かみなずき

Between frits of sleep, the third path between slumber, she wonders how he managed to lighten this load too, alongside all the others. Buried between sheets and his possessive fingers trapping her in place, Isuzu absentmindedly traces circles against his skin that gradually grow in size.

What a comfortable prison, she marvels.

Isuzu thinks about shifting out of his reach and fulfilling her usual motions - fish out a cheap cigarette, casters, the ones that smell of Shiori - sit out on the balcony and watch the sun rise.

But he’s so selfish. As if somehow reading her semi-conscious mind, he holds her closer instead, until her face is pressed right against his chest.

He breathes. Heavy. Slow. Alive. His heart follows - strong, and proud.

When Haru wakes up, it’s not really because there’s a strong ray of sunshine aggressively beaming at her face, or that she’s disturbed by the music playing in the kitchen. 

There’s too much space. She wakes up to the ceiling, and sits up almost immediately, reaching for her phone by the beside, ignoring her glasses that falls from her side table unceremoniously. 

11:10. She breathes easy - it’s not 4pm, or 2pm, or even 1pm. For a Sunday, it seems like a win. 

Haru slips out of bed with a start - getting changed doesn’t even cross her mind when she can smell breakfast. Eyes widening, she walks barefoot to see if she can catch him in the act.

//

Haru definitely enjoys bothering him too much, Arty thinks, as he pours pancake batter into the heart-shaped mould with a ladle. None of it even spills, which is an achievement, he thinks, since her arms are wrapped around his waist firmly, head nosily watching his movements with great interest.

“Go wait on the sofa.” He chides softly. That predictably doesn’t work. 

He instead points with his chin instead towards the two cups of black coffee sitting by the sofa. “There’s coffee.” Her grip loosens immediately, which elicits a snort. 

Her “Thank you~” comes out sweet. Sing-song. He chuckles in response, dusting sugar over the finished pancakes.

“I love you,” though, that comes out after almost makes him drop the canned cream on his toes. Almost. 

When he turns to look back at her, she’s just quickly sipping from her mug like the universe never saw any interruption in its gravity, at all.

//

Haru says she’d be happy to let him pick whatever movie he wanted to watch, she said, but she still ends up scrutinizing every one of his picks until she ends up approving some lesser known Ghibli film he’d never even heard of before. 

Whatever, it didn’t matter in the end. She seems more interested in cuddling, anyway. Her lashes flutter behind the glasses perched on her nose. Gaze distant. Arty very smoothly forgets about his portion of pancakes, left unattended on the coffee table. 

“The pancakes are cute.” Haru cuts in like always, and comments in between mouthfuls. She buzzes and hums under her breath, clearly amused. Her fork scraps the plate for cream. “Didn’t realise you even had a bone for romance.” Haru shrinks into a staccato burst of laughter. 

Arty smiles. “It’s not so bad every now and again.” He says, planting a kiss on her temple.  

//

appearance:

fc: ami mizuno (sailor mercury)

height: around 164cm eyes: large, expressive. wears glasses when working hair: kept short normally, may vary depending on verse physique: sturdy, from regular athletics 

cosmetics: red lipstick if dressed in formal wear  usual: comfort first, will prioritise clothes for function, simple is best formal: usually relies on other people to help her dress up, but enjoys wearing traditional japanese garments

personality:

confident, firm. academically driven. goal orientated. prioritises order and conformity. values tradition and family. fiercely loyal to friends, but finds it hard to make them. generally forgiving, unless a significant transgression.

stubborn, abrasive. generally unsympathetic towards others, but loves animals. suspicious, hard to trust. a bit morally corrupt. argumentative. 

notes:

haru is a girl shaped by her fortunes and bound by tradition. talented but otherwise unexceptional, she finds it hard to find her individual voice. 

has a complex about being the only girl in the room, but is doted on by her brothers

respected by peers, but is generally seen as unapproachable

has a problem with authority uwu

is just some tsundere, to be honest

hp au:

mahoutokoro student, final year a daughter of the fujiwara clan, blessed w/ strong purification ability has a strong affinity with yokai and other ayakashi, has grown up to respect them - much more than humans mother is from the tsuchimikado family, her father remarried - her brothers are technically half-siblings

the rundown:

house: shunrai, house leader (one of five?) hobbies: astrology, divination, reading, quiddich interests: the pursuit of preserving the ancient magics, so, studying likes: flowers, desserts, the smell of old books talents: kenshibu (sword dance), koto, buyo (japanese dance), tea ceremony, archery current goals: herbology, and learning russian weaknesses: potion-making, any kind of cooking, sewing, calligraphy, flower arrangement  dislikes: noisiness, disrespect, laziness, messiness

bio:

a sheltered girl from a noble japanese household, haru was brought up with a golden spoon in her mouth. appearing quiet and reserved, her more innate personality is actually much more pointed and critical - but she just wears her heritage on her appearance. behind her glassy, polished exterior is a mountain of hard work, to prove to her parents, her peers, her brothers, and herself of her worth. absolutely has no chill.

misc:

>>

Before long, Zeke makes the old chemistry lab his own little personal hideout with just a couple of old cushions and blankets. It’s modest, but he thinks of it as his home away from home.  He migrates an ample stash of library books to one corner, and he always has a cupboard of easy snacks and ramen on hand. He was content, humming away to a song he’d long forgotten the lyrics to, just to have his little corner of the world to himself. 

With an emphasis on the was.

Zeke wordlessly continues to wrap the bandage tightly around Cain’s palm. A small first aid kit is skewed open, and Zeke has enough experience dealing with his younger siblings’ various falls and tumbles to know what he’s doing. Cain was better off actually going to the school nurse, but he set off those dumb puppy eyes and if he so desperately wanted to settle for mediocre medical attention, Zeke thought, then who was he to stop him?

This is not the closest they’ve ever been together, he thinks with a strained breath.  Zeke wouldn’t forget those long, hazy, nights of youthful hedonism even if he tried, but the air feels heavy, somehow, and Zeke doesn’t like it. 

“Hey, uh- I think-” The other boy tries to interject, but Zeke has already finished the unnecessary layer of bandage. He laughs nervously, prying his hand away from him to prevent more damage, but in the end, it does nothing to dispell the tense atmosphere in the air.

Zeke doesn’t acknowledge the arm reaching over to raise his chin until its too late, and Cain already has his grubby hands on his face. Zeke can’t help but squirm. 

Cain evidently doesn’t seem to mind, because this unruly hand of his is already combing through his hair, ruffling it in a way even his own parents have never done to him before.

Just as Zeke is about to bite out a strongly worded protest, Cain somehow beats the words out of him.

“Thank you. You’re really good at this.” 

And he smiles the saddest smile he’d ever seen in all sixteen years of his life. Something, something at the pit of his gut twists like a towel being wrung out of water. He’d never thought of the action as violent until now until he shrinks back in pain he knows is imaginary, but is all the more painful anyway.

<<

Zeke isn’t known to shy away from matters of the heart, but he sure as hell doesn’t choose talk about it. The other students do that instead, behind every curious stare behind a computer screen in IT lab, or the unsubtle glares he’d get in the lunch queue, or the baited whispers from the table behind him in class. He fucks old men for money, some would say. Others would claim he stole so-and-so’s boyfriend and turned him to the taste of cock. It wouldn’t help that Zeke never confirmed nor denied the salacious stories, without so much as a crack in his facade. 

But then he’d never been interested in people. He can see those things, he can hear those things, but he lets them wash over him like a strong tide and forgets about it after a hot shower. 

But Cain Orazbeck, third-year ex-captain of the football team, is not one of those things. As much as Zeke had hoped he was. And he was beginning to realise he wasn’t just another person, either, much to Zeke’s chagrin. 

It had been about three weeks since Cain spotted him watching while he got beat up behind the sports grounds, and he hasn’t stopped moping about, taking up space, visibly polluting the air with depression, since.  

He seems to enter Zeke’s vision without much effort whatsoever. His hair will look a little wild and unruly on the basketball court during his gym class, right in Zeke’s lazy line of sight as he stares outside the window during class. He will be a little hunched, shuffling not far in front in the lunch queue. He’ll leave school a good fifteen minutes after the crowd has dispersed and would spend an extra five minutes staring at the sky by the entrance. 

They had somehow tacitly agreed that they wouldn’t talk about the evenings gone, where Cain somehow, always, finds him in the crowd and their bodies end up so, so close together and he somehow lets Cain kiss him like he’s trying to breathe air and Zeke somehow, always feels like he’s about to drown and somehow he’s shaken to his bones and he wants out. And he leaves. (With longs streaks of heat from where he’s been touched; he wants to forget.) 

He thinks about his sad smiles and wonders what he’d look like in tears. The curiosity helps quash down the rising heat in his guts. 

>>

It rains heavily one April morning. He wakes up fifteen minutes before his alarm because the rain won’t shut up and one of his little brothers has managed to slip into his bed without knowing, and was now kicking him for some reason. He groans, grits his teeth, and jumps out of bed, poised and ready to throw his brother out of the window.

The air is soaking with moisture and Zeke feels a temper rise. He’s had to keep himself to the very edge of the insides of the bus shelter just so the passing cars wouldn’t soak his shoes in rainwater. He’d forgotten his literature assignment at home. He was forced to knock back his morning coffee in one shot just to make it to the bus stop.

 It rains so hard that with every passing second Zeke is increasingly more and more reluctant to go to school. Lost in a bunch of hypothetical scenarios and brief sparks of fondness from recalling last night’s documentary, Zeke doesn’t notice his bus rush by or the other bus that stops and lets off a passenger that doesn’t leave right away.

“You’re not going to school today, then?” 

Zeke saves himself the effort of looking up and instead looks at his wristwatch - a rare hand-me-down from his father, who claims it a family heirloom. 

It’s 9:15.  Even if he gets on the next bus, he’ll be an hour late, traffic depending.

(His mother tells him his father won the watch in a poker game twenty years ago, while drunk. What Zeke takes from the revelation is that origin stories aren’t all as they’re cracked up to be.)

He meets Cain’s eyes, then. He wonders what expression he’s wearing.

“I’m guessing you aren’t, either.” 

>>

Cain’s place is twenty minutes on a bus line he’d never taken before going in the opposite direction. Zeke watches his familiar scenery sink and morphs under the rain and smog-like clouds. Cain doesn’t say another word throughout the journey. He fiddles with the shirt sleeve peeking out of his blazer jacket.

His place is a small, nondescript one-bedroom apartment in a nondescript neighbourhood that he had to walk five minutes to get to, under a nondescript sky. 

No sign of parents, siblings, or anyone else. But Zeke doesn’t ask questions. 

“Why don’t you take a shower?” was the first thing Cain had said in nearly half an hour, and while he takes it half expecting it to be an invitation for something more - to which Zeke had already decided he wouldn’t mind - he finds that Cain makes no effort to touch him other than making him sit and forcibly blow-drying his hair out of the blue. 

Zeke finds himself oddly enjoying being momentarily doted on - and lets himself sit there and stare at the slightly oversized shirt and jogging bottom set Cain had loaned him. The shirt still smells like lavender. His breath hitches.

They end up crawling under piles of blankets - “I’d rather not pay so much for heating,” Cain had explained - and again, Cain made no active effort to touch him. Instead, they spend ten minutes scrolling on Cain’s laptop to find something to watch. 

By this time, Zeke felt so comfortable his brain was about to log out. “I wanna watch some true crime.” 

“Sure.”

Cain pulls the blankets in closer. He props the laptop up with his knees. By the middle of the second episode, Zeke is asleep, breathing softly by Cain’s cheeks. Arms snaked around his torso.

Cain gulps, but he can’t peel his eyes away. He sets his laptop aside and tries to even his breathing, before eventually falling asleep by Zeke’s side. 

//

It takes him until June to start regaining a semblance of his usual self back again, but Zeke finds that he didn’t mind the wait, in the end.

Cain found a casual football club outside of school to play, as well as a new group of friends that liked to take the piss but would also see him for who he was. 

Somehow, everything worked out just fine.

Cain had all the windows open in their little corner of the world, eager to beat the summer heat. Barely a breeze would ever slither through.

Zeke has his head in a maths textbook and a hand on a worksheet. 

Cain sits down in front of him and reaches for his chin. Zeke doesn’t need to look up to intercept and grab his hand. Eventually, fingers lace. Zeke is the one that pulls him in. So close their noses touch.

“Don’t chicken out.” He whispers. His voice wavers. 

She loses her virginity to a boy who doesn’t hide his fascination, and repulsion.

He gives her a hundred white roses on the first date and tells her she’s a yaoguai, out to bewitch men and send them to their deaths. (Like those sirens from Greek mythology, Yuhua thinks fondly.)

And he says he doesn’t mind that, as if he’s tougher than the rest, as if he’s taking on the one-eyed demon to save the village and be the hero.

But Yuhua didn’t mind, much less care.

He was tough, uncompromising, and he made her scream.

He was without a tinge of softness, and it made her sick to the stomach.

But when Gege comes back, summons her to his study, and tells her about the news of his 'accident', she scoffs.

In the end, he wasn’t tough enough.

-

She dates a fuerdai out of curiosity, but that flame burned out much faster than the others.

He buys her a car when she doesn’t have anywhere to go, he buys her a house when she already has her room, he buys her a field of sunflowers when she already has Yuzhu.

He didn’t know her at all – and Yuhua found that she liked it.

“You demon bitch, you were just playing me all along, weren’t you?”

Yuhua scoffs. And another one bites the dust.

-

She thinks that seducing Gege’s girlfriend was probably the last straw for him, probably what got her into this whole mess in the first place.

But she doesn’t regret it, not for a damned moment.

Gege’s girlfriend was ambitious, she thinks, recounting fondly of her love of BDSM and the plethora of sex toys in her collection. This girlfriend of his put all of her past encounters with men to shame. A fox in sheep’s skin – she was sly as she was unassuming.

She liked buying her white lilies every time she visited, and they would sit in her vase until they wilted.

She thought they represented her love for Yuhua, somehow, but they never caught Yuhua’s favour. Just like how this girlfriend never caught on to Yuhua’s trap.

It just so happens that she couldn’t keep it in her pants long enough to execute her plan to marry Gege and benefit her family. (Yuhua still thinks this is ridiculous. Ridiculously funny.)

Gege catches them as she tries to strip Yuhua down to her underwear in his room, seeing as she lied and said he wouldn’t be home tonight.

Gege had white lilies in his room. Yuhua thought it was a sweet touch.

-

Gege must have some messed up ideas about revenge, because, she thinks bitterly, this is excessively cruel.

Xia Longwei is much taller than her, even in heels. His eyes are stone, features sharp, muscles toned. Yuhua doesn’t know how to react – she’s never met anyone like him before, in this context. Family men are not her type, she thinks, uncertain. (Quietly angry.)

He doesn’t spare her a kind word, and she doesn’t spare him anything. She’s too bitter, too angry, too upset – to spare anything.

-

She doesn’t get married in a white chapel, with white orchids in her bouquet, with Yuzhu by her side. She doesn’t get married in red, kneeling by the feet of her in-laws as she serves them pu’er tea while Gege watches from the side.

Instead, she gets married in a foreign land, in a registry office, with only Longwei’s eyes on her. (Ironic, she thinks, how painfully ironic.)

She then suddenly remembers that she’s only eighteen, that her hands are shaking as he slides the diamond ring on her ring finger, and that she’s only realising now how big his hands are compared to her own.

She’s reminded of how weak she’s gotten, but pride refuses to allow crying out of sadness on her wedding day.

He gives her hydrangeas to hold in her bouquet. Plain, simple, pink and blue. Tears roll down her face, hot and fast.

“What’s wrong?” He says, oddly soft and coaxing. Yuhua shakes her head.

She holds her flowers to her heart for dear life.

her eyes brighten in childlike wonder, taking the parcel in her hands and admiring it for a moment, before pulling gently at the tasteful ribbon and unwrapping the rest.

"thank you so much." she says softly, as if to not disturb the quiet room, and their comfortable quiet. "i love it!"

with lidded eyes, she inches closer to him. with her free hand, she reaches over to his tie to pull him closer, and kisses him with much more longing and bite.

when they pull apart, he exhales, chasing the feeling. ”i thought you might.” he smiles, with rare tenderness, and then pulls away, brushing a lock of white hair behind her ear. ”happy birthday, hua-er.” and then, quickly as it appeared, he stows the emotion away again. treasures lose their value when you flaunt them, after all. a swell of noise comes up from down below. ”did you enjoy yourself today, at least?” he asks, settling into one of the ornately carved chairs in the room.

swamped with emotion, she feels crushed and breathless, gaping for air, melting at his smile. she suddenly feels like she's about to cry - as much as she loves the ornate necklace he's gifted her, she feels like his love; the secret, blatant display of it, is the best gift she's received tonight.

dazed, lost, she trails a step behind him to sit in the chair right next to his. her whole body crawls into it, with yuhua looking up at him with her head resting in her arms.

"i did." she lolls, absentmindedly taking his hand in hers and playing with his fingers. "drinking was fun, but these parties are never aboutme." she chuckles as if she just said something funny. she smooths his fingers out.

"but the best is you coming to see me. thank you, really." i'm sure no-one else wanted to see you. the unsaid words coil around her lips but never makes a sound.

she brings his fingers to her lips and kisses them.

peering at the tv sat opposite the chairs, her gaze returns to him.

"want to watch a movie?" she'd rather climb into bed (with him), though, but she doesn't know how to pose the question, only how to twiddle her thumbs.

”of course,” he says, and then inclines his head, dark eyes following her movement as she comes to perch in the chair beside him. ”i’d be a rather poor fiancé if i didn’t even come to see you on your birthday.” he laughs—short, low, his mirth like a secret that passes between them. the smile that follows is more apologetic, more restrained. ”i’m afraid that i must go see my father soon,” he says, knowing that she will likely stay alone, in this cavernous room of hers. ”he is...not feeling well, as you know.” truthfully, they had told him there wasn’t much time left—and perhaps that could explain the coldness with which ba is treating him, the gloom on his face every time longwei goes to embrace him the way he was when he was young. he leans closer, cupping her cheek as his lips brush her forehead. ”another time?” his breath ghosts against her skin.

solemnness hangs heavy, eating at the quiet cheer that once filled her room. yuhua tries not to let it betray her face, but they already know he's long since wormed into her heart, intentionally or otherwise.

she pouts at him like she's six. "take care," she says reluctantly, sighing a little, softly. she desperately tries to cling onto his affection. she didn't care about old man xia. no.

in return, she reaches for his face, tracing the line of his jaw. "in return,"she says, still upset, "promise me you'll be okay, no matter what."unreasonable - but she's still the birthday queen tonight, so she lets herself off with a smile.

"remember," she pulls gently at his cheek, imagining a universe beyond his irises. "even if the whole world turns against you, i'll be your ally."

she stretches over to press her forehead against his, and smiles. "you won't be able to get rid of me." she edges back. she wants to be happy, for him, but the weariness slips through. she's heard a lot about old man xia, and nothing has been good.

"i love you," she whispers with her eyes closed, surprising herself at how smoothly it came out.

There’s not much to see in the area, nothing much around but snow and the occasional car. Still, Sheba’s keen to get out of their room, and Ari somehow knows the area well enough to go without Google Maps.

They hold each other’s gloved hands as both traverse an uneasy level of snow. Ari’s not usually this talkative, but she illustrates the scenery with stories about her past visit, because Sheba thinks she can hear love in every word.

She smiles despite herself, despite almost tripping as she nearly slips on a slab of ice. Ari grabs her arm and saves her from the shame.

She smiles again, a little happier this time.

 When they reach the top of the small mountain, with the entirety of the town at their feet, Sheba doesn’t stop her urge to yell at the scene until she empties the entirety of her lungs.

But she also kind of wants to cry, too, somehow.

Ari bursts out laughing. Sheba turns red, pouting. They stay like that for a while.

Finally, when she stops, Ari just smiles her smile, and wraps her arms around Sheba.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Sheba’s not looking at the snow-capped roofs and beyond.

“It is.” She says, and kisses her.

 Sheba insisted on watching a countdown sequence, so they compromised. The TV’s showing another New Year’s special and Ari’s laptop has the live countdown sequence from Yokohama.

Lost in concentration on Ari’s mermaid braid, Sheba misses the count at 10, but follows from then, hands still determined to finish off Ari’s hair.

“Happy new year babe.” Ari grabs one of Sheba’s hands by surprise and kisses it. She turns before Sheba can stop her, and smiles, reaching to give her a peck on the nose.

Sheba sighs. She’ll never win.

“Happy new year baby.” Sheba follows with a forehead kiss. “I love you.”