#noticed the lack of delulu shit about tsurune

[yoshikoooo]

Tsurune: Fujiwara shuu x Reader.

shuu x reader.

The tranquil sound of the night and released arrows filled the entire dojo. The soft and melodic sound you always hear and longed or maybe... loath for everyday ranged through your ears. In the middle of the blissful night there you were shooting your nine thousand and ninety-eight shot.

‘Fwip’

Applying every knowledge you learned from your grandfather and past experiences, really showed its result as you landed your arrow at the middle of the target. A profound sense of accomplishment washes over you as you stand there, silently contemplating the significance of this achievement.

'Kyudo... Kyudo... Kyudo..?'

With a heavy heart, you confront the forbidden recollections that threaten to engulf you. Each memory is a double-edged sword, carrying the weight of past triumphs and defeats alike. As you gaze upon the target, the turmoil within you becomes palpable, manifesting in the trembling of your hands and the turmoil in your eyes.

To an onlooker, it might seem as though you're battling an invisible force—a caged banshee struggling against the constraints of its own existence. Every fiber of your being is stretched taut, bound by threads of emotion that seem to have no end.

In that moment, you realize that kyudo is not merely a physical discipline—it is a journey of self-discovery, a quest to confront the demons that lurk within. And as you stand there, grappling with your inner turmoil, you understand that true mastery lies not in hitting the target, but in finding peace amidst the chaos of the mind.

'One more... just one more.. and It'll all end'

  You made up your mind as you snapped from your thoughts to get your bow to continue. 10,000 shots for a Wish.

An oath. A promise. A will.

before you could even continue, A figure outside the dojo was seen. A silhoutte of a tall man with loose hair.

As you watch, anticipation coiling within you, the figure steps closer to the source of light, revealing loose strands of brown hair framing a face illuminated by the gentle glow.

Your breath catches in your throat as the figure's large purple eyes meet yours, sending a shiver down your spine. In that moment of profound connection, a name escapes your lips, whispered softly into the stillness of the night.

“Fujiwara...Shuu..san” 

He was the one everyone idolized at school, the one whose mere presence seemed to command attention and admiration. But for you, he remained an enigma—a distant figure glimpsed from afar, yet never truly known.  So what was your relationship with him? A classmate, A teammate? A Friend..? but nonetheless he felt like a stranger to you. 

“Y/n san, Good evening” 

His deep, melodic voice seems to cut through the chaos that had enveloped you moments before, offering a brief respite from the tumult of your thoughts.

Summoning a smile, you decide to take the initiative, breaking the silence that hangs between you like a heavy curtain. It's clear that he's not one to dominate the conversation, leaving you to steer its course with your own words.

“Hmm, What is the prince doing at saionji sensei’s dojo at this godly hour?” 

you inquire, injecting a playful lilt into your voice. The weight that had hung over you moments ago dissipates, as if it were nothing more than a fleeting illusion.

Shuu's chuckle dances through the air like a gentle breeze, drawing your attention to the enigmatic figure before you. His gaze meets yours, and you can't help but tilt your head in curiosity, captivated by the subtle shifts in his expression.

"Saionji Sensei had me run an errand that ended up taking longer than expected," he explains, his voice carrying a hint of apology. "But I found myself drawn here, captivated by the sound of your tsurune."

His words are accompanied by a familiar smile, one that he seems to offer effortlessly to those around him. Despite his sincerity, you can't help but inwardly cringe at his straightforwardness, though you respond with a soft giggle.

"You flatter me," you reply, your smile unwavering as you deflect the compliment. "If that's the case, perhaps you should hurry back to Saionji Sensei before she falls asleep. It's quite late already."

You offer the suggestion with a gentle brush-off, hoping he'll take the hint.

“That I should.. Then Please excuse me..” 

he responds with a slight bow, his departure signaling the end of your brief encounter. You watch in silence as he makes his way out of the dojo, his figure gradually fading into the darkness beyond.

With his departure, the smile on your face begins to falter, replaced by a weariness that settles deep within your bones. The moon hangs overhead, casting its ethereal glow upon the world below, a silent witness to the turmoil that churns within your soul.

"Tired... I'm so tired,"

With a resigned sigh, you straighten your posture and adjust your grip on the bow, steeling yourself for one final effort.

“One more shot...” 

“Just one more..”

As you attempt to fix your form, you're suddenly overcome by a sensation of unease. Your body begins to tremble uncontrollably, sending a shiver down your spine. With a startled gasp, you drop the bow once again, collapsing to your knees in the dimly lit dojo.

"I'm shaking pretty badly," you mutter to yourself, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to regain control of your trembling limbs. Panic threatens to overtake you as you frantically search for an explanation for your sudden physical reaction.

Could it be hunger, you wonder, your mind grasping for any rational explanation. But deep down, you know that this tremor isn't the result of a skipped meal. It's something else entirely, something primal and instinctual that defies logic.

Taking in a shaky breath, you attempt to calm the racing of your heart, forcing yourself to focus on the rise and fall of your chest. Slowly, gradually, the trembling begins to subside, leaving you drained but determined to press on.

The cold embrace of the night air wraps around your frail body like a whispered plea, urging you to seek shelter and warmth. But you refuse to heed its call, not when you're so close to achieving your goal.

You clenched your jaw as you turn your gaze back to the target, willing yourself to push past the tremors that course through your body. Each shake sends ripples of doubt and fear coursing through your veins, but you refuse to let them hold you back.  

‘no... not now...I just need 1 more... just 1 more!’

‘thud‘ 

you lash out, your fist connecting with the unforgiving wooden floor. Pain shoots through your hand, a sharp reminder of your own vulnerability. But you refuse to yield, gritting your teeth as you try to reign in the storm of emotions threatening to engulf you.

"Calm down... calm down... calm down..." you chant, the words tumbling from your lips like a desperate plea. Each repetition is a lifeline, a tether anchoring you to reality as you struggle to regain control.

But the bow remains just out of reach, mocking you with its proximity. Your hands tremble violently, betraying your inner turmoil, as you fight to grasp it once more.

“It’s not beautiful enough... Repeat!” 

“You have no time mopping the floor, get up!” 

The words echo through your ears, a reminder of the expectations placed upon you, both by others and by yourself. You can feel the weight of his disappointment bearing down on you, driving you to push past the pain and the fear.

But as the tears blur your vision and the sting of emotion threatens to overwhelm you, you can't help but wonder if you're losing your grip on reality. Madness seems to loom on the horizon, a specter taunting you with its proximity.

“Y/n...san?” 

you're pulled back to reality by a soft and familiar voice echoing in the darkness. Relief floods through you as you draw a shaky breath, your chest rising and falling with the rhythm of newfound calm.

Slowly, you turn towards the source of the voice, your gaze meeting his familiar purple pupils. His presence is like a beacon of light in the midst of the darkness, offering solace and reassurance in a moment of profound vulnerability.

You watch as his soft features contort into a frown of concern, his brows furrowing as he approaches you with cautious steps. There's a tenderness in his demeanor, a gentle sincerity that washes over you like a wave, banishing the lingering shadows of fear and doubt.

“Y/n san... Do you feel unwell...?”

His voice, though soft as usual, carries a hint of uncertainty, and his eyes betray a flicker of sorrow.

You try to respond, to articulate the turmoil raging within you, but the words catch in your throat like a fish struggling against the current. Frustration wells up inside you, manifesting in the tight balling of your fists until your knuckles turn white. You can't bear to face him, feeling utterly pathetic in your vulnerability.

‘confiding into someone like the prince is so pathetic.. He surely won’t understand..”

Conflicting thoughts swirl in your mind like a tempest, each one more damning than the last. You can't help but feel that confiding in someone like him, someone who seems to effortlessly embody talent and grace, is an act of weakness. After all, unlike you, he was born with innate abilities that set him apart from the rest.

‘Damn it.. I’m.. so disgusting’ the word heavy with self-loathing. How could you dare to think so poorly of yourself? How could you let such toxic thoughts poison your mind?

But even as you chastise yourself, you can't shake the feeling of inadequacy that gnaws at your insides. It's a vicious cycle, a spiral of doubt and despair that threatens to consume you whole.

You feel the chill of his hand against your fevered forehead, a stark contrast to the heat that radiates from your flushed skin. With a sense of resignation, you lift your gaze to meet his, finding his face mere centimeters from yours.

"You seem to have a fever, Y/n san," he says, his voice carrying a note of concern. "I think you should rest for today."

As he withdraws his hand, you find yourself caught in the intensity of his gaze. There's a seriousness in his expression, tempered by genuine concern, that touches something deep within you. Despite your instinct to retreat, you can't help but feel a glimmer of gratitude for his kindness.

Feeling defeated and vulnerable, you look away once more, your gaze falling to the ground as you struggle to compose yourself. With a shaky breath, you attempt to gather your thoughts, to find the words that have eluded you thus far.

"No..." you begin, your voice wavering slightly as you reject the suggestion of going home. You can't ignore the way his brow twitches in concern, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of your situation.

But even as you speak the word, you can't help but feel a pang of guilt gnawing at your insides. The weight of his unspoken worry hangs heavy in the air, a reminder of the burden you're placing on those around you.

You watch as his expression shifts, his concern mingling with frustration at your stubbornness. It's clear that even the spoiled prince recognizes the stupidity of overworking oneself to the point of destruction.

For a moment, silence hangs between you, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. You can feel the weight of his gaze upon you, a silent plea for you to reconsider.

"Saionji Sensei told me that you've been here since dawn," he begins, his voice tinged with a mixture of concern and frustration. "Breaking your own body just for the sake of archery is not something I would recommend, as an archer myself."

His words hang heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the toll your relentless pursuit of perfection has taken on your physical and mental well-being. You can feel the weight of his gaze boring into you, a silent accusation of your stubbornness and recklessness.

Yet, despite the gravity of his words, you remain rooted in place, your eyes fixed on the target before you. The arrows embedded within it serve as a testament to your determination, each one a marker of the sacrifices you've made in your quest for mastery.

"I... I know," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. His expression softens, a silent understanding passing between you.

As the cool breeze continues to drift through the dojo, you finally gather the strength to speak, the words tumbling from your lips in a hesitant whisper. Your energy slowly returns, the fog in your mind lifting ever so slightly as your vision clears and the lightheadedness begins to fade.

"Hey... what if you found kyudo to be the main source of your pain, yet you can't find a good reason to stop since it's something deeply attached to your heart?" you begin, your voice betraying a vulnerability that you've kept hidden for far too long.

You pause, gathering your thoughts as you meet his gaze, locking eyes with him as the wind gently tousles his loose brown hair. His purple eyes hold a depth of understanding that both comforts and unsettles you, a silent witness to the inner turmoil that plagues your soul.

"What would you do?" you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the question hangs heavy in the air, a reflection of the existential crisis that has consumed your every waking moment.

His reaction is subtle yet profound, his demeanor shifting slightly as he processes the gravity of your inquiry. You can see the gears turning in his mind, a silent acknowledgment of the seriousness of the situation.

For a moment, the dojo is enveloped in silence, the only sound the gentle rustle of the wind outside. And then, finally, he speaks, his voice steady and measured.

"I would listen to my heart," he says, his gaze unwavering as he meets your tired, empty eyes. "If kyudou may be a source of pain, but it's also a part of who you are. Only you can decide if the pain is worth the passion it brings."

His words resonate within you, stirring something deep within your soul. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you feel a glimmer of hope flickering to life within you.

‘Listening to your heart...’  It sounds simple enough, but in reality, it's a daunting task. Your heart is a labyrinth of desires and fears, a maze of conflicting emotions that often lead you astray.

But as you stand there, locked in his gaze, you find yourself drawn to the truth in his words. Kyudo may be a source of pain, but it's also a source of passion and purpose—a part of you that refuses to be ignored.

With a newfound sense of clarity, you take a deep breath, letting the weight of your burdens fall away, if only for a moment. The wind whispers through the dojo, carrying with it a sense of possibility and renewal.

"Thank you," you say softly, your voice barely a whisper amidst the stillness of the night. "I needed to hear that."

He nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. There's a warmth in his eyes, a silent reassurance that you're not alone in this journey.

As your gaze shifts to the arrows embedded in the target, a newfound clarity washes over you, illuminating your path forward. The weight of the world seems to lift from your shoulders as you come to a decision.

"I guess I can continue it tomorrow," you mumble softly to yourself, your smile genuine and free from the facade you've worn for so long. In that moment, the world seems to shift, offering you a glimpse of a future filled with possibility and promise.

Shu's smile mirrors your own as he extends his hand towards you, a silent offer of support and companionship. Without hesitation, you reach out and take it, a sense of gratitude swelling within you as you lock eyes with him once more.

"I can drop you off," he says, his voice warm and reassuring. Before you can decline, he continues in a joking tone, "I would get scolded if I let a sick person like you get home on your own, right?"

His playful remark catches you off guard, eliciting a chuckle from deep within your chest. It's a side of him you hadn't seen before, a glimpse of the warmth and humor that lies beneath his cool exterior.

"You're really interesting, Fujiwara-san,"