands, and the air was soon full of the dark, loamy smell of fresh earth. He delighted in picking up worms when they found them, pink and wriggling, and dangling them in front of her, because she'd shriek and laugh and push him away.

"That's disgusting!" she'd shout in outrage. "How can you even touch it, Gin?"

She appreciated it even less when he slyly bumped her with his shoulder, causing her to over balance and land in the mud.

Working together, they cleared the area quickly, though they did not get away unscathed. He had several streaks of mud on his face from when he'd brought a worm too close to her, and she'd swiped her hands on his face in revenge. Her knees and the front of her legs were brown with dirt, and her hands were not worth mentioning. But they had smiled, and joked, and the hot morning had passed quickly.

By early afternoon, the sun was shining thick and fast, and they were almost finished. He had rolled his sleeves up, and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm.

"We're almost done here, I reckon," Gin said decisively. "I'll stay and neaten up the edges. Do ya' know which flowers ya' want to plant up?"

"Some of those spindly red ones that grow by the river," she said, having thought about it whilst they had been digging. "They're not due to bloom yet, but it shouldn't be long." Her eyes shone with excitement.

"Go on then," he said indulgently. "Make sure not to damage the roots. Ya' know what ya' doin'?

Her answer was an undecipherable noise yelled back at him and lost to the wind as she sped off to the river as quickly as her small legs could carry her.

The patch of cleared earth was not large, and was made clumsily by the small hands of children, but it would do.

He attempted for a few moments to neaten up its edges, but was too lazy and content to exert much effort. His knees ached from having knelt too long on the hard ground, and he knew he would be in desperate need of a dip in the river. He almost groaned at the thought. Birds sang in the eaves, an unmelodic, but cheerful twitter, and the sun baked the back of his neck.

Idly, he thought of flowers, and pondered whether they would attract bees, fat and bumbling, and whether they could possibly get honey for their efforts. It would be nice, he thought. Maybe we could dip the persimmons in it.

It was, he thought, a beautiful day, and so he decided to bask in the sun on his back until she returned, a satisfied vulpine smile on his face. Let her catch him, he thought.

She emerged twenty minutes later from the forest, her arms filled with a bouquet of crimson, spidery lilies which she held like a bride. Some were as of yet still only in the bud, some beginning to reach the fullness of their bloom.

Her face peaked out from between the beautiful red flowers with their strange, ungainly tendrils. Her face was flushed, and her eyes sparkled and the sun played in her hair.

She was so beautiful, that day.

She raised the flowers to him in triumph and as she did so, they began to tumble from her arms, and she had to bend and fumble clumsily not to drop them. He could not help but smile softly at the sight.

Looking at her, something in his chest tightened, and he could not say what it was, only that it was half agony, half tremendous sweetness, and entirely of her making.

He rose to his feet.

"Here," he said calmly, "Give them to me. I'll carry 'em for ya’."

She looked up at him quickly, and smiled brightly when she met his gaze, her eyes crinkling warmly. She handed the flowers over.

"They're pretty," he mused, opening his eyes fully, though the flowers took up only the smallest part of his attention. She felt heat rise in her cheeks, and could not explain why it did.

He felt a tendril-like petal between his fingers. "This was a good idea ya' had. I wonder what these are?"

She had no idea. In truth, she knew little about flowers, only that there were certain kinds that you shouldn't eat because they were poisonous, some that came in the spring, and some that came in the summer. There had not been the space to think about beautiful things before she met him.

She had chosen these because she knew that they were bright and interestingly shaped, and it had been as simple as that.

"I don't know," she said. "It’s just a pl-". She broke off, and stretched out her hand, distracted. She could have sworn she felt rain.

The world paused, like the attention of creation was focused on a grand spectacle far off in the distance.

She heard a hesitant pitter-patter.

 And then an uncertain stutter of rain drops bouncing off the ground.

The gentle tapping grew heavier and heavier until, suddenly, it became a drumming cacophony, the sound echoing across the garden, and the world turned green and blurred as the air overhead filled with water, with great lashings of water, pelting down. The sun kept beating brightly and relentlessly, and the raindrops shone like diamonds hanging in the air, and the world tilted and overturned.

She could not see; he could not see.

She grabbed his hand blindly, and startled, he allowed the flowers to slip from his arms and his fingers and crash to the ground. She ran exhilarated through the rain, laughing and laughing deliriously, leaping over the vegetable beds and odd mounds of earth, and he followed, delighted and laughing and letting himself be led after her.

He would have followed her anywhere.

When they reached the house, they were soaked through, and water dripped on the floor. His hair lay flat and drenched across his forehead, and hers hung in a wild mane about her head. They bumped together clumsily, and clung to each other to keep one another steady. Their feet were wet and water pooled on the ground.

His lips had found themselves on her forehead, so tightly were they pressed against one another, and the rain clattered against the roof like the banging of a war drum.

"The fox is- the fox is having his wedding," she laughed, struggling to catch her breath.

"What?" he asked, dazed and blinking, trying to wipe the water from his eyes. There was still mud from earlier in the day on his face, and it smeared where he rubbed.

"I-" she paused for a moment and glared at him. "I don't know! I don’t know why I said that. It's a saying, I think."

"What's it mean?" he said, trying to catch his breath.

"I dunno. It's just what you say when the sun shines and the rain rains at the same time. I think I must have heard it when I was still alive. The fox is cunning, and sneaky, and powerful, right? When he does stuff, he doesn’t like people to see, so he makes it rain.” She explained it all as if it were commonsense. “He didn’t want us peeking in on him."

"Huh. The fox is havin' his weddin'," he echoed, turning the phrase over slowly in his mouth. It was poetic, he thought- but he still didn’t have the first clue what it meant.

But she had moved on, stepping away from him to peer outside. The air was thick with falling rain.

"Will the flowers be alright, do you reckon? Will they die if we don't put them in the ground right away?" she asked, concern written all over her face. "It was tough work digging them up and carrying them here. I got mud under my nails."

"They should be okay," he considered. "They'll get plenty of water in the rain at least, and rains like this never last long."

"Ugh," she groaned suddenly, looking at her arms. "I'm still covered in dirt. I wanted to go and wash up in the river before we ate and went to sleep.” She pouted, her hands on her hips. “Maybe I should just take my clothes off and stand outside in the rain and let it do the washing for me," she said petulantly.

His heart skipped a beat.

"Nope," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. "That would be silly. And anyway, there's not enough rain now for ya' to get clean."

“I bet a bath in a sunshower would feel like nothing else in the world,” she teased, not because she knew what it implied, but because he had forbid it.

But as if his words had intervened directly with the weather itself, the drumming on the roof quietened to a patter and stopped completely soon after.

Birdsong resumed, and with it the lazy background hum of cicada music.

“You did that!” she accused. “You stopped the rain with your powers!”

“I wouldn’t know how to do that even if I wanted to!” he complained. “I don’t know why ya’ complainin’ anyway- standing in the rain wouldn’t have got ya’ clean, and now there’s no rain, ya’ can take your bath in the river, like you wanted.”

She huffed at him.

“But we’ll plant the flowers first.”

He sighed in frustration, and ran a hand through his hair. The dirt on his hands transferred, leaving a dark streak, and she giggled at the sight.

“We’ll plant the flowers first,” he said.

 ---

(And they had. They had bloomed through the autumn that year until even after her birthday had come and gone, and they had come back year after year after year without fail, even after they had both left the old house to tumble down into ruin and the garden to be overcome by the wilderness.

The spider lilies had shone in bursts of scarlet and crimson against the verdant trees, and even when they planted other flowers there, they always took pride of place.) 

(They were still there even when she returned years later, a tired woman weighed down by grief and betrayal, but wiser.

She looked at those flowers then and knew too late their irony. She thought of then of the fox’s wedding day, and of a foolish girl who had carried a bouquet of red spider lilies in her slender arms to the boy she had loved, bride-like and ignorant, so ignorant, of what was to come.)