why must we all suffer?

now playing: Demonyo (Redefined) - juan karlos carlossainz55 ciudad insigne y siempre leal [translation: Distinguished and ever loyal city] liked by yourusername, lando, charles_leclerc, and others

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user1 long sleeves polo in manila is a choice indeed

user2 kaya pala biglang uminit [translation: so that's why it got hotter here]

user3 i'm getting deja vu and i wasn't even alive in the 1600s-1800s

user4 HELLO GINOO 😍😍🔥🔥 [ginoo = sir]

user5 congratu-fucking-lations whoever got to see him 😒

user6 i saw him and y/n, they were buying street food and they were so sweet i got a pic and he even bought me isaw!!! ↳ user5 DONT CARE DIDNT ASK STOP RUBBING SALT IN MY WOUND

user7 The Spaniards after Intramuros was built 1571 (colorized) #rp612fic

user8 CARLOS SAINZ IS A JUAN KARLOS LISTENER CONFIRMED

user9 so did y/n teach him abt philippine history or...

⎯

The two of you walked around Intramuros. Trying food, buying useless stuff and souvenirs, and occasionally taking pictures with some fans.

You then got to Fort Santiago, a place you were excited to show Carlos because of its significance during the Spanish colonial period and WWII.

You talked a lot like you were a tour guide on a field trip giving out fun facts. He was not fazed by how much you talked no matter how detailed the explanations were.

The more he listened to you talk, the more and more he fell in love with you. Your voice which was comparable to an angel's and your knowledge on your country's interesting history captivated him so much.

⎯

now playing: Pahintulot - shirebound carlossainz55 she had me translate the entire wall (i love her) liked by yourusername, lando, and others

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📌 yourusername i'm gonna have you read the original noli me tangere and el filibusterismo too liked by creator

user1 u should include florante at laura for the added lore ↳ yourusername oooh ur right

user2 i hope made she made you pay for everything as revenge for what your ancestors did to our ancestors

user3 pls i can imagine carlos' face as y/n explains all the pain and suffering filipinos went thru bcs of the spaniards 😭😭

user4 I WAS JUST THERE FOR A FIELD TRIP UGHHHH

user5 field trip? how old are you? ↳ user4 ano kinalaman nun [translation: what does that have to do with anything] ↳ user6 did you just call user5 an ass ↳ user4 no i just asked what ↳ user6 ¿que? ↳ user4 ano? ↳ user5 ANONAS 😛😛😛😛😛😛

oscarpiastri can i get a history lesson too?

yourusername of course! hahah ↳ lando can i join ↳ carlossainz55 lando you don't even like history ↳ lando but y/n makes it sound interesting

user7 di naman ako naiinggit or anything. [translation: i'm not envious or anything. (sarcasm)]

user8 i too want my gf to take me to intramuros and explain in great detail its significance to the history of the philippines

user9 can i hire you to translate my spanish hw pls

user10 so the 333 years meant nothing to you yourusername

user11 333 mentioned i miss maxiel ↳ danielricciardo me too ↳ user12 ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

user13 the katipuneros are rolling in their graves rn

user14 not emilio aguinaldo! he's probably grinning ear to ear

user15 u could pull off a jose rizal cosplay tbh

user16 ANG LAYO [translation: THEY LOOK NOTHING ALIKE] user17 more of marcelo del pilar tbh ↳ user18 i see him as antonio luna ↳ user19 nono hear me out: alexander hamilton ↳ user20 how did we go from rizal to fucking hamilton user21 fym cosplay these are REAL people btw 💀

⎯

You both walked back to where you left the car. The last stop of the day would be at San Agustin Church, the oldest church in the Philippines.

Carlos was quieter than usual. Fiddling with his fingers and keeping his hands in his pockets.

"Are you okay?" You asked him. Maybe you infodumped too much on him?

"Yes, mi amor," he smiles, "I've never been better."

You got to the church and took a few minutes to admire its beautiful design. Carlos on the other hand, could not take his eyes off you. He could always go back here whenever he wanted. But he doesn't want to do it if he wasn't going to be with you.

Without warning, he gets on one knee.

"Y/n L/n," he starts, "ikaw ang pinakamagandang babae sa mundong ito." [translation: you are the most beautiful woman in this world.]

People started to gather, but in that moment, nothing mattered to the two of you except each other.

"Mahal, maaari ba kitang makasama habang buhay?" He asks nervously, with hope in his eyes. [translation: May I be with you for the rest of my life? (aka. will you marry me?)]

"Yes!" You say through tears. He puts the ring on and immediately goes in for a kiss, not caring about how many people was watching.

⎯

now playing: Pasilyo - SunKissed Lola carlossainz55 apelyido ko'y maging iyo yourusername [translation: my last name will be yours] [TITLE MENTIONED WOAAAAHHH] liked by yourusername, lando, charles_leclerc, and others

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📌 yourusername GUYS HE LEARNED TAGALOG SO HE COULD PROPOSE TO ME IN MY OWN LANGUAGE 😭😭😭😭 liked by creator

carlossainz55 i asked help from your mother ↳ yourusername FROM MY OWN MOTHER IM CRYINGG ILYSM user1 omfg he is the standard user2 my boyfriend should take notes

lando MATE THIS IS CRAZY

lando IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU MAN

user3 MAMA Y PAPAAAAA

user4 NANAY TATAYYYYY [translation: mother, father] ↳ user5 gusto kong tinapay [iykyk hahahah it won't make sense if i translate]

user6 SO THATS WHY HE WORE A LONG SLEEVED POLO IN THIS WEATHER

user7 this is so unexpected i need a moment in time

user8 i too would propose if my gf never stopped yapping about philippine history

user8gf taking notes btw ↳ user8 BABY?

charles_leclerc congratulations 🎉 liked by creator

alex_albon we better be invited (congratulations my goat)

yourusername if he doesn't invite you i will

fernandoalo_official 😮👏 liked by creator

user9 a man of many words user10 he's said enough

user11 "ikaw at ikaw" UGH WHAT DO I NEED TO DO TO HAVE WHAT THEY HAVE [translation: "it's only you" ;; a lyric from this song]

user12 kahit ikutin ko pa buong manila di pa rin ako magkakaganto [translation: even if i go around the whole manila i still won't find a relationship like theirs]

user13 "paboritong panalangin ko'y ikaw" 🥹🥹 my parents [translation: "you're my favorite prayer"]

user14 colonizer 😧🫵 (of y/n's heart 😻😻😻)

user15 colonizer x colonized trope is crazy 😭

lando does this mean i can get unli chicharon... yourusername

yourusername sure why not 🔥 ↳ lando SCORE

⎯ end

super rushed & really short 😭 but i just wanted to post something heheheh :P majority of this is just me geeking out and there was almost no plot tbh!

i'm working on a george smau idk when i will finish it lol hopefully before school starts

hope you enjoyed nonetheless lmaooo

You giggled, admiring her scrunched-up face. “She’s a bit wrinkly, isn’t she?”

Despite your daughter’s small stature, her appetite was no joke, although Yuuta was sure all babies were like that. It must be boring, having nothing else to do other than sleeping and eating.

Unbeknownst to Toru, her parents made sure she was protected from curses to the highest degree. It wasn’t particularly hard since Yuuta was in line to be the leader of the Gojo clan. When you came back home from giving birth, he arranged for a few guards to patrol the wing where you resided. Of course, since he was unofficially the strongest sorcerer, no one dared to attack his wife and child.

You also put in your efforts, using your cursed energy to enchant talismans to ward off cursed spirits. You stuck them everywhere, to the point that Panda thought the appearance of the bottom of your baby’s cot being plastered with every talisman known to mankind was very macabre, especially when compared to the pastel pink walls and decorations of the nursery.

Toru suddenly sneezed, causing you to laugh. “Even her sneezes are too cute.”

Your husband gazed at her softly, gently brushing her sparse hair before letting his finger rest in her palm. As if by instinct, Toru grasped it with her pudgy hand, five little fingers wrapped around his.

“Sometimes, I think I made a mistake in naming her after Gojo-sensei,” he quietly confessed. “I want Toru to live happily for the longest time.”

“And she will. After all, she has you as her father,” you smiled, holding your hand to his cheek. The scar across his forehead had healed over, a constant reminder of what it took to defeat Sukuna. “I promise.”

You then sealed it in the form of a gentle kiss that was somehow still as time-stopping as your first kiss all those years ago when you and Yuuta were still teenage sorcerers, just trying to survive.

five months

“Her dinner should be on the counter, and the instructions for her milk is right next to the steriliser,” your husband told the trio. “Her bedtime is in an hour and a half. Toru-chan instantly falls asleep after a lullaby, but don’t sing one of those cursed clan ones. She hates those.”

He turned to you, briefly admiring how beautiful you looked in the black dress he bought for you. No one would have guessed that you had given birth just five months ago. “I think that’s all.”

You laughed softly. “Babe, you forgot one other thing.”

Yuuta tilted his head, a bit confused. “Which one?”

“The baby.”

Sure enough, your husband was still cradling your daughter in his arms. Her curious dark blue eyes were fixed on Yuuta’s tie. Nine months in your womb, and somehow, Toru came out looking like a female version of Yuuta, from her inky black hair to her round blue eyes. Due to her lack of hair, she had hair, it just grew very slowly, people often mistook her for a boy, which led your husband to buy all sorts of ribbons, hats and hairbands. Right now, he had dressed her in a white onesie with a matching wool cap with bunny ears.

“Shake. Takana.”

“She’s a princess!” Yuuta refuted. You weren’t sure how he figured that out from just two words. He held Toru out for Toge to see. “Look at how cute she is. How could you ever think she’s a boy?”

“It’s an honest mistake, bean sprout.” Maki teased him, taking Toru out of his hands. She scanned the baby as if wondering what size polearm suited her. “How much can this little tyke do anyways? Can she sprint yet?”

“She’s only five months old!” Yuuta was getting more anxious about leaving Toru behind with them. Sure, he trusted them with his life, but when it came to childcare, he rightfully had his doubts. “The most she can do is sit up and roll over.”

“Like the dogs in obedience school?” Panda, who was perched on Maki’s shoulder, unhelpfully chimed in. “I watched a video about it the other day, so you can definitely trust us Yuuta.”

The cursed corpse’s dog comment made your husband lose all faith in them. “Maybe Fushiguro-kun isn’t busy.”

three years

“What’s with your husband?” Maki asked you when Yuuta was checking his phone over and over again during their meeting earlier.

“It’s Toru-chan’s first day at preschool today.”

“She’s old enough already? I could have sworn she was still learning how to walk.”

“Time just flies by when you’re raising kids,” you said, remembering how Yuuta cried when Toru called him Daddy for the first time. Now, she is going to preschool and making friends. You called out to your husband, “Toru’s otou-chan, the school would have called us if anything went wrong.”

“No, it’s just that- earlier, all the other little girls clung to their dads, but Toru-chan,” he suddenly squatted down, hugging his knees. His broad shoulders made him look like a white ball. “She just walked inside the classroom. She didn’t even look back. Like a boss.”

Toge offered his condolences, clapping Yuuta’s shoulder. “Takana.”

“She’s probably just excited to make new friends,” you comforted him. “I was the same way. I remember bringing one of my stuffed dolls as a friend on my first day.”

“Speaking of dolls,” Maki looked around. “Have any of you seen Panda anywhere?”

“Panda-kun? He was at our house this morning,” you answered.

Yuuta nodded along before saying, “he was playing with Toru-chan before…”

The four of you froze, realising where the cursed corpse could be right now.

“You don’t think…”

You and your husband rushed to your car. Yuuta basically stepped on the gas pedal to reach Toru’s preschool faster, where you stumbled into Panda’s election as the mascot of the Sunshine class.

six years

Luckily, little Toru’s hair started growing out, and at six years old, she had long, silky black locks that were currently tied up into pigtails by you. She was buzzing with energy as she impatiently waited for Yuuta to finish tying her laces. Her elementary school was having a sports day today, and Toru was specially chosen to represent her class in the 100 metre race.

“Daddy, hurry up!”

“I’m almost done.” Yuuta made sure her laces were double-knotted. He didn’t want a repeat of Toru falling flat on her face again, just because she was too shy to ask a teacher to tie her laces back. “Toru-chan, are you ready?”

Your daughter grinned as bright as the sun. “I think I can get first place!”

“First?” He had no doubt she was capable of beating the rest, but she was also too impatient. “You don’t have to get first. Whatever you get, you can always run back to me.”

Yuuta checked her over, brushing the dust off her gym uniform. Her bangs were tucked under her pink sweatband.

“Okay, let’s practice first. When the teacher says go, that’s when you run.” Yuuta pointed out the red track fields to Toru, where her teacher waved to them. “On my mark. Three, two, one-”

“GO!” Toru excitedly screeched, about to run off when her father stopped her.

“No! Not like that!” He knew she would do that. “You run when you hear go. Let’s try it again. Three, two, one-”

“GO!” 

Yuuta’s advice practically bounced off Toru’s ears as she eagerly sprinted to her friends, eager to join in. He, exasperated, watched as his little princess started chatting with them.

“Oh, what am I going to do with that little thing?”

sixteen years

“Dad, you’re impossible!”

“Toru-chan!”

You barely even got to look at her before Toru, now a second-year at Tokyo Jujutsu High School, sprinted to her room and slammed the shoji door shut. Your husband looked like he wanted to run after her, but he decided not to, taking a seat across from you where you were sorting through some documents.

“What happened?” you asked him while pouring green tea into a mug before offering it to him.

Yuuta gratefully took the mug, thanking you. “I may… have interfered with her mission again.”

“Yuuta-”

“I know.” He groaned. “It’s just-”

“I understand.” It was hard seeing your daughter as a sorceress, even though it was certainly safer than it used to be when you and your husband were her age. “Even so, no one’s going to take her seriously if you keep coming to her rescue. She’s not a Semi-Grade 1 for nothing.”

Yuuta kept quiet. It was easier back when Toru was starting out last year, since first years weren’t permitted to do solo missions, a rule you established just after your daughter was born.

“I’ll talk to her,” you said, standing up from the table, “but you have to promise you’re not going to mess with her assignments again.”

Yuuta looked up, smiling at you. “I promise. I don’t like it when our princess is mad at me.”

“She also doesn’t like being mad at you,” you told him before leaving the room. You made your way to Toru’s room and knocked on the door.

“Toru, it’s Mom.”

“Go away!” yelled Toru, her voice muffled.

“Baby, I just want to talk.”

The room was silent for a moment before you heard the sound of shuffling feet. Your daughter slid the shoji door open, letting you inside before sliding it shut. The pastel pink walls were gone in favour of the light cream paint Toru had chosen last year. Posters of popular idol groups plastered the walls, though her stuffed animals were still lined up on her bed.

Toru flopped down on her bed, inviting you to sit down next to her. “Mom, can’t you tell Dad to back off? People think I’m a joke.”

“Honey, they don’t think that-”

“Yes, they do!” She interrupted you. “I’m the only one with a babysitter, while Uncle Megumi’s son gets to do solo missions and he’s fourteen!”

You were sure that Hinata wasn’t allowed to do that, but then again, Megumi was primarily raised by Gojo so it would make sense that the latter’s unorthodox teaching methods were subconsciously passed on to him. 

“Dad just doesn’t believe in me,” said Toru while hugging a pink rabbit doll to her chest.

“Don’t say that,” you patted her head, making her look up to you. “It’s just that, you’re his little girl.”

Toru whispered, “I’m not so little anymore.”

“His mind knows that,” you held a hand over the left side of your side, “but his heart doesn’t know it. Even the idea of you being in danger hurts him so much that it causes him to act irrationally, so please understand that this isn’t easy for him.”

Toru’s dark blue eyes, which reminded you so much of your husband’s, softened. “Fine, but only if he stops hovering so much!”

You made your husband compromise by having him wait outside the high school with you, where Toru had her assignment. Your vivacious daughter made Yuuta promise that he would only come in if she sent a distress signal.

Twenty minutes passed by, and Toru came out with curse blood trickling down her face, and all of the hostages were rescued.

She had a wide smile while holding up a peace sign. “I exorcised the cursed spirit!”

You celebrated her success by having a barbeque party with all of your old schoolmates. However, the biggest surprise came a few weeks later when you and your family came home to a teenage boy waiting in front of your house with a bouquet of flowers. 

You recognised him as one of the hostages that Toru had rescued. He was a tall and handsome young man who blushed at the sight of her. You laughed lightly, realising why he was here, while Yuuta just squinted at him.

“H-Hajimemashite, my name is S-Sakura Takeda,” he stammered before pushing the bouquet towards Toru. “Thank you for rescuing my friends and I!”

Although she was shocked by his gesture, your daughter gratefully accepted the flowers, her cheeks as flushed as his, much to your husband’s dismay. 

Takeda nervously bowed deeply again to you and Yuuta, especially when your husband stared him down with unblinking eyes, as if the boy was Getou Suguru reincarnated.

“O-once again, thank you for saving us!”

He was about to leave when suddenly-

“Sakura-san!” Toru called out. “My favourite flowers are cosmoses, so just get me those next time!”

Yuuta’s jaw dropped while you pushed him into the house, not wanting him to intrude on their moment.

“Anata, I need to be there!” Your husband tried to leave, but you blocked his path. “Why would that boy-”

“Obviously, he likes her!” Your answer only added to his misery. “Our daughter is more popular than you think. He’s hardly the first boy who likes her.”

“Wait, there’s more?”

“Yeah. Why do you think Hinata-kun’s always training?” Only Yuuta wouldn’t notice Megumi’s son’s feelings for his own daughter.

“I thought he was like Megumi!”

“The boy wants to be strong enough to protect Toru-chan.” Granted, you only knew about it because Megumi’s wife told you during tea time.

“W-wait a second!” Yuuta was panicking harder than when he had to go up against Sukuna. “I’m not ready for this! Toru-chan’s still a baby!”

“You got engaged when you were ten!”

“That was a completely different situation!”

twenty-two years

Toru hurriedly unlocked the door to her boyfriend’s apartment while balancing a birthday cake in one hand and keys in the other.

“Takeda, sorry I’m late! I got dispatched on an urgent assignment-” She fell silent when she saw his mother instead. She immediately bowed down to her, but the older woman ignored her, instead choosing to walk up to her son.

“It’s bad enough that you invited her, but did you really have to give her a key?” She confronted him.

Takeda, uncomfortable, replied, “Mother, I invited Toru since it’s my birthday. Can’t I celebrate with my girlfriend?”

His mother glared pointedly at Toru, not bothering to hide her displeasure. Although the couple have been dating for a few years now, his mother never approved of her, always hoping that Takeda would end up being with a normal girl.

“Don’t just stand there!” She snapped, shoving a rice paddle into the sorceress’s hands. “I know that you’re some sort of heiress, but in our family, women do the housework here.”

Toru went to work with the rice bowls, even when she felt small under her gaze.

A few minutes later, they were having dinner. Takeda sat with his mother on one side while Toru sat alone on the other side. The atmosphere was very awkward with no one saying much.

“Um, Mrs Sakura, Takeda-kun always raves about how good of a cook you are!” Toru spoke up. “Like the mackerel. It’s so delicious that I can eat three portions in one sitting!”

“Our family values portion control. We’re not wealthy like your family, and can just eat whatever we want all the time,” Mrs Sakura coldly replied. She put her chopsticks down on the table. “Okkotsu-san, do your parents know you frequent a bachelor’s apartment?”

“Mother, why do you have to phrase it like that?” Takeda tried to defend her. “I told you I’m not dating Toru just for the fun of it. We’re hoping to get married-”

“Stop it before I get angry.” She sharply interrupted. “You’re my pride and joy, and right now, my pride is damaged.”

Okkotsu Toru, who had exorcised countless spirits, saved multiple lives, had never felt so worthless in her life.

“Is your family really that religious? Is that why they are always so self-righteous?” Toru angrily ranted after they were done with dinner. Takeda was following her, holding an umbrella over her head as it rained. With tears in her eyes, she turned around to face him. “I come from a family of sorcerers. I can’t change that, but why does she always make me feel like I’m stupid for not being ashamed of it?”

“So what if I’m not good at housework? Are you any good at cooking and cleaning?”

Takeda admitted, “I’m bad at those things.”

Toru furiously tried to wipe her tears away.

“I hate feeling like this. I feel like a foolish jester just dancing around for a queen who’s never going to like her. Do you even have any idea what that feels like?” Her words became barbed-wired, even though they were for her first love. The first boy who ever gave her flowers. “You can either be a good son or a good husband. You have to choose. If you can’t even do that, don’t even think of asking me to marry you.”

“Toru, I can’t just- who would be able to pick one over the other?” Toru was the first and only girl Takeda ever loved, but how can he go against his mother? “It’s an impossible choice-”

“My dad did it,” She cut him off. “He chose my mom over the clan.”

When she was eighteen, Toru found out the real reason why she was an only child. You nearly died giving birth to her, and Yuuta promised never to have a second child. He never wanted to put you through that pain ever again.

The elders of the Gojo clan weren’t happy to hear that. They tried to urge him to try for a son, a viable heir. When that didn’t work, they tried to convince Yuuta to take a few concubines, and that was when he put his foot down. Either they stop with their nonsense, or he would leave them, dissolving the Gojo clan.

They should have known that Okkotsu Yuuta would always choose you.

“I’m only telling you this once,” Toru took a deep breath over her sobs. “I will not marry your mother’s son.”

twenty-four years

Toru checked her phone again while her parents sat beside her. They had been waiting for over an hour for the Sakura family to discuss her and Takeda’s upcoming wedding.

“His father had a late shift,” she tried to excuse her future father-in-law, although she knew that he had gone back home hours ago, “and the traffic in Tokyo is really bad at this time.”

“Your mom and I are busy too.” Your husband even had an assignment in Okinawa last night, and just went back home this morning. Yet, you managed to show up on time. “They should have told us if they were going to be late.”

Toru bit her lip. She muttered to herself, sending a text to her fiance. “Where is he?”

Fortunately, Takeda entered the private room soon after, with his parents in tow. He apologised to his future in-laws for the wait. You pretended not to notice his parents not bowing back to you and Yuuta.

When the food was laid out on the table, your heart ached at the sight of your daughter serving food for everyone else first, leaving only scraps for herself. You knew that she learned this from you, back when Yuuta wasn’t the clan head yet, and you often had to put your own head down.

While Takeda’s father boasted about his son’s achievements, even though he knew that Toru earned more than his son, you quietly gave your bowl of seafood broth to your daughter, and quietly took her bowl of scraps for yourself.

“Look at how your daughter served you,” Mrs Sakura criticised, not realising that you had switched the bowls. “Maybe it’s because she’s been raised in a wealthy clan, but that’s not how our family does it. How is she going to manage our household when she can’t even ladle soup?”

You held your tongue at the blatant disrespect of your daughter. When you were young, you would have exploded right then and there, but you matured since then, and knew that her future was at stake.

Yuuta fidgeted with his sleeve. “Well, regarding the household, as a working woman, it would be hard for Toru-”

“That’s why I asked her to stop being a sorcerer after the marriage.” Mrs Sakura innocently revealed, as if she had done nothing wrong. She turned to your daughter. “Didn’t you tell them?”

“Mother, I told you-”

“Was I asking you?” Mrs Sakura sighed. “My son is a lawyer. He earns more than enough to support her. Unlike some people, he didn’t have any connections.”

“Our daughter is a sorcerer because of her own merit.”

You wanted to say that. You hated seeing her like this.

“Ah, you haven’t served us the miso soup yet.” Mr Sakura thrusted an empty bowl towards Toru. “Give me some.”

Mrs Sakura added two more bowls. “You might as well get started.”

You have never seen Toru scramble for anything, much less for the opportunity to ladle soup.

“Usually, only daughters are good at this sort of thing, but Toru’s different.” Mrs Sakura’s sweet tone didn’t fool you. Why was she acting like this? “It looks like I have my work cut out for me. She needs to learn to be a proper woman before I can introduce her to the extended family.”

What exactly did she mean by a proper woman? Toru loved her son faithfully without any doubts. Why wasn’t she happy that her son was loved in such a way? You barely noticed Yuuta sending a look towards Takeda before you stood up.

“Let me.” You said to Toru, taking the ladle away from her.

“Okaa-san-”

“Just sit down.” You told her, taking over.

Mrs Sakura took the chance. “Your mother does everything for you so you don’t know anything. Isn’t that right, Toru?”

Your daughter meekly nodded, not daring to look up. She didn’t want to know how you and Yuuta looked.

“I couldn’t teach her,” you interrupted, bringing the attention of the whole table towards you. “She was too precious, and too dear.”

You looked Mrs Sakura straight in the eye for the first time. “So, I chose not to teach her.”

You finished ladling the miso soup into the first bowl. It was chock full of tofu and seaweed, and instead of handing it towards Mr Sakura, you served it to your daughter.

In the car, after you were finally done with the horrendous lunch, you finally let everything go.

“She always acts like the boss at home, so why couldn’t she say anything around them?” You fumed.

“Why did you do that?” Your husband asked you. “You couldn’t stand it?”

“Our Toru has parents,” you dabbed your napkin at your eyes. “She has a family!”

“So you wanted that woman to know that?”

You turned to Yuuta. “You sure held yourself back. I thought you were going to unleash Rika and demand that they call off the engagement!”

“I wanted to, countless times. I was holding back so much,” he sighed. Just like you, he couldn’t stand seeing his daughter acting so small. “But Toru-chan loves him. If I force her, it would just hurt her. It’s not because she’s any less than him.”

You sobbed. You didn’t want to know what Toru’s future would be like in that family. “I can endure anything for her, but seeing her like that… it just destroys me.”

The second time you met Mrs Sakura was after the dress fitting. You were sitting across from her in the cafe while Toru was waiting for Takeda outside. It had been a few weeks since the lunch, and you were worried that your outburst had caused Toru some backlash.

“I know that Toru isn’t very gentle or soft-spoken,” you started saying. There were some times you were convinced that she was like Gojo, even though she had never known him. “But when she loves someone, she loves deeply-”

“Mrs Okkotsu, may I say something to you?” She rudely cut you off. “You see, I always prefer being frank and honest. I admit that your daughter and my son do love each other, but honestly, I’m just not fond of her.”

“What?”

“I really tried, but I just don’t like her.” Mrs Sakura confessed. “If she wasn’t a shaman, maybe I would have accepted, but you see, our family has been blessed for generations. How could I let her in our family when she brings bad fortune? What kind of mother would I be if I let my son make the wrong choice?”

She grasped your hands, not caring that you were shaking and that your eyes were brimming with tears. It was as if she enjoyed unnerving you like this.

“You know that our children aren’t a right match for each other, so Mrs Okkotsu, let’s work together to call off the wedding.” She smiled to herself before sipping her tea. “I’ve been waiting a long time to say that. Now, it feels like a boulder has been lifted off my shoulders.”

“Do you know where you’re putting that boulder?” You finally said. You had decided. You weren’t going to let your princess get married into that family. “On your son’s heart.”

When you got back home, your daughter confronted you for your silent behaviour.

“Takeda-kun was about to lose his mind in there.”

“So let him.” You said.

“What?”

“Are you really that fond of him? It’s not like he passed the bar exam.”

“Then, what about me?” Toru asked. “Do you think I’m a fool for loving him? Mom, you think I’m less than him, don’t you?”

You vehemently refuted her claim. “No! I’d never think that!”

“Then why do you never say anything to his mother?” She yelled.

“So that she won’t be cold to you!” You yelled back. “I held myself back so that she won’t take it out on you! Why on earth would you be less than him? That’s just a load of crap!”

After a second of silence, Toru asked you, “Why? Did she say anything to you?”

You winced. You couldn’t tell her that woman was determined to scorn her forever. “How can I act on my temper when you’re joining their family?”

Toru sighed loudly before saying outloud, “Just go ahead and lose your temper!”

Your heart hurts worse than ever. You did everything you could to protect her from curses, but you forgot that heartbreak was inevitable. “Toru, please, get your act together. I can’t decide for you. Just know that even a small wound on your heart turns into a deep scar for your father and me.”

A week later, Toru called to inform you that she called off the wedding. While you and Yuuta were elated at the fact that she didn’t have to suffer with in-laws like that, your hearts broke at the end of your daughter’s first love story.

twenty-five years

Toru yawned as the sun was rising. Her dad has asked her for her assistance in a mission. Of course, she knew he was using it as an excuse to spend time with her. Even at his age, a Grade 1 curse was nothing to him, but it was nice to work with him sometimes.

Her dad walked over to her, carrying a tray with two hot chocolate drinks. It was something they always did as a little girl. Drinking hot chocolate together. There wasn’t any particular reason why.

Toru watched as the sky became brighter and the city started waking up. 

“How are you doing?” Yuuta asked her.

Toru knew what he was really asking her. “It’s been a year, Dad. I’m fine.”

He sighed. “I’m your father. Do you think I don’t know when my little girl is hurting?”

“I’m not so little anymore.”

“In my heart, you still are.” He answered. “One of the few things I’ve learned over the years is that you never really stop raising your children. I knew you would break off the engagement. Even if you don’t end up married, it’s fine. You can always come back to us.”

With the sun shining behind him, Toru started seeing him in a different light. Every time she walked the tightrope, he was always below her, always letting her know that he would catch her.

“Why would you say I wouldn’t get married?” She started whining. “I’ll get married someday. My future husband will be a super handsome guy.”

Yuuta chuckled. “Okay, my bad.”

He had no idea that a month later, Toru and Fushiguro Hinata would reconnect over childhood memories and start dating a few weeks later.

twenty-seven years

Toru anxiously tapped her high-heeled foot as she and Yuuta waited outside the hall. Her makeup was immaculate and her wedding dress was a brilliant white with a lace train trailing after her.

“Dad, you absolutely cannot cry, got it?” She frantically told him. “You know what? It would be better if I just don’t look at you through the whole ceremony. This makeup took almost three hours! I can’t ruin it-”

“Toru-chan?”

“Nani? W-what is it?” The normally confident Toru was nervous as hell. In a few minutes, she will be marrying Fushiguro Hinata.

“You can do this, right?” Yuuta sincerely asked her. “Because if you can’t, just run back to us. Don’t worry about the clans or anything like that. Just run!”

For a moment, Toru froze. Her dad told her that all the time, and he always meant it, even now. 

She immediately burst into tears, bawling loudly. “Otou-chan, you’re so annoying!”

“If Hinata ever messes up, just leave him-”

“Stop it!” Toru sobbed. “Why would you make me cry now!”

You had the shock of your life when you saw your daughter crying while walking down the aisle. You smacked your husband’s shoulder when he sat down after giving her away to Hinata.

Yuuta really tried to keep his cool. He had promised Toru after all, but when they were pronounced husband and wife, your husband couldn't hold his tears back anymore.

The café had stilled in that moment. Even the old espresso machine, which was usually hissing and wheezing about, seemed to fall silent. 

Panda’s hand froze mid-air, halfway to his muffin. Toge’s mutter died on his tongue. Even Maki had lifted her gaze, holding an expression that was dangerously close to surprise. Because it is not every day a bride walks into this café. 

Your eyes dart across the room — frantic, urgent, desperate to find someone, and it’s only when your eyes find him that he realises — it’s him. You were searching for him. 

At that realisation, he lurched up to stand at once. It was a little too clumsy, too sudden, as though his seat had grown immediately hot.

He thought he should speak, ask something rational, like what are you doing here? Or say something gentle, like asking if you were okay, but his tongue felt thick and lumpy in his mouth, sodden just as the dirty hem of your white dress. 

So when you began to speak, he almost sighed with relief.

“Yuuta,” you said, his name softened between your lips, and your whole face seemed to ease.

“Oh, it’s so… I’m so happy you’re here. I didn’t know where else to go. I just— I left. I left him, Yuuta. I was standing there, staring at the aisle, at him, at all of it. The expensive flowers. The expensive carpet. The expensive champagne, and suddenly it was like I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t do it. So I ran. I just— I ran.”

Yuuta isn’t sure what he can say to that.

It’s loaded, so he doesn’t know where to start asking questions. He simply stares at you. And then turns back to see his seated friends, as though one of them will ground him away from this dream that he seems to have slipped into. Because it is a dream, right?

But when Panda only gave a low whistle in response, it was the kind that seared the reality of the situation into his brain.

“Now this,” Panda had said, leaning back, “is better than Love Island, my friends.”

He knows now that this is real. And you’ve apparently left a wedding. You had agreed, once, to marry someone else, and then you hadn’t. This is an afterthought he tries to suppress, given everything else that’s staring him stark in the face. But he does think it, even if it were only for a moment.

Maki crossed her arms then, watching you closely. “You’re dripping mud all over the floor,” she comments, but her voice doesn’t come out with any sort of sting, but rather as an observation.

You looked flustered, but ignored the comment as you took Yuuta’s hands, clutching them with a desperation that made his heart stumble out of his chest.

You were cold to touch, and he wonders if he should give you his jacket.

“I don’t want to be who I was,” you confessed now softly. “I was this girl who lived in a bubble. I looked at him, Yuuta, and I thought— this isn’t it. This isn’t my life. This isn’t me at all. And all I could think was… I needed to find a friend. A friend who knows me.”

It’s out of place to hear this confession from a person he hadn’t seen in years now, but everything about this situation was out of place.

You belonged at the end of an aisle, and he belonged here.

You were meant for cathedrals and champagne halls, and he was meant for a chipped mug of coffee and a menial job. Yet, you were here holding his hand. 

It was all out of place. 

—

The group, to Yuuta's surprise, was astonishingly well-composed in the wake of your situation.

Toge and Panda had gone to the counter to get you something warm. Maki, whose name, you would only learn later, had wordlessly stripped a navy shawl from her own shoulders and flung it across yours in a gesture that was brusque.

And then there was Yuuta.

Yuuta was crouched before you, perched on the low table opposite. His body was tilted forward as he stared intensely at you. You didn’t blame him, though the intensity of his stare, mingled with the realisations of what you had just done — of the words you had mumbled to him, of the man you had abandoned, of the people whose names would be lighting up your screen, of the entire state of your life — all of which had suddenly all come boiling to the surface. 

And sitting there, clutching the borrowed shawl tight around your shoulders, you felt the shame and embarrassment rise sharply in your throat.

“Are you okay?” Yuuta tried, the words falling clumsily from his mouth.

And immediately he realised how stupid that sounded. Are you okay? What a ridiculous and pathetic question. Of course, you weren’t okay. People who were okay didn’t abandon weddings midway through. People who were okay didn’t search, wild-eyed, for the face of a boy they hadn’t seen in almost half a decade. People who did this were — undeniably, certifiably — not okay.

He glanced sideways at Maki, who was already looking at him like he was the dumbest man alive.

He gulped. He wanted, very sincerely, to punch himself in the face.

“I just feel like someone has reached down my throat, and has grabbed my small intestine, pulled it out of my mouth, and tied it around my neck.”

The description was grotesque, or even dramatic and childish, but it was the truth of your body.

“If you get me,” you attempted to add, your voice dropping to a meek, apologetic murmur.

And at that, Yuuta really wanted to punch himself in the face. He should be saying something, anything to distract you from your situation — to make your world lighter, but where could he begin? He knew nothing anymore. Not about you, not about the person you had become, not about the life you had just abandoned.

“I am glad to see you, though,” you added softly. “It’s strange. I haven’t seen you in years, but you’re my only true friend I’ve had in such a long time.”

“A friend who wasn’t even invited to the wedding,” Maki remarked. Her voice was sharp, but the remark itself was plain. It didn’t feel accusatory, but more so — observational. 

“Maki,” Yuuta protested, however, as his chest was tightening.

“We did drift apart,” you admitted, eyes not leaving his. “But you would always be my friend, Yuuta. You know that, don’t you?”

He could swear your eyes twinkled just then.

—

You sat with both hands curled around the hot chocolate. The porcelain of the cup radiated a simple and welcoming warmth that you clung to, sip after sip, while they all stared at you. There are questions simmering beneath their tongues, you can feel it, but the warmth of the cup around your palms, the warmth of the drink down your throat left you a bit listless, and comforted — that you didn’t mind. You simply sipped on the drink as they watched you like some exotic creature they were meant to study. You look up now, at the group, and then at Yuuta. “Can I borrow your phone?” you asked, quietly but firmly too. “I need to call my father.”

Yuuta startled, cleared his throat, already reaching for his pocket. “Right. Yeah. Of course.”

You handed him the empty cup, the porcelain had tints of red from your lipstick, and he exchanged it for his phone. You stood up and drifted to the far side of the café, for privacy, he assumes. 

“Who is she?” Panda asked first, his voice sly, delighted by the scandal at hand. “Don’t tell me you were having an affair with an engaged woman. How perverted is that?” He paused, grin widening as he looked at her now. “Kudos, though. She’s pretty.” Yuuta’s brow knit, irritation flashing across his face. “It’s not like that,” he said quickly. “I haven’t seen her in years. She’s just— an old friend. We grew up together. We don’t even talk anymore.” His voice trailed off. It’s all out of place. “And yet,” Maki murmured, arms folded, eyes narrowing in clinical interest, “she runs to you as she leaves her future husband. Isn’t that interesting?”

Yuuta hesitated, words catching. Then, softly, almost pleading, he said, “I mean… look at her. She doesn’t seem like she has a lot of good friends. She probably just needed someone outside of those circles. Her family— they’re the rich kind, you know. They’ve got their own world, their own orbit. I don’t know why she’s here, but I’m assuming she has no one else.”

At that, he could visibly see Maki soften, her shoulders relaxed. You were not the threat afterall. You were just a woman with a family of idiots. 

“That’s… kinda sad,” Panda said in response, voicing what everyone was feeling. And for once, his voice held no joke at all. It was sincere. 

You stood by the window, with the phone pressed to your ear. You almost wish he wouldn’t pick up. You didn’t want to face this reality of yours. This life you lived. You wish you could start a new one here, with Yuuta and his odd group of friends. 

When your father’s voice came through, it was clipped, cool, controlled — as though you had interrupted a board meeting, or worse, humiliated him by existing in the wrong place.

“Where are you?” he demanded, without any effort to establish a preamble. “Come back. Now.”

You swallowed. “I left.”

“I am aware,” he said. “You have thirty minutes. Return.”

“No,” you whispered.

“Speak up,” he urged. He hated it when you mumbled to yourself. Meek. Weak. Small. 

Your voice was trembling, though you forced it to sound steady. “I couldn’t—” You failed. “I could not do it, Papa. I tried. I really tried, but when I looked at him… I wanted to leave, and so, I did.” 

You pressed your hand against the cold glass, the rain outside smearing the city into indistinct lights. Something to steady you, you tried to focus on the colours. 

“I only wanted to apologise to you and Mama. I love you both. And I’m only sorry for that. For abandoning you to deal with this for me. But I never wanted it, and you knew it.” 

You clutched the phone tighter, as though by holding it you might tether yourself to something familiar, but the voice on the other end was not safety. It never was. 

“Goodbye,” you said then. Final. Ending. “I hope you forgive me.”

When you lowered the phone, the café seemed to tilt, the air thinning around you. Your stomach hollowed, your skin prickled. You wanted air. You wanted your bed. 

“Are you alright?” Yuuta’s voice cut through cleanly into the fugue — steady, warm, and concerned.

You turned, slow and uncomposed. Your eyes were rimmed with red, and before you could reason your way through it, you closed the distance between you and him. You all but collapsed into his arms.

He was startled and nearly lost his footing until he steadied himself. Then he steadied you, pulling you upright into his hold. His arms folded around you as his palm pressed to the back of your head in a slow, patting you now. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured. He repeated them anyway, again and again, slowly, until the sound itself became a tether. A mantra. A spell. And the more he said it, the more you began to believe it. 

When your sobs stopped, as the deep tremor in your chest had flattened down and softened, you pulled back. The world may look a little blurrier now, but you felt lighter, too.

—

There wasn’t a lot left to do now. The evening had already begun to fold itself into routine, the kind they all knew by heart. Usually, it was Maki who left first — she had a strict regimen, physical health scheduled into her life with the same precision she levelled at everything else. She stood, gathering her things, then fixed the two of you with that measured, sharp-eyed stare as you held her shawl out to her.

“Thank you for the shawl,” you said, a little awkwardly. 

“You’re welcome,” she replied, matter-of-fact. Then, after a beat: “You’ll be fine. Ask Yuuta for my number if you need a place to stay. My roommate’s moving out, actually, so the timing is sort of perfect.”

Your eyes widened, catching faint light from the café’s low lamps. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Maki said, shouldering her bag. “Just, it’s not a big deal. Just be… cool.”

“I can be cool,” you said, feeling defensive all too suddenly, though grateful at her proposal. You hadn’t mapped this out realistically at all. Where would you stay? How would you pay for things now?

Panda lasted another half hour before lumbering up from the couch, crumbs trailing from his shirt. He clapped Yuuta’s shoulder with a heavy hand that left an ache long after, rolling through Yuuta’s bones.

“You have so much to tell me,” he said, grin spreading wide, teeth flashing. “Can’t wait to see you Monday.”

It sounded less like enthusiasm and more like a threat. Yuuta frowned as Panda winked, shambling out into the drizzle with a parting wave.

That left Toge. He lingered the longest, nursing another cup of tea in silence, his gaze flickering between the two of you. Eventually, he stood, setting his empty mug down with a small click. Yuuta rose automatically, and you followed — nothing really left to do at the café but leave. Still, the act of standing felt imposed, almost abrupt, and guilt nipped at you, the faint sense that you had been a burden this evening.

Outside, the air was damp and cool. Inumaki hesitated by the door, then glanced at you once, at Yuuta, and back again. Without a word, he shrugged off his own coat — a dark woollen thing, faintly scented with smoke and tea — and draped it carefully over your shoulders

“Salmon,” he murmured, tone soft, almost tender.

You turned to look at Yuuta, feeling tended to, but confused nonetheless. 

Yuuta, fumbling for clarity, added, “You can return it next time you see him.”

“Thank you,” you said, still confused but clutching the coat closer around yourself.

Yuuta watched, throat tightening. Something faint and warm filled his chest, blooming against the night chill. “Um, what do you want to do now?” Yuuta asked. His voice was gentle and unassuming, as if the question cost him nothing particular or grave. Like the energy it took to move a muscle at best. 

You blinked, a half-smile breaking through on your face. You expected he’d bid you farewell and wish you good luck on your way. And this would be the end of this.  

You would preside after this evening only as an anecdote, a funny story to be told at parties.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, feeling lighter than you’ve felt in a year. Then, sheepishly, you speak up. “I’m hungry.”

For the first time in a long time, you heard Yuuta laugh. It’s a quiet, incredulous, almost disbelieving laughter. 

You smiled. His laughter always carried this particular alchemy.

It pulled you back, just a little, to an image of a boy — slight and sunburnt, and a girl — bright and unburdened. To summer afternoons that were filled with knee scratches and ice creams, where time had stretched itself out for you and you alone. Where his laughter accompanying your own meant the evening would be well-lived and light. 

Now, you’re here, years later. 

“I have a bike,” he said suddenly. “I can drive us up to the high street.”

You blinked. “You have a bike,” you repeated, tone incredulous, baffled, impressed, but baffled nonetheless. 

Because the Yuuta you remembered — scrawny, awkward, scared of his own shadow Yuuta — had somehow grown into this. Into a man who rode a bike. Into a man whose jacket stretched slightly over the curve of real muscle, whose hands looked steady enough to hold both the handlebars. 

The thought invoked something strange within you.

“Yeah,” he said, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. 

Still awkward, you concluded with a smile. Still him.

The rain had eased into a mist, soft enough to blur the streetlamps into trembling halos. Yuuta wheeled the bike out from the narrow row where it had been chained, the frame slick with water, the metal gleaming in the half-light. It wasn’t anything glamorous — but a sleek red motorbike, well-worn yet polished, the kind of machine that spoke of quiet care. You noticed it immediately, how clean it was despite the weather, as though he’d taken time to tend to it, to keep it shining.

And yet, seeing him swing his leg over it, steady and confident, made something twist unexpectedly in your chest. A strange contrast to the boy you remembered, awkward and hesitant. This was new, unfamiliar — and it unsettled you in ways you weren’t prepared to admit.

He glanced at you then, his expression caught somewhere between soft pride and embarrassment. “You, uh… you’ll have to hold on.”

The words made your pulse stutter. He said them with such plain practicality, and yet.

So you slid onto the seat behind him, hesitating for a beat before wrapping your arms around his middle. His body was warm even through the fabric of his jacket, the steady rhythm of his breath grounding you against the cool, damp air. You hadn’t realised how cold you’d been until now.

Yuuta stiffened, just slightly, then exhaled, adjusting his grip on the handlebars. “Ready?”

“Mm,” you murmured, your cheek brushing against his shoulder.

And then you were moving. The bike hummed under you, wheels hissing against the rain-dark road. The night opened itself up in streaks of light and shadow — shopfronts shuttered, puddles gleaming, the occasional car spraying water as it passed. The air rushed past, damp and sharp, tugging at your hair, carrying the faintest scent of soap and rain from his collar.

—

There were only a precious few places open at this hour. It was that liminal hour between early night and late evening. This was when the city was pausing for a brief moment to start the night — commuters were seen to be returning to their flats, and the noise emanating from cafés was thinning down to a lull as they started closing down. Yuuta was racking his brain for the different possibilities of cuisine, but the truth is, the options were few and very limited.

Yuuta walked beside you after parking near the stretch everyone colloquially called “food street,” and was turning this task over in his head, as though the very act of deciding on food were a kind of responsibility he must shoulder for you. Almost reverently, for your sake.

His mind ransacked through all the possibilities — the ramen joints with neon lights on side streets, but too shabby, and perhaps too makeshift for you. You would be a pale flare in that kind of place, the white of your dress catching every eye. Worse yet, someone might assume he was your husband and think him a figure so careless enough to drag you here on your wedding night.

Convenience stores, he thought, were too sterile, lit with fluorescent bulbs, though he suspected you hadn’t had the opportunity to have a proper meal all day. He imagined you standing there outside the store in your wedding dress, peeling back a corner of film from a microwaved meal, and recoiled. He wanted to give you a meal that wasn’t pre-sealed in plastic. 

He could cook for you, he thought briefly. But the idea felt awkward, inappropriate. He hadn’t seen you in years. And you were a lady, after all. 

As though he was caught in a well-timed play, his eyes immediately caught sight of red lanterns glowing above a narrow wooden doorway. He had seen this place before, always in passing, and always from the corner of his eye when he was on his way to the laundromat, but never saw a real opportunity to enter. He wasn’t one to eat out often, besides the occasional social obligations he was invited to. He preferred cooking at home. It was a private ritual he liked.

He slowed, then turned to you. Your gaze was already drawn to the lanterns.

“What do you think?” he asked, his voice soft, tentative.

You looked at the doorway, the lanterns, the promise of something warm and sustaining, and then back at him. 

“Honestly,” you replied with a tired smile. “I could eat anything right now. It’s a free game.”

And so, you entered, slipping beneath the lanterns.

The interior was smaller than you had expected. There were long counters of dark wood, and some fake green plants were scattered around the corners. 

There was already a bunch of patrons on occupied tables, people who seemed to be mostly office workers still in suits hunched over their bowls and plates. The air was thick with the fragrance of grilled fish, miso, and the faint scent of the bitterness of charred onion. You would eat well tonight, at least.

At the entrance stood the proprietor, who was a middle-aged man with his hair pulled back into a low knot, and his sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. He looked up as the two of you entered, and you could tell he attempted to repress his surprise at seeing you in your state. 

“Table for two, then?” he asked, his demeanour reverting to a calm assurance of someone who had seen all sorts of late-night guests pass through his doorway.

Yuuta nodded quickly. “Yes, please.”

The proprietor gestured you toward a small table tucked into the corner. You were grateful you wouldn’t catch the eyes of most of the patrons from here; you were half-shielded. 

Yuuta hovered for a moment, awkwardly, unsure whether to pull the chair out for you or pretend he hadn’t thought of it, and in his hesitation, you had already firmly seated yourself with a heave of sigh, smoothing the damp folds of your dress. He followed, sitting opposite you now — dejected by his lateness.

For a moment, neither of you spoke before Yuuta picked up the menu, eyes skimming without really reading. The truth was, the act of choosing a meal seemed suddenly impossible, just as choosing a place to eat did.

You leaned over your own menu, propping your chin on one hand, watching him. Intently, he would say. 

Finally, he looked up, as though catching your gaze. “Um,” he said, clearing his throat. “They have fried chicken? And, uh, a few noodle bowls. Do you—” he hesitated, “uh, want me to pick, or—”

“Yuuta,” you cut in, grinning before you could stop yourself, “I told you. Anything. I’d probably eat the menu itself if they deep-fried it.”

The waiter arrived with two glasses of iced water, setting them down with a clink. You reached for yours immediately, the cold, sweating glass delicious against your palm, and took a long swig.

“So,” you spoke up, as you propped your chin onto both your hands. “Tell me then.”

Yuuta blinked. “About?”

“About your life, I mean.” 

The clarification didn’t quell any of the weight for Yuuta. 

You’ll admit you did not know how to ask this without sounding intrusive, nor how to stop once you had begun. 

“What do you do now? For work, I mean. Do you have a wife? Is your favourite ice-cream flavour still vanilla?  What made you start riding bikes? I never, in all my life, expected to see you on a motorcycle. You look—” you paused, then smiled at him, “you look cool.”

Yuuta smiled back, a little sheepish. “I work as a physical therapist. I help people with rehabilitation after injuries, surgeries… that sort of thing.” 

You considered this for a moment — and yes, it made sense. A vocation rooted in gentleness, in patience, in touch. If anyone was suited to gently coaxing people back to their bodies, it was Yuuta.

He went on, “I still like vanilla, I guess. I haven’t thought of it much, but I like butterscotch lately. I ride motorcycles because they’re cool, like you said. And because my father used to.” 

A small, boyish tug crossed his mouth at the thought.

“And I don’t have a wife… not yet, at least. ”

You laughed softly at that, not unkindly, but with something between amusement and disbelief over his sheer sincerity. A lesser person, you thought, would have parried, would have given you one answer, or would have given you none at all. Yuuta, in his way, had offered you everything you asked. It was just his nature to do so. 

“Well, butterscotch makes sense. They’re practically the same,” you mused, leaning back in your chair now. Your back feels relaxed against the slope of the chair. 

“They’re not,” he said quickly, not defensive so much as insistent.

“They’re the same,” you grin. 

Then there was a beat. It was not awkward, but suspended rather. 

“And you know,” you added lightly, “the rest… It’s good to know.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. Just sort of acknowledges it the way one lets the silence do. 

And so, the food arrived. 

You squawked it down elegantly as you could. And Yuuta, for his part, managed to manipulate the utensils and plates on the table, quietly, to push more food toward you. Sliding dishes closer to you, turning bowls so they faced your side instead. 

You must have eaten ten times more than he had. And you didn’t complain either, not as the lightheadedness that had strained you all evening began to disappear out, leaving with each full bite.

Eventually, the plates emptied out, leaving the table looking strangely naked. And though you were full, you felt a strange emptiness in realising that the night had come to its natural end as you both made your way outside. 

“So,” Yuuta said, after a moment.“I can call Maki. You could stay with her tonight, if you need someplace to stay. Or… if you have a place, I can take you there.”

“I don’t—” You stopped yourself, almost like you were recalibrating.  “I don’t have a place, and I really do appreciate Maki’s offer. I probably will take it. But…” 

Then, suddenly, you drew inward into yourself and grew shy, in a way he had never quite seen you before. 

“I just… I don’t know her. I’m sure she’s nice, but could I stay with you instead?”

His eyes grew in size over that. His apartment was small. His place is really only meant for one. But he could move, he thought. He could make space somehow.

You hurried to correct yourself. “J—just for tonight, I mean. I feel like I’m all over the place today.”

“O–of course,” he said, almost meekly. “I can take you to my house. For tonight.”

And so you hopped onto his bike again. The ride back became a scrunched rush of sensations — the street signs slid past you in a haze of bright flashes, the wind was needling through your clothes, the soaked weight of your wedding dress billowing against the wind. And without notice, you had managed to nuzzle further and further into Yuuta’s back, drawn by the heat. Something he didn’t miss, not when the contact stopped his breath in small.

— 

By the time you two reached his apartment, the rain had dimmed in its volume, mere dust specks falling at an asynchronous pace. 

Yuuta parked beneath the narrow space for parking outside his building. The engine died, and the sudden quietness settled.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Your arms were still around him.

“We’re here,” he said softly, not daring to be the first to move. 

You blinked, as if coming alive from a dream now, and slowly unwound yourself from him. The absence of your touch left a phantom warmth in its place. Yuuta swallowed against it and swung his leg off the bike, steadying it before offering you his hand.

You took it without hesitation, as you followed him upstairs. 

You climbed the stairs together, your dress grabbed carelessly in one hand. It left faint damp prints all over the cemented steps. He lived on the first floor, so it wasn’t much of a trek, but after the day you’ve had every movement had slowly started to feel like a chore. 

He fumbled slightly with his keys at the door and turned before opening it. “I didn’t know I’d be hosting,” he muttered, embarrassed.

You smiled as you looked down at the state of you. The brown ends of your garb, the wet hair — “I think I’d be the last person to care about that right now, Yuuta.”

The apartment was tiny, as he’d warned you on the ride back home. A neat entryway. A quaint little kitchen to the left. A drab green sofa facing a television. A bookshelf that was, surprisingly, full —  of manuals, novels, rehabilitation texts stacked in a certain order you couldn’t make sense of. 

But it was clean.

And it was warm inside. 

“I’ll uh… make tea. You can take a shower.”

And so, you did. 

The bathroom was filled with steam that cleansed you whole, almost a baptism. Water ran over your scalp and down your spine, rinsing away the day’s dirt and the rain.

When you got out of the shower, wrapped in a dim blue towel, you walked out to the sight of clothes neatly arranged on his bed. 

You dressed slowly — donning pants that fit you just about, and a large hoodie that swallowed you whole. The fabric sat heavy and warm against your skin. It smelled faintly of detergent and something sweet that brought you comfort.

When you stepped back into the living room, he was leaning against the kitchen counter, with two mugs in his hands.

He looked up.

And then his gaze stopped. The hoodie hanging loose at your thighs. The bare legs, and then his eyes shifted away. 

You shifted your feet to cross the room slowly. 

“Thank you,” you said, taking the mug from his hand, your fingers brushing his.

“Careful,” he murmured, watching as you brought the mug to your lips. “...It’s hot.”

You settled onto the green sofa, tucking one leg beneath you, blowing softly over the surface of the tea. He remained where he was, leaning against the counter.

“Are you going to stand there all night?” you asked, one eyebrow arched. 

He felt his throat tighten as he walked up to place himself beside you on the sofa, leaving a careful inch of space between the two of you — a morally measured inch.

He puts the television on, his only saviour against the awkwardness of the silence befalling. There is a channel that’s playing a reality show of some sort — the ones that have giant balls of cushions that contestants seem to be bouncing off of. It’s strange, but it’ll do, he thinks, turning to look at you, to find you oddly invested. 

He smiles. 

You finish your cup eventually, placing it down on the table with a clink as you no longer seem invested in the TV but more so, his face. 

You keep turning to stare at him, and he notices this in his periphery but can’t bring himself to meet your gaze. 

And when he finally does, moments later. “I should get the bed ready for you,” he said, already half-rising.

“Don’t go,” you said, immediately as your hand closed around his.

He stops. 

“What?” he had managed to breathe out. 

Your thumb rubbed against the top of his hand. “Just stay for a bit.”

He sits, noticing how you don’t let go of his hand. You seem enamoured by his hand and its anatomy, running your hands across and over it as though you were a sculptor trying to understand the shape of him. 

He doesn’t say anything, as he sits there feeling every touch of yours — it scorches against his own skin. Marking him whole. 

“We need to sleep,” he said as he felt your movements slowing, though his voice lacked conviction. “Eventually.”

“Must we?” You tilted your head, mischief skimming over your features. “Can we not stay up all night like we used to?”

“I have work,” he says. But what he really wanted to say was he’d stay up all week for you if you had simply asked. 

“Right,” you said, dejected if only for a moment. “I’ll let you go then.”

But neither of you moved.

He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a thought, one that’s been brimming to the surface ever since you walked into the cafe to find him. 

“You left your wedding,” he said, plainly. 

“Yes.” You met his eyes without flinching.

“And you came to me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

And then the room seems to contract around him.

“Yuuta,” you say. His name is careful in your mouth. Delicate. 

He waits. His pulse is unpleasantly loud in his ears.

“Don’t you know why?” you said, your eyes low now. 

Something in him breaks just then.

He breathed in before he leaned toward you. It wasn’t sudden, not when he had imagined this for years despite his wits asking him not to. He stopped mere inches from you, as he waited. For you to initiate this, for you to come to him. 

And you did — meeting his lips halfway, pulling him into a kiss. The contact was warm, your lips moved against him languidly, like you both had all the time in the world.

His hand rose at last, tentatively finding its way to what he could grab first — your waist. You drew him closer in reply, your fingers sliding upward, curling up the fabric of his t-shirt sitting on his shoulder. 

The absurd laughter from the television carried on as you continued to kiss, tongues lapping against one another for the very first time. 

He’s sure this is a memory that will etch itself in his brain for eternity to come. 

Yuuta pulled away after a moment, his lips still close enough to brush yours. 

“Are you su—” 

You kiss him again, firmer this time, though still tender. It is an answer, or perhaps a refusal of the question.

“S’okay,” you murmur when you part. Your forehead rests against his.

“You left me,” he says. 

“I did.”

“For years.”

“I did.”

“Don’t ever—” He stops. His heart aches just then as he tries again. “Again—”

“I won’t,” you say. You don’t hesitate. “I won’t ever leave you again, Yuuta.”

You think, distantly, that this feels more binding than anything you might have said at your wedding today, standing in front of your family, standing in front of that stranger for a fiancé. 

“Don’t just say that,” he warned, though his voice had softened, as though he remembered the hurt all over again. 

“I do not,” you answered. “I missed you too much to leave you again.”

He drew you closer this time, to let your head settle beneath his chin, as his cheek rested against your hair.

“I kept thinking about you,” he says eventually. His voice vibrates faintly against your temple. “Even when I tried not to.”

“Yeah?” You say. Curious, wanting to know the deep imprints you had left on him.

“Yeah,” he said. “All through college.”

“Today,” you say carefully. You hear hum in response. 

“When I was getting ready, I was left alone for a moment. The moment before I’d have to go out and walk to the altar,” you continue. “I thought that the dress I was wearing felt too tight, and I never wanted a veil, but my mother wore one, so I had to as well. And I thought about the last time I felt happy — I mean, truly happy — was when I was a teenager.”

Yuuta doesn’t say anything, but you notice his arm enclosing you further into him. He’s warm against your skin. 

“And now I don’t know what I’m doing. I ran,” you said. “And now I’m here with you.”

He exhales slowly, his hand moving along your arm. “You don’t have to decide everything tonight,” he says. “You don’t have to decide the rest of your life tonight.”

You tilt your head up at him. “But I already did one big thing. Life-changing big thing.”

“You just ran from a wedding,” he says gently. 

A small huff of laughter leaves your mouth. “You always did that.”

“Did what?”

“Make things less catastrophic,” you added. “That’s part of why I ran to you today. Well, that and you know.”

“Yeah,” he says plainly. He knows. 

You shift, drawing your knees up slightly, turning toward him more fully. “Are you sure about this?”

“What about?” He asks, surprised. 

“I’m a burden,” you say. 

“You’re never a burden,” he replies immediately. 

“No,” you say, your finger coming up to hush him. “Listen to me, I have no skills outside of sustaining an audience of wealthy people. I have a degree that I didn’t enjoy. And I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m a burden”

“Like I said,” he says then. His hand comes up to brush your hair back. “You don’t have to think about that tonight. And it’s okay, I’ll take care of you until you figure things out.”

“You think I can just… reappear and take up space in your life again?” You ask.

His jaw flexes. “You already have.”

You reach up, smoothing a wrinkle near his collarbone — a meaningless gesture, an excuse to touch him again. “You’re not angry?”

“I’m just happy you’re here with me,” he admits. He thought it was only ever possible in his dreams. Now that you’re here, it was hard to hold any resentment he had built up. 

And you then at some point you’re helping him place the cups back as you sit and watch him make up his bed for you.

You walked up to him now. 

“Thank you,” you say, though you knew the words feel insufficient.

“Of course,” he replies quickly. “Do you need extra pillo—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as you suddenly inched forward to kiss him. Your hand loops around his neck as his hands find your waist. And he keeps kissing you fervently and your mind wanders, onto images of him in college kissing other girls. It’s a silly thing — to be bothered by a version of him that you left and hurt, finding solace in other women. 

You fall onto the bed at some point with him over you, he pulls back. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, smiling up at him. “You were asking me something?”

He laughs, but it catches in his throat. He looks away, as if the ceiling suddenly had a large stain.

“Yuuta,” you rasped. “Look at me, please.”

You moved his face to make him meet your imploring gaze. You found his expression to be open, almost boyish in its vulnerability.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admits, ducking his head into your neck, away from your eye contact again, “You make me nervous…”

You run your hand through his hair, grazing up and down his nape. He likes the sensation. He thinks he could rest here forever. 

It was safe to say that you were aware of your effect on him, whether it was physical, as you feel him against you now, or mental, but hearing it out loud is different. 

“I make you nervous?” You ask, trying to maintain a sense of mischief in your tone, but it simmers down and is overpowered by a genuine curiosity and amazement.

“Yeah,” he says, looking up at you now. “You always have.”

At that, you scrunch your brows. It’s a brief reflex of disbelief. “Not always. We were friends, weren’t we?”

“We were,” he says. We are. “But you made me nervous. You just didn’t see it back then. You always made me nervous.”

“Why?”

“You were so pretty,” he says, strangely unabashed.

“You are,” he says, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers linger there, grazing your temple, your cheek. “You are pretty.”

“So pretty,” he murmured, bending down to kiss your neck now, no doubt tomorrow you’d be blessed with flurries of red kisses all over your neck. 

You clothes didn’t last long on you after that and you soon found yourself bare atop his bedsheets as he licked and sucked his way along the vast skin he had since left exposed. 

He was moving so languidly, but you were wound tight like the string of a bow. 

“Yuuta,” you said then, as you was leaving kissing your stomach. “You’re good at this.”

“Thanks,” he says briefly, too invested in kissing down your abdomen. 

“No,” you say, pulling his head up forcefully now. “You’re really good at this. Had a lot of experience in college, did you?”

He looked up then, just with his eyes to gauge if this was a real concern or if this was you being you. Teasing. 

“Always knew you’d be a possessive one,” he said plainly. 

“The most,” you said with a pout. 

He came back up then, kissing your cheek.

“Good,” he replied softly. “Means you plan on keeping me this time.”

“Hey,” he said again, more softly. “Was that a real question?”

You hesitated. That was answer enough.

“I dated,” he confessed simply, his arm moving to hold your hip. “A little.” Honest as always. 

Your stomach dips.

“But it was never…” He pauses. “It was never you.” Honest as always, you think again.

You frown faintly. “That’s not fair.”

“I’m not just saying this.” His thumb moves absently against your side. “I liked some of them. They were kind. But I always knew it was you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he affirmed plainly. 

“And you?” he says then, coming back down to kiss your stomach. “You were about to marry someone.”

That one lands, as you find him inches away from your clit. 

You swallow.

“He was,” you admit as he was about to press a kiss against your trembling thigh, “Boring.”

And then your knees part, your cunt is fully on display. And you don’t think you’ve ever felt this bare before. You watch in your own awe as Yuuta licks his lips and finally presses his mouth to your clit.

You have an instant reaction, what with the way you buck into his mouth and release a struggling moan. His thumb seems to massage your outer lips, with his tongue trailing up and down your folds. 

His lips suction against the bundle of nerves, with his tongue caressing the nub right after. Rolling up and down as he groans into you.

You can’t hold back the string of moans and whimpers that emerge from your throat, your eyes roll back into your skull, as your legs vibrate, your hands yank on Yuuta's hair, before you find your brain turn to mush. 

He comes back up, his mouth slick as he says, “Think he could do that?” with a smirk. 

Your hand comes up to brush your thumb along his jaw. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“You were gone for years,” he says. “Think this is the least I’m allowed.”

“Oh, is this payback then?” you ask.

“Not payback,” he says, his hand coming down to finger your slick pussy. “If you’re enjoying this, can it be considered payback?”

“Yuuta, please,” you whimpered, your hand reaching out for whatever skin of his they could find purchase in.

“Please what?” he asked gently, kissing the corner of your mouth as your hand moved to feel his shoulder blades.

“Need you,” you whined, turning to kiss him. You pulled back, “Now.”

“Need me?” he repeated your words against your mouth.

You nodded.

Yuuta reached down to guide one of your legs up and bent back towards your hip, looping it to rest in the slope around his waist.

He took his cock in hand, moving up and down against your clit a couple of times before he pushed in. 

It was a welcoming burn as he moved a couple of times before you adjusted to the sensation of him inside you.

Your hands slid up to brush against the short strands of Yuuta’s undercut. 

“Is this okay?” He asked, then placed a soft kiss against the corner of your lips, as though soothing you through the stretch.

“More,” you pleaded, pulling him into the crook of your neck.

Yuuta snapped his hips up hard into you, sheathing himself entirely inside of you. A moan tore out of you again. 

“Shit,” Yuuta breathed, eyes squeezing shut as he kept moving. “You’re so pretty.”

You trembled beneath him, your eyes drawing down to the sight of him pulling in and out, in and out, you were mesmerised at the sight of him, sweat sheening as he looked so vulnerable for you.

He set a rhythmic, steady pace, it was almost languid. His movements weren’t quick, but rather, they were deep, pressing you down into the mattress so hard with every move of his hips.

His thumb came down to brush against your clit, gently at first and then a little firmer when he saw the way it made your expression go glassy and unfocused. 

“I’m gonna come,” you declared. “Kiss me.”

And so he did, bending down as he kept his movements steady, kissing you deeply. 

“‘m close too,” he groaned against your lips now, coming up to brush another unfocused kiss against your forehead, as his panting breaths caught on. 

And then you came, your legs trembling as he kept moving. Soon after, he did too, craning down to crash his mouth to yours, his hips stuttering.

Yuuta collapsed beside you, catching his breath as you moved to fall onto his bare chest. Like clockwork, his arms gathered you against him, slowly then drawing circles against your back.

The adrenaline that carried you through the evening has finally begun to dissipate, leaving only a heavy drowsiness in its wake.

Your head droops heavy against his chest.

“You’re exhausted,” he murmurs.

You shake your head weakly in protest. Your fingers have slowed against him. Your breathing has deepened.

“I don’t want to sleep,” you admit softly. “I want to stay up and talk to you all night.”

“There’s always tomorrow,” he replied, voice mirroring your softness, as the circles on your back never falter.

You swallowed.

“I feel like if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up back there.”

He didn’t hesitate. “You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” His hand flattened briefly against your spine, firm. Present. “You’ll wake up tomorrow to a tray full of breakfast and some flowers.”

That made you lift your head. Just enough to look at him.

“You’re getting me flowers?” You smiled.

“Yeah,” he said. “Now that we’re…” he trailed off, still too timid to admit it.

You tilted your head. “Dating?”

“…Yeah.” The word came out softer than before. “I’ll buy you flowers every day.”

A tired laugh slipped out of you, warm against his skin.

“That’s a bit much,” you murmured, shifting so you could see the small, earnest curve of his mouth.

“Oh?” he said, one brow lifting. “Thought that was the kind of treatment princess was used to.”

You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw before leaning in to press a slow kiss to his lips.

“Princess will settle for kisses every day for now,” you said against him. “If that’s okay.”

He hummed softly, the sound vibrating beneath your cheek as you settled back down. His arms tightened, just slightly, as you listened to his heartbeat.

Your reunion was... awkward... He was different from the little boy you'd met before. He was strict, stern, and unforgiving of anyone who had broken any rules. He became far worst when he became a Housewarden; he became a tyrant and cruel. Almost everyone was forced to remember the Queen of Heart's rules and even rules outside the dorm

But he didn't completely change, he still has a soft spot for you. It's noticeable that he was more,, gentle and lenient around you—only if they pay close attention that is. But that doesn't mean he won't punish you for breaking a single rule, your punishment is just less cruel compared to others, which, others find unfair.

His feelings are still there, he just buried them deep in his thoughts because he said it was a "distraction". But don't tease him when jealousy seeps through and he glares at your possible suitors.

After his overblot, he turned a 180 and was a stuttering mess around you. All the repressing had caught up and made him like a lovesick fool. He lets you get away with a lot of rules now; making excuses to not expose his feelings, but a lot had already caught on about his obvious crush

With enough encouragement and forcing,,, he eventually confessed to you. It was a well-planned confession and everything was made to be perfect. No Ace ruining the moment, no Grim and Ramshackle prefect to cause chaos, and no pictures Cater!

Trey is the proud third-wheeler and very supportive of the relationship alongside Chenya. But,, he doesn't feel thrilled to see you and Riddle giving each other heart eyes while he's on the other side of the table, alone. Take the L grass man, you're staying single forever

It's rare for the Tweels to be separated, but sometimes curiosity get the best of him as he was invested in the melodic voice on the shore; he swam above alone just to see where the voice came from. But he ended up scaring you away. And no, you weren't scared because he was a sea creature, rather, he scared you away because he yelled "boo" on purpose. He had his fun, be he started to regret it after when you didn't return, he soon dived back into the ocean—his thoughts clouded by the human who piqued his interest

He returned to the shore the next day alone again, and you were still there humming happily while collecting shells. This time, he didn't scare you away but approached you slowly. You jolted a bit from the surprise approach but loosened up, your childlike instinct told you to befriend him

That's how you two became friends. He'd visit you almost every day at your meeting spot alongside Azul and Floyd who got curious and joined him as well. You'd offered them human food while they give you... seaweed in return... Not a fair trade but you can work with that

Although Jade would feel a little jealous at first... He was your first friend.. He should have more of your attention than them. And what does he do when he's jealous? He splashes water at you as you're forced to pay attention to him. He's chuckling and amused whilst you're angry he got your clothes wet. He's a big teaser and handful, he's just like his twin

This became an ongoing routine for the four of you, but it became less and less due to school and other important activities. You both lived in different worlds. You're a human while they're merfolks, but you and Jade tried to be more in contact than the others—visiting you during his free time and giving you little trinkets he found on the sea.

As you grow old, so do Jade's feelings. Azul's glad you attend the same school as him, his patience is not thick enough for the Tweels and he needs someone to babysit one of them.

He tries to learn more about human courting to try and woo you, but you were quite oblivious to his advances given how he does some of it wrong...

Almost everyone was surprised at how he didn't have this fake, cunning, personality around you but instead was a lovesick eel who likes teasing you whenever he can. Your reactions are too cute to ignore!

The day Jade confessed to you is the downfall of Monstro Lounge. Both of you kept getting distracted and Azul is having a mental breakdown because business is going down... Sevens,, Azul and Floyd can't take it when you guys act like a married couple. Like, stop trying to smooch each other while at work, there's customers waiting!

He's that one kid in Harveston who's trying to pick a fight with the bigger kids because he thinks he can take them down. News flash, he can't, but that didn't destroy his manly confidence. That's how you met him, he was trying to pick a fight with a bunch of kids and you intervened to stop them. It's not like they'd punch an innocent kid... right?

Ok, nevermind, they punched you and now Epel is fighting them off and defending you. This is how you met the love of your life and best friend. It's not what you'd expect from love stories

He's a brag, he's bragging everything he can to you. He can carry the most boxes. He can peel the apples faster than you, blah blah blah. You wish you can tape his mouth so he can shut up and get rid of that smug look on his face. But haha, he will never admit he's doing these to impress you. He's such an idiot,,, but this idiot has a huge crush on you

He wasn't expecting to be attending NRC, he didn't even think he'd be a mage. But he's whaling, crying, and throwing up when he got assigned to Pomefiore and not Savanaclaw. But hey—! At least you're in the same dorm as him. That is unless you got appointed to somewhere else... Then yikes,, He's gonna be alone in his dorm without his other half

Something never really changed when you bumped into a bunch of Savanaclaw students who almost picked a fight with you. Worry not! Your angry chihuahua friend is there ready to defend you as he'd ready to chomp on them! He won the fight obviously

He never really showed any signs of his feelings until Ace tried to flirt with you. He's ready to man up and show Ace who's really the man in the room as he huffs like a bull and tried doing something manly to impress you. Safe to say the first years found out you were off limits because Epel pummeled Ace and they don't wanna be next

It doesn't take a lot of couraging for him to confess but he did get a little nervous. Not that he would admit that. He ask a lot of people for help, some gave good advice, and some,, not really. But he's known you long enough to know what your likes and dislikes are

Please be dependent on him. As your boyfriend, he tries to find ways to make you rely on him to prove he's a good boyfriend. Those books are heavy, he can help you carry that. You can't reach that book? He can— nevermind he can't either. And he's giving you the privilege to call him cute, you better be grateful!

Your father was one of Briar Valley's soldier/knights, and since there was no one at home to take care of you, he had to bring you along on work with the permission of the Queen. Malleus wasn't expecting to see someone the same age as him picking flowers on his garden and eating them. He found you very amusing and weird... Imagine meeting your future spouse eating your flowers, what a weirdo...

But he's been lonely and was reluctant to approach you, but since you're a child who's not aware of his status, you greeted him without fear and befriended him. And he's been joyous to finally have a friend that's not a gargoyle statue.

He's really clingy as a child. He even begged his grandmother to let you visit him daily because he's that lonely. Your father approves as long as you don't cause him any trouble. You're both attached to the hip and rarely separate, and Malleus doesn't like sharing your time with anyone.

He's happy when you picked NRC as your school, I don't think he can handle all the loneliness without you. And please don't leave him be whenever he isn't invited to any parties, your company makes him less gloomy and he'd rather spend time with you than go there.

He's a dragon, so he's quite territorial and possessive. He doesn't want harm to come near you and he doesn't like it when someone lays a finger on you. Lest they want is a thunderbolt hitting them... But I don't think anyone would dare to come near you since,, they're too afraid to anger him...

It didn't take long for him to confess, Lilia gave him the courage he needed and Sebek was optimistically supportive alongside Silver. When the magicless human, Yuu came in, he introduced them to you as Yuu was shocked Tsunotarou has a lover. Malleus was kinda offended by it since the cat commented how it was unbelievable for him to get a partner

We don't know anything about Lilia's childhood and this is the only thing I can come up with

You guys didn't meet in his childhood per say, but rather, you were the medic the Queen assigned to Lilia during his War General days—and there was no place for romance midway through the war so interactions were close to none.

But he learned to appreciate you more and the hard work you had to put up, being a healer isn't easy as it seems. But he's glad he took an effort to pay close attention to you, if he didn't, he wouldn't notice how breathtaking you are.

And congratulations, you got one of the most feared fae in Briar Valley to be smitten for you. He showed a more of his cheeky side to you and was a bit more open; he tried flirting with you but you aren't easily amused, you'd press a little hard on his wounds as he'd yelp in pain to stop his little tease.

He thought you were an angel sent from above when you saved him when he was close to dying. He was still light-headed and attempted to flirt whilst his stomach has a huge gash on it. Sir, you're bleeding please tell them your blood type and stop saying it's them;;;

After the war, he proposed to you on a peaceful, quiet field full of flowers where you two can be alone without responsibilities. You cried before saying yes and you've been happily married since. Goodluck eating his cooking though, you married this man and you shall regret it

You've been there since the start; when Lilia became Malleus' mentor and adopted the human child he found. You've never been so happy since Silver came into your world, you tried everything you can to be the best parent for him—and thank the Sevens you're sane and not chaotic as his father

When they started to attend NRC you volunteered to be the school's nurse. You didn't like how your boys would be in school whilst you were at home, alone. Silver is embarrassed to see his parents being all mushy and lovey-dovey. He just can't take a break... Malleus is just there though, he's used to it, and Sebek is supportive and cheering in the background

You're Diasomnia's other parent and they're glad you keep them at bay. But they're not a huge fan of Lilia's long stories about his love life, they're annoyingly long and overly detailed, and they're not fond of him trying to distract you from work too. Like—Vice-leader, please stop getting our nurse distracted they need to do their job,, we're sick over here

— I can’t stop, he whispers when you’re done. - Always angry. Always... hungry. Neither training nor winning - nothing fills this hole inside. All I see is the goal. And loneliness.

You get down next to him, lean against the wall. There’s not more than a couple of centimeters between you, but he feels you’re closer than anyone before.

- But when you’re around... his voice breaks. - Everything gets... more tolerant. You know?

He turns to you. His gaze is a dark ocean full of pain, restraint and fear. But there’s a crack in that gaze. The slit into which the light enters.

- I hate how you make me vulnerable. Like I’m not a machine, not a tool. Like I’m human.

You smile a little bit. And then you go forward, hugging him. He stops. His shoulders are strained like strings. But he doesn’t push back. He doesn’t hiss. He doesn’t hit. He clings to your back like a drowning man who first feels breathable.

- You’re the only person I’m afraid of losing control over. 'Cause it’s just with you that I feel like... I live.

Your hand is buried in his hair, and he seems to stop at that moment. Everything collapses around - goals, training, jealousy, injuries, brother. And you’re the only one standing in the middle of this storm and staying.

- I’m zero, he says. But with you... it’s like something is starting to make sense.

Michael Kaiser

The city behind the window pulsates with neon light. You stand by the window, holding a cup of tea in one hand, and the other holding a sheet on your shoulder. Your room is not the luxury to which he is accustomed. Everything here is... quiet. Real. And for some reason - scary.

The Kaiser is sitting on the edge of your bed, with his hair torn up, a cigarette between his fingers and his eyes lowered. He doesn’t play. He doesn’t act provocatively. He’s just silent. And that’s the most frightening thing.

— I know what you want to ask, he says after a long pause. Why I came to you. No call, no emoticons, no God-like nonsense.

You come closer. You sit in front of it, looking right at it.

— Because I’m tired of being the character, he says to himself. - I’m tired of being the one who is expected, admired, cursed, worshipped. I don’t know who I am when I’m not wearing a crown.

He puts out a cigarette, flicks his fingers as if to throw something sticky off him. And then he looks at you. Straight. Hard. No makeup

— And you... you’re the only one who doesn’t try to dust me like I’m a saint. You look like I’m just human. Even worse - as if you don’t care whether I am the Kaiser or not.

You laugh quietly.

— Maybe I really don’t care, you say. - Because I see how you keep silent when you feel bad. How you hate the emptiness after a victory. How afraid you are to be alone.

He kneels, clenching his fist.

He kneels, clenching his fist.

— I built my world myself. Stone by stone. I made myself a god. But no one said what it was like to be a god who doesn’t have a home. No one said what it’s like to have applause and be alone with yourself. And hate yourself.

You go up to him, sit next to him. You take his hand.

- You don’t have to be someone. You can just be.

He looks at your interlaced fingers. His eyes tremble like a fire in the draft.

- If love is an illusion... then you are mine. My illusion. My reality. My scene. The only one I’m not afraid to be myself.

You smile. And that’s the first time he doesn’t play. He doesn’t joke. He doesn’t pose. He just... lets himself fall - right on your shoulder.

- If this whole world is a lie, he whispers, please don’t destroy your truth. I want to stay in it. Forever.

Hiori Yo

You open the door of your apartment at midnight. He stands on the doorstep - with wet hair, shaky fingers and empty eyes. It’s as if something died inside him. You don’t ask anything. You just back off, letting him in.

Hyory goes deep, without a word. He leans on the edge of the sofa as if he were afraid to destroy even the air. It’s all fragile. Of restrained despair. Of learned obedience.

- I let the team down, he finally says. And me too. I thought again for too long. Again, I didn’t make it. I didn’t have time. I... slowed down.

You sit next to him, facing him. In his voice is a silence that makes you want to scream.

— Do you know what the worst thing is? - he looks at his palms. - I no longer understand why all this. Football, movement, struggle. I always choose to be inconspicuous, so as not to disturb anyone. And inside... everything breaks down. Constantly.

You hold his hand. Silence. He shakes as if touch were a knife.

— When I’m with you... I stop being afraid, - he doesn’t look at you. His voice is deaf. - Because you don’t make me be someone. You don’t push, you don’t demand. You’re just there.

He leans closer. His forehead touches your shoulder, and his palm touches your knee. His hands are weak but full of inner cry. It is as if he seeks salvation without daring to ask.

- I thought love was a weakness. That you can’t depend on someone. But when you leave, it’s like I’m gone. I’m lost.

You hold him close to you. His breath becomes choppy. He hugs you, hesitantly, like a man who has not hugged anyone for a long time.

- I’m afraid you’ll realize how empty I am. And you’ll leave, he whispers. But if you’re my illusion... please don’t disappear. Not now.

You are sitting in silence. The lamp is soft, rain chimes behind the window. And at that moment you realize: his whole world may be cracking, but he’s still holding on. For you.

You are his anchor. His last truth. His love, even if it is never called out.

Ryusei Shido

He appears in your life like a storm: bright, loud, dirty, with blood on his lips and a grin that gives you chills on the back. Shido comes into your house without warning, as always - with unbearable confidence that you will accept it.

You never wait for him. But you always leave the door unlocked.

— Do you know why I’m here? he asks, throwing his wet jacket on the floor. His voice is sharp as after a scream. - Because I hate all this shit. People. System. Me. But you... I can’t get you out of my head.

He comes up to you close, almost presses his forehead against your head, eyes twinkle in the middle of nowhere. In his breath is alcohol, aggression and something cracked inside. He does not ask - he demands. Everything. You.

- I can’t love, he growls. All I know is how to fuck, break, tear. But you...

You don’t look away. You’re not afraid. And it makes him even more angry.

— You get on my nerves. Too calm. Too straight. You make me want to stay - I’ve been running all my life. Always. From myself. From others. From pain.

He grabs you by the face, sharp, almost rough. But fingers tremble.

— I’m not a hero. I’m not normal. I explode in the middle of nowhere. I can hurt you, not because I want to, but because I don’t know how else. But if you say one word, I’ll stay.

You touch his chest, feeling his heart beat wildly. It doesn’t know the rhythm - as he does.

- Tell me I’m not hopeless, he whispers. - Tell me that I’m real in some way.

You kiss him. Not tenderly - furiously, as if you were trying to inject a particle of light into him, which he has not had for so long.

He moans in a kiss, almost like a wounded beast. And for the first time in a long time... he stops. He does not attack, he does not dominate, he does not break. He just holds you.