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starry-bi-sky · 1 year ago

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I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.

And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.

(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)

(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)

(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)

And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.

(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)

One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.

One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.

What happens next?

Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.

And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.

Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.

It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.

Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".

Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.

He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.

In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.

In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.

In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.

Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.

It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.

It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.

(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)

(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)

(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)

(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)

(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)

(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)

It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.

And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.

Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.

Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.

And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.

It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.

(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)

In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.

Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.

Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.

And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.

If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.

There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.

And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.

He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.

And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.

It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.

Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)

Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.

Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.

(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)

(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)

He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.

Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.

...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.

(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)

And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.

Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.

It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.

It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.

Damian is experienced.

Damian is a child.

Damian knows how to fight.

Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.

Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.

And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.

Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.

Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)

It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.

He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.

Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.

Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.

Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.

Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.

Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.

He only cries harder.

Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.

Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.

When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.

"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.

He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."

Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.

It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.

Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:

The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.

Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.

They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.

On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.

It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.

Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.

It was... quite the staring contest.

Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.

Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.

Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.

"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"

Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.

"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.

He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."

There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.

"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.

"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.

"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."

They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.

Batman is silently brooding.

Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."

Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.

He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.

"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.

Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."

Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."

Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.

"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."

(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)

"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.

"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."

(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)

Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.

"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."

Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.

(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)

Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."

Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.

Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.

....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."

(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)

Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."

From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.

However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.

Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.

The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.

Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.

("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."

Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")

When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.

His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.

Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.

He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.

"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."

The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.

His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.

#dpxdc #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny phantom au #dpdc danny fenton #i am incapable of making short posts it seems. heavy sigh #this post is open to add ons if anyone's interested 👉👈#this entire au is essentially the song 'Strange Sight' by KT Turnstall from the Tinkerbell and the Neverbeast #This post mostly goes into how danny and damian's relationship develops because i think that's the more important part of the au #also damian's like six i firmly believe he wouldn't know much english #no no he's learning arabic first and then english LATER. if he would ever even get there with the league #iirc all the damian clones liked Danny so i wanna explore how their relationship got to that point. Like what happened for Danny to get eve #getting one Damian clone to like him enough to go up to bat for him? that takes time and patience and i wanna explore that lol #danny's in his late teens here btw.#Clone Damian is a 7yo child and I'm writing him as such because its fun. I thought about having Clone Damian change his name but nothing fi #little clone damian is also A Tad Clingy. Danny is the First Person to have shown him a kindness and Damian Imprinted On Him Like a Duck #i love clone aus and clone aus love me #clone damian and danny are bROOOTHEERSS #i thought about making clone damian's name damon bc its close to the name damian but also i like the idea that clone damian keeps the--#original name and then makes it his own. something about taking the name you were given thats not really yours and MAKING it yours

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wannabepoeticischiya · 29 days ago

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all the colors of the sun

ao3: all the colors of the sun pairing: karasu tabito x f! reader genre: romance wc: 17.5k status: one shot

You don't need to wish for love or for someone to love you. Because… sometimes, you just never realize that you've had them all along.

And if he were to put it into words, he'd tell her: “And ya don’t need to wish for him to love you…”

Because he already does.

“No way in hell did Karasu get a girlfriend before me!” Otoya protests, voice laced with all the stinging sensations of envy as he, Isagi, and Yukimiya huddled together like the Avengers if the superhero group was the type to peek at people from around a corner.

The object of their interest? None other than the assassin, Karasu Tabito—talking animatedly to a girl all the while looking like he just won the World Cup, saved the universe, and had gotten married all in the same day. His smile was very annoyingly wide, and his laughter sounded so happy that it scratched the ears of his very envious teammates.

"Maybe he’s just being nice to a fan," Yukimiya offered, though the model himself couldn’t stop the bitterness from tagging along with his words. He swears he could almost taste it.

“Karasu?” Otoya questions incredulously.

“Nice?” Isagi follows.

“Ha! The only way Karasu and nice belong in the same sentence is if the word isn’t is in between,” Chigiri remarks, arms crossed as he leaned against the opposite wall, silently judging his teammates—who were very keenly drawing nearer and nearer to the borders of looking like electric posts if they could pull the We Bare bears pose—from their spot in the corner.

“Why’re you guys talking about him anyway?” Chigiri asks, sipping casually on his energy drink.

“Look at him, Chigirin!” Bachira’s head popped up from behind the trio like a Whac-A-Mole, pointing dramatically at the crow in the crowd. “Karasu’s talking to a girl!”

Chigiri chokes mid-sip, spilling his drink all over his hands and on the floor from absolute mortification. “He’s what?!”

"Whatcha guys yellin' for? Yer gonna get us in trouble if ya don't keep it down—"

“Hiori! Look at your childhood friend!” Isagi whispers in alarm, as if the scene he’s been watching unfold before his eyes for the last five minutes is nothing but fever-induced hallucinations.

"He ain't my childhood friend,” Hiori mutters, rubbing the back of his neck in annoyance that he had to clear this up, again. “If anythin’ he’s—”

Tired of Hiori’s stalling, Isagi shoved the Ice Man’s face in the direction of their crime-committing teammate.

“[Name]-san?” Hiori mumbles in surprise, blinking repeatedly as if the scene before him was something out of this world. Well, he should’ve expected this considering… well, considering them.

“You know her, Hiorin?” Bachira pokes his head from Yukimiya's side, curiosity all over his honey-colored eyes.

“Yeah,” he breathes, still struggling to process the image, “She’s…” his words faded to a dull echo. It’s only been a few months since he last saw them together. There wasn’t anything unusual, same old Karasu, same old [Name], still laughing and talking like they were the only two people in the world. They’ve always looked like that. Always looked at each other like that. So how come seeing them now… how did they look so different? Almost as if they were…

“In love.” He whispers.

“What?!” The peepers—minus Yukimiya—screamed in unison, garnering a few odd stares from the people walking by.

“What I meant,” Hiori clears his throat, “is that she’s Karasu-kun’s childhood friend.” Hiori smiles, “She’s also ridiculously strong.”

“Can’t be stronger than Karasu, right?” Otoya asks, his eyes giving way to the bubbles of whatever evil plan it was that he was concocting in his head.

“Oh, I ain’t sure.” Hiori shrugs, “But from all the fights they had that I can remember, she never lost a single one."

Hiori caught sight of the smirk on Otoya’s face growing wider, and if he were to push it, Hiori was certain that Otoya would was going to tear his jaw open from it.

Amused by the ninja’s shamelessness, Hiori imparts a very much needed word of wisdom.

"If she and Karasu-kun were to fight for real right now, she would still win.” He laughs, not quite liking the sudden image of Karasu’s bruised face from long ago showing up in his head, “and that's with Karasu-kun burnin' all the candles at every end."

Otoya’s suggestive expression wilted like a rose at the new information, stepping behind Yukimiya all of a sudden.

Wanting to see how far he could go, Hiori hummed and pretended to think deeper, “I think she does kickboxing—or was it karate? Well, doesn’t matter. Yer screwed either way, Otoya-kun.” Hiori pats Otoya’s shoulder as he walks past the group of terrified teenagers, “Best not to try!” He calls, waving his hand in farewell.

As he walks away, snickering softly to himself as he noted the look on his teammate’s faces. He remembers the day those two met, a moment in time so engraved in his head it felt kind of strange to see how much had changed.

Or maybe… just maybe, nothing’s changed at all.

---

"Didja lose your partner?"

A younger [Name] stood in front of a boy crouched by the bike rack near the curve, popsicle in hand as the other scratched the back of her neck—craning her head to see if anyone was around the corner.

[Name] tried to catch his eye, shamelessly offering the half-eaten treat to him when he ignored her question.

Met by his silence, she steps closer to him, setting her bag next to his yellow hat as she crouches down to try and get a glimpse of his face.

"Oi," she calls again, waving a sticky hand in front of his face. "Can ya hear me?"

The boy hides his face further in the comforts of his arms, swatting away her hand without a word.

[Name] furrowed her brows at his dismissal, pouting at him even if he couldn’t see.

What’s this kid’s deal? She thought.

Just as she was about to get back up and walk away, she heard him—albeit very soft that could be mistaken for the wind—whimper.

He wasn’t upset at her or anything, but he just didn’t know what else to do at the moment, so he couldn’t help but try to push her away. This was the last thing he wanted… for someone to see just how weak he was. He didn’t get partnered up with the girl he wanted, so what? It wasn’t like it was the end of the world. He thought it was the stupidest reason in the world. It shouldn’t be something to be so upset over.

But he was.

To him… getting partnered up with Marisa really, really mattered.

Pained by the sudden reminder, he felt the back of his eyes tingle, silver brimming his downcast gaze.

"H-Hey, c'mon now, don't cry..." [Name] panics, dropping down to eye level with him once more at the sight of the tears streaming down his very sad face. Mindlessly, she thrusts the melting, half-eaten popsicle to him like an offering, like the spirit of summer could magically solve all his problems.

She pats his back awkwardly, "I lost my partner, too." She blurted, her voice colored in cheer and laughter, as though the matter of losing a buddy on a school field trip was a funny story they can share for life.

The reason for Karasu's sadness was a very different matter altogether, still, he appreciated his classmate's efforts. Her kind, and frantic energy pulling at the corners of his lips even by the smallest centimeter.

"Hio-kun prolly made it back to the teacher, maybe your partner is there!" She smiles at him, like there was no surer thing in the whole wide world aside from her optimism. She extended a hand for him to take. "Let's go back, Nakimushi-san!"

"I'm not a crybaby!" He snaps, finally looking—more like glaring—at her through watery eyes, "And the name's Karasu. Karasu Tabito!" (believe it!)

"Okay, Tabito-chan!" She beams, one so bright it made him squint.

Before he could reprimand her for her actions, she plopped the matching yellow hat back onto his head, the brim settling crookedly as her sticky fingers lingered for a second too long. She adjusted the straps of her red backpack and looked to him in anticipation.

"Don't go calling me by my first name like we're close or somethin’!" He yells, flustered at the thought of a girl being all chummy with him.

"Sure thing, Tabito-chan!" She replies, completely ignoring his protests as she drags him by his hand and led him back to the rest of the group.

---

That was how they became friends.

According to the testimony of Hiori Yo—who was originally [Name]’s assigned partner—she was seen ditching him half-way when caught sight of an ice cream store, and somewhere along the way got wired with a crying kid on the sidewalk.

From that day onward, they just sort of… stuck together

---

At eight years old, [Name] discovered Karasu’s secret, as much as a secret it could be but… what she unveiled was his crush on Marisa—the resident cutest kid in class, according to him.

It wasn’t intentional. [Name] blamed it on Karasu. It was completely by accident.

She went to his house one Saturday morning to return the ball he had left by mistake last night when he came over to her house to play.

His older sister, Tsubame-nee-chan, who looked just like Tabito but with longer hair and a kinder attitude, had told [Name] that her best friend was upstairs. She was so used to having the girl come over that it started to become weird when there wasn’t any laughter and banter in the house.

“Tabito’s upstairs,” Tsubame waves from the living room, laughing at something her friends said. “Ya can just grab him yerself!”

Muttering a faint, ‘Pardon the intrusion’, taking off her slippers, and a ‘Thanks, Tsubame-nee-chan!’, [Name] climbed the steps, no limit to her usual buzzing energy.

But the second her foot closed the last step of the stairs, she halted.

[Name] caught sight of Karasu at the far end of the corridor, standing in front of the full-length mirror he probably used more than his sister—or anyone in his house for that matter. The boy hadn’t taken note of her presence just yet, seemingly immersed in whatever it was that he was doing that merited his undivided attention and spatial awareness.

She tilted her head in curiosity and breathed to call out to him.

And with little to no warning at all, his voice broke through like thunderstorms.

"Marisa, I like you," he tells his reflection, flushing red from the weight of his own words.

[Name] gasped, her jaw dropping to the center of the earth—the surprise simmering in her soul that it had frozen her over where she stood, causing her grip on the soccer ball to loosen. The ball slipped from her hands, descending step by step down the stairs, sounding like a drumroll for impending doom.

The sound had Karasu whipping his head in her direction looking like roadkill. Blushing, in the nicest word; lovesick in the worst.

"YOU LIKE MARI—!"

Karasu, in sheer mortification, bolted toward her, yanking her away from the stairs and slapped a sweaty palm over her mouth before she could blacken his name in his own household. His heart racing faster than when he stayed past curfew and had to go home knowing his mom was waiting for him by the door with a slipper.

“Shaddap!” He hisses, voice barely above a whisper as he glances around like a criminal.

Meanwhile, downstairs, in the living room, Tsubame glanced at the direction of the stairs—noting the series of thuds and muffled and restrained yelling—raising a questioning brow as it had her pausing mid-laugh. A minute of silence ensued after that, so she immediately concludes that it was probably nothing… hopefully.

Those two were always loud and rough and chaotic, there existed no day where she could describe them with just two of those adjectives, and frankly, it would never work anyway. Where there was loudness there was chaos, and all the other matches.

Besides, her brother was a soccer player, and [Name] was a karate practitioner.

Totally normal.

Back upstairs, Karasu dragged [Name] into his room like she was a dead body he was desperately trying to hide.

When he was sure that the door was slammed shut and that no other human on earth could possibly lo and behold his newly discovered secret, only then did he let her go. He knew full well that as he stood there all red-faced, heart pumping, colored in all the shades of horror for his impending fate, shoulders heaving as he struggled to regain his composure… Karasu Tabito was never gonna hear the end of her teasing.

And it began the moment [Name] stood up, dusted the dust from her clothes, and looked at him with the most skin-crawling smile to ever graze humanity. “Sooo… Marisa, ey?” She jabs his side with her elbow, her smile growing impossibly wider.

Karasu groans, sliding dramatically against the door like a telenovela star as he hides his face behind his hands. “Yer absolutely not allowed to tell anyone!” he commands, glaring at her from where he was, trying to act all big and scary but failing in [Name]’s eyes since he was far too red-faced like a stoplight to be considered a threat. “’Specially not my sister! She’d tease me and I’d be forced to hit the grave early.”

"Don'tcha worry, Tabito-likes-Marisa, yer secret’s safe with me!" [Name] salutes dramatically, a certain twinkle in her eyes as if his wishes were a heaven-sent mission to their strongest soldier.

Karasu let out an exasperated sigh, ruffling his hair in frustration—already beginning to count the days that remained of his secret.

"So...” She started, leaning closer to him with a mischievous smile, “Whatcha like about her, Tabi-chan?" [Name] teases, wiggling her eyebrows while she was at it, poking his reddening cheeks at the reminder of the pretty girl from class.

His face erupted in all the shades of red—if it was even possible. [Name]’s prodding wasn’t helping his racing heart one bit, in fact, it only made him feel like his own organ was trying to break down his rib cage and run as far away as possible.

He wasn’t getting away from this—not unscathed—so might as well fess up.

"Well, she's really cute," Karasu admits, a tiny, soft smile painting his expression.

[Name] nodded enthusiastically, leaning closer in anticipation. But Karasu remained silent, he was just smiling there like an idiot staring off into yonder.

"What?" he asks as he took note of the unimpressed expression on his friend's face.

"Ya mean that's it?" she deadpans, all the happiness draining from her face at the sight of Karasu's lenient expression speaking volumes far more than when he spoke the words—"Should there be more?"

"Oi! I always thought ya weren't the sharpest tool in the shed, but I didn't know yer stupidity was this high—OW!" [Name] yelps as Karasu karate-chopped the top of her head, effectively drawing the curtains to her insults to a close.

[Name] glared at him, eyes reflecting the thought: you dare use my own spells against me?

"You don't get a say!” He protests, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “Ya never liked anyone but the neighborhood cat!"

Because for the life of him, no matter how many kanji he learned to read or write, he was certain he couldn't convey a hundredth of Marisa's beautiful qualities.

"Liking someone is dumb!" she shot back, wincing as she rubs the top of her head to ease the ache. She was certain she'd develop all the necessary dodging maneuvers from her friend alone.

"Of course, ya'd think that you gorilla." Karasu laughs as he leaned over to pull at [Name]'s cheeks just to annoy her further.

The small conversation was something only the two of them shared. Lost under the stars of all their laughter and the echoes of their smiles… forever just theirs to keep.

Karasu never confessed his feelings for Marisa in the entirety of elementary school, or ever for that matter. And [Name], surprisingly true to her word, kept his secret well, a secret.

That’s why it came as a surprise.

It was the day of their elementary school graduation.

Tabito and [Name] stood next to each other as his sister took their photo, saying that they were one step closer to ‘reaching the age of maturity’ as she had so cryptically put it. Because what on earth could she mean by that? They were plenty mature. It didn’t help that she was smiling weirdly at the two of them while she was at it.

But the biggest shock of the day wasn’t Tsubame-nee-chan’s sudden teasing, no. It was something entirely different.

Marisa called to Tabito just as their class had finished capturing a photo together. [Name] hardly had any time to see everything unravel before she was whisked away by the Karate Club to take a picture of their own.

As she caught the last of their shadows from the corner of her eye—Marisa, all smiles and laughing, Karasu, standing looking like he could snap like a taco shell at any moment but hid his situation very well.

For some reason unknown, the sight of them talking rang an unpleasant melody in the caves of [Name]’s chest, rattling the once peaceful solitude.

She blamed it on the pollen. She blamed it on the heat or the cold, whichever was more prominent. She blamed it on… quite literally everything else. Not willing to admit to anything—not when she didn’t even know what the heck this was.

Later that afternoon, when the two found themselves at the beach loitering on the wave breakers by the roadside to watch the sunset, Karasu told [Name] that Marisa—his life-long crush at the time—had confessed to him.

He told it like it was nothing. As if it was no more than an ordinary occasion, like a weather report!

But [Name]’s reaction was a stark contrast to his nonchalance.

The revelation crashed against her like a tidal wave that nearly had her toppling over the concrete barrier, in danger of falling to the sandy shore—a generous twenty-foot drop at least.

Karasu grabbed her by the scruff of her clothes, heart pounding at the sight of her almost falling— “Idiot, be more careful!” He scolds, carding a hand through his ever-growing violet hair.

“MARISA CONFESSED TO YOU?!” [Name] screams, standing up in absolute shock with zero regards that she almost had a close date with the Grim Reaper a few minutes ago.

"Hey! I already told ya to watch yerself! You'll fall!" Karasu reminds, reaching out to steady her. His brows remained furrowed as he stayed seated on the concrete barrier, only this time, one hand caged her own as his other found anchor on her ankle.

"Whatcha say? Ya better not have told her somethin' stupid! Gosh this is excitin'—"

“I rejected her.”

The world came to a standstill at the resounding echo of his words. But the tides continued to crash against the shores, drawing away not a moment later. The birds’ orchestra flowed like the spring zephyrs as they flew over the vast finiteness of the horizons. Still… [Name] could not feel herself move from her frozen state.

Wasn’t it too sudden? It felt like only yesterday that she discovered his crush on their classmate. Why… why?

Karasu looks to the ocean with a completely calm face, a stark contrast to the slowly rising tides. The sunset painted him golden, like all the stars melted just to color him in this moment.

When he was colored in that light, saturating him in every shade of soothing silence, softening his features… for the first time in forever, Karasu felt unreachable. Like he belonged to a world she had no right to step into. As though he would continue to travel past the borders of the Milky Way to some unknown universe far beyond what [Name] could comprehend.

When he was painted in all the colors of the sun, it was hard to deny.

It was difficult to fight the fluttering sensation thrumming in her heart—surging in all the forms of power—of happiness.

[Name] tugged on his arm that held her own, urging him to look at her as she asks, "Why?"

Indeed, why?

For as long as [Name] had known him, Karasu's always liked Marisa. He even went as far as to make her swear not to tell a single soul about his infatuation with the girl, not because he was embarrassed, but because he thought far too lowly of himself—believed that he was too ordinary—for someone like Marisa to ever like him back.

"I... well, we're gonna go to different middle schools,” he shrugs, sweeping it under the carpet like it was no big deal. “It would be a long-distance thing ya get me? So I rejected her." He talks about it so easily, always acting that it isn’t eating him up inside.

He was always like this.

Using the hand that held the hand of the girl standing before him, Karasu pulled himself up from his sitting position. He towered over her easily, already breaking past a hundred and seventy centimeters—a reminder that they were growing up—and he was sure to grow taller in the near future.

"Nothin' weird about it,” he comments apathetically. “Completely normal—ow! Hey! What're ya doin'—[Name]!" He hurriedly shielded his arm from [Name]’s aggravated assault.

“Yer an idiot!” she fires at him, her frustration dropping on him like a bomb.

"Ow! [Name]—stop! You hit like a gorilla—ow!" Karasu finally held her thrashing arms, caging her in his hold so she couldn't hit him anymore.

He wasn't sure why [Name] was acting this way, or why she was so upset over this. What he was certainly most certain of is that her punches hurt. They hurt a whole lot.

"You're an idiot..." she echoes.

Karasu tried to look her way, but it proved to be an arduous task as she kept her head down. A few stands of her hair prevented Karasu from discerning what sort of expression was on her face. He hesitantly let her arms go, watching them fall to her side softly.

Karasu poked [Name]'s forehead, pushing her head slightly to get her to look up.

"Hey..." he calls gently, closing the remaining distance between them with a single stride, "Why're ya cryin'?"

[Name] looks to the ocean, aggressively wiping away the traitorous tears that slipped from the shackles of her eyes. She wasn't gonna cry over this. It was stupid.

"You liked Marisa a lot, Tabito."

It took Karasu by surprise that [Name] called him by his first name, free from her usual teasing jeers and awful nicknames—still, he didn't understand why is it that she was so upset by his situation.

"I just..." she begins, glancing at him from the corners of her eyes before sighing and turning to face him, "It was yer chance to be with the one you loved—"

"Oi, oi... love is a strong word for that—" Karasu wanted to complain, to say that it really wasn’t like that, but looking at the saddened expression of his friend, he thought otherwise.

"—and you let the chance go just like that." She admits, her voice threatening to crumble from the heaviness that she felt—and before long, her tears had broken free from their holding cells.

"I know I can't say anythin' to ya cuz I'm a gorilla and I don't like anyone else but Miiko but don'tcha think it's a waste—" Karasu cut her off by wrapping his arm around her form, tangled her in gentleness that stood in great contrast to his usual rough and jagged demeanor.

Because he didn’t like seeing her cry.

He doesn’t like it when other kids make fun of her, even if he knew that she was better equipped to handle them far more than him. He doesn’t like it when she’s sad. And he doesn't like it when she wasn’t around.

[Name] was an irreplaceable figure in his life… and it hurt him just as much that she—that she was sad… and he felt even worse this time because he knew that he was the one who caused it.

"Gettin' a love life ain't everythin' in this world ya know?" he tells her, threading a hand through her hair in a soothing gesture.

[Name] buries her face in his chest, nodding despite knowing that he wouldn't see.

She felt like the world's biggest scumbag. Her best friend in the whole wide world just turned down the girl he liked for so long. She should've been sad—angry at the world for forcing this fate onto Karasu, to her best friend who was the kindest person on earth. And she was!

Desperately, she tried to convince herself that she was.

But here she was… taking advantage of his kindness. Trying to take more than what she was given.

Because what else could this be? That there was this thrumming sensation in her chest that rejoiced in knowing that Karasu turned Marisa down.

"Hold on, why are you the one cryin'? Shouldn't it be me?" He teased, ruffling the threads of [h/c] that covered her head.

"Idiot!"

---

As the seasons changed and the moon waxed and waned, a good chunk of their time in middle school was spent with Karasu breathing into his soccer career slash club slash obsession, playing alongside Hiori Yo—[Name]’s initial elementary school partner whom she ditched to get ice cream and was later forced to apologize to by her mother—all the while [Name] dedicated hers to Karate.

The two remained as close-knit as ever, choosing to wait for whomever had practice the longest so they could walk home together. Spending all breaks and lunches lounging around and glaring at people who looked at them funny. [Name] complaining about chemistry because who the hell would find joy in dragging numbers up and down, sideways and backwards, all over roll over. It was a pain. All she knew was that Protactinium + Nitrogen + Calcium + Potassium + Einsteinium = PaNcaKEs. And that was just about how far her Chemistry brain cells could peak.

It didn’t help that Karasu was a wizard when it came to that godawful subject so when it came to helping her with it, tutoring sessions were 5% learning, 3% complaining, with all the rest occupied by his relentless teasing.

A horrible experience.

But for them who had known each other since once upon a time, it was nothing unusual.

Everything was the same as ever. Same old science woes. Same old swimming classes despair. Same old faces. Same old Karasu. Same old [Name].

That was until one winter night of their second year of middle school...

[Name] was set to compete in the winter Karate tournament and if she did well, it was one step closer to Nationals.

She trained day in, and day out near the field where Karasu played soccer when the school field was out for break.

The soccer player was not privy to her unshakable resolve, even going as far as labeling her—and letting her know—that she was “working so hard like a cow” which he received a kick as thanks.

It was fine during spring—her training that is, even more so in summer, and Karasu would even let it slip in autumn but winter? Winter was a different matter altogether.

For the past days (and even last year), he had told her off for it—scolded her far more times than he would like to admit with a tone laced with all the streamers of irritation and illuminated by the lights of his concern. “Ya gotta stop workin’ yerself so hard like a cow, gorilla girl. You’ll get sick!”

As he makes a move to hit her head like he always did, [Name] dodged and repaid his words with a very kind kick to his side, sending him staggering a few steps away.

"Ya don't get ta lecture me on that, stupid crow! Yer here too, equally as guilty! And don't call me a cow! Or a gorilla!" She points a numb finger in his direction, because even with her stubborn and brutish attitude, it sadly didn't make her immune to the cold.

"Yeah, yeah..." He waved her off with one hand as the other rubbed the spot she kicked.

"But I'm runnin' around so I ain't as cold, but you've just been standin' there for the past thirty minutes, aren'tcha cold?" He quirks a brow at her as he approached her slowly, like a wild predator cautious to scare away his prey.

"Oh, I'm freezin’." She agrees nonchalantly, a mist of white clouds leaving the borders of her lips.

"Act more like it then, idiot." he deadpans, scratching his head in frustration.

"Here," Karasu breathes into his hands moving closer so he could cup her face.

"Woah. Ya really weren't jokin' when ya said yer freezin'" he says in surprise, laughing at his own discovery like it was the most amusing thing in the world. "Are yer hands cold, too?"

He retreated his hands and made a motion to take off his soccer gloves not a moment later, looking at them for a few moments—trying to figure out which hand was right and left, even if they wouldn't matter in the end—before sliding them onto her trembling fingers.

They hung loosely on her despite the Velcro straps going as far as they could possibly go.

Since when did he grow so much?

When she looks away from her hands to thank him, [Name] felt the world around her freeze into place, frosting over like the trees that bordered the field. Light snow descended from the heavens, the last sunrays dipping behind the horizons of the sky as the stars flickered to life one by one.

And then there it was again, that same fluttering feeling from so long ago. Only this time, it set everything in her to flames: her blood rushed far too fast for her head to keep up, lighting the meadows of her face to a vibrant shade of red, setting every hollow and edge into a raging inferno. She felt cold and warm everywhere—like her body couldn't decide if it wanted to burn to ash or forever freeze with winter.

The colors of the night shone in a vibrant light, flowering in circles from the sheer intensity—brighter than the summer sky yet dimmed in comparison next to him—to Tabito who looked at her like she was the only thing in the world, rubbing his hand against his arm to spark heat so he could thaw the frozen wasteland ravaging her soul.

Since when did she begin to see him like this? When did he become so saturated in all the colors of everyday life that he blended in so well?

When... did I start feeling like this?

Don't look at me like that, [Name] wanted to tell him. Don't laugh at me. Don't hold me like this... just don't.

Because if he did—when he does all of this—how was she supposed to fight off this greedy, hungry feeling festering inside her? This needless longing to keep him close to her, to never let him go, to show him all the wonders of the universe... all the colors of the sun, everything that he turned his back on because he believed that he wasn't enough to have any of them.

When he looks at her like that, when he laughs... when he holds her like this—how was she supposed to deny it?

That she was in love with him.

[Name] was in love with Karasu Tabito.

---

When the wave of High School crashed against the two best friends, it brought with it the cruellest game fate could play on [Name].

Marisa… had returned.

The same Marisa she had teased and jeered at Karasu about when they were kids. The same Marisa… Karasu had loved—again, such a strong word—for so long. And she guessed—no matter how much she didn't want to entertain the thought that Karasu could still like the same Marisa from elementary school—he loves even now.

And it nearly killed her inside when she found that her suspicions were true.

It was a week after their first year had begun when Karasu came running from the pitch to meet her halfway, cleats thudding against the grass as she made her way to the bleachers.

"[Name]!" He yells as he runs towards her at full speed it nearly had [Name] contemplate if she should move aside so Karasu doesn't accidentally trample her over. But he ran to her with the biggest smile she had ever seen on him—yes, even happier than the time they won the local tournament—it broke her heart to even think of sidestepping him, even if he did pose as a road hazard from his speed.

"Why'dya hafta feel like ya need to win a marathon, Tabi-chan?" She punches his arm playfully once he skidded to a stop near where she stood (after nearly running her over).

She sets her bag down as she laughs at the sight of Karasu buzzing in excitement. Must be something really important to him if he's this happy about it. Before [Name] could fully turn to face him, he had already grabbed her by the shoulders and started shaking her back and forth. "She's here!" He cheers.

"Who's here?"

"Marisa!"

[Name] felt her heart shatter from the happiness decorating every word that left the orbit of his tongue, shining like the stars that could’ve littered her evening. She should have been happy for him. Really, she should have shared even half the joy he felt from his supposed amazing discovery. She should've... she knew full well that she should.

So why does it remind her exactly of elementary graduation?

When he was whisked away from her by the same girl who she cheered Karasu to pursue? Why does it remind her so much that she wasn't a figure like Marisa in his life? She wasn't the object of his desire. Karasu didn't hold an ounce of romantic affection for her like he did for Marisa. She... [Name]... was just his friend. She was his best friend. And god... did that hurt—that she couldn't be more than that—when all she wanted was to be a little greedier, to have a place in his heart like Marisa did. She couldn't quite understand it... even if she knew deep down that Karasu liked Marisa, that he had her image perched atop a pedestal in the center of his heart, [Name] couldn't be contented with just being his friend.

The one friend who loved him so much.

The one friend... that he couldn't love back.

"Ya hafta help me, [Name]!” His voice anchored her back to reality. “I know I told ya that gettin' a love life ain't everythin' but now that I actually stand a chance... I—I don't wanna lose it agai... [Name]? You still there?"

Karasu waved a hand over her face, taking note of the expression painted on her face, almost as if she just saw a ghost. "Hello? This is ground control to [Name], are ya still in orbit?"

Through the haze, [Name] watches as Karasu walked around her in circles, poking her cheeks to try and get her back to him—huh, what an easily misunderstood thought.

She blinked, taking in the way he eyes her in confusion, his ridiculously gelled hair remaining immovable even as he prodded and scratched his scalp like it held all the answers in the world. Really, it wasn't him who was stupid for trying so hard... it was her.

Because as it stands, she was the one foolish enough to fall for him.

"Oho~ so yer finally mannin' up to ask her out, eh?" she smirks, her facade tugging at the seams of her resolve, pulling at the pieces of her shattered heart. In the silence of his unspoken rejection, she found herself gluing them together, even if they threatened to come apart later. Just a little longer, she would coerce. Just a little more... so that he doesn't find out—so he wouldn't find out—that his feelings... were slowly killing her.

"Don't even start," Karasu holds a hand to her face, he couldn't stomach that teasing shine in her eyes. How long has it been since he last saw that? Far too long he believes, still... he asked himself why he didn't miss it as much as he thought he would've.

Back then, even if it annoyed him to the point of starting a fistfight with [Name]—which he not-so-surprisingly lost every single time—he would secretly be grateful that she pushed him to go reach for the things that made him happy. In his little love life endeavors. No matter how badly it ended for the two of them—like getting scolded for coming home late or getting accompanied by the neighbor who owned Miiko, the cat, back home.

So why now? He didn't quite understand why it had to be now that it felt so wrong to see her pushing him towards someone else again.

She used to do it all the time, and it never bothered him.

Karasu briefly asked himself if the reason behind it was because they spent three—going four—years having no one else but each other. No, that couldn't have been it. Hiori was there sometimes, and Karasu was sure it never felt like this unpleasant feeling.

This was [Name] for crying out loud! The elementary kid who offered a half-eaten popsicle to him like it was some treasure. [Name] whom he pushed into the mud pond and laughed as she tried to get the dirt off her face. [Name] who could kick him so hard that he would fight to hold back his tears—even now that they were in high school.

[Name] was his best friend...

"I'll help ya get with 'er!" she grins, planting her hands on her hips in that little mannerism of hers that Karasu bets she doesn't even know she does, as though she was about to give him some prophet-level guidance free of charge.

Karasu just stares at her, longer than he would have liked to admit. Has she always been this short? Or did he simply grow taller?

Had they always been like this?

Yeah, she was his best friend.

And there should be nothing more.

…Right?

---

And so, the first semester of their first year in high school was spent planning ways to get Karasu together with Marisa while [Name] pulled all the hair on her scalp trying to hide her ever-growing affection for her violet-haired friend.

This also consisted of asking around the campus for Marisa with [Name] doing all the "cow's work" as Karasu had oh-so-gently put it, which merited him a much-deserved kick to his shin.

He had many excuses. One, he didn’t want to seem desperate (which he was). Two, he was too busy (which he is). And three, apparently, he didn’t want any rumors to start going around that he was still pining over his elementary school crush (which he very much was).

Even if [Name] told him not to be ashamed of it, Karasu still couldn't bring himself to do it...

Part of it, though, was because he didn’t miss the way the fire in [Name]’s eyes froze over whenever it was mentioned. He just decided that he didn't like that even if he didn't know the reason why. It bothered him. A lot.

If it were [Name] who asked around, it was different. There would be nothing to worry about since she was also a girl, and girls look for other girls all the time, don't they? They even accompany each other to the restroom like a pair of FBI Agents.

And if Karasu were to lay his heart bare for everyone to see, the only girl he looked around for, flipped heaven and earth over, out of his own jurisdiction and nearly toppled over in despair when he couldn’t find—aside from his mom and his older sister—was [Name].

But he didn’t know how to tell that to her.

The two best friends (mainly [Name] doing all the hard work) discovered a couple of interesting information about Karasu’s person of affection:

Marisa was in the swim club, an extremely coincidentally convenient twist of fate since the pool was by far the nearest facility near the soccer field (the dojo the farthest having been located on the other side of the school).

She excelled in Japanese Literature and Chemistry.

She worked part-time at a local café on Saturdays around the afternoon, another heaven-sent opportunity since soccer practice ended right before noon.

And finally written at the bottom of the paper in all caps along with a few doodles of hearts.

MARISA LIKES MUSHROOMS!!! ❤❤🍄❤❤

"Is that enough, yer highness?" [Name] asks him sarcastically, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes as she had spent the majority of her night stalking Marisa across all social media platforms.

She could pass as a CIA agent by now from all this digging.

She eyes the page ripped from her notebook that Karasu held in one hand as they sat face to face in the classroom—with their desks pushed together to accommodate their lunches.

Written on the slightly wrinkled paper, in messy scrawny handwriting were the fruits of her hard labor.

"I better get compensated for his, you rabies-infected crow," she mumbles, resting her head on the desk, and closing her eyes from the tiredness.

"Wow, ya got all of this in one night?" Karasu scans the paper, they weren’t much but it was still far more than what he could’ve gathered on his own. His stare lingered a moment longer on the girl—noting the way her head stayed resting on the desk, exhaustion seeping through the crevices of her skin as he observed the way her entire frame wilted from exhaustion.

[Name] hummed in confirmation, far too tired to give a worded reply. Now that the less than sufficient hours of sleep were getting to her, she feared that if she spoke another word to Karasu about Marisa, she would end up saying something she'd regret. So, it was best to just... stay silent.

It's getting easier to hear Karasu talk about Marisa. Bearable in the kindest word; numbing in the worst. Still, it didn't mean that she could deny that it hurt any less.

Learning to live through something was very different from accepting it, especially when it was the one you love loving someone else.

[Name] just hopes that she gets over this soon—because the last thing she wanted was to get in the way of Tabito's happiness. Or worse, lose him because of her own selfishness—because she couldn't get over a silly pathetic crush—that she couldn't stop wanting, praying… hoping to have him more than a friend.

"Oh, she likes mushrooms," she hears Karasu mumble, seemingly intrigued.

It was better to pretend that she didn't hear him. It's better this way, she tells herself. He wasn't going to remember anyway, but somehow, her traitorous mouth always worked faster than her brain, a step too late to grab the chance to hold her tongue before she says something she would regret... which is now.

"Ya can give her yer mushrooms now, Tabi-chan."

Silence blanketed the distance between them, seemingly setting them apart from the reverberating chaos ensuing in the classroom.

[Name] was embarrassed beyond belief, feeling her entire face catch fire yet was too exhausted to shield it away from him—not like he could see, but still!

Please let the ground swallow me whole.

Karasu looks to her like she suddenly grew three heads. "I'll always give ya my mushrooms, [Name].” He whispers softly, placing an elbow on the table, propping his face upright with his palm as he unconsciously smiled at the blush that littered the meadows of her face.

“Ya love 'em right? Just ‘bout the only other thing ya like other than Miiko." He snickers at his own jest, remembering a time in their childhood when [Name] would look over the fence and stare at the neighbor's cat for hours or chase it around the little alleyway near Miiko's house.

She felt her heart skip a beat. [Name] blamed it on the weather, or perhaps a growing ailment that made her heartbeat irregular. This was practically Arrythmia—dangerous and a health risk!

But she was sure that heart diseases didn’t come with lingering affections for your best friend. It also didn’t come with the pain of knowing that he was never gonna like her back. And she was most certain that it wasn’t attached with happiness after knowing that he remembers…

[Name] didn't like that she felt happy that Karasu knew that little thing, even if everything about her had practically become baseline knowledge for the soccer player. She just didn't like it.

"Uhuh," she agrees mindlessly, her voice squished by gravity as she remained still laying her head on the desk facing the window and looking at the world vertically.

"When ya marry her, can't just go out in the middle of dinner ta hand me some mushrooms, right?" She teases, the rumble of her laughter feeling more like a hurtful jab to her already breaking heart.

"I guess..." Karasu no longer stared at the paper he held in his hand, opting to observe his very sleep-deprived [Name].

Maybe the dryness of her eyes was getting to her or perhaps she was tired of him beating around the bush and walking on eggshells every time Marisa was around.

Karasu sighs, folding the paper three times and tucked it away in the safety of his bag. The raging inferno in her soul dwindled to a small flame, her usual bladed tongue that cut through his ego had dulled, her silence all too prominent in a world where everyone had something to say.

Ah… I don’t like this.

"Hey, gorilla woman." he grips her head like a ball, although he makes a conscious effort not to hurt her—lest he risk his well-being be a training dummy for the karate practitioner.

[Name] tried to wave away his arm but right now, she was too tired to even lift her hand. She could only mumble a very annoyed, "Don't call me gorilla, you rat-nest-haired crow."

"Let's go to a café this weekend," he suggests, taking a strand of her smooth hair and twirling it between his fingers like it was some sort of scientific breakthrough.

Was it weird that he was inviting her to go out all of a sudden?

But this was [Name]! They always went out together whether it's the local fair, watching a soccer match, or those late-night convenience store runs... this was nothing special.

Karasu started to chant that phrase like a mantra in his head. He was catching himself doing that too much—trying to convince himself that it was nothing—that spending time with [Name] was like a norm already.

They've done it a thousand times and he reckons, a thousand more after this... so what's the difference?

His heart thudded against the confines of his ribs at the sight of her: tired beyond all rhyme and reason, brows furrowed from the noise buzzing in the small room filled with their classmates and other students, her empty bento box next to his own like yin and yang. Salt and pepper. It wasn’t complete without the other.

Has she always been this present in his life? Since when? When did she start to be so interwoven in everything he did that it became strange when she suddenly disappears even when she’s right there? Really… since when?

Since forever...

And maybe, just maybe, that was the difference.

An idiotic part of [Name] rejoiced at his invitation—

"We can see Marisa there while we're at it," he quickly adds without thought, afraid she might misunderstand.

—yet all too suddenly; cruelly, she is reminded that she shouldn't long to be more than just his friend.

"Sure thing, Tabi-chan..." she whispers softly, forcing the thorns in her throat to pin down the hurt so they wouldn’t tumble out—that he may never see them.

And there, with the afternoon gale flowing past the curtains, she feels her heart breaking a little bit more.

---

When the weekend rolled around, Karasu finished his soccer practice exactly before noon, leaving him with a few spare minutes to change into the extra clothes he brought with him. Initially, he felt like the unluckiest athlete in the world when he dragged his ass here at 5 in the morning yet now that he was preparing to spend the rest of his day earlier than what he originally planned, he began thinking that it wasn't so bad after all. At the very least, it gave him enough time to go and see [Name] look at him in envy that his practice ended earlier than her.

[Name], much to Karasu's expectations, did not look at him in jealousy as he had hoped. Instead, she was second-in-line for kicking practice, looking like all the forces of good and evil conspired together to make her day as terrible and energy-draining as much as it could.

The Karate coach, a middle-aged woman who was also their gym teacher, made everyone stay back to practice some drills, claiming she saw it on her social media feed last night and wanted everyone to try it out... and no one was going to leave until at least one of them got it. It was cruel—very much the kind of savagery she expected to get from this tyrant (coach) in her innate domain (karate)—not that she was any stranger to cruelty, though she would be lying if she claims she didn't feel just a little bit sad when she was at the receiving end of it.

Karasu was allowed to stay in the dojo and watch, so long as he remained a safe distance from any potential kicking pads that might come flying his way—a warning he engraved to his mind and soul after getting smack-dabbed in the face by one, and many, many close calls.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd watch [Name] practice; he'd been making the trip from the soccer field to the dojo ever since the beginning of first year that the coach relented and let him stay no matter how many times she told him to go away.

Karasu didn't mind the extra cardio, more often than not, [Name] was the one who had practice running so far from dismissal time, leaving him with nothing to do but sit and wait for her to finish so they could go home together. And it was rarely the other way around.

But seeing her here, in her element, always tugged at something in his chest. A sort of reminder that this was the girl he was lucky enough to call his best friend.

When it was [Name]'s turn to do the drill, everything faded to silence... until it was just her: bouncing on her feet under a thousand shimmering lights, drawing in a breath in preparation. And like the flow of the spring zephyrs, she sliced through the air like a fairy—an aggressive and very, very strong fairy—striking the lowest pad with her left foot, her right foot forcing the middle pad to fly, and finally—after so many failed attempts and an almost sprained ankle—successfully kicked the last top pad with her left foot.

She landed gracefully, like the first fall of snow, shattering the momentary reverie Karasu found himself raptured into.

What the hell?

[Name] looked to her coach in miserable anticipation, a silent plea to release her from this torture. It was between this room and this witch how many times she and her teammates had to do that godawful trick.

The coach gushed over the exhausted [Name], complimenting her for a few seconds before dismissing training.

[Name]'s tired vision zeroed in on Karasu, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor near the door, bag next to his side, and looking every bit the part of someone going on the most anticipated date of his life. [Name] blamed it on the light, or the fatigue seeping into the cracks of her heart, but for a small moment, a foreign light shone through the depths of sapphire pools of his irises.

She thought nothing of it, choosing to lazily wave at him from where she stood, completely oblivious to the lingering glimmer in his expression or the way his face shone brighter at her greeting as he waves back; that for the first time ever, the usually cocky soccer player found himself drowning in the oceans of shyness and hesitance at the sight of his best friend.

"Imma change real quick, so wait for me a little longer, 'kay?" she called, brushing past his figure as she sluggishly—bag in hand—made her way to the locker rooms.

Karasu nodded absentmindedly, his eyes tracing the shadows of her figure until she disappeared around the corner.

C’mon, me, this isn’t the time to feel all mushy for [Name]! That’s [Name]! Your best friend! The gorilla girl next door always working hard like a cow, he internally scolds himself.

Karasu let out a low groan, slumping over on the floor, staring at the place where [Name] once stood. He swore he could almost see her figure there, and he would have believed his own illusions if he hadn't just seen her walk past him to go change.

The soccer player runs a hand over his face in frustration. "Honestly, what's wrong with me..." he mumbles, covering his head with his arm like it can somehow magically put out the wildfire wreaking havoc on the meadows of his face, burning through his resolve like paper.

In the locker room, [Name] was facing a dilemma of her own.

"Hey, [Last Name]-chan, are you and Karasu-kun going out?" one of her teammates asks, a gentle curiosity for Karasu and her long-term friendship, but the words felt like collapsing stars in the once quiet place.

In horrified befuddlement, [Name] screamed an anguished—"Huh?!" like the words her teammate spoke had been a cursed enchantment that would linger through her bloodline for a thousand generations and not the fantasy she wanted to bleed into reality.

"That gel-faced crow who's scared of water? Hell no!" she denies, trying to have it look like the teases and jeers she usually passed around with others.

"But he always waits for you to finish practice" her teammate pointed out.

And it was true—Karasu always made the trip across campus just to wait for [Name] to conclude training no matter how long it dragged on. She recalls the many times the soccer player had fallen asleep by the door, using her gym bag as a pillow because, according to him, her clothes were fluffier and a lot more comfortable than the mess of dirty, sweat-drenched heap in his bag he called clothes.

And as told by another one of his anecdotes, [Name]'s stuff (and even herself) were a lot more preferable sleeping buddies than a soccer ball. A soccer ball! Then there was also the day he carried her home after a particularly bad fall from kicking practice, even if Karasu himself was tired beyond belief.

"That mole rat's been around for so long, we prolly look the same in everyone's eyes by now." [Name] jokes as she continues to rummage through her bag, shaking her head from the horrible image of her having Karasu’s hair.

"And besides..." she murmurs, her gaze distant as she stares at the dress she chose—picking apart her closet all night, spending so long trying to carefully place it in her bag—only to betray herself by abandoning it last minute.

He already likes someone else.

---

The walk to the cafe was relatively silent.

Karasu kept the comments of [Name] being far too quiet for the past week to himself. He thought, maybe she was just tired. The school festival was coming up, but she also still had to train. It was cruel, especially the arduous training he saw her endure earlier that she looked ready to rearrange her coach’s face to roadkill.

Domed by an eternally blue sky, he glances at her from the corner of his eyes.

She looked like hell!

Karasu wasn’t about to lie and tell her that she looked great—that would just be cruel—so he chose not to say anything at all.

He didn’t trust himself with his words, a restraint he put on himself like heaven’s command after he caught himself looking around a store and thinking: Oh, [Name] would like this, or, She’d look good in this, before a hollowing echo of, She always looks good in everything though, would cause him to freeze where he stood and cover his face in shame for having such thoughts.

By far the worst case of this was when he stopped someone because he mistook her for [Name]—it was ridiculous! This was getting outrageous!

Yet one look at her, right here, when all the colors of the sun had painted her in an ethereal light, how could he still think that she was the most beautiful person on the planet?

It must be witchcraft. A curse put upon him for lying. A truth… that he was finding increasingly difficult to deny.

Absolutely… ridiculous…

"You tired?" he asks casually, even if the answer was staring at the road in the form of dark circles heavier than Oganesson.

"Nah.” She smiles through the haze, lazily eyeing him from the sides. “This is the usual ain't it?" she laughs, shifting the weight of her bag that she refused to let Karasu carry despite his many offers and demands for her to just give it to him.

"Don't act so tough, gorilla woman. If yer tired, we can always just go another day." He rubs the back of his neck, finding no other thing to do to ease this shaking sensation in his cardiac muscles.

"Stop callin’ me gorilla woman, you turd-face crow,” she barks, though her tone didn’t hold an ounce of real bite. “'Sides... we're already here. It'd be a shame to leave now."

They stood in front of a glass-front café, cakes and other desserts peering at the passersby from the window. The little signboard by the door offering a warm welcome.

The scent of something faintly sweet weaved with the aroma of coffee waltzed through the warm air of the shop, a low hum of conversation rippling the serene atmosphere.

It thankfully was not the busiest place on the planet. There were a couple of middle school kids by the window side laughing amongst themselves, an office worker staring blankly into the horizon as the sunlight caught her auburn hair in a shimmering light, lastly, an elderly couple shared a pie and some loving smiles near the bar.

"Welcome!" A melodic voice cuts through the air, littered with all the scent of flowers in an open field, warm like the hearth of a fire.

Karasu turned in the direction of the voice, squinting at the sight of a girl in an apron holding a notepad. Who the hell was this loser? He thought, amused in the kindest light, domineering, in the worst.

The soccer player pushes [Name] to an empty booth, telling her to go order whatever her heart desires.

“Just get me whatever,” she mutters, closing her eyes, looking every bit like the monks he occasionally sees on TV… only cuter—what the actual hell?

“Sorry to burst yer bubble but they aren’t sellin’ that here.” He teases, reaching over to pinch her cheeks to get her to wake.

“Ow! Quit that!” She yelps and swats his hand away, sticking her tongue out at him before grabbing the menu from the table. “I’m gonna make your pockets hurt, turd-face.”

She buries her head in the menu dedicating every bit of concentration on the booklet, and he let her—even if he knew how this was gonna end.

“The Chocolate Milk non-coffee drink! And some cake trio platter!” she smiles at him—like he hung the constellations in the sky, or that he had been the one who conjured all the colors of the sun—the first in a long while, so it seems.

“Ya always get that everywhere we go.” He sighs, tracing her features with a gentle gaze.

“Ya asked me what I wanted, and I want that—” she raises her voice in faux defiance as if daring him to contradict her.

“Yeah, yeah…” he waves her off, flicking her forehead to add to her ire. “’Scuse me,” he calls over the lady who welcomed them earlier.

[Name], lost in her own thoughts, allowed her gaze to linger on his side profile from under her lashes. It wasn’t intentional. Why was he sitting there like that anyway all broad-shouldered and tall and—and…

She sighs in defeat.

When did you get so pretty? She thinks, mapping the edges of his jaw, memorizing the sudden sharpness in his gaze.

When did I get so sappy? She lets out a breath, shaking her head to clear her thoughts.

"Oh, Karasu-kun! Long time no see!"

The greeting caused [Name]’s eyes to shoot open, her stare landing on Karasu before it traced his gaze to the café worker smiling at them—at him, every atom the embodiment of a daydream. Built upon the foundation of effortless femininity.

“Uh…” Karasu trails off, unsure of what to reply. He was certain he didn’t know this person—

“You don’t remember me?” the waitress points to herself, “It’s Marisa, from elementary school.” She laughs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ears.

Karasu didn’t speak for a moment, short enough to feel natural yet all the stretch to let [Name] know that he was struggling to think about what to say.

"Marisa… Oh, Marisa!” His voice raises higher than expected, like he was caught red-handed for something he was guilty about. “Didn't expect you to be working here." He says, his easy-going tune hiding the truth that they intentionally chose this place because she was working here—that it was not a fated coincidence but a conspired plan. That was what [Name] thought, after all, she was the one who brought him here.

But Karasu… Karasu had forgotten all about that.

"[Last Name]-san, too. Hello," Marisa greets politely, every inch of her polished to a girly perfection. [Name] nods her head in acknowledgement, mumbling a quiet “Hi”.

"So, what can I get you two?" She asks smoothly, quickly pulling out a notepad.

Karasu steals a glance at [Name] finding her slumped where she was seated, painfully aware of the feel of her knee grazing his from under the table.

"I'll get the bamboo shoot soup if ya will." He replies cooly, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and it probably was.

What wasn’t natural, however, was that…

"Ever the favorite, huh?" Marisa teased, writing down his choice. "Ours have some mushrooms in it, so do be careful."

…She remembered.

"No biggie, [Name] here loves those." Karasu tilts his head to her direction. Did he have all the intention to rub it in her face that he was so close to getting the girl of his dreams? Or did the world mocked her through him as if saying, in big bold letters: Stop dreaming already, girl, yer never gonna get ‘im. Totally not cool.

[Name] didn’t know how to reply, she had no intention of doing so in the first place since she wasn’t even supposed to be part of this conversation to begin with.

"Really? I love mushrooms too, [Last Name]-san." Marisa beams, smiling like an angel.

"Well ain't that a surprise!" Karasu laughs.

No... it really wasn't.

He was enjoying this too much, [Name] thinks. How cruel does fate have to be that [Name] was hearing this conversation right in front of her face? Pretty damn cruel. She was no stranger to that, her coach made sure of it, fate made it certain, and the world set it in stone so that she may never forget.

Yet it still hurt. It hurts… so much. Every time she’s led back to this road, back to this desolate, empty, and pot-hole-riddled road—her resolve… breaks just a little bit more.

But she took one look at him, at Karasu—her best friend in the whole wide universe—looking so happy, and she plunged to freezing depths of her acceptance.

She steeled her heart, tightened the seams that they bled through the threads. Just a little longer, she whispers. Please, just for a little longer. Karasu's happy. Finally, after three long years of waiting for this chance, it's already within his grasp.

That's right.

This is how it should be.

This would be the inevitable outcome of all this planning and running around. All so he can be with her.

These useless feelings need to go away, they need to leave because they would just get in the way. They'll wedge themselves between Karasu and his happiness. [Name]’s yearning to be more than just a friend in his eyes would drive him away. Karasu didn't think of her like that. He didn't like her that way. And he would never. And she needs to learn how to accept that.

Because why would he—how could he—if Marisa was the one in front of him? How could he bring himself to love [Name] when the girl of his dreams liked him, too?

I'd rather see them happy together. So happy that it'll show just how ridiculous it is for me to want him. Until I can't even dream of it anymore.

Because that was how it should be.

This was the reality.

[Name] loves Karasu that much was true.

But... Karasu loved Marisa… and no power on earth was going to change that.

---

"Isn't this strange," Tsubame, Karasu's older sister, mused, looking up from her schoolwork all the way from the dining room table to stare at her little brother's entrance like he was some strange lab experiment gone wrong.

"What's strange?" Tabito questions, yanking his shoe off with all his usual carelessness before haphazardly shoving them into the cabinet by the door.

"Yer not with [Name]-chan."

Tsubame now stood before him, an inch taller than him, courtesy of the higher leveling of their living room from their entryway.

"Didja get in a fight with her or somethin'?" She buzzed around the taller male like a bee, completely forgetting about her work still littered on the table. "Finally win? Yer count is on an outstanding three to fourty seven, those three wins because you cheated!"

Karasu dodged his sister's nosiness, grabbing a glass from the cupboard to fill it with his usual kelp tea.

"We didn't fight," he mumbles, from his spot, he could see past the window above the kitchen sink and to the window of [Name]'s living room. "She was just tired 's all." He answers mindlessly, rinsing off his glass before turning to leave, brushing past his older sister and her simmering curiosity.

Tabito didn't understand it himself.

That was supposed to feel like mission accomplished! He should've been over the moon, even reaching farther than the center of the galaxy... but he wasn't.

He blamed it on the mushroom he was forced to eat! He blamed it on the karate team's coach. He blamed it on destiny, on fate, on any other higher being messing with him and laughing in the coves of their habitats!

Most of all... he blamed himself.

Whose fault was it other than his that all [Name]’s hard work got burnt to the ground?

Because when he talked to Marisa for the first time in three years—just when he thought it would be a lasting moment that would echo for all eternities to come—he felt absolutely nothing. Like that day back in elementary graduation. Completely impassive from that girl's confession.

Empty.

He didn’t even recognize Marisa! He called her a loser! And despite having her right next to him, within arms’ reach, close enough to hold, all the bit possible to touch… all he could think about was the girl sitting in front of him.

How her eyes looked too tired, that she probably wanted nothing more than to sleep, or get that tournament trophy over and done with and goof around.

Everything about Marisa blended with all the colors of the earth, nothing but a backdrop to make everything else shine. Her voice fading to a dull echo until all he could hear was the silence…

"Ya can't keep denying, Tabi-chan."

...Silence left by the lack of [Name]'s presence.

It must be witchcraft; someone must've cast a spell on him on the way home! That must be it! Because why on earth was he hearing [Name]'s voice in the safety of his home when he very much clearly saw her walk through her front door and shut the door in his face?

He blamed it for forgetting to clean his ears earlier, because the next words he heard came in the form of his sister's voice. "If there's somethin’ ya wanna say to her then ya better say it."

It was Tsubame-nee-chan from the very beginning.

It was just Tabito thinking otherwise. It was him summoning all these hallucinations of [Name]. Conjuring the image of her in the afternoon haze, seeing her face in the breaks of dawn, hearing her voice in the horizons of twilight. It was all him. All him.

"It'll make ya feel better if yer just honest with yerself. Do it now while ya still have the time." Tsubame places a comforting hand on her little—who is now not so little—brother's shoulder. "Regret always comes when the moment's over."

"Does this come from yer personal experience?" Tabito shot back, evading what he already feels engraving in his heart.

"Imma let that slide, you ungrateful brat," Tsubame smiles through her irritation, before it quickly thaws to a sigh, "It's an old saying, Tabito. 'Repentance comes too late' or 'the biggest fish is always the one that got away'." She shakes her head, tired of her brother being an idiot!

"While she's still there, just tell her how you really feel."

"What's that s'posed to mean?" he barks, aggravated by the hidden implication, he didn't like that—

"Oh, please! Assess yerself for once!" Tsubame yells, throwing her hands fed up with this idiot’s stubbornness, turning her back and retreating to the dining table to continue her work. “Ya shouldn’t need someone to spell it out fer ya! Figure it out like man, ya idiot!”

His sister’s words strike true, rattling the peace within his great fortress of denial. The weight of it left him standing there in the ruins of his cowardness, unsure if he should rebuild the remnants of something he once had thought would stand for eternity.

Tabito needed to know that for himself, he knew that. He also knew that he shouldn't need an external force to have him work on his tangled feelings of friendship and love, because it would make it meaningless. He needed to find that out on his own.

He needed to do all that gruelling powder and brushwork on his own accord and find out for himself where exactly did he cross the line between friends and 'I guess spending life with you wouldn't be so bad'.

[Name] was always there.

Everywhere he looked, in every memory he held, she existed. No matter what point in his life he travels back to—she was just... there.

All the memories he could recall had remnants of her: a smile, her daunting laugh, the pain of her kicks, the scent of daylight that lingers around wherever she goes. She was there. In everything. Everywhere. In all the colors of the sun.

The heat from soccer practice. The gentle gale of spring. The moon in all its glory. She was there. The laughter echoing in the streets. A shadow in the playground. The starting thought before daybreak. A lingering memory before he succumbs to slumber. She was there.

In all his thoughts, every action, every smile, every laugh... they all led back to her. The fall of snow, the rain of petals, the crashing waves, the eternal saturated autumn sky.

There's a piece of her in everything.

When did it all change?

When did I start seeing you like this? When did I go so far beyond the boundary that I couldn't see that everything was blurring past all the colors of friends? When did I start missing the sound of your voice? When did I start staying in the illusion that I didn't see you more than a friend?

When did I...

This was the reality.

An undeniable truth he had always run away from. Choosing to cower behind the fragments of a past he had long swept out of his heart.

He was in love with her.

Karasu Tabito... was in love with [Name].

And he has been for a long time.

---

When Monday morning came in, Karasu showed up on her doorstep with his uniform thrown on his figure looking like a whirlwind passed him by on his way to her house.

He gave her his usual smirk, trying to bite at her ego from the way he stares at her. Condescending from an outsider’s words; lovesick from his.

“Didja run twenty before comin’ here on somethin’?” She teased, fixing his crooked tie with a laugh.

Karasu stares at her face scrunched into concentration, his head buzzing from the drumming of his heart—reaching all the way to the tip of his fingers. He prayed to all the deities out there that she couldn’t hear the way his chest wanted to split open from the lingering warmth of her touch. Or that she couldn’t feel that his body was emitting more heat from her close proximity.

Did he do this on purpose? No.

But for once he thanked all the cells in his body for working late on a Monday morning because he gets to be at the receiving end of [Name]’s warm touches.

“Tabi-chan? Are ya listenin’?”

Karasu’s momentary reverie crumbled at the sound of her voice. [Name] eyes him with heavy concertation, tilting her head as she looks up at him, her hand now holding onto the strap of her bag.

“Sorry, what were you sayin’?” he whispers, his breath falling short and had his words tumbling like the wind, left for only his and the earth to hear.

[Name] paid no mind to his strange demeanor, shifting her weight from one foot to another and looked at anything but his searching gaze.

“I said I was sorry,” she purses her lips together, the words didn’t taste particularly unpleasant, but the reminder of their laughter still haunted her more than she’d like to admit. “Fer cuttin’ yer date short with ‘er, I mean.” She clarifies, shutting the door behind her as she steps a foot onto the front lawn, walking past Karasu who stood on her porch a moment longer than usual.

Karasu quickly pulled himself together and closed the distance she put between them in a few large strides, slyly taking her bag with her as he distracted her with conversation.

"'S nothin'. We had a talk while ye were dyin' in the bathroom," he muses, poking at her side to rile her up.

"Hey! I wasn't dyin'—" [Name] rose to protest, because she really wasn’t. She excused herself to the bathroom to spit out whatever the hell it was that she ate—"Their bread had raisins on them. Raisins. I hate raisins." She argues defensively, crossing her arms over her chest… entirely unaware that her bag was no longer in her hold.

"Could've given them to me," Karasu shrugs, leaning half his weight on her, a terrible habit he developed when they were nine years old and hasn’t grown out of ever since.

[Name] dragged her weight to her legs, trying to keep both him and her upright. She doesn’t wanna topple over the sidewalk... again. It’s happened too many times already, and with more than at least ten of their neighbors seeing.

"Not in front of yer Mona Lisa," [Name] sneers, pushing his ever-drawing face away.

"Puhlease, she's hardly a Mona Lisa." Karasu comments, voice mumbled by the nice-smelling hand that belonged to the girl next to him.

[Name] was not sure how to respond to that. The truth was that they left the café after they finished eating. But some might think, oh, isn’t that what you do though? Well, it was what she wanted to do. She planned that meet-up to end with Karasu and Marisa living happily ever after. But as she went to the bathroom, came back, and told Karasu that she had to go home because she wasn’t feeling well—he offered to walk her home. It was what a good friend does, really it was. But you don’t do that when the girl you like is standing right next to you!

Plus, they talked about that! [Name] told him that she was gonna make up some dumb excuse to get them alone. This was the dumb excuse! But he was being more of an idiot than the idiotic excuse leaving her lips.

In the end, they ended up bidding her farewell… with Karasu lying through his teeth that he was gonna come back—not that [Name] knew that considering she was far too busy glaring at him from the side.

"Marisa... has a boyfriend already,"

Karasu’s voice froze the gaping silence between them, his words flying into the blue skies, forever left to find their way to the land of acceptance Karasu has long since passed.

[Name] looked at him in shock, stumbling over her step before regaining her footing only to gawk at him again.

Is that true? Did Marisa really have a boyfriend? Since when? I never saw that on her socials. Did Karasu confess or something? Or was Marisa possessed by some sort of psychedelic mind reader?

[Name] would never know… and she reckons Karasu was never gonna talk about it either. She knows that look, when his eyes stare so far into the distance she begins to wonder if he was seeing a portal to another universe open before his eyes, let’s not talk about it.

"Oh... uhmm,” she starts; racking her brain for an appropriate response that wasn’t Hell yes! or Woo hoo! because that was not appropriate in the least. “That's rough buddy." She awkwardly pats his back, only this time, she had no melted, half-eaten popsicle to offer him. Only a heart, battered and bruised, covered in bandages and held together by a thread… that will only ever be his.

"Ya know, I thought I’d be more upset about it." Karasu looks to the heavens, oddly vocal about what he feels.

Maybe it was morning dew refracted by the early morning rays. Maybe it was the autumn gale, ruffling the threads of his clothes. Maybe it was because of her—of [Name].

She looks at him with a raised brow, "And ya aren't?"

He smiles at her, one so gentle it could rival the clouds, replace the sun in warmth… dethrone Aphrodite from her position. “No,” he whispers, “No I’m not.”

He takes it all in, the image of her in this light. Karasu traces the contours of her face, the dust of roses powdered on the hills of her cheeks, the shine of a thousand galaxies in the pools of her irises.

Karasu was never one to believe in magic, or the supernatural… he couldn’t even consider himself an avid fan of the faerie folk.

But if somehow, somewhere—in this vast infiniteness, in the depths of the parallels, and the lullabies of the unknown—if there existed a figure for love, he was sure that it would be her.

"Maybe it's cuz I never liked her enough to begin with."

His confession slipped past his lips in a low murmur, faint enough that it could pass as a song of the fall, but she heard it. Always. Because what else could explain the reason that [Name] had suddenly started choking on her spit.

"Oi! Ya alright? Hey! [Name]! Don't die!" Karasu panics.

"Whaddaya mean ya don't like her?!” She screams, shoulders heaving from the sudden strain on her lungs. “What's all that work for then? Didya lie to me? Karasu Tabito—"

Her tone sent shivers crawling through his spine. "Woah,” he raises his arms in surrender. “Don't go drawin' the full name card on me [Name]." he tries to laugh it off, but the look in her unimpressed eyes told him that he needed to say something else.

"I did get somethin' out of yer hard work," he smiles.

"Which is?" [Name] nods in anticipation, leaning closer.

"Realizin' I don't like her anymore."

[Name] draws a deep breath, releasing it in an exaggerated huff of air, and without another word, continued to walk to school.

This was hopeless.

She walked in front of him. One, because she didn’t want to look at his face at the moment. And two, so that he won’t be a witness to her burning cheeks and her desperately suppressed smile. Yeah, no way in hell was she letting him see that!

"Told ya about it remember?" he calls from behind, a good four to five steps apart.

"I can barely remember what I ate yesterday, ya gotta be more specific."

Karasu stares at the back of her head, a view he’d seen for at least half his life already. "That day… by the seaside."

[Name] remained wordless; she remembers that vividly. Because how could she ever bring herself to forget?

The day that she…

"Ya have the memory of a goldfish," Karasu groans, every bit the telenovela star he was. "I told ya, getting’ love ain't everythin' in this world."

…began to like this guy.

"Oh." She whispers.

"Remember now?"

That memory had always been something she treasured, never an ephemeral wandering like a half-buried shell washed ashore.

[Name] looks to him from over her shoulder as she nods in confirmation. "What's that gotta do with this though?" She continues ever forward, eyes once more trailing to focus on the pavement before her.

Karasu’s answer got stuck in the tunnels of his throat, like his own brain was unsure of the reason why he brought it up in the first place. He just wanted to talk to her, to hear her voice echo for all eternity in the caves of his soul, even long after he’s left this world. "Losin' an ordinary girl ain't worth it to be upset over."

[Name]’s footsteps falters, the edge of her shoe getting caught by a crack appearing out of nowhere, much like her own traitorous heart, once again caught in the snares of his words. The words someone spoke to her long ago echoing in her head, you two are finally reaching the age of maturity. Finally—after so, so long—brave enough to let go of the things that weren’t meant to stay, and to be strong enough to accept those who were supposed to.

"Woah," this time, [Name] turned to face him with a skin-crawling grin, an all too familiar shape, he thinks.

"Who ever knew a day would come when Karasu Tabito calls his lifelong love an ordinary girl—"

"She wasn't a lifelong love!"

---

It took a long time for Karasu to gather the dust and form the courage to profess his love for [Name].

He was cocky, and overconfident, and rough and ragged around the edges, and disliked it when anything went wrong. Basically, he was his own enemy when it came to his own love life. Sure, people liked him enough to give him Valentine’s Day chocolates, but the issue lies in him, not his admirers. For the life of him, he could not be nice to anyone he saw as mundane or boring. He was an—in the nicest way possible—Karasu Tabito was an asshole. His smirk didn’t help his case one bit.

Oh, but how humbling an experience it is for him when she was the one standing before him. The great, I’m-gonna-make-you-see-yer-ordinary Karasu Tabito who stared down his opponents on the field, was afraid to tell his best friend that he liked her.

That’s why he had dragged his feelings by the collar all the way to their second year of high school. His sister had more than a few not-so-nice things to say about him when she heard that up until now, he was still shaking in his elementary school boy shorts.

But could they blame him? Yeah, they really could. Even his parents looked at him weirdly when he always offered to wash the dishes at night because it gave him the excuse to see [Name] from the comforts of her living room.

Still, here he was—beating around the bush with the girl he likes.

But could they really blame him? This was [Name]! The one who could brawl in a gang fight barehanded and win. [Name] who had the nicest laugh and the warmest touch. It was [Name] whom he liked… [Name] who was dyed in all the colors of the sun.

And he was scared to lose her.

Karasu didn’t want to mess this up because not only will he lose her as a lover, but he’d also be left to live in a world where he was no longer her best friend.

What if he did confess and she turns him down?

What then?

In his eyes, compared to her—[Name] who was everything in his world—to [Name] who had the nicest smile, and the happiest laugh, Karasu felt mundane in all the aspects of his life.

So sometimes, when his own emotions overwhelm him as he gets so lost just thinking about her in the silence of the night, he tells himself that maybe, it was fine like this.

Tabito and [Name]; [Name] and tabito. Best friends.

Maybe, he should just shut them in, keep it all inside and wait for it to go away, pray for it to go away. He was having loads of fun already. They were together all the time. Maybe... just maybe... it's fine like this. Maybe staying as childhood friends—as best friends forever—isn't so bad.

"Why're ya dressed like an old man?" [Name] raised a brow at him, lips twitching as she fought tooth and nail to swallow her laugh. Her eyes analyze his get-up from head to toe, taking in his fake white beard down to his green yukata and his grey haori, and the geta on his feet that echoed with every exaggerated step; wooden footwear she saw inside her grandpa's shoe cabinet. He was hunched over like a shrimp, with a cane to support his weight.

"'S for the class!" he replies with enthusiasm, stroking his fake white beard like some wise old monk.

"Ya look like a senile old man." [Name] snorts, her restraint shattering at the angry look on his face as her laugh resonates in the crowded hallway. She adjusts her grip on the box of props, shoulders shaking from the little giggles that seeped from her lips.

Karasu cracked an eye open to glare at her, and with an added pizzazz, rose in hand to counter—more like agree—with her. "I am a senile old man!"

[Name] laughed harder, the box rattling like the happiness that rippled the once-serene calmness of her soul. "Ya sound just like gramps!" She breathes, wiping her eye on the cloth of her shoulder.

Karasu grumbles in defeat, knowing he couldn't win against [Name] and her oh-so-creative teasing.

He dropped the act and adjusted his posture to stand to his full height, ultimately noting that [Name] had stopped laughing once she realizes that in height, Karasu would always have the last laugh. Or in this case, a triumphant smirk on his face as he eyes her from above, not even craning his head.

She squints her eyes at him. “Damn evolution,” she mutters under her breath and made sure her voice was loud and clear as she finishes her sentence with— “Since when did idiots grow to be so tall?!”

[Name] hmphed, turning her head to look away and sidestepped to get past him to move onward to her destination, but before she could, Karasu shifted to block her path.

"What is it now—" The words got lodged in the tunnels of her throat as the weight of the box she’s been carrying since the school gate suddenly disappeared from her arms.

She looked at him, startled to find him looking at anywhere but her. The autumn daylight made the crimson on his cheeks all the more prominent.

Karasu couldn’t bring himself to believe that he could ever be happy with being just her friend. He reckons he never will. It would kill him not to love her beyond all this. If there ever existed a universe where he was contented with that—he was damn sure it would not be this one.

Because he as much as he was cocky, and overconfident, and an asshole. Karasu was greedy. And he was selfish. And painfully stubborn.

"Just helpin' the pretty girl lift the heavy boxes."

[Name]’s face erupted into a thousand shades of red, but this time, she had nothing to use to hide it from him. He caught her by surprise. A dirty trick. Ambushed her to this—this… vulnerable position. She could feel fire spread through her veins like lava, setting all in its wake into a melting heat, burning at the thorns of her restraint, drowning the caves of her hesitance to a resounding calm, and lighting the heavens of her soul into all the colors of the sun.

She hated this. Stupid Tabito. Before she could contain herself, her embarrassment took reign of her actions, her knee jerked up, landing a solid kick to the back of his thighs.

"Ow!" He yelps, did Karasu ever mention that her kicks were heavy? Well, they were. The force of her assault had him fumbling over his own steps, but he could not stop the growing smile on his face.

"Get goin' old man!" she snaps, crossing her arms and glaring at all the things around them. She was flustered. Her body couldn’t decide if she liked it or hated it. Why does he find the need to say that? Why does Karasu have to be so—so… embarrassing?

[Name] buries her face in the palm of her hands, as if her own flaming limb could help cool the raging inferno on her face. Her mind replays his words like a broken record. Pretty girl. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did he even mean that? Probably. That stupid crow always pushed her so far, teased her to no end. So, what was the difference this time?

Karasu laughs, a sound so cool and warm, the sting from his best friend’s kick fading to a dull echo. His gaze was made from the softest threads, one so intertwined with the melody of affection, blanketed with the warmest colors.

…Maybe it’s because this time around, he actually means it.

And this time, he wasn’t afraid to say it to her.

This one will probably come around to bite him back, but he would take it. Anything the world throws at him—he would take it. Because he wouldn’t allow himself to see another sun if [Name] didn’t go to sleep not knowing that she’s pretty.

---

The day of the school's culture festival rolled around.

For the past three weeks, their class united on the single idea of setting up a little café. By some miracle, they actually pulled it off quite well, despite battling the initial deadline, heavily handicapped at the loss of their two athletes. Between Karasu’s rigorous training schedule and [Name]’s tyrant of a coach monopolizing every spare second of her time for practice, there was no way they were ever going to contribute much beyond the bare minimum.

But [Name] did not want to be dead weight.

She volunteered to carry the boxes containing the ingredients and decorations, carrying them across campus like a one-woman moving company. While Karasu was left with no other option but to dress up like an old man inviting people to come and buy—he would probably garner more attention if he stayed just the way he is, but with his sharp tongue and domineering stare, he would just scare all their customers away (not like a beard and a yukata could hold his words back).

By the time the sun had reached the middle of the sky, they already looked like they wanted to go home—both completely floored from the physical work.

[Name] sat crisscross apple sauce outside the classroom, her back against the wall, and Karasu plopped down beside her, stretching his legs out with a groan—no respect for anyone walking by, his legs were nearly occupying a quarter of the hallway!

Their lunches were as mismatched as their personalities: [Name] poked at the pasta littered with raisins while Karasu grimaced at the sight of mushrooms contaminating his bento.

He knew he should be thankful to his sister who had oh-so-kindly offered to make them lunch seeing as she was on break from college, but Tabito has already told her like a million times! He doesn’t like mushrooms, [Name] does. And [Name] didn’t like raisins, he did!

Without a word, he begins plucking the raisins out of her food like they were newly ripe fruits ready to sell, dumping them on the lid of his bento. In honor of distributive justice, he traded in all the mushrooms he had on his lunch to hers.

"Yer actin' weird," she mutters through a mouthful of pasta, eyeing him from where she sat.

"Whatcha talkin' 'bout, I've always been this kind." He retorts, smiling to convey his sincerity as he places a hand over his heart like it could vouch for his claims.

"Kind-a suspicious ya mean!" [Name] squints at him, pointing a stick of bread at his face. "Just say whatcha wanna say already!"

"Yer ovethinkin' it! I'm always like this!" he defended, not bothering to hide the way he eyes [Name]’s stick of bread.

If he were to just…

"Hey, Tabi-chan...” her call drew the curtains close to his evil scheme. “What would you do if I got a boyfriend?"

Her question silenced the chaos in his head, pulling apart at all the worlds he built until everything came to a standstill. Until he was surrounded by the never-ending nothingness that came with the weight of her question. Heavier than all the stars, so it seems. Why was she saying this? Why now? Why does it have to be now? Now that he was finally—

But she didn’t wait for an answer. Maybe he was perturbed by his silence, mistaking it for agreement. Yet the truth was that she just caught him off guard.

Like [Name]… he didn’t hold all the answers in the world.

"I probably wouldn't, huh?" she laughs, smiling despite the obvious squeeze in her throat. A jest, in the kindest words; hurt, in the worst. "No one's ever gonna want a brute like me."

That's not true, Karasu wanted to protest. What she spoke of couldn't have been farther from the truth.

He didn’t want her to think like that—she just couldn’t. She was someone who deserved the love she wanted to have… more than anyone else. And he wanted to say that to her. He wanted to tell her desperately that there was someone who loved her—hell, so many people loved her.

Every day, he raced against so many people for her affection, for a chance to feel what it’s like to be loved by someone like her.

"There's gotta be someone out there, right?" he offers. Or right here... if you can only look at me. "Someone who'll love you… just fer who ya are."

"Ya really believe in that?" she asked, laughing again, but this time it sounded more like an escape. She wraps the furoshiki on the bento box, her hands moving far too quickly that Karasu knew she was doing it just so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

But that didn’t matter. She could turn a blind eye to him today. He would wait. Ignore his attempts tomorrow—he would still wait. Stay oblivious to it for the next five years? Then he’ll just have to step up his game.

"I know it."

There was something about the way he said it, shacked by all the chains of his beliefs, as though there could exist no surer thing than what he knew right at this very moment.

It took her by surprise, stole all the breath reserved in her lungs that she forgot that she needed to breathe to see the next day.

“Ya don’t even need to wish fer that,” he adds, voice steadied by the foundation of his own experiences. “They come naturally,” he continues.

In all the forms you can think of. A piece of paper with the things about yer crush. A soccer ball. The kicking pad almost takin’ yer head off. Or a melting, half-eaten popsicle on a summer day.

“Sometimes… ya never realize ya had them all along.”

[Name] formed her courage from the dust, turning to look at him, despite every pull of gravity telling her not to.

He was never gonna make forgetting him easy, was he? Perhaps he never wanted her to forget. Because how could she when Karasu says all these things that made her heart want to run out of her own chest? When he says all these that it leads her back to her planet-sized crush on him. How was she supposed to get away from him now? How was she supposed to move on? How was she going to ever fully deny that she didn't like him anymore when in everything, everywhere... all the roads lead straight back to him?

“And ya don’t need to wish for him to love you…”

Karasu smiles at her, one so different from all the others he ever gave her. Dyed in all the colors of gratitude, blessed by the heavens, shaded in all the colors of the sun.

“Because he already does.”

---

"Why'd we hafta go, Tabi-chan?" [Name] whines, tired from all the walking they had been doing for the last thirty minutes, now tired from all the hiking—seriously, who hikes in the evening?

"Whaddaya mean why?” Karasu shot back, raising a questioning brow at her complaint. “We always go every year! And don't act like ya don't like it when yer all dressed up." he points to her yukata, dyed in the shade of violets, decorated with the flowing river in the form of cranes. Karasu had to leash his head and make a conscious effort not to look too much lest he risk getting reported for being a creep.

"Only cuz Ma made me,” she admits, tugging slightly at her obi. “Always naggin' 'bout actin' like a girl and lookin' like a girl as if I ain't a girl." She huffs, the corners of her lips weaving into a scowl.

Karasu tilted his head in fond gentleness. “You look beautiful,” he whispers, the sentiment flowing past his lips like the gentle spring breeze. “Yer always beautiful.”

His words crashed against her like a tidal wave: caressing the soles of her feet, drawing back, before coming at her all at once—with little to no warning at all.

[Name] tilts her head to the side to look at him, smiling at him with all the happiness in the universe. “Ya don't look too shabby yerself, Tabito."

Before he could fire back, Karasu caught a glimpse of sparks tracing the obsidian sky, rising to reach the heavens for it to fracture into a thousand colorful fires, dyeing the obsidian canvas with all the colors of man.

Yet he already saw something far more grandeur than those when he looked into the pools of her eyes—reflecting all the stardust and galaxies as if everything existed just so they could dim when compared to her, like it all came to being, just so they could fall short when she breathes.

"They're so pretty..." she whispers in awe, smiling at the sight of the transient lights.

"Yeah," he hums mindlessly, but his eyes never left hers. You are beautiful.

"I like you, [Name]." Karasu’s words silenced the chaos of the world, as if everything spiralled into nothingness to create a space only the two of them shared.

[Name] stares at him in bewilderment, her lips parted slightly, not knowing what to say.

"Don't look so surprised,” Karasu berates her with a crooked grin. “Whatcha expect? I'm only human, ya know. Ain't immune to yer charms."

"Tabito what the hell—"

Her vision burst forth into multitudes of colors at the sight of him, red-faced, flustered beyond her wildest imagination, eyes that shone with all the bravery and strength in the world, still his voice is riddled with a careful gentleness—like if he spoke any louder, this ephemeral space would crumble and he’d find himself back to reality. But his words would resound in the depths and skies of her soul for all the eternities to come, until all the stars are nothing but a dream. Until the earth is painted with all the colors of the sun.

"I'm in love with you," he confesses, his hand reaching for hers. Shaking from his nerves, determined in his affection.

His eyes searched hers for traces of disdain, any hints that she didn’t want this. Karasu dug through the colors of her face for anything—anything that told him to go away, to never show his face to her ever again.

"And I have been for a long time."

His touch lingered, hesitant to take another step forward.

"I know I'm nothin' much.” He admits, pained at the thought of his own imperfections. “I get jealous easily, and I can't be nice to mediocre people. I can't swim, and I'm afraid of water. I'm prolly the last person ya'd ever want to love ya but..." he falters, his breaths coming in short intakes as he scavenged the lands of his soul for the right words to say—for the courage he had stacked upon one another.

“I don’t—” His voice cracks, holding her hand tightly as if her touch could piece back his crumbling confidence. “I want ya to be happy. God knows that I do. But I don't want to lose ya to anyone else.” But it seems like her warmth could not hold together his voice that shattered from the weight. “I’m selfish. And I’m greedy. If you still have space in yer heart for a little bit more of me, even if the odds are one to a million... then I'd want to have it.”

I'd risk everything to have it.

Karasu looked at her again, mapping the face of the one he loves, breathing heavily until he found the words he always wanted to say. "Yer beautiful. Yer smart, and strong. Anyone would be lucky to have ya love 'em."

He smiled weakly, voice softening to melt into the silence of the night.

"And... I'm just an ordinary guy, standin' in front of the most amazing girl... askin’ her to love him."

He could wait a thousand more years if she told him to. Capture every star in the sky if it makes her happy. Karasu would move the universe for her, and she would only ever need to ask.

He would color the world to her liking if she tells him to.

“Yer an idiot are’ntcha?”

Karasu raised his head to meet the sound of her voice. God, she was so beautiful.

“I guess I am,” he laughs.

“Good on ya that I like idiots.” She tightens her hold on his hand, smiling at him for all that he did and more.

Because people can’t love you exactly the way you want them to.

You just have to let them try to do their best.

I think I got sidetracked halfway tbh 💀this is my first time writing a non-tragedy paleontological disaster-ending fic also my first time writing for karasu because he wouldn't leave me alone 😭 I can't believe I managed to give birth to a fic in under four??? yeah four days. I think I began liking this guy like five days ago for some unknown reason 💀 anyway, my requests are still open, and ya can read my other works here! thanks fer readin' 😁❤

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