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taehyungiejiminie95 · 6 years

Text

6 Bullets: Chapter 01

Warnings: Death, violence, blood, suicide, deception, sexual harassment, swearing, angst

You come home after 5 years in America, but what you find is not what you expect.

Word count: 4989

My hand hits the desk in anger and even the biggest of the new recruits jumps back in fear. I can feel my lips curl back into a snarl and I have to physically make it stop. Looking over the small line, I realise how screwed I am. My sister is getting here in 3 days and they’re just not ready. If I’d had even a month - no, two weeks! - more notice, I could’ve done better. I could’ve found a different house to say I lived in, I could’ve hired better men and I could’ve finished the deal before she got here. I can’t do that all in the same day. My hands are tied and I don’t have a choice. I dismiss the men in the line and tell them all to leave but one. I beckon a raven-haired man forward and sit on the side of my desk that’s closer to him,

“Jeon, right?” I ask. It may be a little cold but I’m at my wit’s end here and I don’t have the patience for formalities. In my head I can hear the seconds ticking by, every moment closer to throwing her into this mess. I never wanted this. Especially when I was so close to leaving. The recruit nods to indicate my correct naming of him and I crack a smile. I can practically read the wariness in his eyes. That’s good. He should always be on alert,

“You’re in. I need to call two more men, and briefing is in three hours. Understood?” I state a little blunter than necessary. But does it really matter? He needs to understand that this isn’t a game and he’s not here to make friends. He’s here for a reason. With that statement I dismiss him with a wave of my hand and tell him to send the other 5 recruits home. They’re useless anyway. The man - I must remind myself of his first name soon - turns on his heel and walks away quickly, obviously hiding some sense of pride. How little he knows. This lifestyle is nothing to be proud of. I sigh as I pick up the phone on my desk and tap in a number I’ve had memorised for ages. They pick up in 3 rings like always and answer with the same greeting they’ve been using since I met them,

“Kim Namjoon speaking. What’s the problem?” His gravelly voice comes down the phone like a wave of relief and I can feel the tension flood out of my body almost instantly,

“It’s Seokjin. I need you and Jimin. Can you be here in three hours?”

“Yes.” Is all I hear before the line goes dead. I stand up from my desk and straighten my shirt. I should’ve called them first rather than messing around with new recruits. 3 days is more than enough to train up Jeon if I have Namjoon and Jimin. She’ll be safe in the hands of our old business partners and - more importantly - our friends.

~~~

You take a deep breath in as you step off of the plane, and onto the floor of the airport. You’re finally back. After 5 years of living in America, you’d finally managed to convince your auntie to let you come home. The second she gave the okay, you set about getting yourself ready. That was 5 days ago. Sure, your brother Seokjin didn’t sound best pleased by your announcement that came with no warning, but you just knew that he’d be glad to have you back. He’d sent you away 5 years ago, and you’d barely had any contact. If you were totally honest, you harboured a little resentment over that, but you understood why. It was your parent’s death. It screwed him up badly and even if he acted like it didn’t matter, you knew it did. He was the one who had found them shot to bits.

But that didn’t matter. You’re here to reconnect with your brother, not get hung up on the past. You turn your phone on and smile at the text that comes in immediately - it’s from Namjoon. He’d kept quite regular contact with you, and he’s really the big brother that Jin isn’t. It’s not that Jin doesn’t care, it’s just that he’s a hard worker - at least, that’s what Namjoon always told you when you asked after him. But Namjoon never told you what Jin was working hard at. He just breezed over the question in the way only Namjoon can, telling you that it’s just the ‘family business’ and ‘nothing to worry about’. Quite frankly, you never really took an interest until Jin actually instigated contact for the first time in ages, asking if you could push off coming home until he’s finalised a few deals. ‘Only a few days’ he had said. It seemed reasonable enough, but you didn’t see the problem. But again, it doesn’t matter. You’re here now, and you’re going to find Jin once you find the person sent to drive you home.

“HEY!!” You hear, followed by a heavy form crashing into you clumsily, “I missed you!” The form yells, picking you up into strong arms and hugging you tight. You struggle for breath and find yourself in a bit of a panic until you look down into the smiling eyes gazing up at you - Namjoon. He puts you down as he grins, dimples dazzling any person looking over at the two of you. He’s changed a lot since you last saw him. For one, he’s taller now and a lot broader. His arms look toned and muscular from what you can see under his white shirt. He’s wearing what you’d call business casual - formal trousers and shoes with a white shirt, but undone partway with the sleeves rolled up neatly - and he’s already holding your luggage in the hand he hadn’t used to pick you up. He’d also dyed his hair. Last time you saw him, he’d looked a little nerdy. His hair was usually stuck flat against his forehead but it was now platinum blond and shaved at the sides, styled up in wave. Your eyes take in the man before you and you barely recognise him as the person you consider your older brother.

“I missed you too, Joonie,” You reply sweetly, leaning up to wrap your hands around his neck, “Could Jin not make it?” You add after a bit of thought, trying to swallow the lump in your throat when Namjoon launches into what sounds like a very rehearsed excuse about a busy schedule. Busy schedule your ass! You’re his little sister, and he hasn’t seen you in years! You can feel your bottom lip quiver and you try to excuse yourself to the bathroom for a moment, but Namjoon frowns slightly and objects,

“I’d feel better if you went with someone. You never know what could happen to you in a huge place like this. There’s all kinds of weirdos wandering around. Jin sent me and a new worker he recently hired. Will you please let him wait outside?” Namjoon pleads, the red shade of embarrassment creeping up his neck at even the prospect of offering you an escort to the toilet. You don’t say anything in response, just nodding your head before trudging off to the bathroom. Waiting around for an escort will only make you feel worse, so you head straight in. Does Jin really care so little that he’ll just send a new worker to come pick you up? Someone he’s probably not even learned the name of. You look at yourself in the mirror over the sink and sigh. The bags under your eyes are showing and you look a little pale, but it’ll have to do. Blinking back tears, you exit the bathroom hastily, only to crash into who you assume to be your escort.

“Sorry,” You mutter, slowly bringing your eyes up his body and to his face. He’s quite tall - probably the same height as Namjoon - and he’s wearing what you guess to be all leather, down to his face mask. His shoulders are quiet broad and his hair and eyes are as dark as each other. He has a gentle kind of face, but the kind that seems just a little too old for him. The boy (you don’t want to say man because he looks only about your age) shakes his head slightly in response and offers you his arm. You smile thinly and take it nervously, wondering where someone would pick up on such an old- fashioned gesture nowadays. You’re guided back to Namjoon quickly, where you let go of the boy’s arm and walk with Namjoon. Unsettled doesn’t even begin to describe how you’re feeling. First, Jin won’t tell you what he does for a living. Now, he’s sending some shady guy to pick you up from the airport. You don’t know what’s coming next, but you aren’t excited for it.

~~~

Namjoon sits in the back of the black 4x4 as the other boy drives. He neglected to share his name, and Namjoon refuses to, insisting that Jin will give introductions when you get back to the house. You spend the two hour journey catching up with Namjoon, telling him everything that had happened since you last spoke with him a few weeks ago. He listens well, but you can tell that he’s a little distracted by the way he looks out of the back window every few minutes. By now, you know better than to question him, and assume that he’s just a little jumpy.

You can see the house you’re heading to from quite a way back. Your father was a business man, and amassed quite the empire over the years. When his estate was handed over to Jin, you learned that he kept a huge mansion, and Jin told you that’s where he would train new employees, so he could be sure they’d do their jobs right. You were told it was a big place, but you never realised it was so grand. You enter through large security gates, manned by several men dressed in black body armour, and find yourself greeted quite warmly by people you had never met before - although Namjoon doesn’t seem so fond of this and promptly rolls up the tinted windows up when one of them leans in to talk to you. His jaw clenches as the unnamed man drives slowly up the straight gravel path. The grass either side of stretches for a long time, and it’s all neatly trimmed and emerald green. As you get closer to the large building, you see small groups of people dotted around, all dressed in grey sweatpants and black tank tops. Some are just sitting and talking, some are running and some are doing push ups, but the large majority are walking towards a grey concrete housing unit (well, what you assume to be a housing unit) that’s smaller than the mansion, yet still much larger than a normal house.

You find yourself gawking up at the main attraction of the landscape as the car pulls to a halt, and almost miss Namjoon’s voice telling you to wait in the car for a moment - but you do see him jog up to the front door, knock three times and step back to wait for a response. Your eyes wander across the space in front of the mansion. It’s largely gravelled, but it has some outdoor seating and a grand fountain about 50 metres from where Namjoon’s stood. It must be 10 metres wide at least, and the clear water shoots up from the hand of a golden statue. You can’t quite make out what it is exactly from where you are, but it looks to resemble some sort of animal,

“I don’t know what the fountain’s statue is supposed to be either,” You hear, and jump in your seat as you turn around to see the nameless man watching you in the rear view mirror. His eyes seem to dance under your gaze, almost like he’s smiling under his mask, “But I suggest you ask Mr. Kim. He’s been around longer than me,” He adds with a shrug. You snort as you turn back around to look out of the window. Namjoon’s walking back towards the car, with a shorter man in tow. This new man stops about a few metres short of the car, but Namjoon walks right up and opens your door for you, offering you his hand so that you can climb out as gracefully as possible. You thank him with a smile as you go to grab your bags, but Namjoon stops you with a tap on your arm,

“Don’t be silly, I’ll get your stuff. Go see that man - he’s missed you,” Namjoon tells you, his dimples on full show as he turns to go to the back of the car. You walk over to where the man has stopped, a little cautious as you’re not sure who it is. As you get closer, a wide smile spreads across your face and you run towards the figure, who has his arms out for you already,

“Jimin!” You yell as you jump into his arms, feeling the man who was as much of a brother to you as Namjoon was when you were growing up wrap his arms around you as he laughs. You wrinkle your nose when you realise that he still wears that God-awful cologne that you hate. It makes him smell like an old person,

“Hey, short stuff,” Jimin teases, setting you down as you smack his chest, wishing you were taller than him, “Jin’s waiting for you in the main office, but he’s going to need a minute. He suggested I show you to your room. Is that okay?” He asks, smiling widely and offering you his arm when you nod. Jimin guides you through the huge oak doors and into a large hallway space. It’s a little empty, but Jimin explains that neither Jin nor your father ever saw much point in decorating the ground floor of the mansion. It’s just a training area, so why bother making it pretty when it could just end up broken? You saw your father’s old logic in that, so nodded in understanding as Jimin led you up three flights of stairs, to what he called the ‘bedroom floor’. He goes on to explain that everything is kitted out for weekend training courses in the other building you saw, but these rooms are for the higher ranking employees. Jimin also tells you that Jin had a room renovated entirely in just one day to prepare it for you. You’re not given long to look around, because Jimin tells you that he wants to get you to Jin’s office at 4 o’clock precisely, like he was asked to.

You have just enough time to look over the silk bedsheets and velvet curtains before Jimin’s pulling you out again. Holding onto his arm like before, you walk up the next flight of stairs and Jimin tells you to wait on the top step while he speaks to a man dressed in a nice suit in hushed tones. You’re looking over a painting hung beside you, but you suddenly hear a panicked curse word fall from Jimin’s lips, and suddenly he’s got a vice-like grip on your arm and he’s tugging you back down the stairs,

“Jin’s not ready, my watch is off by 2 minutes. We need to go back to your room,” Jimin tells you hurriedly, nearly running as he tugs your reluctant body back down the stairs. He huffs slightly and goes to pick you up, but then stiffens. The man in the suit had been stood in front of a large white door with a fingerprint lock where a door handle should have been, and that door just opened. Jimin’s fingers tighten impossibly on your arm and you whimper, trying to get away. But Jimin isn’t having any of it. You see his jaw clench and his biceps ripple as he nearly shoves you down the last few steps. He has his hand on a closest door handle when a chilling voice speaks from the top of the staircase you had just descended,

“Woah there, why don’t you let the pretty lady say hey?” The voice says, followed by a hollow laugh that sends shivers straight down your spine. You’re frozen in place, but Jimin springs into action, pushing you behind him as he stands up a little straighter. For once, you’re glad he’s taller. You don’t know why, but something in that voice screams danger, and you don’t really want to find out if you’re right. He sounds manic. Like the over-exaggerated villains in the sci-fi shows you used to watch when you were little, but more real. More terrifying,

“She’s a little shy,” Jimin nearly growls back, and your eyes widen in shock. You’ve never heard Jimin so aggressive in your life. He’d cuddled with you every night for three weeks after you lost your parents. It’s hard to believe the man who held you as you both sobbed was the same one standing in between you and the new person now. For a few moments, nobody says anything. You nearly think the man’s gone, but when you peer out from behind Jimin, you realise he’s not. You’re met with dark eyes that seem to stare right through you, so dark they’re nearly black, and containing no warmth whatsoever. The man has dark brown hair that’s parted to the side, and he’s dressed in all white, save for a black bandana around his neck, which he pulls up to cover his face once he shoots you a smile that’s all teeth, no happiness. He beckons to the two men flanking him and barges past Jimin, who barely moves. The man doesn’t turn back as he walks away, but says loud enough to be heard through his bandana,

“Remember this sweetheart, we never forget faces,”

~~~

You jump slightly in your seat as you hear your brother’s angry voice from down the hall. Once that man had left, Jimin had taken you straight through the security door, and told you stay put. Namjoon had come in shortly after, but hadn’t even spared you a smile as he hurried into what you assume is the ‘main office’. The person by the door - the man in the suit, as he is now aptly named in your mind - had followed Namjoon’s route a few minutes later. So far, no one has come out, and you’re sat impatiently where Jimin left you. You can’t hear any individual words, but Jin doesn’t sound happy. If you weren’t so shaken from earlier, you’d be pressing your ear against the door right now. But the way that man had scared you with just a few words was so new to you, and you don’t know how to react. The way Jimin had defended you had thrown you off, as well. What kind of business is your brother running?

You’re playing with your fingers as the man in the suit comes out of the main office. He stops in front of you, murmuring that you can go in now. You then stand up nervously, legs shaking as you step towards the door you’d seen Namjoon and Jimin enter. Part of you is scared about the happenings of that day, but part of you is just scared to see your brother. It’s been so long, but you know you won’t have time for the family reunion you’d wanted. You have too many questions.

The room you enter is very large. The back of it is a taken up by a glass window, and the flooring is a luxurious white carpet that extends half a metre up the wall before changing to a beige wall paper that compliments the simple colours of the room. A black leather couch sits against the length of the left-most wall, and is opposite a large cabinet. The first quarter is glass, and filled with books and various other ornaments, but the rest of it is opaque, the right-most part seeming to be locked like the door that the man in the suit had been standing in front of. Your eyes gradually move to the large desk at the back of the room, which is covered in large stacks of paperwork, and has a large PC on it, with three screens. Sat against the desk is who you assume is your brother - although you barely recognise him. He’s grown up a lot in the last 5 years, and he’s dressed in a fine suit, hands in his pockets as he watches you closely. When your eyes meet, he stands up awkwardly and clears his throat,

“Welcome home?” Jin says, posing it almost as a question due to his uncertainty of the situation. Even though you want nothing more than to run into your brother and hug him and catch up for the last 5 years you missed out on, it’s clear that’s not going to happen. Instead, you feel 5 years of resentment build up, and it doubles when you look at the two men who had spoken to you more than your actual brother in that time. Your eyes fill with tears as you turn to Jin, and nearly spit your words,

“That’s all you have to say after 5 years? Welcome home? Kim Seokjin, those two men there have spoken to me at least once a month since I left. Where have you been? Also, why don’t I know anything? Why can’t they tell me what you do here? And who was that man in the hallway who saw me? Why are you hiding everything from me?!” You scream, no longer able to hold it in. You hear Jimin whistle lowly and tug at Namjoon’s arms, gesturing to the door. They both move to leave, but Namjoon pauses at the door, turning back to Jin, who’s face is burning with embarrassment,

“I suggest you come clean. You may not have seen what’s hidden there, but I do. She’d be good in discipline. Better than Jimin. Tell here everything,” Namjoon says. You turn around to address the seemingly cryptic message, but the door clicks shut and you’re left alone with Jin. Your brother, who now only feels like a stranger. Your jaw clenches as you turn back around, crossing your arms as you wait for his answer. Jin sighs and stands up, rubbing his hands over his face. He walks slowly to the large cabinet, opening the first of the opaque doors. You walk closer and see a series of pictures. They’re all of your mother or your father, shaking hands with various people, or in front of different buildings. You smile fondly to yourself as you remember how you travelled a lot,

“Dad started a business some 15 years before I was born. It was an innocent business, just a coffee shop. He made the best coffee in town, and things went well for about 5 years. But one day, our mother walked in and changed that. They fell in love before they realised what could happen as a result,” Jin starts, and you let your eyes pass over one of the oldest pictures there. Your parents loved to tell the story of how they met. You can feel yourself start to choke up the way you do anytime you think about them being gone,

“That’s them there, right? They look so young and happy,” You note, pointing to the picture that you were looking at. Jin smiles and nods, pulling it down to take a closer look. His smile drops as he continues,

“It turns out that mum was running from some murder charges a few countries away. She was running, but she somehow got caught up with dad. They fell in love, and she got pregnant. Then the cops came. Dad wouldn’t let her go, so he made some deals and offered a few favours. 3 months later, he wakes up and realises that he’s in the mafia,” Jin tells you. He doesn’t even look at you as he tears down your views of your parents,

“Mum wasn’t a murderer,” You tell Jin firmly, hating that he’s saying these things. Your voice is rough from unshed tears and anger simmering just below the surface. Under that is raw pain, and the shock that comes with being told things like that. Even as you say it, you know it’s pointless. Jin’s eyes shine with tears, but he sounds almost robotic as he continues,

“So the story goes from there. Dad’s in the mafia to protect mum, and then he’s in it to protect me. Then you. He was a great father, but an even better leader, as I’ve come to learn. The night we lost them…” Jin pauses, face turning away from you even more. His voice shakes as he continues, “The night we lost them, it wasn’t a freak shooting like I told you. They were killed. Dad had become too big and too dangerous, so a rival gang took the lives of him and his beloved wife,” Jin’s voice trails out here, and you can’t help but notice how his shoulders shake,

“It’s okay, Jin. I miss them too,” You whisper, scared that if you spoke any louder, it would betray your tears. Reliving your parent’s death like this is painful, stabbing your heart in a dull mockery of how you felt when it first happened. You never knew how much Jin had on his shoulders until he told you this,

“I sent you out of the country so the same thing wouldn’t happen to you. There was a note left on one of the tables, and it said that we were next on the list. Since then, I’ve been working hard to take out the bastards responsible,” Jin finishes, with a strong tone. You’ve always admired how quickly he’s able to get a hold of himself. He opens the next door, and reveals to you a mess of photos, maps and drawings all pinned onto a cork board like in crime shows where there’s an old case that hasn’t been solved,

“What the fuck?” You whisper, stumbling back as you take it all in. Your brother must be crazy. That’s the only possible explanation in your head as you try to wrap your brain around all the information coming at you. You decide that you don’t want to believe this at all, no matter how much sense it makes deep down. You almost try to run out of the door before Jin’s gathering you up into an awkward kind of hug. There’s a sneaking suspicion in your mind that maybe this hug isn’t just for you,

“Please, just calm down. I can explain more later. But for now, I need to meet with some staff. The other man who picked you up from the airport will escort you to your room after I introduce you, and he will wait with you,” Jin pulls back and moves over to the desk, picking up the phone and speaking into it for a moment. You sigh as you see Jin’s emotional walls go back up. You thought that maybe you’d finally get to talk about things, but the hope is beaten down as quickly as it blooms.

About 10 seconds pass before the door opens, and the boy from earlier steps in and walks up to Jin, shaking his hand firmly,

“This is Jeon Jungkook. He’s a new recruit, but he’s very able. He’ll protect you for now. Don’t ask him questions. The man who you saw was Jung Hoseok. I can explain his role in all of this after briefing my staff. I may be a while, but we’ll talk over dinner. Jeon, take her to her room,” Jin states, barely looking at you as he types on his computer, dismissing you with a wave of his hand. The boy - Jungkook, apparently - offers you his arm again, but you scoff, ego wounded by Jin’s sudden business-like treatment of you. You stomp out of the room angrily, glaring at the line of men waiting outside the room.

~~~

Once you reach your room, you lay on the bed and stare at the ceiling, thoroughly annoyed. You hear the door click shut but pay ‘Jungkook’ no attention until he sits on the edge of your bed. At this, you sit up and stare at him in shock,

“What are you doing on my bed? There’s a perfectly good couch over there for you to use,” You inform him, rolling your eyes at his rude assumption that he’d be welcome on your bed. Jungkook stands up and looks at you with one eyebrow raised. You roll your eyes again and point at the white couch in the far corner, like he didn’t understand what you said. His expression suddenly changes, looking at you like a wounded puppy, before grinning,

“I don’t think so. Your brother may be the Big Boss, but I’m protecting you. I deem it necessary to be within 5 feet of you at all time,” He retorts, flopping himself onto your bed decidedly. You let out a frustrated sound and march over the couch yourself, only for him to follow you. As he walks over, you notice a slight limp in his step. You look away, but suddenly sit up straight and look again. The boy’s face suddenly strikes you as familiar, and the limp only helps you to identify him in your memories,

“I saw you when I was in America! You used to live in the apartment next to me!”

#bts #bts mafia au #bts angst #bts fluff #6 bullets

109 notes · View notes

a-k-a-ruenis · 6 years

Text

Jamias Vu

Rating; General

Fandom; Aldnoah.Zero

Relationship; Slaine Troyard / Kaizuka Inaho

Series; Fin

Story under the cut!

Alternatively, please click here to read it on my Ao3!

Holding his hand out before him, Inaho gazes at the back of his palm and his arm, allowing it to catch the sunlight. His skin, slightly darkened by the sun, is covered in small, vein-like scars that are a few shades darker than his natural skin tone: they are his veins, visible under the thin layer that makes up his skin, and he recalls that the veins regulate –

Veins form a system throughout the body to regulate blood and oxygen.

– water and minerals, and others regulate sugar.

They appear blue or green depending on skin type and colour.

Blinking at the invasive thoughts, Inaho's dark eyes narrow in slight confusion; the thoughts are not his own, and he cannot recall a time when his veins had ever been blue, nor another use they might serve. He disregards them and throws an arm over his eyes, falling back to sleep on top of the warm grass.

His veins regulate water and minerals and sugar. Just like a normal flores' would.

Being outside is relaxing. Natural. Normal.

Inaho has found that going outside has become part of his routine. The natural world feels far better than being inside where he is starved of sunlight and fresh air – carbon dioxide alone cannot be classified as air – and taking walks in the outdoors, further and further away from his home each day, has allowed him to discover a beautiful flower he otherwise would not have seen.

Beside a vast lake, that may as well be an ocean to the tiny Inaho, lives a singular rose. The rose is an off-shade of white, and has blue speckles dotting its many petals. Its stem is devoid of thorns, and it only has a few leaves. Not only is it odd looking, but it is entirely out of place.

And in spite of it being so blatantly otherworldly, Inaho has taken to gazing at it for hours on end, the rose's presence familiar, comforting. He has come to see it every day since discovering it, feeling the need to care for it, the need to protect it. He does care for it, in his own way: he speaks to it with as much affection as his usually usually flat tone can muster, gives it water as needed, makes sure it receives an adequate amount of sunlight, keeps it safe from insects that might harm it..

Caring for it has also become part of his routine.

One day, he thinks, gazing at the peculiar looking rose, it will be like me.

Alive and breathing.

-*-

When Inaho catches a glimpse of himself in the lake's wavering reflection, he is momentarily confused.

White blossoms dot his hair, petals touched with a hint of orange, and leaves intertwine with fine strands of dark brown. His left eye is an off-shade, mismatching the dark brown of his right. Instead, the left appears a muddy crimson, diluted and off. His skin is darker, tanner, thanks to spending countless hours lying in the sunlight, napping beside the rose he has come to treasure.

For a moment, he wonders why he looks like this.

I'm not supposed to look like this. I'm not a plant. I'm not a plant. I'm not.. –

Inaho reminds himself that he has always looked this way, since he woke up some years ago. His appearance has not changed at all in the last couple of years.

I'm not a plant, the invasive thought whispers again, confused, scared, Who are you?

Who are you?

The question causes Inaho to pause, taken off guard. “I'm me,” he says after a moment, an uneasy feeling in his stomach, “I'm me.”

-*-

“Is this what you wanted to show me?”

Inaho nods, crouching down to allow his fingertips to graze the rose's delicate petals. “I'm going to call them Slaine,” he says softly, a small smile pulling on his lips.

Yuki kneels down beside him, her own features softening considerably at the gentle, happy look on her brother's features. It is rare to see such an expression on his face. “So this is where you've been, huh?” she asks quietly, earning a small nod. She watches as Inaho cups a handful of the lake's water and slowly allows it to drip over the speckled rose, careful not to break it with any sudden force. “Are you caring for them until they wake up?”

“Yes,” Inaho murmurs, the water slipping though his fingertips like tiny droplets of rain. “They need positive stimulation to promote healthy growth,” he says, lifting his head to look at her, then. His dark eyes linger on her lighter ones, “Can we move them?” His voice is quiet, still, laced with an underlying hope that she will say yes.

Closer to home, Yuki finishes in her head. “Sure, Nao.” She nods a few times, reaching out to smooth one of the rose's petals. It is jagged, the edge looking as if it had been torn off. Blinking in surprise at the sight, she lifts her head to find that Inaho has yet to notice. “I'll help you,” she offers, watching the brunet light up, “Let's move them today.”

“I'll get a flower pot,” Inaho says, letting the rest of the water fall around the rose's perimeter. He straightens himself and walks off, leaving Yuki to look after Slaine by herself.

Yuki frowns as she lets her finger trace the outer petals of the rose, feeling and seeing more jagged, uneven petals that look like they were deliberately torn off, and not by an insect.

If Inaho knew someone was hurting the rose he has so meticulously cared for..

He would be devastated..

Shaking her head somewhat, Yuki starts to dig out the dirt from the rose's perimeter, careful not to sever or damage any of its roots, If they're closer to home, Nao can watch them and keep them safe..

And so can I.

-*-*-

Inaho's friends are unaware of his fascination with the rose until they come to visit him a few weeks later, finished with their excursion to a waterfall at the edge of their home.

“Good morning, Inaho!” three familiar voices chime, causing Inaho to look up in slight surprise.

He had not heard them approach, too focused on the rose that rests just before his fingertips. “Good morning,” he returns softly, mismatching eyes flickering between the trio.

Sunflower, delphinium, and buttercups..

His gaze settles on buttercups. “What happened to your hair?”

Nina blinks at the question, and then smiles clumsily, cheeks turning a light, embarrassed shade of pink. “We.. had an accident, when we were out,” she says slowly, pulling at a handful of hair to reveal more blue-purple splotches in between blond strands, “A blueberry fell on me.” Some of the buttercups in her hair are even dyed in the juice, standing out from the normally sunny yellow petals that are laced throughout her hair.

“It's hard to get out when it's dried,” Inko says, frowning somewhat, "Have you seen blueberries?”

Inaho shakes his head 'no'.

“They're the size of your head, probably,” Calm offers, “Maybe a bit bigger.” He crouches down beside the brunet, gently putting a hand at his shoulder so that he can keep himself steady, “You have more orange blossoms than usual. Your face and arms are..”

Inaho looks down at his arm, noting that there are indeed a few petals here and there. “Your sunflowers are more yellow. Like the sun,” he murmurs.

Calm smiles at that, “We had fun. You should've come.”

Inko and Nina also crouch down beside them, though their gazes are on the rose.

“It's pretty,” Nina comments.

Inaho immediately lights up at that, happy that they acknowledged the rose. “Their name is Slaine,” he says, “I'm going to care for them when they wake up.”

“.. 'Slaine'?” Inko repeats, the name a bit clumsy on her tongue, “That sounds foreign.” She reaches out and gently pets one of the petals, gazing at the odd, bluish specks that dot the off-white. A peculiar flower with a peculiar name. Maybe this person will match, she supposes, meaning it in only the kindest of ways. Yuki says that before Inaho woke up, he too was an odd looking blossom.

“Ah, we brought you and Yuki back a blueberry,” Nina says quickly, not wanting to forget, “We'll bring it over tomorrow.” If she does not say it now, she is not certain she will remember to tell him later.

Inaho nods somewhat at that, happy that they remembered to bring him back something. “Thank you,” he murmurs, “Does it taste good?”

“It tastes pretty good, yeah,” Calm answers, his gaze flickering to the rose. “Is this what you've been doing the whole time we've been gone?”

Inaho nods again, and the smile that pulls at his lips is hard to ignore.

Caring for them makes him happy.. Inko realises, her own features softening as she looks at the gentle look on the brunet's face, That's good. He'll have someone else around when we aren't.. “When they wake up, can we meet them?” she asks.

“Yes,” Inaho says instantly, allowing himself to finally smile, the question and idea obviously making him elated. “I'll invite you over when they wake up,” he says, gaze flickering upward so that he can meet her violet eyes; they nearly match the delphiniums in her hair, though the petals tangled in it are varying shades of purple, from lavender to plum. “You can visit whenever you want,” he murmurs, lowering his voice again, “Positive stimulation is good for growth..”

-*-

“I wonder what they're going to look like..” Nina muses aloud, gently sprinkling the dirt around the rose's stem with fertilizer. She had brought some with her today, dark soil mixed with some leaves and decayed berries. As Inaho had said yesterday, positive stimulation – in this case, a 'gift' of higher quality soil – is indeed good for healthy growth. She has not seen another flores wake up in awhile, and intends on taking care of Slaine as best she can, especially if it means they will wake quicker.

It made Inaho happy, to see that she was thoughtful enough to bring something for Slaine. He is sitting beside her on the grass, a small, silver watering can beside him. He uses it now instead of his hands to properly water the rose, and fills it with water from a pond. “.. blond,” he says after a moment, his gaze lingering on the rose for just a few moments before he looks up at Nina.

She looks surprised by the comment, having not expected her friend to easily come up with an answer. “You think they'll be blond? Like Calm and I?” she asks curiously, pulling on her own hair; it still has a few purple blotches, but most of it has been washed out, now, allowing more of her dirty blonde hair to peek through.

Inaho pauses at that, pursing his lips. Nina's hair is more brownish, and Calm's hair is brighter, but those are not the colours that come to mind when he thinks of what Slaine might look like. “More.. white..” he says slowly, “Similar to.. yellowed roses, lighter than yours and Calm's..”

Humming softly at that, Nina tries to picture it as she looks back to the rose. Its petals are a bit off-white, so it is entirely possible that Slaine may have a similar hair colour upon waking up.. “Then, would their eyes be blue? Like these little specks?”

Blue eyes..

That wouldn't be so bad, Inaho thinks, Blue eyes are interesting. “They could be,” he says quietly, smiling somewhat, “Blue is a nice colour.”

“Do you like it more than orange?”

“We'll have to wait and see.”

-*-

Blinking in surprise upon seeing that some of the rose's outer petals are frayed, Inaho finds himself momentarily stunned by the potentially horrible discovery.

“What's wrong, Nao?”

Inaho raises his head slightly, fingertips pulling on a petal just enough to show the problem.

“Oh..” Yuki breathes in, and then smiles rather suddenly, smile sheepish, clumsy, “I'm sorry, Nao. I think I might have given them sugar water instead of regular water, a few days ago..”

Inaho frowns at that, but nods, understanding. A simple enough mistake. Until they had gotten the watering can from Calm, they had been using cups.

And seeing as Yuki drinks sugar water..

“It's okay,” he says quietly, shaking his head, “They'll get better.”

The rose's petals have already started to get better, it seems; some petals look more frayed than others, the healing process at differing rates, for now.

Yuki nods and breathes a sigh of relief. “I'm sorry, Nao. I'll be more careful from now on,” she promises, gently ruffling the brunet's hair. Her fingers linger on the numerous petals hidden within it, and her smile turns bittersweet when she sees that they have increased in number once again. “You really do like caring for them..”

“I'm going to make sure Slaine gets the love and care they deserve,” Inaho murmurs, gently patting at the fertilized dirt with his hands, trying to flatten it, “I want them to be happy.”

Make sure Slaine gets the happy ending he deserves this time, the invasive thought whispers, sounding almost desperate, pleading, Don't let him go.

Inaho tenses somewhat, though not quite enough to alert his sister to his sudden surprise.

Please keep him safe.

“I'll keep Slaine safe,” Inaho whispers, gaze lingering on the rose for just a moment more. I promise.

-*-

Stirring at the sounds that invade his ears, Inaho slowly finds himself waking up from his nap. His vision is blurry, and he still feels drowsy, but the sounds are too close to ignore.

Hiccups.. coughs.. soft snif–..

Inaho sits up almost immediately after that, looking around for the source. His gaze sits upon an unfamiliar mess of white – or, at least, something similar to white. The mess is more like cream and yellowed white roses.

“What are these..?”

More hiccups follow, more quiet, stifled sobs.

“It hurts..”

The voice is unfamiliar, too, but the way it sounds, confused, hurt, makes Inaho's heart ache.

It shouldn't sound like that.

“Why won't they disappear..?”

Standing up slowly, Inaho wavers for a moment, the sudden rush of air making him dizzy. He stands still for a moment before walking over to the mess of white, freezing when he realises the mess is someone. Someone like him: not quite a person, but not quite a plant, either.

This someone is source of the voice and sounds. They are sitting on the grass, sobbing quietly, panicked, confused.

Inaho's stomach lurches when he sees familiar off-white shapes scattered on the grass, and his vision finally adjusts.

The specked flower petals.

No.. no.. no.. don't let him.. –

“Stop,” Inaho says, immediately dropping to his knees. He grabs their hands, holding them firmly, “You're hurting yourself.”

The someone raises their head just enough to reveal blue-green eyes under bangs of near-white.

Iinaho breathes out shakily, “Slaine..?”

They – he – woke up.

Slaine's eyes are rimmed red, puffy, glossy with tears. “What am I..?” he asks, so visibly, painfully confused, “I died..” He remembers it, barely, the feeling of being suspended in the air, all alone in a dark place..

Tell him he's okay, the invasive voice says, desperate, He's okay.

Inaho gazes at the blond for a moment, heart seizing up. Slaine looks familiar. He has never seen him, never imagined what he might look like beyond hair and eye colour, but somehow, in some way, he recognises him. And it hurts. “You..” he pauses, trying to gather his thoughts, “You're okay.” He loosens his grip somewhat on Slaine's hands, holding them gentler, more comforting than detached, now. His thumbs rub against Slaine's hand, smoothing the petals that dot the back of his hand. They are still mostly intact, albeit a bit torn.

“It hurts,” Slaine says, gaze flickering to the scattered petals. His pale arms are covered in scratches, flesh coloured bruises, and red patches of skin from the damage he had done to them. Thankfully, it seems he did not tear very many petals out, Inaho having woken up in time before Slaine truly, really hurt himself. “Why does it hurt?” he asks, voice still soft, still shaky, still laced with confusion.

“The petals, they're..” Inaho pauses again, worry and guilt welling up in his chest. “You aren't..–” Another pause, and his gaze slips to Slaine's arm. “You aren't supposed to.. tear them off..” he finally says, heart aching, hurting, “Please don't tear them off anymore.”

Calm him down.

“You're okay,” he says again, “You.. your name is Slaine.”

Slaine blinks at that, a few tears slipping from his eyes. Shock. “I'm.. Slaine..?”

Inaho nods slightly, gazing at the other. He continues rubbing Slaine's hands, Please don't cry. “And.. you're.. you're like me,” he continues, slowly, trying to lessen the informational blows, “A.. flores. We're flores.”

Not quite human, but not quite a plant. A mix of the two.

“Flores..?” Slaine echoes, frowning at the term; it confuses him again, and more tears start to well up in his eyes. He shakes his head somewhat, “No, I..”

Calm him down. Calm him down, the voice begs, desperate again. It does not want to see him break down.

“A rose,” Inaho says, the words slipping from his lips before he can help it, “You were a rose.” He studies Slaine's face, watching as a hint of understanding flickers in his teal eyes. He remembers being a rose, he realises, breathing a soft sigh of shaky relief. “I.. took care of you,” he continues, quiet, “I gave you water, and.. Yuki-nee helped.. and Inko, Calm, and Nina helped, too. We took care of you.”

Slaine nods somewhat at that, able to remember that too. He remembers their voices, what they had said to him, their kind words and gentle touches.. “You're..” he smiles suddenly, sheepish, relieved. He pulls a hand away, raising it just high enough to touch Inaho's hair, fingers brushing against a small cluster of white-orange petals, “You're.. Inaho?”

“I'm Inaho,” the brunet answers, returning the smile with a gentle one of his own. He remembers my name.

Please make him happy, the voice says, sounding softer now, almost sad, Please keep him safe.

Inaho stays still as Slaine touches him, curiosity on Slaine's face. “.. can I continue to take care of you?”

“You.. want to take of me, still?” Slaine asks, a mix of surprise and relief replacing the curiosity. He remembers what it had felt like to be alone, remembers faintly that sometimes it had been painful.

He does not want to go back to that.

Inaho is warm and nice and familiar and safe.

“Have.. have we met, before..?” Slaine asks softly, pulling his hand away. He rests it on Inaho's arm, where a few petals dot his skin, “You're..”

Familiar.

Inaho blinks at the question, not sure how to respond. The answer should be no, but something in him wants to say yes. So, he settles with a quiet, “Maybe.”

Despite being indecisive, the response seems to satisfy Slaine's need for an answer, because he smiles again, relieved.

You feel the same way, Slaine realises, finally able to relax. “I'll stay here,” he says, earning another smile from the brunet.

“You will?”

“Mm,” Slaine nods. It's safe, here. It's nice..

Inaho's smile softens, and his eyes fix to Slaine's. I promise I'll take care of him for you, he tells the quiet voice.

In the back of his head, it hums quietly, finally content and happy.

Thank you.

“You're.. Slaine?” Inko asks, gazing curiously at the blond that fidgets before them.

“You're beautiful!” Nina says, causing Slaine to hide his face in his hands, embarrassed. She grins at the reaction, practically beaming. The blond looks almost exactly as she and Inaho had discussed a few weeks ago, with near white hair and eyes a few shades off from the blue specks dotting the off-white petals. They are more of a blue-green, similar to the pools of veridian that dot the path to the waterfall they had visited. And he looks healthy.

Calm gazes at the other blond, eyes lingering on Slaine's arms. Catching Inaho's gaze, he blinks upon seeing the brunet shake his head slightly, and realises he does not want him to comment on it. Instead, he smiles slightly and says, “If you're up for it, maybe you can join us on a trip.”

“Ah, right!” Inko quickly agrees, nodding, “We'd love to take you out. How would you like to see a giant waterfall?”

Slaine lowers his hands slightly, the offer appealing. “Is.. is Inaho going to come, too..?” he asks, gaze flickering upward.

“Yes,” Inaho says immediately, nodding. If that's what makes you happy, he thinks, smiling somewhat.

“Then it's settled,” Calm hums, “Next week, then?”

“The week after,” Inaho says before their new friend can agree. Slaine needs more time to adjust.

Yuki walks into the room, then, holding a small, green cup made of a leaf. “Here, Slaine,” she says, carefully holding it out for him, “It's sugar water.”

Slaine takes it slowly and gazes at it for a few seconds, somewhat confused. “Sugar water..?” he echoes, bringing the cup to his lips.

Inaho watches silently. Slaine has yet to drink anything since waking up, so hopefully this will help repair some of the cells he damaged in his arms. He smiles slightly when Slaine starts to drink it, taking small sips, and allows himself to finally sit down beside the other.

Yuki pulls up a chair behind the group, gaze lingering on the blond. She had not failed to notice the bruises along his arms, all the little red splotches on his skin.. It was easy to guess that he had panicked upon waking up, but it seems that Inaho calmed him down before he had done anything horrible to himself.

“Do you like it, Slaine?” Inko asks curiously, watching as he slowly drinks the water.

Slaine nods slightly, gently placing the leaf cup on the wooden floor before him. “It.. tastes good,” he murmurs, not quite sure how it actually tastes, but he knows it does not taste bad. It tastes better than rain water, anyhow. He gazes at the three of them for a moment, teal eyes lingering on their faces and hair. “Why do.. we look different..?” he asks, realising that unlike himself, Inaho, and Yuki, they do not have white petals.

“We.. aren't the same race,” Inaho says, causing Slaine to look up at him, confused again. “Yuki-nee and I are orange blossoms..” he says softly, smiling somewhat, “You're a rose.. Inko is a delphinium, Nina is a buttercup, and Calm is a sunflower.”

Slaine blinks at that and looks back to the trio: Inko is purple, varying shades of it, and even her eyes are a light shade of pinkish-violet. Nina is yellow but her eyes are green and her hair is not as yellow as the petals in her hair. And Calm is as yellow as the sun, but he has tiny brown dots on his skin, along with the petals.

“Did the sun touch you?” he asks, and Inaho immediately gets what he is getting at.

“Yes,” Inaho says quickly, only shaking his head when Calm gives him a confused look. He himself is not quite sure what the markings on Calm's skin are, but supposes they are attributed to him being a sunflower in some way.

The answer seems to make Slaine happy, anyhow, and he smiles at the other blond. “I see.”

“We should probably go..” Inko says, gaze on a small window carved into the side of the stump that makes up Yuki's home, “It's getting late..”

Slaine looks disappointed. “You're leaving?”

This time, Inko is quick to catch on. “Yes, but Inaho's going to stay here with you,” she points out, causing the blond to look over at said brunet, “You get to have him the whole night, and tomorrow, and every day after that.”

Slaine lights up at that, the simple fact seeming to ease his fears.

He doesn't want to be alone, Inaho realises, gazing back at the blond. “I'm always going to be here,” he says quietly, and the blond's smile turns to that of relief. He returns it with a gentle one of his own, and Slaine relaxes further.

The trio get up, approaching Slaine slowly.

“Goodnight, Slaine,” Inko says, bowing somewhat, “It was very nice to meet you.”

Nina and Calm hold out their hands, to which Slaine blinks at in confusion.

“You're supposed to shake them,” Calm offers, smiling cheerily, “It's how we say goodbye.”

Slaine gently takes their hands, watching as they both shake his own hand gently.

“Goodnight, Slaine!” Nina hums, “We'll see you soon.”

“Night,” Calm offers, pulling his hand away.

“We'll see you later, Inaho, Yuki.”

“See you,” Inaho says softly.

“You're welcome here anytime.”

When they leave, Slaine shifts his attention back to the brunet, “What are we to do now?”

“I want to sleep with you.”

Inaho stares at the blond, both surprised and a bit put-off by the question. He has finally just finished making Slaine's bed, having taken a few petals from storage and piled them upon each other until they made a suitable futon. “In my bed?” he asks, wanting confirmation just in case Slaine had meant the room.

“Yes,” Slaine nods, and from the look on his face, he finds absolutely nothing wrong with the request.

Neither does Inaho, even though he knows he should, but the request is innocent enough, even if a bit frustrating. “That's fine,” he says after a moment, earning a happy smile from the blond. He wonders if Slaine's request stems from him not wanting to be lonely, or the odd familiarity they feel for one another.

Perhaps it is even a bit of both.

When Inaho is on the verge of falling asleep, he hears Slaine shift, and blinks upon the blond turning to look at him.

“I remembered something,” Slaine says quietly, able to make out Inaho's face in the darkness, thanks to the moonlight coming in through the window. He pauses, grip tightening somewhat on their blanket, which is another, longer, smoother flower petal. “We were different,” he finally says, and though Inaho is unable to make out Slaine's face, he can hear the confusion in his tone, “The world was.. bigger. Everything was bigger. And I was alone.” He pauses again, and breathes in, exhaling quietly. “But I had you. And that made me happy. Even when..–” His breath catches, and he exhales again, this time shakily, weak, “Even when I died, I was happy, because you had been there with me until the very end. I was happy.”

'I died'. The thought echoes in Inaho's head. This is the second time he has said that, and Inaho is not quite sure what he means by it.

“I feel safe, here,” Slaine whispers, voice slipping into a gentle, relieved tone, “It's.. it's safe here. Safer than it was before. And I.. have you, again. So I'm happy, now, too..” He smiles a bit, reaching his hand out, fingertips grazing Inaho's cheek, “I wanted to say 'thank you'. For being here for me.”

Inaho stays immobile, allowing the blond to touch him. He is still not quite sure what he did, but Slaine is obviously happy that he did it. “.. you're.. you're welcome,” he says after a second. “I'm always going to be here,” he says again, meaning it just as much as the first time.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” Inaho answers.

Slaine sniffles, then, vision obscured by relieved tears. “Thank you, Inaho,” he murmurs, pulling his hand away to wipe his eyes, “It'll.. it'll be better, this time. Because we're safe..”

Inaho only hums quietly at that, still unsure of what Slaine is talking about; whatever it is, he seems to be okay with it, now, and he is happy.. “Goodnight, Slaine,” he says.

“Goodnight, Inaho.”

When Inaho finally manages to fall asleep, he dreams of a memory.

A memory that is not quite his own, but belongs to him nonetheless.

And in it, he and Slaine are talking quietly in a room made of metal and steel, talking quietly about –

“I love you.”

“E-eh..?”

The first time they had said, 'I love you'. The memory does not quite belong to him, but Inaho remembers the very first time he had finally said those three words; in that metal room with steel bars and no windows, he had told the person most dear to him how he had felt.

“.. I.. love you, too..”

And they had returned his feelings.

#aldnoah.zero #orangebat #inasure #slaine troyard #kaizuka inaho #fanfiction #ruenis' work

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sagara-megumi · 7 years

Text

SasuSaku Month - Day 17: War Torn || [Fanfic] Forgotten Tales from an Ancient Time - Chapter 1

Title: Forgotten Tales from an Ancient Time - Chapter 1

Rating: T/PG-13

Notes: As I answered in the questions (some in private), this story is going to be darker than the Omiai one. It’s the first time I write something like this, so I hope that you like it ^^ The inspiration came because of an episode of the Galileo jdrama whose plot and setting was related to Tengu. But also, there are lots of influences from a couple of anime and manga, so it’s a big mixture.

What is a Tengu? For those who don’t know, it’s a supernatural being in the Japanese mythology. To make it short, since I don’t want to bore anyone, I’ve seen it translated as “goblin” quite a few times. Nowadays, they are protectors of mountains and forests, though before they were well-known for their mischief and evil ways. They are normally represented in two ways: a human with a very long nose and red skin, or like human-like birds (usually crows -Karasu Tengu-, but before, they were depicted as birds of prey). For more information, I’ll leave here a couple of URLs that I used as a reference.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tengu https://www.tofugu.com/japan/tengu/

*There are other notes that I’ll leave for the end of the chapter, since I don’t want to explain/spoil (? ô__o) anything before your reading.*

The setting is going to come mostly out of my imagination, so it won’t be really accurate this time regarding locations, especially. I don’t know if this will change in the future.

Probably, the prompts will be in a different order from the one in the calendar, but since the SasuSaku Month already passed, I think it won’t have much importance. Also, I’ll be a bit irregular in the updates. I have an idea of what I want to do, but it’s not as clear as in the other story, so (as what happened with this chapter) it’s taking me more time to write it (and, as I told you, I’m unfamiliar with the genre, so I’m being extra-careful with everything ^^U)

Be aware that the rating is T/PG-13 for all the story. There are (and will be) depictions of violence and blood, and in this one (I don’t know the rest), a brief reference to sex.

Glossary:

-Obon: an annual Buddhist event for commemorating one’s ancestors. It is believed that each year during Obon, the ancestors’ spirits return to this world in order to visit their relatives.

-torii: a traditional Japanese gate most commonly found at the entrance of or within a Shinto shrine, where it symbolically marks the transition from the profane to sacred.

-Chimata-no-Kami: Gods of the crossroads, highways, byways, and footpaths. They help and protect their people and are honoured with roadside shrines.

As always, if there’s something wrong (spaces, brackets, words in another language…), please, tell me.

Words: 5553

FORGOTTEN TALES FROM AN ANCIENT TIME

Chapter 1

The Shadow entered one house after the other through the open windows, swiftly. The humans from those times were careless and sceptic, and that made their spirits weak to perceive the creatures that surrounded them. So many technological advances and knowledge had made them think they were invincible and disregard the beliefs of their ancestors, their respect for the things beyond their comprehension. It looked around as he slithered in the shadows around the street lamps, watching as the supernatural beings floated around the few individuals that still walked around when the moon was still in the sky or lurking in the darkness, waiting for a chance to possess them. If humans knew that they could be devoured by those entities whose existence they denied anytime they wanted, they would not be so proud believing there was not anything or anyone above them. A cruel smile drew across one of the several tentacle-like shapes It adopted as It slid between the narrow space between the floor and the door of a flat. They needed a Divine Punishment. However, that was a thing of the gods and the only interest he could have in it would be watching as those little beings suffered. It spilt on the wooden surface, invading everything given the lack of light in the place. Better leave the gods to their own matters and concentrate on Its.

A couple was having sex in that room and It stopped to watch briefly, especially after realising the nature of the man, as he sucked the vital energy out of the woman from her mouth. He looked at It for a moment, creasing his brow at having a voyeur, and the Shadow retreated quickly. Some youkai were so zealous of their own matters… However, mingling with humans to feed oneself was disgusting. It considered that Its methods were much more refined. First, finding the right prey. For the Shadow not all humans were acceptable, it was the inconvenient of being on that world so many centuries, that It had become a pleasure-seeker regarding Its food. Moreover, it was so exciting to hunt them and then, watch their agony as they withered away, their panic faces when they did not understand what was happening to them, and their futile struggle when they did, make them suffer as It fed on them… That was an ecstasy…

The Shadow knew that if, in that moment, It could shapeshift into a human form, It would lick its lips. Oh, yes, that was the best part… It was the moment when their fear took the best of them that their taste was exquisite.

The sky above started to tint in a lighter shade and the Shadow knew It had to look for a place to spend the day. It could not, by any means, stay out in the sun. Soon, he found it. As the Shadow dissolved in a small corner on the ground, It rejoiced in the trepidation that would continue once the darkness returned.

As most days, the alarm clock went off at exactly half past six in the morning. Reaching out a hand to it, Sakura opened one eye and looked at the ceiling of her small flat. It was bathed in the soft light of the first rays of sun, and the shadows of the curtain that moved slightly in the breeze, played games of hide-and-seek on it. Then, she closed it again, feeling drowsy. She had not slept well that night. The city was in the middle of a heat wave that summer and she had had to leave the window open in addition to turning on the electric fan. The noise of the cars and had kept her awake till the early hours of the morning, when she supposed she had finally fallen asleep from exhaustion. However, she could not afford to sleep anymore or she would be late for work. She stretched slowly, feeling the creak of her back and the slight roughness of the sheet under her on her skin. No matter how thin and short her nightgown was, she had ended up discarding it after it clung uncomfortably to her body because of the sweat. Absentmindedly, she put a hand on one of her breasts, sliding it to her stomach. She had never liked too much to sleep without clothes, it made her feel strangely defenceless. However, in cases like that, she preferred that sensation to the sticky one of the heat. Her head turned lazily to the alarm clock and she almost had a heart attack. Eleven minutes had already passed from the time she had supposedly had to get up and if she did not do it soon, she would miss her train. She sat down on the bed in a hurry and grabbed her nightgown, putting it on quickly before closing the curtain and turning off the electric fan. Grabbing a towel, she entered the shower.

Barely on time, she ran down the stairs of the station to enter quickly in the train just before the doors closed. She sighed, relieved, and looked around. The coach was almost empty, except for an old man who was reading the newspaper and a young one who had fallen asleep and whose head, leant back against the glass of the window, rolled from one side to the other with the swaying of the train. It was really different from work days, when she usually was squeezed between people as she fought to keep her balance while receiving one or two pushes from people who moved towards the doors. She sighed in content. Even though the day before had been her last day of work before the holidays, the library where she worked was preparing an exhibition related to Obon and one of her workmates in charge of it with her and other two, had asked her the favour of covering her. She had promised her children to take them to the amusement park that day, before the shifts of that month were assigned, and she did not want to disappoint them, especially her younger one, whose birthday was that day. She had promised her that she would cover for her on the day she had to go back, so she could have an extra-day in her holidays. Honestly, even without that agreement, Sakura would not have minded having to go to work on Sunday. She loved what she did, and the library was like her second home.

She took out a folder from her bag and pulled out some papers stapled together that showed defined pictures of the pages of an old book. She had found it while looking for materials for the exhibition. It was a compendium of old myths in the prefecture, some of them well-known by her, with the location and descriptions of those deities’ shrines, including a map for pilgrims. She knew that some people considered her fascination weird, but she could not help it. She had been brought up in a small Shinto shrine and her adoptive mother, Priestess Tsunade, had instilled in her the respect for the Gods and supernatural beings, and the thirst of knowledge about her cultural roots. She liked to take trips and visit sacred places, famous or forgotten, and was planning to dedicate one or two days of her holidays to that hobby of hers.

Minutes later, she got off the train and walked the too familiar road to her workplace, going over the content of the exhibition and its order in the display cabinets once more. When she turned at one of the corners, the library appeared in front of her eyes, at the top of a slope, a hill full of trees and bushes before the city development reached it, devoiding it from its natural beauty. It was a relatively modern building made of cream coloured stone, with seven floors and large windows on the first three. There were five steps that led to the main entrance, a big wooden gate with a classic European design. She went around it to enter through the back door. Immediately, her nose perceived the smell of books that she loved so much, and a huge smile drew across her lips.

“Good morning!”

The Shadow roamed around the city once more. After days of hunting, the hunger was starting to get unbearable and that made It slower. It paused to rest behind the fence that surrounded a building, between the lights of the street lamp and the entrance. It needed to find Its prey quick. If It did not, It could not carry out a much more important task, the one that really mattered. But for that, the Shadow needed the strength to shapeshift and be able to touch material things, and years and years of waiting for the perfect moment had weakened It. Now, It was merely that, a shadow.

Suddenly, a shudder went over It, like a wave. Near, Its prey was near. It could feel it. Gathering its strength, It slithered along the street to the end of it, and crawled the wall of a two-floor building, entering through the open window. It moved sinuously along the wall junctures and the shadows casted in the room with the most insignificant objects, anxiously. Finally, It reached Its target and, despite the overwhelming desperation, the Shadow looked at it for a moment, its rosy cheeks and slightly parted lips. It was so tender, so warm… As it slid under the prey’s back, It could feel the softness of its skin, as it wore few clothes because of the heat and It delighted with the sweet smell. A prey of such quality was not found every day…

The baby next door started to cry suddenly, and Sakura woke up with a start. The room was still in darkness only an occasional car’s lights disrupted the shadows in the ceiling. The electric fan was working, blowing air on her legs, and she lifted her nightgown just under her breasts to feel the cool on her stomach, damp from the heat. She had been having a strange dream where she walked alone along the dark streets of the city, but she did remember anything else. She looked at the alarm clock with half closed eyes and sighed. There were still two hours left from the time she had set it and she turned on her stomach to cool her back and hid her face in the pillow. She had planned a short trip for that day to a small village half an hour from the city by bus where there was an ancient shrine dedicated to an old forgotten mountain god and she needed all the rest she could get. After a few moments, though, feeling uncomfortable, she lifted her torso just enough to grab the nightgown and pull, letting it fall beside her. She sighed in content as the cool air fanned across her back, and little by little, she fell into a deep slumber again, not realising that she was not alone in the room anymore.

The Tengu landed on the tree after taking a surveillance flight of the mountain. It was one of the few things He still enjoyed doing in that life of His, too long now that He was alone. Not even humans came to the mountain anymore as they did before when it was one of the fastest ways to reach the capital, that it was not the capital anymore. Now, they rode those strange things with wheels that moved on their own. Only a few had ventured, laughing and making fun of legends; or beings with a skin of the colour of the milk who spoke strange languages in a loud voice, not minding the sacred place they were stepping on. They had got what they deserved, though, he remembered with a smirk. However, tricks were more fun when He did them with His brother and cousins. Now, it was more a way of releasing His anger against all that surrounded Him. He looked up and half closed His red and black eyes, leaning back on the trunk, watching the leaves move in the soft breeze. All that was deeply buried in old times, and He had stopped bothering or fighting against something He could not change. What only mattered to Him now was that everything was calm on His mountain.

Sakura got off the bus and looked around. The village where she had stopped, located at the foot of three mountains, one much bigger than the other two and clearly a place of worshiping, was really small, just a few houses in a line along the border of the forest which covered them, framing the torii that marked the entrance of a shrine dedicated to the god of the highest mountain, a famous one which appeared in quite a few legends. She entered the sacred place and made a pray for her safe journey. Then, she went to buy some food and took out the photographed pages of the book to be sure, once more, of the route she had to take.

The myth said that there was a very small sanctuary deep in the forest of the mountain on her right, the one with an average height, dedicated to an old forgotten mountain deity worshiped and feared by the travellers who had to cross the mountain to go to the old capital, a legendary creature famous for His mischief and rage against those who did not pay a proper homage to him. Then, she looked around, trying to orient herself. The path to the mountain had to be near there.

“Excuse me,” she asked, walking towards an old lady who was watering the road outside her house. “Sorry for bothering you, but could I ask you some questions, please?”

She had learned in her little trips that old people were the most willing to share information about local myths, but only if they were approached with respect and politeness. The old woman looked at her upside down and then straightened a bit her bent back.

She took out her map.

“Could you tell me the way to go to the mountain, please?”

She lifted her brows scornfully.

“There’s a small stand just next to the bus stop. Didn’t you see it?”

“Oh, yes I did” she smiled. “But I don’t want to climb that mountain, but that one” she said, pointing at the one behind the lady’s house, and she opened her eyes in surprise.

“This one? Why? Nobody goes there nowadays, Miss.”

“I’m a librarian, you see, and I’m interested in traditional legends” she smiled a bit; she had also learnt that to receive information, one had to give a little first. “Moreover, I grew up in a shrine and I’d like to visit the ones I hear people talk about, or read in books, and that are not so well-known.”

She eyed her, and Sakura had the impression that she was evaluating her, trying to see if she was lying or not.

“A few years ago, some stupid kids or a fool tourist came from time to time and went from one mountain to the other, behaving really poorly. But the gods punished them because they usually came back scared and saying things about rolling rocks that almost squashed them and a strange laughter in the air.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Our ancestors believed that a Tengu clan lived in that mountain.”

Sakura opened her eyes in surprise. That was not what the book said. She felt a bubbling excitement in her chest, as if she was going to open a present.

“There was a small shrine dedicated to Them and they went there once a year to make offerings so they wouldn’t fall victim of Their impishness. However, the legend says that They angered the gods and they exterminated Them, and it’s this the fourth generation since we don’t go up there. But some of us still leave a small offering on the path to said shrine. Even though They are not there anymore, we have to respect Their spirits. And to tell you the truth,” she beckoned her and lowered her voice, “no mischief had happened to those of us who do it… while I can’t say the same of those who don’t… so maybe there are still some of Them up there” she regarded to the young woman with a lifted brow. “Do you want to go up there yet?”

Sakura looked at the mountain pensively, and then, nodded.

“Oh, I see that you’re a stubborn one, Miss…” the old lady put her hands in her waist and looked at her once more, this time with a small smile. “Wait here.”

The woman came out a few minutes later, carrying a small parcel.

“Take this with you for your lunch” she said practically pushing it in her hands, and Sakura knew it better than to refuse, even if it was politely, or telling her that she had already bought food. “And this” she added putting another small bundle on her palm. “As an offering from myself. Don’t unwrap it under any circumstances. Only They can do it.”

“I’ll do it as you wish” she opened her backpack and put the things inside carefully. “And thank you for the lunch. I really appreciate it.”

The woman moved her hand, playing it down.

“Now, show me that map of yours” she said, pointing at the pages Sakura carried on her hand. “Oh, and one more thing,” she added after showing her the way. “Buy something to offer Them. That way, They won’t play pranks you on your trip.”

Sakura nodded again, adjusting her rucksack to her back and nodding politely. Then, she turned and started her journey.

“And don’t forget to pray to the Chimata-no-Kami before you go up!”

“Don’t worry!” she waved with a smile and turned at the corner the old woman had told her.

The lady shook her head with a sigh. Young girls those days…

After a brief prayer and an offering of a few coins, Sakura started the path that went up the mountain. At the beginning, it was wide and the trees, tall and proud, were well kept. However, as the slope started to get stipper, the track became narrower and there were fallen pieces of wood, already half decayed, here and there, which she had to get around. Big rocks covered with moss bordered her way for some time, and the roots of the trees nearer the trail had risen from the ground and twisted in disturbing shapes. The sun she could see among the crowns, now was barely visible, the branches twining over her head, making a green cave. She shivered slightly, feeling a mixture of reverence and unease in that quiet, uncanny atmosphere. It truly felt like the home of a deity from the past.

The Tengu startled, straightening on the branch and scanning his surroundings, frowning deeply. Someone had entered His territory. He stood up and unfolded His wings, taking off at a high speed and flying through the trees, not even brushing one with the tip of His feathers, as if they opened at His passing. The presence was near Him now, and He wrinkled his nose at the stench that humans always brought with them: smoke, sweat, impurity, deep-buried desires… However, there was something different about this one. The smell was not so strong as He had expected, but also, there was something hidden in it, a strange scent he could not name. He landed on a branch just above the ground just in time to see her approaching along the barely seen path with papers in her hands. She stopped a bit under the tree, looking around and then, she sighed, frustrated.

“I think I got lost…” she murmured softly, as she compared one of the pages, which was brownish and had something written in an intricate calligraphy, with the map depicted in the other one. “I should have turned to the right in this intersection…” she was talking to herself.

She sat down under the tree, and the Tengu observed her as she took out a bottle of water and took some sips, staring down at the papers she had put on her lap. He crouched a bit curious. The calligraphy seemed really old and He could barely make out most of the kanji, only a few that talked about the path across the mountain and something about the deity of the place. A deity. He smirked. Typical of stupid humans not being able to distinguish a goblin from a god…

He sat down on the branch. She seemed harmless, so he relaxed against the trunk and closed his eyes, letting one of his legs hang from the branch. A long, long time ago, He would have possessed her to tempt any stupid monk who dared to cross His mountain. In other circumstances, He would have, maybe, kidnapped her and left her in the middle of the forest just to amuse Himself seeing how she tried to find her way again. Or probably, He would have taken his anger on her for feeling alone, and forgotten by those who had to pay Him homage. But that was all in the past now and He did not feel like having fun.

Sakura reached the crossroads where she had strayed her way and took the other path. It was in a similar state to the other one, and she had, once more, to walk looking at the ground to avoid any roots or small rocks hidden by the fallen leaves. Then, she looked at her maps again. If the old one was correct, something that, in that moment, she was not so sure anymore, the shrine should be around that area. She walked slowly, paying attention to where she put her feet and her surroundings. Otherwise, she would not have seen the torii half hidden by two trees, one of them completely leaning on it, covering the top part with its branches. Through them, she could see the sign which marked the sanctuary, that filled her heart with a sincere feeling of happiness, and she smiled satisfied at having reached her goal.

Tengu

The Tengu snapped his eyes open, His pupils changing into a six-points star, cursing himself. So that human was looking for His clan’s sanctuary. He gritted His teeth, it had been too long since the last human stepped through His mountain and he had become careless. But He would not forgive those who dared to desecrate His land. He vanished.

The short paved road was cracked in several places and roots and plants grew between its stones. The small shrine was in shambles and the climbers had taken possession of the place. It seemed that it was true what the old lady said. Nobody came to pray there anymore. She felt sadness replace the happiness that she had been feeling until that moment. As her adoptive mother said, no creature, supernatural or from this world, should be forgotten because that meant a much worse death than the physical one. She clenched her jaw. Well, if there was not a single person who went there to show her respect, she, who had reached what many thought a figment of men from ancient times’ imagination, would do it.

The Tengu appeared on top of the torii and knelt, a rock materialising in His hand. A well-aimed throw to her back would not kill her, but she would learn not to mess with the goblins of that mountain. A few hours in the outdoors without being able to move and feeling the humidity of the summer heat in the air and the wild animals sounds would be a good scare for someone like her. Then, the girl turned to go where the old purification fountain was and He stopped His movement suddenly, frowning confused. She took the bottle from her backpack, that she left at her feet, again and performed the ritual with water from it.

Then, she returned to the shrine and clapped twice, bowing in respect and prayer. The Tengu closed his fingers around the rock, so strongly that it became dust, feeling something soft grow inside Him. It had been a long time since someone prayed at His clan’s shrine. He remembered the difference He had perceived when He had seen her, and now He knew what that was. Sincerity and respect for what was above her understanding.

Then, she went back to her backpack and took something from it.

“This is from an old lady who lives in the village at the foot of the mountain” she said, putting a small wrapping on top of the offering box after she pushed some wild ivy aside. “She told me to give it to you… But she didn’t tell me her name…”

The smell of the offering reached Him and He knew immediately who she was. She left offerings for Him every year at the start of the path, just after passing the Chimata-no-Kami stone. Before, she went higher, but He supposed that, with each passing year, her age weighed her down more and more. Also, she left some little things, like a riceball or some pickled radish, for him in her back garden sometimes. He knew because her prayers always reached Him.

“And this is from me. It’s store-bought and I didn’t think about offering it at the beginning, so I don’t know if it will mean anything.”

She bowed again and then, taking her things, went back to the forest.

There was a change in the air and the Tengu lifted His head sharply, taking out one of His swords from their sheath at His back. Looking around cautiously. He had not felt such an evil energy in the mountain for centuries. The last time had been when…

As soon as the girl put a foot outside the torii, energy cracked and she was suddenly surrounded by a black crackle and pushed forward, falling down the stairs with a panicked cry. After tumbling down the steps, she landed at the base of the steps, hitting her head on a rock by the trail, lying lifeless for a moment before her lips left out a weak pained moan. His pupils widened and He gritted His teeth. Such a pure soul attacked in His mountain, in His shrine, spilling her blood in His clan’s grounds. He was not going to allow it.

The Tengu looked around, angered, and His eyes changed again, three slits parting from His pupil, as His body brimmed with power, surrounding it in a dark blue aura that winded like a blaze, and His wings spread out. A fan made of feathers appeared in his hand. He perceived a sudden movement on his left and a spear of black power materialised out of thin air, aiming straight at her. He fanned towards it and the strong gust of wind made it disappear. However, it was not finished with just that. The whole atmosphere was still filled with darkness, and He kept up His guard, knowing there would be another attack, trying to perceive the direction from which it would come with the fast movement of His pupils. And then, in the tree on His right, a flash of crackle, louder than before, wrapped it around one of the branches. He moved the fan again and all trace of a magical presence suddenly vanished. However, the branch was already damaged and with a sickening crack, it broke off, just as the young woman, who had regained her consciousness was trying to lift herself from the ground, supporting herself on her elbows.

“Idiot, watch out!”

Sakura heard the words clear, very near, and afraid, she looked from one side to the other, not seeing anyone. When she twisted her body and looked up, she saw the branch coming to crush her in a slow motion. She tried to move, crawling with the help of her hands and feet but she was still dizzy from the injury on her head and a cut in her leg made her actions slow. She braced herself for the impact.

Suddenly, Sakura had the feeling that something, someone, was covering her.

The branch fell down on Him and the Tengu grunted, feeling something that was not really pain but that surged through all His body. He looked at the woman encased in His arms, her hands covering her head and her eyes closed tightly. She seemed fine and He smiled lightly, relieved. With his arm, He tossed the branch aside and then, tried to stand up. And then, it came. A lacerating burning surged from His back and He collapsed on top of the girl who he had just saved.

Sakura opened her lids slowly after a few moments of deafening silence after the noise of the branch hitting the ground that still resounded in her ears. She was still alive. And she was alone. Uncovering her head, she made a quick mental check of her state. Apart from the injuries from the fall, she did not feel any new wounds. Carefully, she sat down, cleaning with the back of one of her hands the blood that had run down the side of her face, and set her eyes briefly on the branch, that strangely was a few metres from her. Then, her pupils wandered her arm and her body, and then, stopped on her lap. There, lying lifeless, it was one of the most beautiful birds of prey she had ever seen. She was not sure about the name, but it was not very big, with long narrow wings and tail. It was brown, but in some parts of its body, it was a paler shade. Its legs ended in sharp claws. She gasped when her eyes fell on the big wood chip sticking near the joint between its back and wing.

“Hey, little one…”

With extreme care, she touched it with a finger. Its feathers were soft and she ran it along the shape of its chest, very slowly. Not obtaining any reaction, she took it in her hands, staining them with blood. The bird trembled once.

“No… Please, no…” she whispered, feeling her eyes fill with tears.

She frowned. It was not the time to cry, she had to make a decision, and quickly. But, she berateded herself, what decision was there to make… There was only one. Delicately, she wrapped the bird in one of the towels she had brought with her, and taking it in her arms, ignoring the searing pain in her head and leg, she started to go back along the path at the fastest pace she could muster.

Going down the steep was easier than when she had started her journey, apart from the fact that she remembered the places she had passed by before and in half the time she had taken to reach the shrine, she was already at the foot of the mountain. With a quick bow, still half running, she apologised the Chimata-no-Kami for not thanking them properly for their protection in her trip, making a mental note to ask for forgiveness later and make a more generous offering.

“Miss!” the old lady, who was at the corner, twisting her hands frantically and looking at the path, went to meet her as soon as she saw her, staring at her with wide eyes and a pale face. “I was very worried! There was wind coming down the mountain and a thundering sound-!”

“I need help!”

The other woman looked at her wounds and the blood that soaked part of her clothes anxiously, but she shook her head, playing it down, and she showed her the bundle in her arms. The woman startled letting a strangled cry leave her lips.

“This is…!”

“It needs a vet urgently. Is the bus here yet?!” Sakura interrupted her.

“It just departed-” she rummaged in the pocket of her apron. “Give me a moment!”

She took out an old mobile phone and dialled a number.

“Shoichirou, stop the bus now!” someone answered to her. “There’s an emergency with a girl!”

Not waiting for an answer, she hung up.

“Quickly” she said pushing her. “The bus is still down that path” she looked at the bird. “And please, take care of Him…”

She nodded curtly and started to run as fast as she could, not noticing that the old lady put her hands together, like in a prayer, and bowed deeply.

Sakura found the bus just after turning the sharp curve after leaving the village. The driver had got off the vehicle and was waiting for her, with his arms crossed on his chest and a mixture of annoyance and confusion on his face. However, seeing the state in which the young woman was, his expression changed to one of deep concern.

“Sorry” she said bowing first to him and then to the passengers who were looking at her through the windows with deep curiosity painted on their faces.

“Come on” he ushered her in, getting on after her. “You need to see a doctor immediately…”

She paid her ticket and then, sat down on the first free seat she saw, barely containing a gesture of pain as she took off her backpack. The bus started its journey again and as it went down the mountain, Sakura put the bird, who was losing its warmth little by little, against her chest.

“You can’t die…”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Extra-notes:

-I won’t call Sasuke by his name until probably the middle of next chapter because of reasons that I hope I’ll be able to explain properly in the story, so be patient, please ^^U

-Sasuke’s Complete Susanoo is a Tengu. In this story it's dark blue because that’s the colour it has in the original manga. There are a few fanarts which depict Sasuke with Susanoo’s armour. His Tengu form here is inspired by these ones:

http://jmbfanart.deviantart.com/art/Sasuke-Perfect-Susano-o-Armor-475753671 (I love it ♡)

http://tuanenam.deviantart.com/art/sasuke-vs-naruto-susanoo-armor-vs-bijuu-modo-357840182

-I’m still thinking if Sasuke’ll have black eyes at any moment in the story. I read somewhere that Tengu have red eyes, so Sasuke’s pupils will be the Sharingan. When he’s relaxed, he’s got the normal one, if he’s on guard, his eyes change to Mangekyou Sharingan, and in his Tengu form, Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan. My descriptions regarding the Sharingan are not very good yet, but I promise I’ll get better at them.

#naruto #fanfic #ssm17 #ssm17d17 #sasusakumonth #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #sasusaku #otp

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chocolatequeennk · 7 years

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All I Need

The Doctor is finally with Rose again. In a parallel universe, but being with Rose was all he needed. Now to convince her of that fact.

Tentoo x Rose, all ages

This is my final missing moment for @doctorroseprompts this week. What can I say? Missing moments are kind of my thing.

It’s also a gift for @lastbluetardis, who needed a smile.

Oh, and it’s the start of a new series, Two Hearts, One Life. I have two more stories planned for this one.

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP

The Doctor needed Rose Tyler. It was one of the basic facts of the universe—of every universe. Water is wet, bananas are good, and the Doctor needs Rose Tyler.

It was so universally acknowledged that the Time Lord had used the fact only a few hours before to convince Rose that he was the Doctor. “He needs you—that’s very me.” And then he’d finally gotten the chance to give Rose the words that she needed, and his reward had been feeling her lips against his for the first time in almost four years.

Even holding her hand as they’d watched their home disappear back to the prime universe had felt like magic. He was here, and she was here, and when she rubbed her thumb over his in an absent-minded caress, he’d felt like he had everything he could possibly want.

The Doctor needed Rose Tyler, but shortly after dinner, she’d disappeared. The hotel room they’d been given was empty, and she wasn’t with her mum. That left the village or the beach, and it only took him a few minutes staring out the window to decide to look for her.

It did occur to him as he left the hotel that maybe she wanted to be alone, and he should let her come back in her own time. But instincts honed in three years of travelling with Rose, and six months as her lover, were prodding him to go after her.

His empty hand twitched at his side as he walked down the steps to the beach. Now that he was alone again, doubts were creeping into his mind. The Time Lord had manipulated Rose into making this decision, and he’d helped. Would she have chosen to stay in Pete’s World if he hadn’t answered her question?

When he found her on the beach, staring out at the open sea, the knots in his stomach tightened. The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, quickly doing calculations. The walls between the worlds hadn’t fully sealed yet. If he could get his hands on one of those hoppers Jackie and Mickey had used to follow Rose… The thought of sending her back, of being in this world without her, made him sick—but so did the thought of trapping her here.

He approached her slowly, watching the way the changing colours of the setting sun cast shades of pink and purple on her blonde hair. She was so beautiful it made his one heart ache. Seeing her again had been all he’d wanted since the moment she’d fallen to this universe, and it was better than he’d dreamed.

But if she didn’t want to be with him…

Rose’s head turned as he approached, not quite looking at him, but enough that he knew she heard him coming. When he was finally standing beside her on the edge of the beach, she sighed and shoved her hands into her pockets.

“I’ve trapped you here.”

The soft confession mirrored the Doctor’s own thoughts so perfectly that it took him a moment to realise it was Rose talking. “What?” he asked, rather stupidly, but he couldn’t process the idea that he would be anything less than thrilled to be where Rose was.

She looked up at him then, and oh, he recognised the guilt in her eyes. It was the same expression that stared back at him when he looked in the mirror.

“It’s not quite a planet in orbit around a black hole, but there’s no way out,” she said, her quiet words almost drowned out by the sound of waves crashing against the nearby rocks. “The dimension cannon only worked because of the reality bomb, and now that we’ve stopped that…” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ve trapped you here.”

The Doctor mirrored her position, turning a quarter turn away from the water and putting his hands in his pockets. The wind coming off the ocean cut straight through his blue suit, but he didn’t feel the chill. His heart beat wildly; if she felt guilty, maybe she didn’t feel trapped.

He remembered their conversations on Krop Tor, and he knew how to reassure her. He pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth and hummed in agreement. “I suppose I’ll have to get a job, live a life, same as the rest of the universe.”

A furrow creased Rose’s brow, and he clenched his hands into fists in his pockets to keep himself from reaching out to smooth it away. He could place the exact moment she realised what he was doing, and the fragile hope in her eyes brought a smile to his lips.

“I don’t have a mortgage, but I do have a flat… we could share?”

She bit her lower lip, and he finally lost the battle to keep from touching her. When a strand of hair blew into her face, he pulled his hands out of his pockets and brushed it back over her ear. The way Rose leaned into the familiar caress made his heart stop for several seconds, and when it finally started again, he realised he’d been daring enough to trail his hand down her arm and lace his fingers together with hers.

“Well…” he drawled. “I certainly don’t plan to live anywhere you aren’t. I think we’ve done enough of that for a lifetime, don’t you?”

Rose laughed breathlessly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

“So I’m very interested in this flat of yours. But.” He pulled his other hand out of his pocket. “I have another option, if you’re interested?”

Rose watched the Doctor toss something up in the air, and her eyes widened when she realised what it was. She caught the chunk of coral, and when she wrapped her fingers around it, she could almost hear the familiar song in her head.

“How… when…”

“He and Donna gave it to me, while we were busy flying the Earth back,” the Doctor said quietly. “Gave me very specific instructions on how to speed up the growth process—we should have a fully functional TARDIS in just a few years.”

The coral cut into Rose’s fingers when they spasmed around the bit of TARDIS. “He gave… you knew?”

The Doctor frowned for a second, then his eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. “No. Oh, no love, I wouldn’t have kept his plans from you if I’d known. But it isn’t safe for two regenerations of the same Time Lord to be in the same place for long, so I knew he would drop me off somewhere. This was his way of making sure that I—that we—could have a life as much like what we were used to as possible.”

The vise that had clenched around Rose’s heart eased, and she was able to look at the piece of TARDIS coral as the gift it was. “So we won’t be stuck on Earth, anyway,” she mused as she handed it back.

He raised an eyebrow as he slid it back into his pocket. “Stuck with you, that’s not so bad.”

Rose smiled up at the Doctor and shifted a few inches closer to him. “Yeah?” She placed her hand on his chest and frowned for a second when there was no tie for her to grab, but feeling his single heart through the thin t-shirt brought the smile back to her face.

The Doctor’s hands landed on her hips, and his thumbs slipped under her coat and shirt to brush the bare skin above her waistband “Yes,” he said firmly. “Rose Tyler…”

His voice trailed off, and Rose’s heart raced. “Yes, Doctor?” Her hand slid up his chest to rest at the nape of his neck, and she could feel his breathing speed up at the touch.

He swallowed hard a few times, and Rose watched his Adam’s apple bob. “I missed you so much, love,” he confessed, his voice hoarse. “I know he manoeuvred both of us into staying here together, but you need to know that if I had been given the choice between spending a life here with you, and spending it without you anywhere else, there would have been no contest. I would choose you, in any time, in any universe.” A smile quirked up the corners of his mouth. “Even if we couldn’t have our own TARDIS.”

“Doctor,” Rose breathed. The Doctor had always had a gob, and she’d imagined more than once what kind of romantic speeches he might give if he ever got over his reluctance to say he loved her. This was better than any of her dreams, though.

She cleared her throat; his reassurances reminded her that he might have doubts of his own. “I’m glad we have the TARDIS, because I’ve missed travelling with you. But you’re all I need. Living a life with you, having that adventure… It’s everything I ever wanted.”

The Doctor leaned down and brushed his nose against hers as he whispered three precious words in the space between them. Time stretched around them the way it always did when they kissed, and as Rose tilted her head back and repeated the words against his lips, she thought she caught a glimpse of their future. Two hearts, one life, and a love that would always bring them home.

#ficandchips #dwfic #tentoo x rose #doctorroseprompts #cq's fic: all i need #series: two hearts one life #fluff #hurt/comfort #bad wolf bay #post journey's end #missing conversations #fic by Nancy

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doomsteady · 7 years

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Glitter and Stars

I don’t remember where I first saw this prompt, but I saved it with the hopes of one day getting around to writing something for it.

The prompt was something like: “John and Sherlock sitting in the living room doing crafts, with soft little murmurs of ‘oh I quite like that.’”

Does anyone remember who it was, so I can tag them?

Edit: Found them! Okay, so it wasn’t exactly a prompt, but I took the challenge anyway. ;P

It was a lazy Sunday morning like any other when John plodded down the stairs in his soft cotton trousers and thin vest. Still bleary-eyed from sleep, he headed straight into the kitchen for his morning cup of tea. But before he could do more than set out his mug and fill the kettle, his ears picked up a quiet susurrus coming from the living room.

Curious, he poked his head around the door. “Morning. What you up to, then?”

Sherlock glanced up from where he was sat cross-legged by the coffee table, wrapped in his navy blue dressing gown and surrounded by a scattering of junkmail booklets and magazines. A pair of scissors stilled in his hand, threaded halfway through a glossy page with a printed headline that read, if John squinted hard enough, ‘This Year’s Biggest Blockbusters!’ in fat, red letters.

“It’s Mrs Hudson’s birthday tomorrow,” Sherlock mumbled, focus dropping back to his enigmatic task. He carefully adjusted his grip on the page and closed the scissor blades with a gentle, pleasing snick. As he rotated the paper, he seemed to be cutting a circle around one of the letters. After a full rotation, the cut piece fluttered to the carpet by his toes, and he set the ruined page down beside him.

John scratched a finger through his eyebrow. “Um... Okay. That didn’t really answer the question, though.” He plodded over to the coffee table for a better look at what his mad friend was up to.

Close-up, he could see that Sherlock had already cut several letters out of various magazines, and had arranged them in rows by his feet. There were a multitude of colours and typefaces; some bold, some elaborately curly, some with drop-shadows. It took John a moment to realise that he’d spelt out most of the phrase ‘Happy Birthday’ and had the beginnings of what would probably end up being ‘Mrs Hudson’.

It raised more questions than it answered. “What on earth are you doing?”

Sherlock let out a deep sigh. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m making a card.”

“A card?” John narrowed his eyes in puzzlement. “You’re actually... making a birthday card. From scratch.”

“Yes.”

“You do realise they sell those.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Right. Just... It would be a lot easier than”—his hand fluttered at the mess surrounding them—“all this.”

Sherlock stopped fiddling with the placement of his newest acquisition (the final ‘Y’ he needed to complete the word ‘Birthday’) and glared up at him. “John, I am not going to spend two or three quid on a mass-produced piece of cardboard printed with some obnoxiously fluffy sentiment and designed by a total stranger.”

His long finger jabbed accusingly over at the table by John’s chair, where his own card — a fairly standard Hallmark offering, with a teddybear or a kitten or something on the front (God, he couldn’t even remember) — was already sealed in its envelope and awaiting delivery. “How many cards do you buy a year, on average, and write the same banal message inside each one: ‘To blah, from John’? You don’t even get to write the ‘Happy Birthday’ bit yourself because it’s already written inside.”

“Well actually, I usually try to think of something more—”

“And once received, it is glanced at for approximately five seconds in total, before being forgotten on a mantlepiece for a day or two and then ending up in the rubbish bin.” He scowls, deepening the crinkle across the bridge of his nose. “Does that strike you as money well spent?”

“Well not when you put it like that,” John replied, “but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? People like getting cards.”

“Exactly! Which is why I’ve decided to make my own from now on. It has the dual benefit of being cheaper and more personal. I can guarantee you Mrs Hudson will appreciate it far more than whatever you plucked off a shelf in passing at Tescos.”

John sat himself on the sofa, faintly stunned. He couldn’t fault the logic. However, Sherlock’s technique left something to be desired. Perhaps it was a side-effect of a life spent investigating crimes, but the arrangement of mis-matched letters on the floor was looking more to him like a grisly ransom note than a cheery greeting.

Sherlock seemed oblivious to it. In fact, he seemed to be quite enjoying himself. “I may do one for Graham next.”

“Uh, before you get too carried away,” John hedged, “maybe you should try a different approach to this. Something that will end up looking a bit less like a threatening note from a kidnapper.”

Sherlock pinned him with a mildly pained look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this, the whole letters... thing.”

“It’s called a collage, John.”

“It’s called, ‘Send something like this to Greg, and you’ll get yourself called in for questioning.’ Not to mention probably giving Mrs H a heart attack. Look,” he lifted a finger before Sherlock could protest, “I’ll pop down the shops in a bit and pick up some supplies. Then we can both sit down and make a proper card, with— I don’t know, glitter or something. Alright?”

Sherlock studied him for a few seconds, his eyes flitting back and forth in indecision. Then, his shoulders relaxed on a defeated sigh. “Fine. If you think that would be better.”

That afternoon, they sat down together on the sofa, a variety of craft materials spread out across the coffee table. John felt like a schoolkid again, but his embarassment quickly melted underneath Sherlock’s genuine enthusiasm for the activity. Soon enough, they were both well into it.

“Pass me those sequins.”

“Where are you putting them?”

“I thought they could be like little stars or something.”

“Stars?” Sherlock scoffed, his breath accidentally blowing a scrap of coloured tissue paper off the table. “I thought this was a day scene. You can’t have a big yellow sun and stars.”

“Says who?” John dabbed dots of glue in random spots across the top of the card. “It doesn’t have to make sense, as long as it looks pretty.”

“Careful. Don’t smudge—“

“I’m not going to bloody smudge it,” he mumbled. His tongue poked between his lips in concentration. After a few stars, he could feel Sherlock’s eyes burning at him. “What? I’m being careful.”

“Nothing.”

Before they knew it, they’d spent two whole hours bent over the coffee table, cutting shapes and gluing things and arguing lightheartedly over tiny details. By the end of it, their fingers were sticky and covered in sparkles. A silver foil star had somehow found its way onto Sherlock’s forehead, and John burst into giggles when he spotted it.

“God, we’ve made a mess,” he said, grinning as he stepped closer to pluck the star from Sherlock’s brow. It was the faintest of touches, but Sherlock’s breath hitched, a small noise that sent an unexpected shiver down his spine. Their eyes locked for a moment, and it almost seemed as though they were both waiting for the other to make some move. To pull back, or perhaps lean in...

A passing car honked its horn in the street outside, startling them both. Blinking and clearing his throat, John stepped away. “We should, um. We’ll sign it once it’s dry.” He absently wiped the back of his hand across his nose and stared at their card, at the floor. Anything except those piercing silver eyes.

“John.” Sherlock’s voice captured his attention like a magnet, impossible to resist. They gazed at each other, and as Sherlock stepped closer, invading his personal space, John felt his pulse kick up several notches in his throat.

“What?” he croaked. His mouth was watering more than usual. His fingers twitched at his sides, barely resisting a mad urge to reach out and curl around Sherlock’s broad shoulders. Sherlock leaned closer, and for one giddy moment, John thought he was about to kiss him.

Instead, Sherlock’s mouth quirked into a lopsided grin. “You just smeared glitter all over your own face.”

The next day, their homemade card took pride of place on Mrs Hudson’s mantlepiece. She cooed over it for the better part of an hour, John and Sherlock keeping her company until it was time to see her off for a visit to her sister’s.

Afterwards, they were still finding sequins and stars in odd places around the flat for weeks. One night, John noticed Sherlock was staring at him unusually intently— even for him. John lowered his newspaper. “Something on my face?”

Sherlock rose slowly from his seat and approached him. Then, leaning down, he spoke in a tone several shades lower than John had ever heard. “Yes, actually.” John daren’t move an inch as Sherlock’s slender fingers came up and found his lip, pressing it gently.

Before he could prevent it, John’s tongue automatically darted out to wet his lips, and they both gasped as he ended up accidentally tasting the tip of Sherlock’s finger. There was a soft pinch, and Sherlock slowly withdrew his hand, presenting a tiny gold fleck.

John huffed a laugh, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Blimey. Your eyesight’s better than mine if you saw that all the way over there.”

“Actually, I lied.” Caging him in between his slender, powerful arms, Sherlock drew close enough that his breath ghosted across his mouth. Their noses touched, and John’s heart hammered in his chest. His eyes fluttered closed.

Glitter and stars, he thought giddily, before his mind went comfortably blank.

#sherlock #fanfic #prompt #johnlock #doom's projects #watsonshoneybee

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