#cullinggamespoilers

For most of his life so far, Naoya had never been much of a reader. In his youth, he'd been given book after book to read for his education, of course. Required texts and scrolls that he had to complete by a deadline, purely educational things, most of which was long-since forgotten. Reading a book for pleasure, whether it was fiction or fantasy, was not something that had ever appealed to him, and so he hadn't given it a second thought.

Then you came along and gave him things to read, and it was still for the purpose of learning, giving him new perspectives, and teaching him about your life when he still thought you were a deity. But he hadn't disliked reading those, even though he came back and reported what he'd found, discussed it with you to length, just like he had in the clan study with his elders. Maybe it was because he was used to it, like all the reading he'd done for his education.

But once he had learned more about you as a person, went from your acquaintance to your friend, he found himself enjoying reading. He wouldn't say whether it was the act of reading itself or the content of the books, because those thoughts in his head were still too dangerous to put a name to, but he had enjoyed it nonetheless. Reading about your life and what the world was like back then was interesting to him.

With that said, he hesitated to read the poetry. It was silly, perhaps. He knew it must be good poetry if you were so moved by it, and that made him reluctant. Because, what? Would the great Zen'in Naoya allow himself to be similarly touched by the written whimsies of a girl? It felt like you had given him a challenge, to put aside his pride and ego, and that made his pride and ego swell with the desire to not read it.

But the itch to appease you was just as strong, that 'thank you, Naoya-sama' echoing your voice in his head. It bounced around against the edges of his skull, rattling his brain, and making his heart thump wildly. It made him want to sit and start reading at once, to devour the contents of the old raggedy notebook cover to cover. But then what?

He'd go back to the realm, and you'd ask if he liked it, and what could he possibly do then? Know he had enjoyed it and lie about it? You'd likely see through such an act in seconds and call him out for it, as you always did, and you'd be disappointed in him for it.

And what if he truly hadn't liked the poetry and told you so, would you be disappointed in a whole other sense? At the fact that you and him weren't as similar as you originally thought? He couldn't bear the thought of creating such a disconnect, and part of him wished you had never given him the book in the first place.

And the stem of that fear was a whole other can of worms that Naoya was too nervous to look into. He was starting to notice and linger on things more often; the curve of your smile when he cracked a joke, the wicked glint in your eyes when you teased him. Even the gentle huffs of air from your soldier form in the midst of training had started to gather unnecessary attention from him.

Naoya truly believed, or at least always had, that women were inferior. Silly, stupid things that needed his protection and should be silent and obedient. He knew from early on that he'd most likely be set to marry a woman one day, a contractual thing for the clan, and he had never had an issue accepting this. He liked women, that much was true, because he knew he liked what he saw when he called on a concubine to entertain him.

But he had never liked any of these women romantically. Not even really platonically, nothing beyond sexually. He didn't notice sharp smiles and tempered looks and the rise and fall of their chest while they trained, wondering how they were breathing so heavily, yet he was the one who felt like he had the air stolen from his lungs. 

Well, to be fair, the women on the estate didn't train. Maybe that's where it starts.

Naoya had been raised to admire and respect strength, willpower, and intellect, that these were the pillars upon what made a person. And every example of such a person had been a man. His father, his older brothers, his uncles and cousins. His ancestors, the clan elders, all of them, all men. If the ideal person was strong and powerful and intelligent, is that not what he would seek in a romantic partner?

To his complete and utter surprise, Naoya didn't find himself hating the idea of admiring a man in that way, but he couldn't seem to find it in him to like men sexually. That was always where the admiration stopped, and it left him with quite the confusing thoughts. It was with all of this, he wished he had someone else he could talk to about these things. For a moment, he wished he could talk to his mother, who despite all his flaws, had loved his father. 

But his mother had died in childbirth, bringing him into the world, and was not an option. There wasn't really anyone who he felt he could talk to about this sort of stuff, nor was he sure he'd even want to. It happened accidentally.

Parrying an attack from Ranta, Naoya countered with a swift kick to his legs that swept the younger Zen'in off his feet and onto his back. He panted on the ground, closing his eyes as he mentally chastised himself, then took Naoya's outstretched hand.

"You're really fast, you sure you're not using jujutsu?" He spoke, eyes narrowed at his blonde cousin.

Naoya let out a snort. "Yeah, I'm sure. You're just awfully slow, as ever."

Ranta let out a huff, but took on a combative stance again. "Alright, let's go again."

Naoya only nodded and motioned for Ranta to attack, wondering if this was how you felt when you trained him. Ranta lasted longer the next time, as he usually did, but Naoya always managed to find an exploit in his stance or actions and disable him for the moment, winning the spar. Once again, he laid on his back, heaving in breaths of air until Naoya helped him up. He stumbled a little this time, and that was when Naoya called it, knowing he was getting too tired.

"Let's take a break, start again in ten." Naoya offered, and Ranta, unable to speak, only nodded.

A servant waiting nearby hastily stepped forward, freshly pouring ice cold water into cups and handing one to each of them. Then, she silently stepped back to her corner of the training grounds, standing enough in the shadows to look entirely unimportant, just as she was trained. Like a good woman, Naoya thought to himself.

When Ranta found his voice, he asked, "Did you hear about your brother and Ishikawa-san?"

Naoya rolled his eyes at the familiar tone, knowing his cousin was indulging in public gossip. "Ranta, you know better than to yap about nonsense."

"No, no!" He laughed, waving his free hand. "It's not nonsense this time. Her and Katsuro-san have been writing each other, and I may have overheard him and your father talking about proposals."

One of his dark eyebrows quirked up at the information. "Really?" He scoffed, "No one ever thinks to tell me these things."

"Hey, I'm telling you right now, aren't I?"

Naoya's eyes slid back over to Ranta at that, expecting a sarcastic remark and smirk. But there was none, just an honest expression and no intention to tease him. And it was in that moment, he recalled how much Ranta had looked up to him in their younger years. They might both be adults now, but they had always been close in a way, sharing secrets from around the estate.

Before he could think better about it, he asked, "Have you ever liked anyone like that?"

Ranta blinked for a moment, then hummed. "I liked that girl from the Suzuki clan."

Naoya's face twisted into one of contempt. "No way. The bratty one with the smart mouth?"

But Ranta grinned, "Yeah, that's the one."

"What the hell, man?"

"What can I say? I kinda admired how she could put me in my place."

"You're crazy."

"Maybe." Ranta shook his head with a small smile on his face. "But it just made it more of a challenge, you know? I like the idea of that."

Naoya raised an eyebrow at his sweet, little cousin. "What, to... conquer her?"

"No!" Ranta laughed again, as if that thought was absurd. "No, just that I could be with someone who challenges me all the time. Keeps me on my toes, helps me learn a thing or two."

Naoya had excused himself shortly after that, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. He retired to his chambers early and promptly emptied the contents of his stomach into his personal bathroom. He was very aware of the pen in his pocket and prayed you weren't paying him any attention today.

Then he opened the notebook of ancient poetry that was sat on the butsudan and started reading.

Naoya could tell the author of the book, the woman was all those years ago, was intelligent from just the first pages, despite how difficult it was to read. It was, like most of the old books you gave him, written in classical Japanese, which was much more complex in terms of grammar. But he was known for being quick, and that meant adapting, too.

The first piece was a beautifully written passage about the passing of time that did a great job of making him feel much younger than he was, like he was so utterly inexperienced in the grand scheme of life. And then it was followed up with a clever, rhyming thing about finding peace in the unknown that gave him an eerie sense of calm.

With every line read, Naoya could see just what you liked about it so much. The poet spoke on the pages with an eloquence and understanding that he could just tell had shaped your poet form immensely. With it came the realization that Naoya had heavily underestimated the impact of the poetry, because now all his prior thoughts about lying on whether he enjoyed it, felt inadequate. There was no way he could do such a thing now, as it would simply be an insult.

Of course, that wasn't the only line of thought of his that ended up scrambled through his reading of the notebook. Because a little more than halfway through, Naoya stumbled upon a passage, one of few in the book that were given a title. 

Emergence

Whence comes this tremor, this disquietude, that steals upon my very soul?

To find a thing, not sought, not craved, that doth possess the power to rend me limb from limb, to make a wreck of all I am.

'Tis not a change I yearned for, nor a heart's desire that spurred this fate, but simply that the capacity lay dormant.

And then unheralded, a catalyst, perchance unknowing of the tempest it would stir, did pass.

It treads its path, as ever, whilst I, by its mere fleeting touch, am utterly undone, a caterpillar forced into a chrysalis.

Naoya had slammed the notebook shut so fast that for a second he worried that he snapped the spine. But after careful inspection, the book was still in one piece, and he let out a sigh of relief. It did not do much relieving, though, because the words of the poetry were now stuck in his head. They effectively replaced your voice in his head, something he wasn't sure he was thankful for or not.

He considered taking the pen out of his pocket briefly, setting it back on the butsudan while he frantically paced his room deep in thought. But then he figured that would look even more suspicious in your eyes, and decided against it. No, you'd just have to bear witness to the physical representation of his inner turmoil for now. 

And bear witness you did. You couldn't perfectly see into the real world from your place in the cursed object, but you could sort of feel what was happening if you focused hard, gather bits and pieces of conversations drifting into the pen. Right now, all you felt was Naoya's sheer panic seeping into it, flooding your senses with your own feeling of instability. 

Was giving him the poetry too much too soon? Did you need to help him dismantle his beliefs more before giving it to him? Of course, you assumed his reaction was purely from facing the truths of his beliefs and the challenge to them.

You had no idea that Naoya was falling in love with you. 

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an: yeahhhhhhhh i know, it's been a hot minute. it has been a crazy month, that's all i can really say lmao. sorry the first chapter in awhile is short, i feel awful ;/

anyways, things get interesting this chapter as naoya starts to grapple with some inner feelings LOL also, in the chapter, the poetry is said to be written in classical japanese because that's what old ancient japanese would take the form of in this context, but because this fic is in english, i put it in early modern/elizabethan english. i will also put a regular/much simpler english translation at the end for anyone who'd like it! and yes, it is my own creation lol ive very much gotten into poetry lately hehe

ALSO, SUPER IMPORTANT: so, as the story warnings mention, there are going to be shibuya/culling game spoilers in this book and we are getting to them. however, this book does NOT really follow the plot of JJK, but it will occur parallel to it. in other words, the shibuya arc and culling game arc (mostly the second) will be taking place at the same time as this book, and you WILL hear details about both. i haven't read the manga, only seen the anime, so I myself don't even really know fully what happens past season 3, so it's not going to be anything huge, but there will be things mentioned. SOON. specifically about the first few episodes of season 3 ;)

EMERGENCE POEM TRANSLATION:

Where did this strange feeling come from, that has captured my entire soul? To come across something by chance, that has the power to change you entirely. Not because you needed to change, or wanted it, but because you were simply capable of change. And then came the catalyst, unannounced and perhaps unaware of your conflict. It goes on with it's day, and you are entirely undone nonetheless.