rin

Maybe you shouldn’t have decided to go the night without sleeping; clearly, deprivation led to seeing all kinds of weird things — you could practically feel the material of what you were previously sitting on change.

But then, you saw that Blade was here as well, your eyes having finally caught up and adjusted to the change in light. He was in the same position as earlier, but now he was sitting across from you on a chair instead as well — with a small, white patio table in between you both. Blade didn’t move; he sat perfectly still, his hand still poised as if holding his whetstone, though it now hovered over a pristine white tablecloth. His eyes, which had earlier been focused intently on his sword and at ease with the repetitive motions of his work, were now wider and darted around — tracking the sudden appearance of a hovering violin that began to play a melody so sweet it felt like a dental cavity.

“Blade?” you whispered, your own head still spinning from the change of scenery, and appearance of it all.

He didn't look at you. His gaze was fixed on a centerpiece made of crystal hearts. “If this is an illusion created by an Emanator,” he rasped, his voice a low growl that didn't fit the pink lighting, “it is a remarkably tasteless one.”

You could hear the faint gasp of someone — not entirely nearby, but not exactly far away either; it was a strange feeling. “Rude!” A digitized voice chirped from the center of the table. A pixelated rift tore open between the salt and pepper shakers, and a palm-sized, holographic Silver Wolf flickered into existence.

“I spent three hours scraping the data for ‘Ideal Romantic Atmosphere’ from the IPC’s top-rated dramas,” she pouted, crossing her tiny arms. “Do you know how many terabytes of cringe I had to sift through, to build this server? You're welcome, by the way.”

Blade finally shifted, the heavy, reinforced hem of his coat dragging with a dull thud—a sound that felt violently out of place against the pastel green, silken chair covers. He looked at the tiny hologram with a faint murderous flicker in his eyes. “End this, Silver Wolf.”

“Nope. Script’s already locked,” she chirped, spinning a holographic controller. “Kafka said you needed ‘rejuvenation.’ I decided that meant a night on the town. Look, I even got you the premium package.”

With a flick of her wrist, a waiter—who looked suspiciously like a low-resolution version of a generic handsome man in some sort of typical romance movie—slid toward the table. He placed a tiered tray of macarons and two cups of steaming, floral-scented tea between you.

“Enjoy your date! And Bladie? Try to use more than one syllable. If the ‘Romance Meter’ drops below fifty percent, I’m adding a karaoke segment.”

The hologram vanished with a cheeky wink, leaving you and the most dangerous man in the Stellaron Hunters in a world of equally aggressive (yet opposite) aesthetics.

Blade looked down at the tea — it was a delicate bone china cup, with the rim gently gilded with gold. His hands, scarred and built for the grip of a heavy broadsword, looked absurdly large against the porcelain. He picked up a teaspoon that was on his side of the table, as if he were trying to decide whether to stir the tea, or use the utensil to gouge his way out of the simulation.

“She is insufferable,” he muttered.

He didn't put the spoon down. Instead, he stared into the swirling amber liquid of his cup with a focused intensity, his jaw tight. He was back to his silence, but it wasn't the comfortable silence of the ship — it was the silence of a man who was inconveniently trapped inside of a cage made of lace and sugar.

You took a tentative sip of your own tea, trying to ignore the fact that the steam smelled faintly like some sort of odd mixture of a ‘new car’ scent and faint lavender—Silver Wolf clearly hadn't mastered olfactory textures yet.

"You know," you started, keeping your voice low and steady to counter the upbeat violin music, "the lighting is actually quite nice. It beats the fluorescent hum of the cargo bay."

Blade’s eyes remained fixed on his tea. "It is a lie. This sun never sets. This air does not move."

"It’s a peaceful lie, though," you countered, leaning forward and resting your elbows on the lace cloth. "When was the last time that we had an opportunity to be free of the real world, and its threats?"

He finally looked up. His crimson gaze was sharp, searching your face for the sarcasm he expected to find. When he found only genuine curiosity, he grunted—a sound that was less of a dismissal and more of a confused acknowledgement.

"I do not seek 'peaceful lies,'" he said, though he finally let go of the spoon. "They are... distracting."

"Booo! Zero points for the 'Brooding Warrior' trope!" Silver Wolf’s voice boomed from a nearby vase of lilies (was that even on the table before?), and the flowers pulsed with a neon light. "The script says you're supposed to say something about how the sunset reminds you of their beauty. Come on, Blade. Work with me here."

Blade’s jaw tightened so hard you could have sworn that you heard a faint click. He looked like he was vibrating with the urge to unsheathe his sword and cleave the entire digital horizon in two.

"Ignore her," you said quickly, reaching out as if to touch his hand, then thinking better of it and pulling back. "We don't have to follow her script. We can just...be. Even if 'being' is just sitting in a fake restaurant built by a teenager."

A flicker of something—not quite a smile, but a softening of the harsh lines around his eyes—passed over him. "A teenager with far too much power," he corrected. It was the longest sentence he’d uttered all day.

You spent the next few minutes pointing out the flaws in the simulation to make him feel more grounded. You pointed out a bird that was flying in a perfect, glitchy loop and a fountain where the water fell upwards.

And so, by the time the ‘main course’ arrived—a plate of food that looked like it belonged in an anime—Blade had actually leaned back a bit in his chair. One arm was draped over the velvet headrest, his fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat against the fabric.

"Is it working?" you asked softly.

"What?"

"The 'rejuvenation.' Even if it's annoying, doesn’t it... help? To just sit?"

Blade was silent for a long moment. He watched a digital petal drift down and disappear before it hit the floor. "The silence here is... empty," he said, his voice dropping an octave, losing its defensive edge. "On the ship, the silence is full of voices. Memories. This place is too shallow for them to follow."

He looked at you then—really looked at you. Not as a teammate or a mission objective, but as the only real thing in a world of pixels.

"It is... tolerable," he admitted. "Because you are here to witness the absurdity with me."

The atmosphere shifted. The aggressive violin music faded into a low, ambient hum—perhaps Silver Wolf had finally gotten distracted by a game, leaving the two of you alone, in the standstill world around you.

Blade reached out. It was a slow, deliberate movement. His hand, calloused and mapped with thin white scars, stopped just inches from yours on the table. Though, he didn't make a move to fully grab your hand; instead, he simply waited, as if leaving the ultimate choice up to you.

"Your tea," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle, "is getting cold."

The silence that followed wasn't any sort of heavy, suffocating kind, but rather a lighter one, cushioned by the surreal luxury of Silver Wolf’s creation. Without her constant holographic nagging, the ‘hyper-stereotypical’ restaurant felt less like a prank and more like a fever dream that the two of you were sharing.

Blade’s hand remained where it was; an invitation etched in scar tissue. An offer you could accept or decline at any moment—whatever you wished.

You didn't hesitate this time. You slid your hand across the white silk, resting your palm against his. His skin was warm, a stark contrast to the sterile, digital air of the simulation. For a second, he stiffened, his fingers twitching, as if his muscle memory were expecting a strike, but then he slowly turned his hand over, interlacing his fingers with yours.

His grip was firm, yet he held you with a precarious sort of care, as if he were afraid his own strength might shatter the moment.

“You’re thinking again,” you said softly, your thumb tracing the line of a scar across his knuckle.

“I am always thinking,” he replied, though the usual bite in his voice had smoothed out into a tired rasp. “But the cadence is different here. It is... slower.”

He looked out toward the artificial horizon. The sunset was stuck in a permanent, golden hour glow, casting long, amber shadows across the table. In this light, the harshness of his features seemed to melt. The dark circles under his eyes were less pronounced; the perpetual tension in his jaw had finally begun to ebb away, even if he wouldn’t be quick to admit so.

“Silver Wolf tried too hard with the decor,” you whispered, a small smile playing on your lips. “But she got one thing right. The view.”

Blade turned his gaze back to you. He didn't look at the sunset. He looked at the way the golden light caught in your hair, the way you didn't flinch from him, the way you looked perfectly at home in a world that felt alien to him.

“The view is... acceptable,” he murmured.

It was the closest thing to a compliment he had ever given. He squeezed your hand, a brief, grounding pressure. For a man whose entire existence was defined by the pursuit of an ending, he seemed, for the first time, to be content exactly where he was.

“If this were real,” you teased, your voice barely a breath, “where would you want to be? If there were no scripts, no Hunters, no Mara... just a quiet afternoon.”

Blade was silent for a long time. He looked down at your joined hands, his thumb mirroring your movement, stroking the back of your hand.

“Somewhere where the air doesn't smell of blood,” he said, his voice so low you had to lean in a bit to hear it. “Somewhere with a garden. Not like this—not manicured and forced. A place where things grow and die in their own time. Without interference.”

He looked up, and for a fleeting second, the typical Blade that you regularly interacted with faded. In his eyes was the soul of a man who had lived too long, loved too much, and lost everything, yet still found himself capable of holding a hand across a dinner table.

He started to lean in, his shoulder brushing yours. The distance between you was disappearing, the scent of the fake roses finally being drowned out by the very real, earthy scent of him—bitter tea and old cedarwood.

The air between you hummed with a sudden, electric heat. Blade’s eyes flickered to your lips, his expression one of profound, quiet vulnerability. He reached his free hand up, his fingers hovering just inches from your cheek, trembling slightly—

SKREEEE—!

The romantic ambient hum tore away suddenly, and a high-pitched, distorted bass drop exploded from the walls instead — vibrating the plates, and causing the tea in your cups to jump. The soft amber sunset flickered violently, before quickly being replaced by a strobing, neon-violet light that pulsed in time with a frantic, 16-bit techno track.

“LEVEL UP! ROMANCE METER: MAXED!” This time, Silver Wolf’s boomed from the sky itself, sounding like a stadium announcer.

“Whoa, okay, I didn't think you actually had it in you, Bladie! That was getting a little too 'R-rated' for the server capacity. Let’s spice things up! Time for the Bonus Round: High-Speed Dance Mode!”

The floor beneath your feet suddenly turned into a glowing, checkered dance floor. The elegant restaurant chairs vanished into pixels, leaving Blade to stumble slightly as his support disappeared. Alongside that, the previous, almost spell-like mood was broken. In an instant, the man who had been just looking at you with such raw tenderness was gone. Blade’s hand snapped back, his posture recoiling into a defensive crouch. His eyes, once soft, sharpened into two cold, crimson flint-stones. He reached instinctively for a sword that wasn't there, his brow furrowing in a deep, familiar scowl.

“Wolf,” he snarled, the name dripping with a mixture of irritation and a strange, hidden disappointment.

He stood up, adjusting his sleeves and pulling his coat tight around him, as if trying to hide the fact that he had been vulnerable at all. He looked everywhere but at you, his jaw set in a hard, uncompromising line.

But as he turned his head to scan the glitching environment for an exit, you saw it. Just for a heartbeat.

The corner of his mouth wasn't pulled down in his usual grimace. It was tilted upward—the ghost of a smirk, a tiny flicker of genuine amusement at the sheer, chaotic absurdity of his life. He caught you looking, and the smirk vanished instantly, replaced by a stoic cough.

“We are leaving,” he stated, though he didn't move toward the exit yet. He waited, his hand hovering near yours in the neon strobe light, waiting for you to take it again so he could lead you out of the noise.

- he wouldn't minimize your feelings. knowing how intense the world can be from his own experience, he would empathize with your exhaustion, and ensure you know that your emotions and thoughts are all perfectly valid, and okay to get out.

- being a devoted person who definitely spoils his loved ones rotten, he would cook you a favorite meal, get some sweet treats for you, prepare a warm bath for you… anything at all, that you might need at the moment to unwind and get your mind off of everything.

- if you want it, he might even offer to give you a gentle massage to aid in relieving stress — insisting on you resting on his lap, while he gently strokes your hair.

- he would quietly take over any chores or daily tasks, encouraging you to just rest and forget about your worries; he’s got everything covered, so don’t worry (and don’t feel guilty — he’ll do all he can so that you know you shouldn’t feel even a smidgen of that, relentlessly trying to convince you, until you give in. don’t test him, he’s stubborn, and even more so when it comes to you and your well-being).

- if your stress was caused by any specific people (for example, a rude co-worker, or an annoying customer) then he would offer to deal with them (in his own, though fairly extreme, way). after all, he can feel his blood slowly start to boil at the thought of you being mistreated, and would not hesitate to do anything he needed to do (wouldn’t be the first time).

- in moments like these, you can see even more proof of his total devotion (as if you ever thought otherwise, with everything he always does to make that clear to you — so never have any doubt toward him). he would ensure you know that you are safe with him, promising to keep any ‘bastards’ far away from you.

- while he (obviously) loves excitement, he can be quite the patient listener — especially when the situation requires him to be a calming presence for you. he wouldn’t mind a more cozy, quiet evening, if it helps you get through everything.

- overall, anything he can think of, he’ll do, as a way to try and help lift your mood.

- if you are too exhausted (or simply not in the mood) to talk, he would fill the room with comfortable silence; he might even end up humming a lullaby from his youth, as a calming sound.

- later, when the two of you are done getting ready for bed, he would — even then — be more careful with you; making sure you’re comfortable, etc. and afterward, when you end up falling asleep, he’ll just end up watching over you as you lay together, to make sure you sleep well. after the tiring day, you need this rest more than ever — and he will do everything for you to get it.

- he might share some knowledge that is less known about history, or any of the data he has archived — essentially allowing you to ‘pick his brain’; another way that he subtly shows his affection.

- how much he cares is shown through thoughtful actions rather than bold words. this could mean something such as remembering a minor detail you had mentioned some time ago in a previous conversation, no matter how briefly it came up. after all, he listens intently to everything you say, and wants to show that he notices you through that remembrance of those things — he’ll learn your preferences, any life experiences you share with him, and all of the other stuff you tell him, by heart.

- of course, as the guard of the express, and just being the way he is, he is naturally protective; he’ll always end up (consciously or subconsciously) keeping a close eye on you in unfamiliar places — he simply wants to do everything he can, to ensure that you are safe at all times. if something happens that makes you require any sort of help, or safety from an enemy, he will spring into action quickly; and this sort of mindset rarely leaves him, even when the two of you are safe, enjoying a moment together. he’ll still be just as alert and protective, as a ‘just in case’ measure.

- though, there are moments where he truly is able to unwind — with you by his side, safe, and his mind having a brief pause from the usual torment of constant racing thoughts. in those moments, he is utterly himself, and at peace; not worrying about anything, other than enjoying the present.

- in general, he does not feel the need to fill the air with chatter; that being said, he would not mind it if you just wanted to talk — he’ll gladly listen to anything that you have to say, always interested in your thoughts, views, and anything else he can learn about you. you would likely share meaningful, quiet moments, comfortable just being side-by-side.

- while not naturally physically affectionate, it would only make those rare occasions of such gestures — like taking your hand in his (slowly, hesitantly, and gently) or brushing hair from your face (his touch like a soft feather gracing your skin) — feel all the more significant and intimate.

- he maintains a serious, calm, and composed demeanor (alongside a bit of dry humor every now and then), but everyone knows he is purely a softie at heart, especially when he finally lets his guard down.

- being naturally rather patient and thoughtful, he avoids unnecessary confrontations or arguments, and highly values personal space — both his own and yours. keeping that in mind, he will be very sensitive to your boundaries, making for a healthy, respectful dynamic overall, but especially during your outings with him.

- if pushed to flirt or express emotions directly, he might get flustered, embarrassed, and look away — an action which is fairly rare, but nonetheless endearing each time.

- when it comes to the location of the date itself, he’d much rather choose to stay inside; opting for a safe and more domestic time. however, if you wish to go somewhere, he will agree and accompany you all the same. most commonly, you’d go out to a nearby park, coffee shop, or library. though, realistically speaking, most of your ‘dates’ end up just being hanging out with each other in the archives, talking about various things (that doesn’t take away from the fact that those moments end up being some of the best time you’ve spent together, though). either way — ultimately, if he’s with you, he doesn’t mind where the two of you are; as long as you are happy as well, then he’s content anywhere.

- with dan heng, you can be sure of stability, deep conversation, and sincere, quiet affection; he is a person who cares incredibly deeply, once he lets you into his world (and he already has; so now, he can never let you go, or let anything happen to you).

- using a bright, overly cheerful (even for him) voice to mask his annoyance, he’d make cutting or sarcastic remarks about the person you were speaking to; and you can be sure that even the grin on his face would look rather artificial for him if you looked close enough — a sign that he was practically fuming beneath the surface.

- he might even try to humiliate the other person (indirectly or directly), or make jokes about how you don't need them because you have him; there’s no doubt that he is known by everyone who knows the two of you that he can be rather clingy and territorial, almost (and sulky, if he doesn’t get enough of a dose of attention within a certain amount of time).

- above all else, he’d feel the need to immediately ‘prove himself’ and establish some sort of claim of you through physical touch. there’s various ways he’d go about this, depending on the situation, but all equally pathetically clingy — either pulling you by the waist into his lap or side, or in general relying on high pda, such as draping an arm around your shoulder while practically staring daggers at the other person.

- sometimes, he’d even have the audacity to pull you away from the conversation and person entirely — herding you over to a deserted place — only to scold you for talking to someone else (because apparently, that’s practically a crime, and you’re essentially ‘betraying’ him by doing so).

- on occasion, as well, he might be the type to show a sort of possessive grooming. while you're still talking with the other person, and he’s already positioned himself near you, he might start slightly fixing your hair or adjusting your collar with extreme focus. an action that seems rather sweet from the outside, but when it comes down to it, it’s essentially just a loud, non-verbal stake of claim — something akin to a sort of ‘don't touch, this belongs to me’.

- if for whatever reason he cannot confront you immediately (like he wants to), he will 1000% become incredibly clingy and whiny later, once the two of you are reunited again.

- this bastard will be out here demanding affection from you, to reassure himself that you are ‘still his’ (meanwhile, all that happened was that you stopped giving him attention for like…an hour or two tops. i swear, this guy).

- he might sulk for a while if he feels like you are ignoring him, though he won’t actually end up staying jealous for a long period of time — it’s far more important for him to continue pestering you.

- if anything, he’ll simply make some sort of remark regarding how he simply without a doubt knows (is convinced) that you’ll never leave him, because he’s already the best that there is — what more could you ever want?

“Guess what I just got!”

He spoke, practically vibrating with excitement, looking at you expectantly; as if he didn't just randomly burst in though your door without a word of explanation. Though, to be fair, this was a fairly common occurrence, at this point.

“…Uh, I don't kno–”

“Wrong!”

You'd barely strung together a few words, staring at him, still somewhat recovering from being caught off guard, before he interrupted, beaming. Clearly, he was too enthusiastic to tell you what he had, to actually let you think for a moment. But hey, that was Itto for you, you supposed; it was simply his nature.

He stood up from the chair, now instead putting one foot onto it, resting his arms on his knee, and leaning forward — as if trying to have some sort of great unveiling mixed with a whispered secret.

“Prepare to be blown away by the awesomeness! Behold — the finest Kamera Fontaine has ever produced! Won it fair and square in a…uh, high-stakes duel! Nobody could’ve ever taken this baby away from me!”

As he spoke, his voice got louder, and his chest puffed out, as if what he won was a truly grand object. Reaching behind him, he took out the Kamera in question, holding it up in his hand towards you, as if it were a long-lost treasure.

“Amazing, right? But that's not all! I have the offer of a lifetime for you!”

Once he started something, he really couldn't be stopped, could he? You didn't even have the time to try and get a word in between his exclamations — though, he probably didn't even notice your lack of replies, too pumped up about the whole thing. Striking a dramatic pose, he continued to unveil everything.

“I call it... The Arataki Photo-Shoot Extravaganza! And you, my friend, are the star. Don't worry about the poses—just try to look half as cool as I do, and the Kamera will do the rest!"

Finally, there was a brief moment of pause, as he waited for any sort of acknowledgement you'd give. When you simply watched him, he decided to clarify further.

“Come on, be the model for my "Art of the Arataki'" portrait collection — you'll be a natural, I just know it!”

“…you…want me to model for you?”

You asked cautiously, wondering what kind of antics the Oni was up to this time; this wouldn't be the first time he'd roped you into something that you weren't aware of. Though, he seemed entirely genuine in his nodding, and rather proud of his beetle battle winnings.

“Yeah! I gotta take this baby out for a test drive, to rest if it really is as good as they say — and you could help!”

A short bit later, he ended up dragging you out, no matter if you protested or not, leading you to various places around Inazuma. All the while, he held the Kamera in his hands, laughing and yelling out directions for what you should do. Needless to say, it attracted the attention of many of the people around you — though, some of the locals simply rolled their eyes or sighed under their breaths, and continued what they were doing; clearly, Itto's loudness was nothing new. And, if that wasn't enough, with all his moving around he very nearly dropped the device quite a few times; when you scolded him, he simply chuckled and shrugged it off, giving you another pose to fulfill.

Unfortunately, he didn’t accept any normal smiles or poses — you had tried to just do what you could to get out of his stunts, for the sake of the locals’ ears. Instead, he simply doubled down and talked about wanting things such as "intense warrior”, "looking away at the horizon majestically”, and something titled by him as a “beetle-battle pose", whatever those meant. You weren't even sure that he was taking the pictures right, given how he wasn't looking through the lens or anything like that — instead mostly focusing on looking at you directly.

That being said, he sure took a lot of them, based on how often you heard the shutter click. Often, he'd shake his head vigorously in frustration, since it wasn't quite what he was going for. Sometimes you didn’t look intense enough ("No, no, no! Less smiling! More...‘I’m gonna knock you down’! Yeah!"), sometimes you weren't moving around enough (“Pretend the Golden Wolflord is chasing you!”); but overall he definitely worked you, being more into it than you had initially expected. Sometimes, he took tens of pictures of a single pose, because “one of them will look better” when the two of you look at them later.

He boasted to everyone and anyone he could, passing by — both about his new Kamera, and about having you as a model.

“Yeah, that's right! It's the Arataki Gang! Taking pictures! Be jealous!"

As you both walked into the Chinju forest for a brief break, he suddenly ran off to chase a fast-moving Tanuki — with no apparent context, other than him shouting that it owed him a rematch.

Having a moment to yourself, you sat down on a nearby large rock on the road, and took the Kamera (which he had haphazardly thrown onto the path, before running off). Deciding to glance at the photos he'd taken so far, being curious, you looked through them — expecting most of them to be blurry, chaotic, accidental shots of unrelated objects, and overall exactly showcasing how he sounds on a daily basis. Surprisingly, though, that wasn't what you found. Most of the pictures you see are actually rather good — it seemed he could be a rather artistic photographer.

You went through the photos with a newfound awe, looking at the way the lighting was perfect, the way the composition of everything was remarkably well-done given how much the two of you were moving…practically every detail of most of them was perfect. Then, you stumbled upon a different type of picture — ones you didn’t even know he’d taken. They were candid shots, seemingly completely random, but they had a soft air about them. There was one capturing the moment of you laughing at one of his stupid jokes, not having realized he was pointing the Kamera at you. Next to it, there was another — of you walking ahead, framed by the sakura trees of Hanamizaka — and another; this time, getting a moment of you looking intently focused, as you tried to fix your hair. A strong gust of wind had blown over, and messed up your hairstyle, so you had quickly tried to fix it before Itto could get any more pictures in — not paying attention to how he was doing just that, in the moment. There were countless others; like a small collection of those gentle, more casual situations — all well-framed and of a gentle quality.

As you continued watching them with a quiet sense of flusteredness and soft delight, Itto came back, muttering something about the Tanuki being a “coward in front of the one and Oni” before moving closer to where you were. Wordlessly, you turned the Kamera towards him, questioningly; he simply straightens up, proudly.

“See? I told you they were good. Wait—”

He trails off as he realizes what you were looking at, and seemingly deflates a little. Staying silent for a longer while, he eventually simply rubs the back of his neck with his hand, his face lighting up with a faint hint of pink hue.

“Well—I mean…you were just…it was a good shot, okay? Don’t make a big deal out of it, or my reputation will be ruined!”

He turned around slightly, somewhat hiding himself from your immediate view, as he mumbled lowly.

“You look good in them, okay? Stop looking at me like that.”

You simply lightly chuckled, placing the Kamera down for a moment, standing up and walking closer towards him, so you could directly face the now-flustered Oni.

You stepped into his line of sight, forcing him to acknowledge the blush dusting his cheeks. Up close, the ‘Crimson Oni’ lived up to his name in a way you’d never seen before—his face was nearly as red as the markings on his skin.

"The Great Arataki Itto, master of beetle battles and... professional portrait photographer?" you teased softly, tilting your head. "I didn't know you saw me like that, Itto."

He let out a noise that was half-scoff, half-whimper, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His usual bravado was failing him, and doing so fast.

"I just... the lighting was doing that thing! You know? The sparkly thing! And you weren't making those weird faces you do when I tell you to pose, so..."

He trailed off, finally meeting your eyes. The chaos in his expression softened into something uncharacteristically earnest. He reached out, his large, calloused hand hovering near your shoulder before he pulled it back to nervously adjust his coat.

"Look, I just wanted to remember it, alright?" he mumbled, his voice dropping an octave, losing its usual grating edge.

"The day. The win. Being out here with you. It’s not every day a guy gets to win a legendary Kamera and spend the afternoon with the prettiest person in Inazuma."

He crossed his arms, trying to regain some semblance of his "boss" persona, though his tail-like coat flickered behind him with his nervous energy.

"But don't you go telling Shinobu or the boys. If word gets out that I’m some kind of... of sentimental softie, I’ll never hear the end of it!"

You reached out, gently catching his hand to stop his fidgeting. "Your secret is safe with me, Itto. But," you gestured back to the Kamera on the rock, "I think I want a few more. Only if you’re the one taking them, though."

A grin—a real, genuine Itto grin—broke through his embarrassment, like the sun hit the nearby rocks. He snatched the Kamera up with a triumphant shout, the shyness vanishing as quickly as it had arrived.

"Ha! Well, why didn't you say so?! Stand back, compadre! You’re looking at the future best photographer in Teyvat! Now, walk towards that tree—yeah, just like that—and don't look at me, just look... legendary!"

- though, despite all of the teasing, he does still care (obviously). he’ll do everything he can, to ensure that you don't fall; his teasing would not include harming you — especially if you make it clear to him that you're genuinely afriad. in that case, he'd immediately drop poking fun at you, and reassure you.

- he'd will grab your hands or waist, guiding you on the ice gently and slowly, to help you assimilate to the feel of skating. ("i've got you, always. i'm not going to let you fall.")

- some time later, when you’ve gotten more comfortable with him pulling you around (and the method of gliding around in general), he’ll speed up his skating — pulling you quickly across the rink; after all, he thrives on the speed and thrill (and wants you to have some fun with him, and learn to love the adrenaline-filled sensation too).

- if there are children around, or if you bring up his siblings, he will immediately pivot to being a kind, protective role model. he might talk about some past memories of ice skating with them, reminiscing. he'll always be careful of others around you on the rink, even while teasingly pulling you forward faster — but he's especially aware of any younger kids nearby (and always eager to help when they need it). one of them fell? he's immediately there, helping them get back up again with a smile and encouraging message to keep trying, before returning to you.

- that being said, he can still be quite greedy regarding your attention and time, wanting this activity to be a nice experience that's just between the two of you.

- once you get the hang of the basics, and aren't falling as much, he would encourage you to be brave and move faster (“trust me, you'll be just fine!”).

- he might even end up starting banter with you about who the better skater is in the end. (or, if you already know how to skate well, he'd continually do so.)

- if you're good at skating, he'd take the chance to show off even more — after all, he has to impress you somehow, no? you've given him a high bar to compete with.

- you can be sure that he will continuously try to compete with you, or rope you into games (that are not so subtly just the same as the competitions). he wants to prove that he's the better skater, so that you’re proud of him!

- win or lose, teasing the entire time is a given.

- in general, he moves with the precision of a trained warrior, even on ice. when he stops his teasing momentarily and really gives it his all, he holds himself with grace, which translates to a graceful (if not slightly arrogant) skating style.

- after you decide to finish up on the rink, and leave for the day, he’d likely suggest a hot drink to warm up from the cold. of course, this is mostly just an excuse to tease you about your red face and how he doesn't get cold due to being accustomed to lower temperatures for most of his life. cheeky bastard.

- but it's fine, he can still steal sips from your hot chocolate (he paid for it, so it's “basically his”)! when you ask why he didn't just get his own, he'd just make some remark about not wanting one (despite still actively stealing from yours?) or, if he's feeling more playful, he'd make a comment about how yours tastes better, somehow.

- he's just having fun with you, at the end of the day — and that time spent together, no matter what you two do, is precious to him.

- if he’s stressed about a mission, or something more major happened, he might spend time analyzing combat techniques, etc. as a form of anxiety under the guise of improvement and education. though, he’ll still prioritize listening to your day over his own worries (plus, it helps him get his mind off of his own problems).

- if you’ve been on a dangerous mission, he becomes intensely attentive, checking you over repeatedly and making sure you are comfortable (he doesn’t believe you when you say you’re “fine,” due to being too worried). he won’t get any rest until he’s completely certain that you are alright.

- he might invite you to share the shower with him — not for anything overly sexual, but for calm, intimate quality time. he will help wash your hair or back, taking care of you.

- if you wear a bonnet, or have any specific routine needed for hair or body care, you can be sure he’s silently learned it so that he can help you (and to better know you, which helps him find the best suited ways to show his affection, demonstrating his attentiveness); he often finishes by placing a faint, tender kiss on your forehead.

- while he does portray himself to be fairly stoic in public, he often pulls you into his lap — while the two of you are alone — when he’s sitting on the floor or bed, just to feel your presence close to him.

- in bed, you two fit together perfectly. he usually lies on his back with you tucked against his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head.

- while trying to fall asleep, he might end up gently tracing lines along your waist or arm; and even in his sleep, he often grips the back of your shirt in a way that is almost like he’s holding onto you — as if subconsciously ensuring you’re there and safe.

- megumi is usually painfully still when he sleeps, but when he is exhausted, he will let out faint snores, entirely relaxed

- he’d also shift around when sleeping; so, in the morning, the two of you would end up with your limbs and the blanket tangled. often, he ends up shifting onto his side, pulling you closer into his chest, while still asleep.

- he often talks in his sleep, usually mumbling about missions or subconsciously saying your name when he thinks you're gone.

- if you ever even try to move in the middle of the night (whether to get up for a glass of water, or simply in attempt to shift your position into a more comfortable one), he will immediately wake up enough to pull you back in, refusing to let you move too far away from him. in the case that he’s too exhausted for his body to wake him up at your shifting around, he still somehow subconsciously just knows, and pulls you back in while asleep. you’ll find yourself even closer to him than you were before, his grip will tighten, and the way out of his arms will get even more difficult.

- in short, a night with megumi is safe, calm, and filled with quiet devotion.

- if you’re talking, then he would silently listen intently, occasionally nodding slightly or making soft hums of acknowledgement. he might stare ahead, but rest assured he’s focused on every word to come out of your mouth; and every so often, he’d glance over at you as you speak, quietly admiring the way the moonlight bathes you in its light (making you glow more than usual, in his eyes).

- he might look up at the stars, lost in thought and past memories. though, your presence allows him to come out of them, helping him to focus what’s most important right now — on the present, that can still be changed and shaped, rather than the past.

- if you reach out to lace your fingers with his, his fingers might stiffen up briefly, before twitching marginally, and ultimately relaxing. he won’t say anything, and probably won’t look over at you, but will reciprocate your hold in silence.

- in the case of you not physically holding each other, giyu would likely walk at a distance that’s just close enough to ensure he can keep you safe in case of anything that may suddenly happen. focusing on your potential boundaries and his own, he hesitates on being too close. both due to his nature and general fears of what that would mean (alongside the overall fear he’d have of ‘getting too close’ to someone), and due to the worry of letting his guard down.

- always observant of any danger, he ensures you feel secure as the two of you spend time together.

- of course, though, if he is more comfortable, he might give you a faint smile or a glance that’s ever so slightly gentle; a rare behavior from him (though it’s becoming increasingly more common with you).

- instead of talking, he’d show his softheartedness during the stroll through small actions (things that are really far more telling of how he cares, given the type of person he is). he may hand you a warm drink, offer his haori if it gets cold, or just make sure that he’s the one walking on the side of the path closest to any potential danger.

- despite not speaking much, if he does, you can be sure that the words that leave him will be soft — quiet, direct, thoughtful; and above all else, genuine.

- he finds comfort in the vastness of the stars above, as a sign of lingering beauty, even amidst pain; it might prompt him to share a thought about something of that type (life, duty, cherishing moments of peace).

- generally, a night walk with giyu would be a small form of a tranquil respite; a chance to appreciate peace and cozy silence, offering a time and place to relax while feeling protected and understood — without it being necessary to fill the air with noise.

- similarly, he will keep you safe from everything, even if it’s not always necessary ('“just in case”), and generally do everything possible to guarantee your well-being while on the way to your destination.

- rude civilian on the street? he’s prepared to defend you and your honor. an object being thrown nearby? he’ll take care to shield you from it. a random insect is disturbing you? he gently yet efficiently shoos it away, being careful that nothing happens (to both you and the bug).

- all in all, he’s kind of like your own personal bodyguard (whether or not you want that; it’s just in his nature).

- he’d also be the type to enact the so-called ‘sidewalk rule’ so fluidly, that you wouldn’t even notice, until you gave it more thought.

- every time the two of you cross somewhere, leading to you being on the side closer to the street with nearby cars, etc. going by, his hand softly brushes up against your back — only barely, but enough — to guide you further towards your side, effectively switching your places.

- of course, he does this without thinking; it’s simply something that is natural to him, like instinct.

- that being said, there are brief moments when lycaon does hesitate. while still gingerly touching your back to herd you more to your right, there’s a brief moment of pause from him; it’s not enough to be clearly, visibly noticeable, but it’s there — after all, he’d much rather be able to see you easily, and that would mean having you stay on his left due to his eye. but at the same time, there’s the issue of the street, and your immediate safety. so, he goes through with the usual motion anyway, though there is a faint hint of well-concealed unease in his movements during that stretch of the path.

- nonetheless, he will always be alert and prepared for all possible situations — ready to spring into action if need be.

- also, he probably knows all sorts of other routes (in case of any issues), hidden paths, or potential shortcuts (if you’re running low on time) to take. of course, if you simply want to walk for the sake of walking, or take a more scenic route, then he won’t complain; you need only express such a desire, and he’ll go along with anything you want (in fact, he might even recommend a way with a better view, if you want).

- overall, lycaon is always one of the best companions to have with you when heading out somewhere; no matter the situation, regardless of any unpredictable circumstances that may happen, you can feel sure that you’ll reach your destination safely and efficiently — and you have him right by your side through everything.

- and don’t think that his behavior changes at all depending on if it’s ‘socially acceptable’ to do so at a given place and time — he doesn’t care; he could be getting chewed out about god knows what again (probably something about disregarding the higher-ups) or being told about a destructive curse that needs to be taken care of, and he’d still seek out some form of touch from you just the same.

- if, for some reason, he can’t at the moment hold you in some way, then he will just have to settle for being as close as he can be.

- even though he isn’t directly, physically clinging to you, he’s somehow more annoying this way. he’ll get right up near you, and refuse to go anywhere else — he’s never more than a step away.

- so, for example, if you are trying to work on something in front of you, that’s sensitive and need to be very precise in the way you put something together, he’ll end up disturbing you more. he’s been told that he is not allowed to touch you, since you might end up ruining something because of the distraction his touch would incur — that’s fine! he’ll just hover directly behind you, his head floating above your shoulder, his breaths subtly brushing against your cheek, as he watches you attempt to focus.

- of course, it’s a lost cause, but it is true that technically, he wasn’t touching you. and he is, of course, overly smug while constantly bringing that fact up whenever you try to complain about him interrupting the task you were aiming to get done.

- though, despite how annoying and insistent he is sometimes, his touch is always meant to mean something, despite it all.

- it might seem casual, and like something done without much thought — but to him, it means the world. he finds comfort in knowing you’re nearby; that you’re close to him, and safe from everything.

- after all, one of his biggest fears is losing you, so, at the end of the day, he simply holds you as a measure to ensure your well-being. it gives him a chance to take his mind off of everything, and just enjoy the temporary respite he can get in your company.

- from those playful and teasing touches with the intention of annoying you (like poking your cheek repeatedly, just to get you to look at him and ‘finally give your attention’ as if he were a neglected child), to those tender touches late at night alone with you when he’s the most vulnerable version of himself (like slowly tracing along the length of your arm, almost hesitantly at times), touching is one of the most important ways satoru conveys his affection — and something that is never in short supply with him.

After a few more minutes of careful walking, you had finally reached your destination – the ancient library. It was decorated with a multitude of small ornamental references to various culturally significant time periods, among those being the Renaissance, most notably your favorite. It was a rather peaceful place, one you often went to for a break from the large flow of students everywhere – a place where you could truly unwind, the façade you always had simply fading away. People rarely ever went there, so it was like your own personal respite, and you practically knew the place like the back of your hand; frequently even helping with the books.

Ironically, though the place was your favorite, most of the time you spent there was doing your least favorite activity – studying. However, even in the face of the grandiose amount of work you put in for all of those tests, there was something calming about having those study sessions at midnight. The library was as silent as it could be, and it was like being isolated from the rest of the world – accompanied only by the dull sound of your quill scratching the paper.

You had an exam tomorrow on topics from astronomy – the many meanings of the stars and constellations, that sort of thing. You had no doubts the subject would be one you would enjoy immensely, if not for the absurd amount of homework and exams. 

Sighing as you settled into one of the chairs, you took a moment to light a small candle near the wooden desk, and breathe in that old book smell you never got tired of. Frowning slightly, you took out the materials you needed in order to refresh your knowledge – priding yourself on your superior grades, failure was never an option.

You had never truly fit in at the high-end school, full of preppy rich girls and snobbish boys. There was one major difference between them and you, you believed – they were just getting through studying so that they could inherit their parents’ power, while you had that power so that you could study. 

Being just one of your wealthy parents’ children had its advantages. They only focused on your eldest sibling all the time – they were expected to be successful, inherit everything, and uphold the family name. Of course, that was a double-edged sword; you were often left alone to figure everything out independently, so that was the mindset you grew into. However, having the attention directed away from you did leave you to do as you wished, while using your parents’…so called ‘advantages’, when it came to wealth. Of course, you were only interested in satisfying your thirst for knowledge, and becoming the best you could be.

Taking out all of your books and quills, setting them neatly on the table, you allowed yourself to truly decompress. You stood up, and slowly glided through the innumerable passageways and rows of bookshelves, something akin to a habit, or custom of yours, at this point. You’d pick up a worn book off from the shelf, continuing your strolling as you recited the short poem that had been on the first page.

Reading out loud to yourself, murmuring while getting lost in the academy’s huge library, was when you were happiest – when you were yourself.

As you returned to the rosewood table in the middle of the library, you heard a noise. Stopping mid-sentence, lips still parted slightly, you glanced around.

“Odd.” You mumbled to yourself.

Another voice spoke up just then, “Odd? That's new – I thought I was charming.”

You whipped around to find a boy resting his back against the edge of a bookshelf, who had an open book in his left hand, while his right was in his pants pocket. You recognized him immediately — Aventurine. Your best friend, and one of the only individuals in this whole institute that were even remotely on the same wavelength as you, in your eyes. Though, despite your close bond, you never mentioned your nightly endeavors, so what was he doing here…?

 You looked at him with a mix of embarrassment and hesitance, “How long have you been here?”

Aventurine simply snapped the book shut with his left hand, his right moving from his pocket, to ruffle your hair with a tilt of his head and a faint smirk. “Long enough,” he murmured, giving you his signature teasing look. 

You shot him a look, peeling his hand from your hair as you tried to fix it, muttering, “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed? It’s past curfew.”

He took his hand back with a soft chuckle. “What, you’re going to pretend it’s perfectly normal to walk around reciting poems under your breath?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but found yourself tongue-tied. After all, what were you supposed to say? Trying to seem unfazed to keep what small amount of dignity you had left, you ignored his question. “You didn’t answer me — aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

Aventurine studied your expression for a moment, before giving you a playful smile — one you always vaguely thought resembled a cat’s. He was rather quick to shoot back an accusatory remark, “I could be asking you the same, you know.”

You scoffed quietly, glancing away as you shot back, “Well, I asked first, so…”

“Well then...I was out for a midnight stroll, you could say. Things on the mind.” The boy simply stated, shrugging.

He watched as you sat down at the table, no doubt trying to ignore him. Aventurine glanced around for a moment, before shifting to peer over your shoulder. He quietly hummed at the contents of the page you were on, and a slightly softer tone could be heard in his words now. “The meaning behind the stars? Truly an interesting concept, wouldn’t you say? It’s a nice setup for having an existential crisis.”

You sighed, reluctantly coming to terms with your private moment of bliss and usual routine being ruined this evening. You looked up at him skeptically and, in spite of yourself, opened your mouth to ask for more details: “…how so?”

Aventurine walked around the table to sit across from you as he spoke. “What I mean, is that if we are made from the makings of a star—stardust, that is—is that question not simply like….well, searching for the answer to the question of what our meaning is? Of our point of existing, of being. I’d consider that to be the start of an existential crisis; wouldn’t you?”

Across from him, you leaned a hand on your palm as you listened, a faint upturn of your lips appearing. He always had a different, albeit sometimes less practical, perspective of things, one that was—for lack of a better word—refreshing. Though, you doubted you’d ever come to truly admit that to yourself, wholly. Or the fact that you felt more comfortable with yourself around him, as if he exuded a feel of safety by just being near you, being able to talk to him freely without a care for keeping up appearances.

The two of you sat there, comfortable in the presence of each other—a moment of stillness, and even bliss, almost. As you conversed about various tidbits, neither of you even bothered to notice how time was slipping away.

After a particularly long moment of calmness, Aventurine broke the silence quietly. 

“I told the stars about you, you know.”

In those hours, you felt as if you had voluntarily, gently, slipped out of the walls and barriers you had created over the years to block people out for the sake of progress. Though, you supposed that often happened around him—not to mention you didn’t seem to have any strong apprehensions about it, in these circumstances.

As if captured in the trance of the moment, you whispered, “…and what did they say?”

Aventurine gave you a soft smile, before murmuring back.

“That you were my meaning.”