Hide the Remote

I was born with good looks, acquired from having pure-blooded genes. Once Chizuru and I make our own Oni babies, we’ll be passing our first-grade DNA to them as well. Keep your points, peasant. I don’t need your validation. However, I would not be surprised if my secret admirer is one of those Shinsengumi bastards. I know they envy me.

-The Great Oni Lord Kazama

*Omg. This ask is so old! But I am determined to cleaning out my inbox this year! I know, I know. I made that promise two years ago, LOL. But this time it’s real! This was inspired by your headcanon. Enjoy! P.S. Sending you good vibes! *

PATCHWORK

“I’m not okay.” The young soldier winced as Yamazaki inspected him. His black sleeves soaked the red out as the man continued to bleed from the side of his stomach.

“Okay” was an understatement. He was bleeding profusely and could die if this wound did not close.

But his whiny voice annoyed Yamazaki and it took a lot of will power to keep his eyes from rolling. Now was not the time to be a prick, he told himself.

“It’s just a flesh wound.” Yamazaki kept his cool, his hand steady as he began to stitch him back together.

The man jerked as the needle pierced through the skin. He lifted his head up, one eye opened to peek at the source of his pain.

“’Flesh wound’?” He cried out a sound like a dog yelping in pain. “I’m filleted like a fish!” The man sobbed again, shaking his legs in agony.

“Stop… moving.” Yamazaki raised his voice, his eyes glaring at him with annoyance. “I’m trying to close the wound, but I can’t do it if you keep moving.”

Yamazaki hurried his fingers, keeping the stitches close together like he was repairing a tear on his kimono. He did not have the expert skills of a dressmaker, but he was precise like a surgeon.

“What’s taking so long?”

“Quiet. I’m making a quilt.” Sighing, Yamazaki flicked his eyes at the man and contemplated if his life was worth saving. It took a lot to piss off the ninja, and this one was testing him right now. It was a thankless job, and he didn’t expect any of his patients to give a damn about him at all. After looping the last stitch, Yamazaki wrapped the man in a cloth to cover the suture.

“All right,” he said, lifting the soldier to sit up. “Keep the stitches clean and dry.”

Due to the quarantine, I’ll only be telling inside jokes.

Happy Writer’s Appreciation Day to you, too! Thank you for thinking of me!