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ninapi · 8 months

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┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ Kita Version ╝

Premise: The connection he had with his past made Kita want you more than any of the others. He wanted to be like his grandma and she had a human by her side, always. Looking for the village best interest he ends up finding the real meaning of true love.

Word Count: 3194

Chapter 2: Challenges

Finding a way to cancel an engagement promised by the former leader was as hectic as Kita imagined it would be.

There were more than words in such an agreement, blood magic being quite popular among foxes of old time.

Even if young lady Suna wasn’t interested in taking part in such endeavors, more than just the will of the ones involved in the pact was required.

Birds were sent out to different fox clans in search for help, yet nobody knew how to overwrite such a powerful magic, unless one of them died, they would still be bound to one another no matter what the answer they could find was.

Not ideal when he finally met someone he would actually want to spend the rest of his days with and that makes him want to put pups in said human every time she crosses his path.

Lady Suna was pretty much a baby sister to you, and he knew it. Anything that could cause her harm was not going to be a welcomed option, also, her being the only young female fox around, she was a very valuable asset to grow their numbers in the community.

He was barely sleeping lately, always nose deep in old texts and books of ancient magic, nowadays you were allowed to roam the castle on your own, Kita wanted you to feel at home and the servants all liked you, you were the only one around to show them respect and understanding, so you were currently looking for the two-toned hair handsome fox that was constantly in your head.

As you suspected, he was in the library instead of his own office, very much sleep deprived, a dark shadow extending throughout the span of his face, now past his eyelids.

“Kita-sama, when was the last time you had some sleep?” you caught him off guard, he didn’t feel you coming, a warm blanket being placed over his shoulders.

“(Y/N)…what brings you here? It’s already pretty late. Can’t sleep?” his hand reached for yours, gently pulling over to sit on his lap, between the desk and his strong chest. His face coming to nuzzle your back, relaxing in your presence.

This had become some sort of a routine for the two of you, sitting as close as possible to the other, keeping each other warm, snuggles and cuddles slowly being introduced as days went by. He felt such at ease with you around, it was amusing. His daily routine hadn’t changed since he was a young pup, he’s always done the same things every day, even as the leader now, he still keeps his room clean, takes care of the plants, cooks his own meals, adding you to his daily routine was easier than adding anything in the past, and was now his favorite part of the day.

“I was thinking you were probably still here, couldn’t fall asleep worried.” This brought a smile to his tired-looking face. The only person who’s ever worried about him on a personal level had been his grandma, he’s never been this intimate with anyone before, it felt a little weird at first, but now he craves your touch all day.

Your thumb was rubbing soothing circles on his arm as he buried his face on your hair, inhaling your scent. “I need to find a way to end that evil spell as soon as possible, we don’t know how much time you have left…there’s no time to sleep…”

“You need to sleep, or you’ll get sick. Come with me.” your soft tone of voice was so alluring, he couldn’t say no to you, even if he wanted to.

Your feet guided you both back to your quarters in silence. It was probably not within the definition of proper to be found holding hands and sneaking around the castle so late at night.

Your room was barely lit with an almost completely consumed candle, the moon being the best source of light at the moment.

Kita didn’t know what to think about your actions. It was clear to him now that you were crossing yet another line in whatever the relationship you two had now was, yet he wasn’t sure of how to react and what was expected of him.

Though the line you were about to cross wasn’t as wild and interesting as he had thought at first, you climbed into your futon, pulling him gently by his wrist for him to lay beside you. Your arms wrapping around him immediately, gathering him to your chest as you hummed a lullaby close to one of his fuzzy ears, making it twitch.

“Sleep…” you whispered sweet nothings over and over again, affirmations he needed to hear, words of encouragement, words of endearment, until all that could be heard in the room were the soft snores of the man sleeping soundly in your arms.

You couldn’t help but wonder if the warmth your chest radiated when he’s around and the cramping of your stomach every time your eyes meet was in some way related to the concept of love.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The second challenge came around when the elders found out he was trying to break the engagement.

The head of the Suna clan had formally presented a complaint to the council, taking Kita by surprise. He was normally a very selfless gentle man, but loosing this engagement would jeopardize his little princess’s future, and that was a big concern, his paternal side would always shine when his children were in any sort of trouble.

What he didn’t understand was that his own daughter didn’t want this, but to him she was still too young to understand the implications of letting a man like Kita go, he was certain his daughter would eventually regret this and would have a difficult time finding a proper mate, especially with the low birthrate problem, choosing the right one was a top priority for the entire village.

“I will do what I think is right for everyone. You can’t expect us to make pups when there’s no attraction between us, she’s like a sister to me, I can’t possibly do such a thing. It was decided by others, and I had no saying in that back then, but now, now I do, and I will do what I can to see the end of this matter safely.” without uttering any other word, the leader left a devastated weeping father in the council room, the elders not being able to stop him any further than they had previously done.

Your condition was slowly worsening, sparse fevers here and there, nothing awful, but it terrified him.

Not only has he been researching ways to end the engagement spell, but he has also been investigating Inari and her blessing. There wasn’t much recorded in history, it was mostly all fairy tale material, ‘love conquests all’ kind of thing, yet there were no specifics on how he got it, was there any special quest? Did they have to go under some sort of ritual? Just what on earth did he have to do to have the blessing bestowed on his beloved before it was too late? It was driving him nuts and he didn’t know who to ask for guidance, everybody in the council was most definitely not on his side, he wished his grandma was still there, even if convincing her would be even harder, she always wanted what was best for him, and love is certainly what’s best for everyone.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Challenges kept coming one after the other. Keeping the twins at bay had been one of the worst to deal with.

Atsumu found a way to sneak into your section of the castle, he still hadn’t been able to figure out how he does it, but he’s caught him twice in just one week having awful amounts of fun in your quarters.

The first time he found him there you were playing some card game, your giggles could be heard from everywhere in the garden. He was sure Atsumu kept purposefully losing just to make you laugh, what worried him most was the expression on the younger fox’s face, its never been this soft.

The second time, however, set his heart ablaze, his head was laying on your lap enjoying the morning sun while you patted his hair and told him a story. It all felt too intimate for his liking, he didn’t know what you thought of Atsumu, honestly, he thought the top pick was Osamu, knowing you have gotten this close to his counterpart over such a short period of time was concerning.

Though, Atsumu wasn’t the only issue.

Osamu kept requesting permission to visit you. Unlike Atsumu, he was doing things right, and normally he would be glad someone was following the rules, but since he came in straight from the front gate of the castle, everyone saw him and his constant interest display, causing the elders to push him as favorite for your hand.

As for Suna, he kept sending you gifts, to an annoying degree.

It started with him dropping by with some flowers, then he would send some sweets with one of his employees, then a little doll, clothing, books, letters, there wasn’t a single day someone from the Suna Inn didn’t stop by to deliver something for the beautiful human princess.

It took ungluing Atsumu from you, rejecting Osamu’s entry permit and closing the main gate to avoid any deliveries, for Kita to share a peaceful breakfast with you.

“Can you stop frowning? Your handsome face will get all wrinkly.” you chuckled, gently smoothing the angry lines off his forehead with one of your hands.

“It just pisses me off, why was he here again? Why are my guards not realizing someone’s been sneaking into the castle? He should be dead already…” his harsh words made you gasp in horror, you never thought of the consequences of somebody finding Atsumu sneaking around.

“Kita-sama,” your tone of voice was stern, a wave of worry hitting the leader straight on the face, “I do not appreciate you wanting my friends dead. He comes to keep me company because I’m always so bored. You have your responsibilities as the head of the village and I understand that, that’s why you don’t see me whining about it, so what’s so bad with sharing that time with a friend?”

“A friend? Is that what you think he is? He’s after your hand, (Y/N). Don’t you forget that.” his statement caused your cheeks to tint a tiny bit, seeing Atsumu in a different light now.

“Does it bother you that much?” you poked his cheek playfully, trying to get his mood to soften even if it was a just little.

“Of course, it does. Not even I get as much time with you, it’s unfair. I’ve been doing my best to not imprison every one of them. I don’t want the villagers to think I’m abusing my power.” his cute huffs made you giggle, pulling him closer to place a tender kiss on his cheek. “There’s no need to be jealous.”

“Does that mean you don’t like them?”

“I didn’t say that…” not even the kiss could help him keep his cool.

“See? I don’t know what else to do (Y/N). I want to spend more time with you, but I have to figure out how to undo the engagement and how to get you the blessing, how am I going to fight against all those good for nothings while also having to deal with the managing of the village?”

“I think you’re forgetting something…” his eyebrow twitched, waiting for you to elaborate further.

“The blessing, we know how to get it…wouldn’t spending your time with me be more beneficial in that sense…?” you were right, if true love was the main ingredient, dedicating his time to you could get you both somewhere.

“Is that what you want? Find the blessing with me? Or would you rather one of them find it for you?” his frown had returned, he’s never had much self-confidence, and that was on him, but he couldn’t avoid the acid in his stomach every time he closed his eyes and saw Atsumu’s dumb face smiling at you like a lovesick puppy.

“True love can’t be forced, Kita-sama. Rin said in one of his letters that I should share some time with each of you, that way I would have more chances of finding true love.” his face was turning red at this point, an incredible blood thirst bubbling in his chest.

“But I disagree.” Kita’s demeanor changed in a matter of seconds, his eyes never leaving yours, “I’ve been thinking about the meaning of true love. I’ve never been in love before, so I wouldn’t know for sure if things are how I see them or not, but every time I’m with you I feel different. Everything looks brighter, everything feels better, my mood improves, my days are better. I find myself thinking about you even when they are here with me, how I can’t wait for you to come and visit, wondering if you already had your meals, if you had some sleep the night before…I don't think I need to try to look for it someplace else, when I clearly already found someone who occupies all my thoughts.”

That was the last remaining drop of restraint he had left within his body, and it evaporated with your words. His lips were on yours in seconds, swallowing your surprised gasp. Your hands reached for his soft locks, threading them lovingly as he devoured your soul entirely. Little sounds of pleasure left the leader’s lips as he continued kissing you like the world was about to end, he just couldn’t stop, didn’t want to. You shuffled on your seat, trying to get into a more comfortable position without having to break the kiss. Feeling your needs with his own body, he pulled you over to his lap, the constraining fabric of your elaborate kimono getting on the way. He wanted to get rid of it, to have you straddling his lap, to devour you completely, right there. Apparently, the full moon was near, his hormones were getting the best of him.

The delicious whimper that left your lips as one of his hands squeezed your thigh over the delicate fabric made him snap out of the haze. You were out in the open, anyone could walk on you just there, he was the man in charge of the castle, this was not proper, not one bit. But you were so….ugh…he needed to do something about that stupid engagement right that moment so he could take you right there and now.

“Kita-sama…” the way his name fell from your lips was causing a hole in his stomach, the need to have you kept on growing each second. He could see the same need reflected in your glazed half lidded eyes, you wanted this as much as he did, but you couldn’t, not yet at least.

“I promise I’ll give you more of my time, just…don’t let them get to you…” smiling, you pecked his lips tenderly once more, “You’re the only one that can get to me.”

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

He did fulfill his promise, spending most of his time with you regardless of what others said.

Atsumu came a few times and left right after he saw the man himself occupying his space beside you to much of his annoyance, even if respecting others wasn’t his strongest attribute, he was forced to back down, same as Osamu. Rin kept sending gifts as usual though, a tough opponent indeed.

But his afternoons were spent mostly in your quarters, instead of researching in his office or the library, he would bring the scrolls and books over to your room and read them while resting beside you or reading them while laying his head on your lap, your hand always threading his hair lovingly, helping him understand texts with other perspectives.

Since he always prepared his own meals, soon he started adding extra portions to share them with you, breakfast, lunch and dinner were spent together, enjoying the perfectly cooked treats he made for you with all his devotion.

As for the village rounds, you would walk together with him on most days, when the weather was good. The majority of the villagers getting attached to your sweet nature and encouraging the leader to seal the deal soon, to not let such a wonderful bride go away.

Overall, your days were filled with Kita Shinsuke, and you loved every second of them.

And so did he.

His mood had improved, even his ideas were now getting clearer and more frequent. He’s always wanted to help his village grow and improve, but always lacked on the confidence field. He thought the elders wouldn’t hear him out or that their ideas were better than his just because they were more experienced. But having you by besides him, made him see a side to him he didn’t know was there. He was born to be a leader, regardless of his soft nature. And he was ready to show the world what the leader of the all mighty fox village of the south was made of.

Blood magic can’t be undone, yet he got into an agreement with the Suna clan, their daughter would be taken in by the Kita family as intended, give her all the benefits and support that came with that, yet he would never lay a finger on her, and she was allowed to choose who she wanted to breed with.

A scandalous offer, some would say.

But one that was accepted, nonetheless.

To everyone, you were the leader’s woman and lady Suna, your baby sister.

His political stand had grown over the past year, all thanks to your support and encouragement, to your help studying texts and to your help with his daily tasks. He’s always done everything on his own, not accepting other’s help as that’s what his grandma taught him while growing up, but the kindness you showed him made him realize maybe there was another path he could take, one with less hatred and more understanding.

Maybe following that path full of love and prosperity would one day bring the very much needed blessing from their patron goddess.

Maybe one day, the meaning of true love will be as clear as water to the both of you.

The only thing that was completely certain was how you wanted to walk down that path just as much as he did.

Together, you could defeat anyone.

Together, you could find love in each other’s arms.

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narumi-gens · 9 months

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Traditional Values

yakuza!Kita Shinsuke x f!Reader

summary: You’ve never known a yakuza to be boring. But what else could they mean when they say that Kita Shinsuke, the head of the most powerful yakuza group in Kansai, is traditional?

warnings: 18+, smut, yakuza au, arranged marriage, inherent sexism and misogyny, smoking, mentioned drug and alcohol use, violence (sorry to the oc in this fic lol), blood, spit, oral (f receiving & mentioned m receiving), mild exhibitionism, orgasm control, possessive!kita, hinted yandere-ish behavior, implied dom!kita, fingers crossed he's not too out of character 🤞🏽, reader is a spoiled little yakuza princess, idk if reader is all that likable but I like her and that's all that matters

notes: I feel like I'm starting to specialize in chaos characters bc while Kita is not one in this fic, the reader certainly is. but a different kind of chaos.

words: 5.9k

minors, ageless, and blank blogs do not interact

The one word you hear over and over again when people talk about Kita Shinsuke, the head of the Inarizaki, the largest and most powerful yakuza group in Kansai, is traditional.

Despite his current position, he comes from a long line of traditional rice farmers. Once he took power over the Inarizaki, he put in place a stricter, more traditional code of conduct that all members were expected to adhere to. Instead of partying away his nights in Kobe’s clubs and brothels, he spends his evenings in a traditional house in the Hyogo countryside.

And he has traditional family values, with traditional expectations of what he wants in a wife.

But you know that traditional really just means boring.

Unfortunately, a traditional and boring life seems like all you're destined for because your father, the head of Kanto's largest yakuza syndicate, the Fukurodani, has decided to seal an alliance with the Inarizaki through marriage.

Specifically, your marriage to Kita.

After all, you're a woman and a woman can't lead the yakuza. Your only value comes from how useful you can be as a tool to build alliances and cement power. You had at least just hoped that your father would have chosen someone more exciting for you to spend the rest of your life with.

While he would never stomach seeing you at the head of the organization, he could easily have married you off to his right-hand man and hand-picked heir, the Fukurodani's young and wild wakagashira, Bokuto Koutarou. After all, nothing would ensure an eventual smooth succession better than a marriage to his only child.

And even if he decided you were more useful as a means of building his power rather than ensuring his legacy, there were still other options.

There were plenty of crazy yakuza out there who would have kept your interest piqued if only your father had chosen to further consolidate his power in Tokyo or to look for an alliance up north rather than out west.

But your father has made his choice and Kita has agreed and you have no say in the matter. It's not long before the young yakuza kumicho, along with his most trusted men in the Inarizaki, arrives in Tokyo to negotiate the finer details in person.

And when you finally meet him at dinner with your parents, you can't say that you're impressed.

He's polite. He's soft-spoken. He's respectful. He's so. utterly. boring.

As you sit next to him in a private room at one of Tokyo's finest restaurants, listening to him as he genially answers your mother's questions about his own upbringing and tells her about his close relationship with his grandmother, all you can think is, 'what a waste.'

Regardless of how handsome he is and how much his men seem to respect him and how powerful his position is, he's missing that wildness inherent to every true yakuza.

By the time the plates are cleared and the manager of the restaurant is falling over himself to thank your father for his patronage, you’ve made your assessment of your new fiancé.

Kita is dull.

It’s all you can think as he cordially thanks your father at the end of the evening.

‘You’re so boring.’

It’s all you can think as he humbly accepts your mother’s compliments and adoration.

‘You’re so boring.’

It’s all you can think as he politely bids you goodnight with a bow, telling you softly how nice it was to meet you.

‘You’re so boring.’

You have to bite back the urge to say the words aloud, directly to his face, just to see what he would do. Would he drop his courteous smile? Would he clench his fists? Would he slap you?

‘You’re so boring.’

He would probably just look slightly taken aback before doing his best to laugh off any offense.

“It was nice to meet you too, Kita-san,” you finally reply, your tone suggesting anything but. You feel the disapproval rolling off of your parents in waves and can already hear the lecture that awaits you once you’re alone with them.

Your father will chastise you for the disrespect that you’ve shown to a new ally, and by extension him. He’ll sternly remind you that this is your duty as his daughter. If he’s really feeling irritable then he’ll light up a cigarette and grumble about how he’s spoiled you for too long and hopes that Kita has a firm hand.

Your mother, however, will almost certainly turn so shrill in her anger that you’ll want to cover your ears. She’ll berate you for insulting your husband-to-be. She’ll scold you for your clear disinterest and boredom through every course of dinner. She’ll then blame your father for being too lenient with you over the years, to which your father will respond by simply taking a long drag of his cigarette.

But in the present, Kita simply gives you a polite smile in return and the chorus continues in your head.

‘You’re so boring.’

Just because you’re now technically engaged doesn’t mean that you need to change how you live your life. If anything, you need to savor all the fun you can before you’re shipped off to Hyogo to spend the rest of your days popping out kids and taking care of some big, empty, country house with a man who’s less interesting than the rice his family grows.

It’s not even an hour after you get home from dinner before you’re leaving once again. Only this time, you’re wearing something far more revealing and decisively less conservative than the formal kimono that your mother forced you into for your meeting with Kita — something meant to appeal to his traditional taste.

Your current outfit is one that’s perfectly suited to the high-end clubs of Roppongi. Not that it really matters considering you’re tucked away in a private VIP room, away from the large crowds and deafening music and prying eyes.

Normally, you would be surrounded by a group of your friends. But after being confronted with the man that you’ve been sentenced to marry and seeing the unending boredom in your near future, you've recognized that it also applies to your sex life.

You’ve only spent a couple of hours with Kita, but it was more than enough to know that he probably prefers fucking in missionary with the lights off. The only orgasms that you can expect as a married woman will probably come from your vibrator — unless he decides that a vibrator isn’t traditional enough, in which case you’ll have to rely on your fingers exclusively.

So, instead of the VIP room being filled with your friends, it’s just you and the man whose face is buried between your thighs, Ito Tatsuya. While your feelings towards Tatsuya tend to lie closer to ambivalence than anything else, his skilled tongue is more than enough to make up for it.

With the way his lips are wrapped around your clit, it’s easy to ignore how he acts tougher than he truly is. He talks a big game but has refrained from acting on all of his talk and joining a yakuza group. Ultimately it works in your favor as no yakuza would dare lay a finger on the beloved daughter of the Fukurodani’s feared kumicho, knowing that doing so would bring the wrath of the entire criminal organization down on their heads.

Tatsuya is the closest that you’ll get as he’s only tangentially affiliated with one of the few other powerful yakuza groups in Tokyo, the Nekoma organization. Although their power will never come close to the strength of the Fukurodani, your father has a good relationship with their kumicho, Nekomata Yasufumi. The two yakuza groups have had a strong alliance for decades.

Likewise, Bokuto has his own sense of camaraderie and friendship with Nekomata’s wakagashira, Kuroo Tetsuro, whom you’ve had the pleasure of meeting on multiple occasions as you run in the same circles. Unfortunately, it’s never turned into anything more, despite your best efforts.

Kuroo Tetsuro. That’s a man. That’s a real yakuza.

If your luck was better and if relations with the Nekoma group were worse, you probably would have been married off to him rather than the snoozefest that you’ve ended up with.

It’s easy to slip into the fantasy that it’s Kuroo whose grip feels scorching on your thigh, whose fingers are pumping in and out of your dripping cunt, whose tongue is lapping at your needy clit. The image in your head pushes you closer to the edge as your hips buck in time with his fingers.

But just as you can see your orgasm within reach, your attention is yanked away from your pleasure when the door to the VIP room opens with a BANG! as it’s kicked in. You protest with a whine as Tatsuya lifts his head from between your thighs, pure murder written across his face at having been disturbed.

Unaffected by the interruption, you use your grip on his hair to try and tug him back to his original task, but it’s of no use. He’s already removing his arm from around your thigh to reach back and pull out the gun that’s been tucked in the waistband of his pants.

You're momentarily impressed that he would flaunt the country’s severe firearm restrictions. Although the effect is lost a few moments later when he sits up only to freeze, his features going slack.

When you finally turn your head to see who’s behind the disruption, you frown unhappily.

“Kita-san,” you greet with an irritated sigh. And even you know that you’ll never get Tatsuya’s mouth back on your pussy at this point and you release your hold on his hair with a resigned huff.

Tatsuya scrambles to remove himself entirely from between your legs, carelessly dropping his gun onto the low table before the couch that you’re sprawled out across. He lifts his hands to show that they’re now empty and he’s not a threat, as if anyone would ever believe he was one.

You wonder if his panic stems from knowing exactly who it is that’s found you both in such a compromising position or if it’s solely due to how intimidating Kita and the two men on either side of him look.

For as boring as he is, you’ll give him credit. The sight of him standing in the doorway, the black jacket of the same suit he wore to dinner draped across broad shoulders, his arms crossed casually over his chest, his expression giving nothing away, is impressive. Even if he didn’t have two of his underlings with him — one with grey hair and one with dark hair, both of them wearing similar looks of apathy — it would be more than enough to put the average person on edge.

However, you’ve spent your whole life surrounded by dangerous men, with dangerous men at your beck and call.

So, as Tatsuya begins to babble, making excuses and insisting that he doesn’t want any trouble, you simply roll your eyes and push down your skirt just enough so that your pussy is no longer on display. But even in the low light of the VIP room, the insides of your thighs — and how they shine with the evidence of your rapidly-cooling arousal — are clearly visible.

“Suna,” Kita says, his gaze fixed on you. The dark-haired man needs no further instruction before he’s moving past his oyabun towards Tatsuya.

He easily grabs the cowering man from the couch by the front of his shirt and roughly shoves him to his knees on the floor, keeping him in place with one hand fisted tightly in his hair, just as yours had been only a few minutes earlier.

Kita slips his jacket from his shoulders and in doing so, you catch a glimpse of the blood-red lining on the inside. He passes it to the man still at his side, who carefully folds it over his arm in a way that won’t leave any creases. He then methodically begins to unbutton and roll up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, exposing his forearms and the large swaths of tattooed skin that extend almost to his wrists.

Part of you is surprised. Kita seems too dull to have even the smallest tattoo, let alone full tattooed sleeves. But another part of you knows how much significance tattoos have historically held to the yakuza and he’s nothing if not traditional. Your thighs unconsciously squeeze together as you imagine how far they spread over the rest of his body.

The action doesn’t seem to escape his notice because he raises an eyebrow at you but makes no further comment before he turns to Tatsuya, who continues to plead for mercy.

“Enough.”

Kita doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t put any force behind the single word. Other than ensuring his sleeves are snugly held in place just below his elbows, he doesn’t even move. But there’s a danger to him that Tatsuya is quick to pick up on and his blubbering comes to an immediate halt.

He fearfully waits for the silver-haired yakuza to go on and when he does, it’s probably not in the way he was expecting. Because rather than explaining who he is or why he’s there — which Tatsuya has probably figured out on his own by this point — Kita places a hand on the back of the kneeling man’s head. The other man, Suna, releases Tatsuya altogether, wordlessly deferring to his oyabun and taking a step back to give his boss space.

The tension in the room is thick as Kita looks down at the trembling man on his knees, his face still as blank as it’s been since his sudden arrival. It snaps in an instant when he sharply yanks Tatsuya’s head down and his nose meets Kita’s raised knee with a sickening crunch! that would leave a less seasoned group of onlookers feeling queasy.

As it stands, both Suna and the other Inarizaki man appear to be amused, entertained even. You get the sense that displays of this nature from the yakuza boss aren’t common.

But as you see the blood pouring from Tatsuya’s nose and hear his howling and watch as your fiancé’s fist repeatedly makes contact with the man’s face, you feel none of that same amusement. You also don’t feel afraid or disgusted or concerned.

You’ve long grown desensitized to the violence associated with the yakuza. If anything, you can feel the boredom setting in once again.

You reach out to the table in front of you for the ashtray where your cigarette rests, having set it down when Tatsuya buried his face in your pussy. However, as soon as you pick it up, a long column of ash falls from the end and you realize with a pout that it’s already burned down to the filter.

The little noise of irritation you let out can’t be heard over Tatsuya’s pained cries or the brutal sound of fist meeting flesh again and again. You pull a new cigarette from the open pack on the table and perch it between your lips before grabbing your cheap lighter.

Once it’s lit, you take a deep, contented inhale of smoke before exhaling a large cloud that sits atop the room before dispersing. You glance back to Kita and Tatsuya to find that the scene looks exactly the same as when you looked away — except for Tatsuya’s face is completely bloodied and already swelling, and he seems on the verge of passing out.

“Really, Kita-san?” you finally ask with a yawn as you roll onto your side, your head pillowed by your bicep.

He pauses, his fist raised mid-air, and looks over at you, his eyes roving over your lackadaisical sprawl across the couch. He wordlessly releases the front of Tatsuya’s shirt from his grasp, who then drops to the floor in a bloody mess.

Suna immediately steps in to harshly kick the man over onto his stomach and places a heavy, threatening foot right on his spine. Not that it matters considering Tatsuya seems to be in and out of consciousness by this point.

But your attention isn’t on Tatsuya; it’s on Kita as he approaches you, his pace unhurried. You’re slightly impressed that he’s barely out of breath from the beating he just delivered. He picks up the discarded gun from the table and in one smooth motion, pulls back the slide to look at the chamber before releasing the magazine to check it as well.

“It’s empty,” he notes before tossing it to the man holding his jacket, who easily catches it and claims it for his own. A loud bubble of laughter escapes you at Tatsuya’s expense, finding it hilarious that the only marginally cool thing that you’ve ever seen him do was all for show.

You slip your cigarette to rest between your smiling lips as your gaze flits between the other Inarizaki men and find that they too appear to think it’s funny. Suna even presses his foot harder into Tatsuya’s back with a smirk that only grows wider when he receives a groan in response.

However, the yakuza boss doesn’t seem to share the humor that you and his men are feeling. He grabs the edge of the table and lifts it up just enough to tilt it and send everything on top of it to the floor with a dull crash. You frown at the waste of a barely touched bottle of champagne, a top-shelf bottle of whiskey, and Tatsuya’s small, unopened bag of cocaine.

Kita pays none of the mess any mind as he takes a seat on the edge of the table’s now cleared surface, directly in front of you. With you still laid out on the couch, you’re eye level with his knees.

You look up at him and raise a challenging eyebrow, daring him to make his next move, daring him to keep you interested. You’re sorely disappointed when the first thing that he does is tug down your skirt to protect your modesty, something you find truly pointless considering the three men walked in on you in the middle of having your pussy eaten.

The sensation of the backs of his fingers running along the skin of your thigh as he pulls on the fabric sends a small shiver down your spine and reminds you that you were interrupted before you could cum. You shift your leg to expose your inner thigh to him in a tempting invitation for him to finish what Tatsuya started, but he simply ignores your provocation and gives your skirt one final tug to ensure it’s in place.

With a displeased roll of your eyes, you take another deep drag of your cigarette. But before you’ve finished, Kita plucks it from your lips and holds it aloft. He ignores your cry of protest as he waits half a moment for Suna to take it from him. You sit up in an effort to try and grab it back, but Kita’s fingers suddenly grip your chin hard enough that you think you’ll still feel them tomorrow.

He’s grasping you with the same hand that he used to pummel Tatsuya and you can feel how his fingers are warm and sticky with the man’s blood. It only takes a quick glance down to see that his knuckles are drenched in it.

With his hold keeping you in place, you’re unable to see what Suna does with your cigarette. However, you soon hear Tatsuya let out a low moan of pain and you have an idea.

“That’s a filthy habit,” he says. His tone is rather benign but you’re certain that you’re being scolded. “I won’t have ya keepin’ it up as my wife.”

You let out an unattractive snort and hope your expression conveys just how unimpressed you are.

“They’re my lungs. If I wanna turn them black, that’s my right.” If he didn’t have your chin held so firmly, you would probably have stuck out your tongue and pulled down on your lower eyelid to taunt him.

“Yer rights extend only to the ones that I allow ya to have,” he comments and from any other man, there would be a threatening weight to his words. Kita, however, speaks them so casually that it sounds like he’s making nothing more than an absent observation of an indisputable fact.

You can only pout in return and he releases his grip to give your cheek a gentle, condescending pat. He then lifts his unbloodied hand out at his side with his palm facing up.

“Osamu.”

The Inarizaki man with the grey hair is quick to come forward, his hand slipping inside the jacket that he’s still carrying to pull out something from the inner pocket and place it into Kita’s patiently waiting palm. He then returns to his previous spot near the door, ensuring that there’s a respectful distance between himself and Kita and you once more.

The small, carefully polished wooden box that he’s been given piques your interest. When he opens the lid, your eyes widen at the ring sitting inside of it. It’s elegant and beautiful — a traditional round diamond set atop a thin, pavé diamond band. It manages to avoid being ostentatious while still leaving no doubt about its expensive price tag, and therefore the status of the man who gave it to you.

For such a boring man, he apparently has good taste.

Your left hand moves on its own as you lift it for him expectantly. There’s the briefest flash of amusement in his eyes — the first real emotion that you’ve seen from him. But he wordlessly takes the ring from the box and slips it onto your third finger.

The first instinct you have as soon as you feel the cool metal on your skin is to bring it to your face so that you can examine your new engagement ring more closely. But he grabs your hand so suddenly to keep it in place that it startles you.

You raise your gaze to see that his own is glued to the ring that you’re now wearing. His thumb gently sweeps across the band and the gesture is a sharp contrast to how tightly his fingers are clasped around yours.

“See this?” He nods towards the ring, as if there were anything else that he could be referring to. “It’s not just a beautiful ring on yer pretty finger. It's a symbol of our commitment — yer commitment to me.”

It’s slight, barely even noticeable, but there’s an edge to his tone that’s been missing all night. You can suddenly imagine how it is this young, unassuming man with his calm and collected temperament worked his way to the top of the most powerful yakuza syndicate in Japan.

He takes a long moment to pause thoughtfully and it seems so natural that you wonder if this is a common occurrence when he speaks. You suppose you’ll have the rest of your life to figure it out.

“I have a lot of respect for yer father,” he breaks the silence, confusing you with the direction that he’s chosen to take your conversation. “He’s built one of the most sophisticated operations in the country. He’s a smart man who’s surrounded himself with people he can trust, who would take a bullet or a prison sentence for him without question. I won’t hesitate to say that he’s earned his reputation.”

He sounds sincere, but you still have no idea where he’s going with this. If this were anyone else, in any other situation, you would ask if he was more interested in marrying your father than interested in marrying you. You have enough self-awareness to know that doing so with Kita wouldn’t go well — but only just.

“He’s a man of honor and I don’t mean to insult him.” He pauses again, this one shorter than the previous one. However, something about it feels heavier and when he finally looks back up at you, his eyes are much colder.

“The Fukurodani may be the most powerful syndicate in Kanto, but when it comes down to it, no one can match the power and numbers of the Inarizaki,” he states.

Maybe it’s the matter-of-fact way he says it, maybe it’s how composed his expression is despite the events of that evening, but you’re suddenly incredibly aware of how his grip on your fingers has slowly tightened over the last few minutes, almost bordering on painful.

“I already own everythin’ from Kansai to Kyushu. If I wanted Tokyo, I could come and take it.” You believe him. While your father won’t let you in on his operations, you’re far from clueless about the politics of the criminal underworld, including who has power and how much.

And Kita is right. The Fukurodani are the most powerful group in Kanto, one of the most powerful groups in all of Japan — second only to the Inarizaki. If a war broke out between the two over control of the country’s capital, it would be a hard and bloody conflict but the Inarizaki would undoubtedly be the victors.

This marriage benefits your father more than it does Kita.

“Maybe one day I will. The alliance doesn’t really matter,” he tells you. But while he looks slightly pensive as he speaks, the corners of your lips begin to slowly turn upwards.

“Then what is it you want, Kiiiiitaaa-saaaan?” you ask, playfully stretching out his family name — what will soon be your family name.

The coldness in his demeanor seems to melt, although not into anything that could ever be considered close to warm. If you had to describe it, you would probably call it patronizing.

“Y’know they call ya Tokyo’s yakuza princess?” he replies and your smirk widens. It takes some effort with how tight his grip is, but you manage to wiggle your fingers just loose enough to intertwine them with his.

“Do they?” you ask innocently, as if you haven’t proudly worn the title over the years. You look at him knowingly through your lashes. “Even in the Hyogo countryside?”

“Even in the Hyogo countryside,” he answers mildly, briefly humoring you and you reward him with a pleased grin.

“Oh really?” you muse, bringing your joined hands up to your lips to lightly skim them along his bloody and torn knuckles.

His tolerance seems to have hit its limit because he quickly yanks his hand from yours to grab your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks so roughly that you give a small wince. His hand is large enough that it covers your mouth almost entirely.

If anyone else were in your position, they would most likely be trembling in fear. You can only smile into his palm, the mischief mirrored in your eyes.

Kita doesn’t come across as a man who often — if ever — gives into temptation. But although his patience with you has grown thin, he seems willing to allow himself just one small indulgence.

His hand shifts so that he can slowly run his thumb across your lips, leaving behind a sticky smear of blood in its wake. As his touch reaches your cupid’s bow, you slightly part your lips to press a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb before opening your mouth and catching it between your teeth.

You use just enough pressure so that he can’t simply slip it free. The metallic tang of blood is strong on your tongue as you brush it teasingly against the tip, your gaze meeting his coyly. You close your lips around his thumb and give it a light suck that would have a lesser man on his knees, begging for you to let him between your thighs.

Kita reacts with a thoughtful hum and nothing else, not even the most minute muscle twitch.

“Tokyo’s spoiled little yakuza princess whose father lets her get away with whatever she wants,” he remarks, entirely unbothered even as you continue to suckle on his thumb while he speaks. “I won’t be anywhere near as lenient with ya. And I won’t have ya makin’ a fool outta me just because we’re not married yet.”

Although the danger is there, completely unmistakable, his voice lacks the menacing tone that should accompany his words. Instead, they’re low and soft, caressing your ears like a lover’s would, luring you in seductively.

Impulse control has never been something that you’ve practiced; it’s never been something that you’ve needed to practice. In an act of utter shamelessness, you take his free hand, the one casually hanging from his knee, and place it high on your bare thigh.

When you try to slide it further under the hem of your skirt, which has already begun to ride up since he tugged it down, you find that his hand is immovable. His fingers dig into the fat of your thigh, sinking into your soft skin with the weight of both his grip and his possessiveness.

“Yer mine now,” he tells you, his voice still gentle and entirely at odds with his burning touch and the taste of blood in your mouth. “I don’t need to wait for paperwork or a ceremony to make it official.”

His heavy gaze drops down to look pointedly at how you’re thighs are squeezing together, even as he keeps one of them firmly in place. He then slowly drags it back up to meet yours, leaving a scorching trail in its wake.

“I’m not just gonna give ya whatever it is ya ask for.” The words are a threat, even if he speaks them like a promise. “If ya want somethin’ from me, yer gonna have to earn it.”

Right now, there’s only one thing that you want from him and it's at the forefront of your mind.

“But I didn’t get to cum,” you whine around his thumb, your pitiful complaint slightly muffled.

Osamu and Suna’s matching looks of disbelief go unnoticed by you and Kita, neither man ever having imagined that someone would dare to say something so brazen to their fearsome oyabun.

There’s a flash in Kita’s eyes and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards for a fraction of a second. Both happen so quickly that you only notice because he has your rapt attention and it slowly dawns on you.

He likes it. He likes your audacity. He likes your impertinence. He likes how you sound like the spoiled brat that you are. He likes that he has Tokyo’s spoiled little yakuza princess squeezing his hand between her thighs and sucking on his thumb as she pathetically pleads with him to make her cum.

His thumb is slick with your saliva as he slips it from your mouth despite your efforts to keep it where it is by trying to sink your teeth deeper into it. He leaves a quickly-cooling trail of spit on your skin as he readjusts his hold on your jaw, once again digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks. The action only exaggerates the pout that you’re already giving him.

“And ya won’t again ‘til we’re married. I don’t care if it’s with someone else. I don’t care if it’s with yerself. The next time ya do will be on our wedding night.” He pauses, letting the silence hang over the room so that the impact of his next words is truly felt. “If yer good.”

You let out a displeased noise in protest but it goes ignored as he uses his grasp on your jaw to move your head a bit to the side so that you’re looking over his shoulder and directly at the grey-haired Inarizaki man behind him.

“This is Osamu. He’s gonna be stayin’ in Tokyo for a bit.” He gives you a single wave in acknowledgment from where he stands. “Yer father’s already agreed to it.”

The implication is clear: Osamu is to be Kita’s eyes and ears in Tokyo. If you act in any way that’s unbefitting of your new status as the woman set to marry the Inarizaki’s kumicho, he’ll certainly know.

“You’ll be seein’ a lot of him,” he tells you as he returns your focus back to him. He then leans forward, closing the gap between you to tenderly press a light kiss to your forehead, his lips moving against your skin with his next words. “So, be good for me.”

He sits back and meets your gaze expectantly and it’s clear that he wants your assurance that you’ll do as told. You give a childish roll of your eyes and his grip tightens in warning.

“I’ll be good,” you reply, the words feeling foreign on your tongue but they seem to appease him.

However, his eyes soon land on your lips and then narrow. It’s a small movement, but the temperature of the room seems to drop with it. His next question is spoken as softly as everything else he’s said that night, but there’s a new kind of gravity to it, one that promises danger should he receive an answer that he doesn’t like.

“Did ya use yer mouth on him?”

It’s clear that Tatsuya’s life depends on your response. Luckily for him, there’s only one answer that you can give.

“I don’t suck cock,” you say and it’s only because Kita is grasping so tightly onto your jaw that you don’t physically turn your nose up at the suggestion of you getting on your knees.

But then something unexpected happens. The calm and carefully controlled expression on Kita’s face softens into something finally approaching fondness, a faint smile forming on the straight line of his lips.

“You will for me,” he promises and you raise a challenging eyebrow, even as your own grin begins to grow.

“I will?” you ask playfully and he nods.

“You will if ya wanna be good,” he’s kind enough to remind you and there’s a strange fluttering in your stomach that you’ve never experienced before.

“Yes, Shin-kun,” you smile, and despite barely having had any of the champagne that’s now spilled across the floor, you feel drunk.

You hardly wait for Kita to order his men to leave with a firm but impassive, “out,” before sliding from the couch and sinking to the floor between his parted legs. Your knees already ache from the unfamiliar sensation of resting against such a hard surface.

The weight of his hand on the back of your neck burns as you rub your cheek against the expensive fabric of the slacks covering his muscled thigh. As you reach for the buckle of his belt, you look up at him to find him watching you ravenously.

It absently occurs to you that throughout the entire evening, you never once heard him raise his voice. Even when he was brutally assaulting Tatsuya, he never seemed angry or bothered. No matter the situation, he remained unfazed.

But as you slide a hand inside of his pants to grip his half-hard cock through the soft material of his boxers, you can see it. Underneath his composed visage and mild temperament, burning bright in his shining and hungry eyes, is a dangerous flame — one that threatens to consume you and every inch of Tokyo in a devastating and all-consuming blaze.

Maybe Kita Shinsuke isn’t as boring as you thought.

#kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kita x reader #kita shinsuke fanfic #kita shinsuke fic #kita fic #kita fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fic #mel writes #traditional values

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shojoisms · 2 years

Text

kita x reader

cw: size kink, breeding, fem reader, cervix fucking, smut mdni!

a/n: unedited, not beta’d and straight from my Google docs — having more Shinsuke thoughts :’)

“Shin, shiiiin, shin,” You whine, your body writhing in pleasure as he pulls yet another orgasm from you. 3, 4, 5 — you’re not sure how many times he’s made you cum, your mind was hazy and you were more focused on the way his thick cock makes you feel nice and full.

Kita thinks it’s cute — you’re cute.

The way you claw and grab at his sturdy arms that trap you in, between him and the mattress every time he thrusts his hips into yours — his cock reaching even further inside you while his fat, mushroom tip pounds against your cervix.

“Yes, darlin’?” Kita’s voice is laced with honey, although raspy it was still icky sweet while he places kisses upon your neck. Your cunt clenched around him — causing him to let out a low grunt as he relishes in how responsive your body is to him.

“Use yer words,” His hand coming up to your face to push back your hair that was matted against your skin before he places more kisses on the sides of your cheek. “Come on, baby tell me how good I’m makin’ ya feel.”

You’re trying so hard to form a single sentence, although it’s damn near impossible — the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls with each thrust has your mind breaking.

“‘So good, so good” You nearly scream out and your lover lets a low chuckle escape his lips. “Yea?”

“Need you,” Your breathing becomes labored, looking at him with lust blown eyes, “need you to breed me, wanna carry your babies,”

Kita’s hips still, brown eyes darkening as he looks over your disheveled form — running his tongue across his lower lip, he asks. “Ya sure, that’s what ya want? Wanna be pumped nice and full with my cum?”

You nod your head rapidly, almost desperately, you flinch when you feel him trace his hand down your stomach until it stops right above your womb. “Want me to breed this slutty pussy?” He asks, picking up his pace.

“Yes, yes, fuck, f—uck,”

Kita’s hips slam harshly against yours, the bed creaking in the process as the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin and your moans echo throughout the room.

He angles his hips — hands roughly grabbing at yours while he angles himself for better precision, drilling into you mercilessly as he gives you what you wanted.

Your walls spasming, and clenching around him as you desperately claw at the bed. It’s getting harder for Kita to hold on — you feel so warm and snug around him, and the thought of you so round, so full does nothing but ignite the feral desire in him to stuff you full of his cum, to mark you, to finally claim you.

The thought alone has his cock throbbing, and pulsating inside of you while he continues drilling into you. “F—fuck, sweetheart, yer makin’ it harder for me,”

With one final thrust, he finally cums, emptying himself inside of you — thick ropes of semen painting your walls white.. but.. it’s not enough, he needs to fill you up until he’s sure he’s gotten you pregnant.

He doesn’t pull out, and you can feel his cock stir inside you — coming back to life as repositions your body for better access.

he looks at you, strands of black and silver clinging to his forehead, and hearts in his ears, his skin is flushed — a dust of pink spreading from his cheeks to his ears.

“We’re not done yet,”

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #kita shinsuke x reader smut #kita shinsuke x reader #kita smut #kita Shinsuke smut #haikyu x reader smut #haikyuu imagines #kita shinsuke x y/n #kita Shinsuke x you #haikyuu x reader

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emmyrosee · 11 months

Note

HAI EMMY!!! i've always wanted to send this request since it's been on the back of my mind for a while now;;

i just wanna know how kita shinsuke would act if he had a crush. likeeee would he be straightforward about it, or would he shy away from his feelings, OR OR OR IMAGINE IF HE BECAME ALL CLUMSY BECAUSE READER HAS SUCH A SOFT SPOT IN HIS PURE LITTLE HEART. AUGUAHAHHUH he's so cute and pinchable it hurts.

you don't have to tend to this request right away, of course. ^^ I JUST HOPE YOU'RE DOING WELL AND PLSPLSPLS DO STAY HYDRATED!!! ・゜(。┰ω┰。).・゜

*sneezes* you got me in my feelings mate 🥺❤️❤️ also this is pre-timeskip bc I needed the boys for support dont @ me

Because kita shinsuke- the man, the myth, the love of my life and the reason I wake up in the morning…

Is SO. DANG. BAD. when it comes to having a crush, because all his steadiness and confidence and grounding is completely gone, and he turns into a mess. With most feelings, it’s easy for him, the love he feels for his granny is complete adoration, his teammates are admiration, and you… he doesn’t know what you are, because you feel different than he is used to.

All his ducks were lined up if anyone were to ask how his emotions were sorted. Then you came along out of seemingly no where.

He doesn’t know what happened; he’s known you for years, you’ve been in similar classes and know each others name, but then you started showing up when Suna Rintaro came along, even sitting quietly at practice while the second-year played. While people noticed your arrival- namely the twins- Suna would immediately shut them down with a snap of his fingers and a dominating “absolutely not.”

From then, Kita just assumed you were off limits. Not that he had specific feelings for you regardless, but he kept his distance just in case.

One day, Rintaro fell at practice and twisted his ankle, and while you had indeed helped him to the bench and laid ice on it, your scolding was just a loud hiss as practice continued.

He… liked, that you weren’t going to sugar coat the magnitude of injuries.

After that, for some unholy reason, you’ve absolutely plagued his mind.

His serves are off, he’s working harder and harder in practice as if to impress you, talking more in class for you to hear his voice. He tries to find shoes to make him look taller, shirts that tone him a bit more, he tries to style his hair a little different, anything and everything to be more visible to you.

All that seems to do, however, is make the twins notice him.

“You could be a long lost twin,” Osamu snickers on a rare day you’re not at practice, taking a sip from his water. He raises his hands in defense when Kita shoots him a small glare, “I’m serious! Cant say I don’t appreciate the style but… why?”

“Because captain’s in looooove,” Atsumu sings, dramatically resting his head on Kita’s shoulder. Kita blinks down unamused at the blonde, but everyone sees right through him as his back tenses and eyes blow out slightly. His cheeks give a small flush, and he’s so full of it, it hurts.

“Being in love implies that there’s a two party consent,” he defends. “I have absolutely no indication that she has any feelings other than platonic for me.”

“Not true! Suna’s in love with you!”

“AM NOT!”

“See? The love Suna has for me, is not part of a two party consent. Not quite the same as being in love.”

“KITA-SAN?!”

Kita ignores the completely offended middle blocker, giving Atsumu a small shrug of his shoulder to make him raise his head. The setter does, but not without continuing the conversation, “come onnnn! What have you got to lose by confessing? Huh? Plus you gotta be in love, because you’re so nervous for those feelings to not be mutual, if you weren’t you wouldn’t care!”

And gosh, he does have Kita there. Why do you make him so nervous? Truly! Maybe it’s his fault, perhaps he sees you as a fond younger class man, despite being in the same years… in… fact you may be older than him? But that’s beside the point,

“You know Kita-San, I’ve never seen you so… out of it,” Osamu continues. “You’re usually like, cold and stoic and straightforward-“

“Benched me three practices ago when I kept fooling around,” Suna snickers.

“Yeah! Now you’re smiling at your phone and laughing more during drills at our crap and just… happier. It’s strange.”

A thick brow cocks in confusion for Osamu’s words, “im… I didn’t think those were bad characteristics to have?”

Finally, to mend the situation, Aran sighs and stands up to clap Kita on the back, “I think what our eloquent second hears are trying to say, is that she’s good for you… maybe you pursue something with her and get some answers.”

Maybe he should.

Kita thinks he should sleep on it.

But in fact, all Kita does is toss and turn. All night. Thinking about all the outcomes if he does, or doesn’t, confess to you and how you may or may not feel about him in return.

In fact, Kita spends the whole rest of the day thinking and day dreaming about you and the mere idea that you could return any of the affections he could share. He shambles uncharacteristically like a zombie, a complete 180 from his usual composed self.

With all love in the world… you’re ruining his life.

He’s barely able to comprehend his movements, if he didn’t have a team relying on him, he’d immediately try to go home for the day and shake whatever remnants of you are on his mind.

His team, who look at him with cocked brows as Kita enters the gym with a massive, book in his hand; and listen… he doesn’t really know where he got it either.

But it has your name on it. He can’t remember if you left it, or forgot it, or… honestly, he may have stole the thing on a subconscious whim to talk to you.

Either way, he’s got it and not you.

“Whatcha got there, cap?”

“Her book,” he says flatly. “She… left it on her desk… I think. She needs it for her homework.” He looks at the second year who’s glancing back up at him with sharp eyes. “I was wondering if you could bring it to her on your walks home.”

“Or,” Suna says, hopping back onto his feet once his shoes are tied. “You could return it, and maybe then tell her how you feel?” He takes out his phone and immediately, his fingers start to fly.

“Oh… I’m not sure about that-“

“Too late,” he says indifferently. “I already texted her that you were on your way; she was on her way here after digging for it, so,” he claps his captain on the back. “Have at thee.”

Kita sighs in defeat, “remind me to force a phone-ban when I get back.”

“That’s my captain,” Suna teases. But he does send Kita an encouraging push on his back, and the captain takes a deep breath before shuffling out.

And his thoughts of what to say run over and over and over and over again, creating a string of words to fire out at anything and everything you could say.

He just wants to confess at this point. He can’t go on being so stiff and distracted; he needs you to either like him back, or reject him.

That, of course, dissipates when he sees you on the other end of the hall.

Your face brightens up as you see him, bouncing relieved on your toes and he approaches with his usual small smile.

“You are a godsend,” you praise, and Kita’s ears turn hot pink at your words. “I just completely blanked on grabbing it, thank you, thank you.”

“It’s no trouble,” he assures. He then swallows thickly as he continues to watch you place the book in your bag and then trying to make your way to the gym to watch Suna and the boys.

He, subconsciously, steps in front of you.

“Kita-San?”

“I… think you look pretty today,” he says, gnawing his lip and keeping very intense eye contact with you. You tip your head and, in an attempt to ease his nerves, crack a joke.

This, evidently, was a bad idea.

“Huh. Am I not pretty everyday?”

You almost hear the whimper in his throat, and before you can tell him that you’re just joking, the word fountains turn on and he’s off.

“Of course you are! It’s just that today in class, I couldn’t stop glancing over at you and the way you were chewing on your pen- because even though that’s bad for your teeth it made you look positively focused and your eyes were kept on the board and no one else and I couldn’t help but look at you because I like the way you look when your focused, I like the way you look when you do anything-“ he takes a deep breath while you blink in surprise.

“Kita-San?”

“-And I don’t know how to stop liking the way that you look but the way that it’s making me feel is making me feel confused and almost a little frightened because I’ve never had these feelings before but apparently Suna has similar feelings and according to Atsumu that’s normal to have feelings that may be unreciprocated-“

“Kita-San!”

“-But he’s the one that encouraged me to do this because I’ve been such a fool with everything I do because I can’t stop thinking about you and Atsumu said that it’s easier to get an answer rather than guess and-“ there’s small snickering around the corner, and the shy, rambling Kita snaps back to his usual composed, captain form, “atsumu, I hear you over there. 50 push ups and 3 laps around the court when I come back to practice!”

“Suna’s here too!” A voice whines.

“Then both of you! OUT!”

There’s a dash of sneakers down the hallway. He takes a deep breath and finally looks back at you, completely flushed and out of breath from the past minute and a half.

He clears his throat before he cards his hair back, “for… for reference, I have no desire of pursuing a relationship with Suna.”

You blink. Then, you snort to try and hide a giggle.

Then, you’re laughing, you’re laughing straight into his face and clutching your sides, and he could almost cry from embarrassment, swallowing thickly and looking down the hall where the twins were hiding.

“I understand,” he says quietly. “I do hope you continue to support our team-“

“Kita-San,” you say, trying to gather yourself. You reach for his hand, which is clammy and he feels bad for, but you don’t seem to mind. “I’m laughing because I like you too; I’m always staring at you too, Mr. Perfect, even when you do see it.” You plant a small kiss to his knuckles and he nearly faints.

“I was laughing, because Suna is basically obsessed with you, I tease him for it constantly on our walks home; just the idea that you had to clarify to me that you were indifferent towards that was just silly.” He opens and closes his mouth like a fish to try and reply, but you shake your head with a smile, “I like the way you look. I like the way you put your heart and soul into everything you do. I like the way you always have some money incase someone needs something for the vending machine.” You beam up at him, and he feels like he’s floating, but he finally cracks a smile back, and when you open your palm in an attempt to initiate hand-holding, he laces his fingers with yours happily.

As you walk down the hall, only the sound of footsteps ring through the air, and kita is happy, he’s thrilled that not only do you feel the same, but you had no judgement towards him. You liked him for all the reasons he couldn’t see, and that meant the world to him.

Then, you hum, and he casts you a look.

“Is it really that bad to chew on the end of your pen?”

“Horrendous,” he chuckles. “The enamel of your teeth wears down.” You laugh and shake your head at the silly fact.

“But that’s okay,” he continues. “I like when you do it. It’s endearing.”

486 notes · View notes

krisdreaming · 10 months

Text

Pairing: Kita Shinsuke x f!reader

Summary: Literally just papa Kita fluff :')))

WC: 831

A/N: I've been in SUCH a Kita mood lately, it's unreal. This ficlet just flowed out of me, idek where it came from. Tbh I have another fic for him in mind but idk when I'll actually write it aha.

Coming inside after a long day of working in the fields is one of Shinsuke's favorite things. His muscles feel warm with an almost-pleasant ache after so many hours working hard in the sun, and the thought of all he'd accomplished that day fills him with contentment. He makes his way through the house in search of his favorite sight of the day.

He finds it in the nursery. You've just finished changing your son, and now you're tickling his chubby belly, eliciting the sweet sounds of his giggles. You're laughing, too, and the way the sounds twine together is like music to his ears. He leans against the door frame, resting his cheek against the cool wood as he silently watches the two of you.

"Okay, time for your jammies," You eventually coo, turning to the dresser and pulling out a soft blue and white footie pajama set. Your son is babbling away on the changing table. Neither of you have noticed him yet, and he doesn't quite want to break the spell. He watches you tug the pajamas on, and can't help but smile at the soft pinch you give to the baby's irresistibly pudgy leg as you do so.

"All done," You finally announce, lifting him up and pressing a kiss to his soft cheek. "Now, let's go see if Papa's finished working yet." Finally, you turn and catch sight Shinsuke. His smile widens, and you let out a soft gasp of surprise.

"How long were you standing there?" You ask with a breathy chuckle. Having caught sight of his Papa, your son begins to squirm in your arms.

"Not too long," He assures you, stepping into the room to meet you and take your son from your arms. He babbles happily, digging his fingers into the fabric of Shinsuke's shirt. "Hi there," He turns his attention to the little one in his arms, lifting him up to press a few kisses of his own to his cheeks. "Looks like somebody's all ready for bed."

"Yup," You nod, resting your hand on your husband's arm. "Do you mind watching him while I take a quick shower?"

"Of course," He says quickly, leaning in for a kiss. "Take as long as you need. I've got him."

"Thanks," You press another kiss to his cheek, then head off.

"Yer Mama's pretty amazing, ya know," He says softly the moment you're out of earshot. "She takes such good care of ya, even though Papa has to spend so much time outside." Your son blinks up at him, a smile breaking out on his face at the attention from his father. "I know how much ya love her, too," He adds, "I can tell. Probably love her more than yer Papa." He chuckles, without a hint of jealousy. "Can't blame ya. I love her a lot too. More every day."

Your son's eyelids are starting to droop, and he slowly rocks him as he makes his way to the living room. "That's right," He murmurs as he settles down on the couch, gently laying him on his lap. "Just go ta sleep."

He doesn't say much after that, just admiring the child in his arms as his eyes slowly close. His little nose looks just like yours, and Shinsuke rests his fingertip on it ever so gently. Sometimes he just can't resist the delicate features and soft skin of your son, caught up in the wonderment that this small human is a perfect combination of the two of you.

He studies him until you finally emerge from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in a soft t-shirt and shorts. You join them on the couch, tucking your legs up beneath you as you rest your cheek on Shinsuke's shoulder, joining him in peering down at your son.

"I don't know how you always get him to sleep so quickly," You murmur. "I'm a little jealous."

Shinsuke shrugs slightly, then presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Dunno," He says softly. "I just talk to him."

You shake your head. "Well, whatever you do, it works." You laugh quietly, lapsing into silence for a few moments.

"We should get him to bed," You finally say, sitting more upright. "If you put him down, I'll get a quick meal together for you. I'm sure you're starving."

"I'm alright," He assures you, unable to hold back the smile starting to tug at his lips. "I'll put him down, and then we can make somethin' together." As the two of you stand, he leans in to press a kiss to your lips. He lingers more than he means to, and your hand comes to rest on his cheek.

"I love you," He murmurs as he pulls away, smile mirroring your own.

"I love you too," You reply, and land a final peck on the tip of his nose. Every single moment of his work day is worth it, just for moments like these.

#Haikyuu #Haikyuu fluff #Haikyuu x reader #Kita Shinsuke x reader #Kita x reader #Kita fluff #Kita Shinsuke

429 notes · View notes

suguwu · 1 year

Text

lover be good to me: part one

You meet Kita Shinsuke on a rainy summer day, with a sea of hydrangeas swirling at your feet. You know him instantly, as only a soulmate can. He seems like a good man. Like a good soulmate.

But it's your wedding day.

minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

pairings: kita shinsuke x f!reader, oc x f!reader

notes: this fic has been a long time coming—it's basically my baby at this point. i'm so excited to finally get to share part one with you! i am so thankful for everyone who has sat thru me yelling about this to them. and a million thank yous to my beta, between your enthusiasm for this fic and all your help with it—i don't know if it could have been done without you!

title and part title are from hozier's "be" and "nfwmb"

tags for this part: soulmate au (first words), this is a very reader-centric story, very significant reader x oc, slow burn, hurt/comfort, pining, alcohol consumption, anxiety.

see main fic tags here.

wc: 13k

The hydrangeas are in full bloom.

You can see them through the window: the sea in each blossom, the radiant blue of them veined through with white, ocean and foam detailed in petals. They nod with the rain, weighed down by the fat droplets.

There are two men that keep passing through the sea of hydrangeas like ships, leaving little eddies of blooms in their wake. They must be vendors considering they’re weighted down by boxes, though neither seems bothered by their load.

You watch them for a moment. They’re both efficient, unbothered by the slow, steady drizzle. You rest your chin on your cupped palm, eyes drawn to the shorter man. There’s a few strands of hair peeking out from beneath his hat, the hazy gray of it—black-tipped like thunderclouds—an odd contrast to his lean, toned body.

He makes his way through the courtyard, and you lean forward to keep him in sight, your nose almost pressed against the foggy window pane. He steps carefully around a drooping hydrangea bloom, his calm face visible for the first time, and something threads through you for a breath unraveling too quickly for you to place.

He ducks beneath the eaves and out of your sight.

Just in time, too. The rain picks up drumming gently against the ground, carrying a few loosened petals with it. The other man—broader and taller but no less graceful for it—spits out a curse. He hurries forward until he too is gone from view.

“Told you it would rain,” Abe says from behind you, making you yelp. She presses in next to you. Her breath billows over the window pane blooming hazy against it, a marine fog.

“You did,” you say with a laugh. “So did the weather channel. Almost a full week before you did.”

She scoffs. “Yes, but that’s their job. Mine was sheer instinct.”

“And listening to the weather channel?”

“Must you slander me?”

“Yes,” you say, smiling, but your gaze returns to the courtyard where the hydrangeas are bleeding petals under the rain’s heavy cut.

“Are you nervous?”

You meet Abe’s gaze in the reflection of the window pane. Her dark eyes are warm and soft, and maybe a little bit sad.

“Should I be?” you ask.

She wraps a small hand around yours and you realize you’ve been tapping your nail against your water glass, a crystalline symphony.

“No,” she says firmly. “You shouldn’t.”

Warmth blooms in your chest, sprouts like flowers between the cracks in the concrete. You lean into her. She sighs, long and put-upon, but she tilts towards you, opens her body to you. It’s an invitation you know well. You rest your head in the crook of her shoulder and stare out the window.

“Yeah,” you say. “You’re right.”

“Always am.”

“That’s debatable, Natsu.”

She grumbles but starts to pull away without comment when the kimono stylist calls out for her. She pauses for a moment. She leans in and adjusts your shiromuku carefully, her fingers deft. Then she squeezes your hand softly, familiar and warm, like a song you’ll always know. You squeeze back.

You watch her reflection in the window until it blurs at the edges. She’s already bickering with Yoshikawa by the time it fades entirely from the foggy windowpane, their voices carrying. You’re sure that they’re curled together over Yoshikawa’s phone, flicking through the itinerary you’ve already forgotten most of.

There’s movement beyond the window and you perk up as the man from before walks by. He’s kept under the eaves by the increased rain, and you can see the way it’s dampened his hair to something closer to slate.

There’s a gleam of amber above the boxes he’s carrying; the briefest flash of his eyes, bright and keen. He sweeps by the window almost close enough to touch, and you press your fingertips against the cool pane without thinking.

It’s this closeness that lets you see his phone—a flip phone, of all things, with a little charm you can’t quite make out dangling from it—slip from his pocket. You wince as it drops out of view.

He keeps going though, utterly unfazed. The rain has overshadowed the noise you realize, and you’re darting outside before you even know it, the shoji rattling slightly from your force. The summer humidity rolls over you, so stark against your aircon-chilled skin that you shiver with it.

“You dropped your phone!” you call out after the man, hurrying along the engawa to scoop it up, careful of your shiromuku’s hem. The tiny charm is a stylized stalk of rice, you realize, the little panicles at the top colored with shimmering golden paint. It’s cute. A little at odds with his utilitarian flip phone, but cute nonetheless.

Ahead of you, the man goes still.

He’s turning around when his name unfurls inside of you.

The movies hadn’t said it was anything like this.

There’s no passion ripping through you like forest fire, no lightning strike sizzling his name into your very bones. It’s slow and soft, like slipping into bathwater after a long, hard day, the heated kiss of it a balm against all of your bruises. Like the bloom of the first crocuses, a promise of spring after the long winter.

“Oh, Shinsuke,” you breathe, and you think you’ve never known a name so well, that each curve of it was made to fit upon your tongue.

The man—Shinsuke—stares at you. And then his lips tilt into a faint smile, tender like the oncoming dawn; a watercolor sky burgeoning with sunlight, a world coming awake. You think you could build a home in the way he looks at you.

“There you are,” he says softly. “I’ve been waiting.”

You know.

You’ve known for years that he’s been waiting for you; it’s been scrawled on your skin this whole time. He has always, always been waiting for you.

Your soulmark pulses faintly. For a breath, you think you can see it glow despite the heavy layers you have on.

“Shinsuke,” you say again. It’s a helpless little sound, the edges of it catching in your throat like burrs. You need to say something else. You know you do. You know what you have to tell him, but he’s looking at you so softly that the words keep getting lost.

Your grip on his phone tightens until the little rice charm is cutting into your skin.

His smile starts to fade. It curls in on itself, wilting at the edges, like the last of the summer flowers.

He’s been looking at only you, you realize. Just you. Your face, most likely, but it feels like something more—as if he’s seeing down to your marrow, as if he’s flayed you open beneath his tender gaze. He’s only been looking at you. Nothing else.

He’s been looking at you, but you think he’s seeing the rest now. Your careful makeup. Your pristine hair.

Your lavish shiromuku—carefully embroidered with the elegant sweep of cranes’ wings and with delicate petals unfolding into bountiful chrysanthemums—that fits you perfectly, the heavy silk of it as white as driven snow.

You couldn’t find the words for it, caught up in the gentle sun of his joy as it pooled golden around you, but he’s finally seeing what you couldn’t say.

It’s your wedding day.

***

Your soulmark appears when you’re twelve, all without you even noticing.

Summer is in full bloom in Toyooka; the wet lick of a heatwave has settled oppressive over the countryside. It’s relentless. Even the rice fields seem to feel it, the verdant green ripple of them becoming a honey-slow shiver under the wind’s gentle touch.

In the heat the cicadas’ call goes lazy; the storks only come out in the earliest parts of morning. They wade carefully through the still waters of the rice paddies, their beaks flashing in the weak sunlight as they needle down into the murk.

The rental house is tucked carefully between two farms, a lone house amid the rippling rice plants. It’s old but well-maintained, a perfect little hideaway for your mother to finish her study. In the heat, she keeps the shoji doors open wide to let in the dancing, citronella-scented breeze. The first day you wander around the house to weigh the papers down with a mish-mash of items: the fruit bowl, pilfered from the kitchen counter under your father’s nose; encyclopedias long outdated; a pair of petal-flecked garden shears.

It helps it feel like home.

Abe and her mother have come to Toyooka too; your mothers spend their days bent close together, talking in a language you know by heart but still can’t understand. Caught up in their research, they leave you to your own devices.

Away from all of your other friends and the bustle of the city, you and Abe roam free like a pair of stray cats. You spend the days without chores wandering through town, your arm hooked through hers, both your tongues stained sky blue from the Gari-Gari Kun popsicles from the conbini. The grannies wave at you as you pass by them; the two of you wave back with sticky fingers.

You flit in and out of the rice paddies, scooping up tadpoles from the murky water. The farmers grow used to your presence quickly; they greet you cheerfully, accepting the onigiri you bring with little nods.

After you splash through a paddy to coo over them, Watanabe lets you feed his ducks. He pours the feed from his hands into your smaller ones with a grunt. His hands are strong but aged, the dark skin on the back of his hands papery in the sunlight, wrinkled like old parchment. He teaches you both how to sprinkle the feed into the water just right so the ducks go arrowing across the water, little ships without sails.

The days are long and short in the same breath.

At night, Abe’s flashlight flickers in her window like a firefly, long after you are both meant to be in bed. You flash your own message back, little secrets wrapped up in ribbons of light, never mentioned after dawn. The two of you are woven together as only childhood friends can be.

And it’s Abe that sees your soulmark first.

It’s midday and the clouds are rolling in across the clear blue sky hanging heavy and low, a gray promise of afternoon thunder. The two of you trace shapes in the clouds, shaded under a massive camphor tree, bumping into each other’s arms as you go.

There’s a rabbit in your cloud, the puffy edges of it extending into fluffy gray ears that wisp and sway with the growing breeze. You’ve just traced along the little curve of its nose when Abe—who has been burbling away like a spring brook, her chatter weaving a spell around the two of you—goes silent.

Then she shrieks and grabs your arm.

“When did it come in?” she asks breathlessly. She’s shaking you too hard for you to see what she’s talking about, but there’s only one thing that tone could mean.

You freeze, your heart pounding in your ears. For a moment, you consider closing your eyes, as if that will keep it from being real. As if that will rewrite your fate.

You think of all the quotes you’ve scrawled in your notebooks late at night, and hope for all of them and none of them.

Abe gives you another little shake. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! It’s so early! How long have you had it? Has anyone said it yet? What do you—”

“I don’t know!” you say, shaking her off and scooting backwards, pulling your arm towards your chest.

She scowls. “How do you not know?”

“I didn’t notice it.”

You hadn’t. Maybe it was the sleepy haze of summer days running together.

Maybe you hadn’t wanted to see it.

Now that you know, it’s easy to see your mark. It’s already settled into your skin, the kanji tucked carefully into the tender flesh of the crook of your elbow. The characters are neat, precise little things, delicate at the edges. It shimmers silvery in the sunlight. A winter moon’s glow inked into your skin.

Abe plants her hands on her hips. “You didn’t notice your soulmark?”

You shake your head. “You know I would tell you!!”

She huffs. “I guess. You really didn’t know?”

You yank on a tuft of grass. “Nope.”

“Idiot,” she says, but it’s fond. She nudges closer to you despite the heat. “Who doesn’t realize their mark was written?”

“Me, I guess.”

“Guess so. Lemme see,” she says, making grabby hands at your arm; you let her yank it close with a sigh. She peers down at your mark with heavy concentration.

“You look like Granny Takada right now.”

She pouts. “Do not!”

“You do,” you tell her. “You’re all squinty.”

“Do you want me to read it to you or not?”

You take a second too long to answer, the words caught in your throat, tangled on your tongue. Abe glances up. Something passes over her face; it’s too quick to know, a fleeting summer storm. She drops your arm with a sigh.

“The kanji are complicated,” she complains. “Too hard to read. Leave it to you to have a soulmate like that.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, wrinkling your nose even as you relax, your muscles uncoiling.

She snorts. “Nothing, nothing,” she coos, smacking your hand away when you swat at her. “Let’s go, it’s gonna rain. We can’t track mud inside again.”

“That was you, not me.”

Abe ignores you, popping up to her feet and rocking back on her heels. She takes off before you can stand her braids streaming behind her like kite ribbons, and you yelp out a protest as you scramble to your feet.

“Nat-chan!”

“Keep up!” she shouts, halfway to the rice paddy that edges the little meadow, and you take off after her.

The skies open on the two of you when you’re almost back to the rental, the rain relentless and heavy as only a summer storm can be. You both shriek but the water is warm, and you giggle at the way Abe’s bangs are plastered to her forehead even as you keep running.

You tumble into the genkan just as the first lightning strike splits the sky. You’re practically tripping over each other. Abe knocks into the getabako, jarring a pair of your father’s shoes, their well-worn soles rolling upwards like the barnacled hull of a capsized boat. She grunts with the impact.

“Quiet,” you hiss.

“I’m being quiet,” she hisses back, just as your mother rounds the corner and fixes the two of you with an unimpressed raised brow.

Abe’s mother peeks around the corner too, her lips thinning as she sees the water dripping from the two of you. “You’re soaked,” she says. “And you’re making a mess of the genkan, Natsumi.”

“Sorry,” she mutters.

Her mother sighs. “Weren’t you supposed to be back earlier? Before the rain?”

“We got distracted because her soulmark came in!” Abe says, pointing to you with no remorse.

You gape at her.

“What?” she says. “It’s in a pretty obvious spot.”

“Natsumi,” her mother says, exasperated. “You’re always jumping in feet first.”

Abe grumbles, but goes quiet when her mother eyes her.

“Chieko,” your mother says. “Do you need umbrellas for the walk home?”

“If it’s not an inconvenience.”

“Of course not.”

You and Abe engage in a rapid-fire round of mouthing things to each other as your mothers search for umbrellas, too close to risk actual words. Abe speaks fast, even in exaggerated slow motion, and after you think she says something about snails, you decide it’s too incomprehensible to keep trying. You wave her off with a quick tilt of your head. She scowls but stops, crossing her arms with a soggy squish.

The scowl disappears from her face as soon as her mother steps up beside her, handing her one of your umbrellas. She traces a finger over the nearest little cat design, petting lightly at its fabric ears.

“Let’s go before you catch a cold,” Chieko says. “Say goodbye.”

“Bye,” Abe says, her voice stilted.

“Bye,” you parrot.

“Alright then,” Chieko says after a moment. She looks at you, considering. You bite the inside of your cheek, running the tip of your tongue against the pinched flesh.

She sighs. “You’ll figure it out,” she says softly.

You should have known that she wouldn’t offer congratulations. The relief spreads over you like a balm, soothing the scrape you hadn’t even known was there.

You nod.

“See you tomorrow,” your mother tells her.

She and Abe disappear out the front door and into the downpour; Abe throws you one last look before the door closes behind them. You look away.

Your mother is quiet for a moment. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“I—I don’t think so.”

She considers you. “Alright,” she says. “I’ll get you a towel and then you need to go change before you get sick.”

“Okay.”

She disappears down the hallway without another word.

You look down to your soulmark. At the thin kanji of it, the gleam of them like spiderwebs caught in a moonbeam, an ethereal silver. When you touch it, tracing a fingertip carefully against the crook of your elbow, it just feels like skin. As if it’s always been there. As if it’s always been a part of you.

Upside down, the kanji are difficult to parse. You run your fingers over them once more, and then your mother is there with a towel. You yank your fingers away as if burned. She doesn’t react, just handing you the towel and corralling you upstairs to dry yourself off.

Dinner is quiet that night and you go up to bed early, tired from the ups and downs of the day.

You’ve just finished brushing your teeth when the flickering catches your attention. You spit out the last bit of foam and rinse out your mouth before padding over to your window.

A little light bobs up and down across the way; at moments, you can make out the vague outline of Abe’s face when she brings the flashlight up with a sharp jerk that almost hits her chin. She’s cycling through the attention-getting code you’d made up a few years back.

You consider pulling your shade down entirely.

Instead, you pad over to your dresser drawer and pull out your own flashlight. You settle into bed with it heavy on your lap. You pull at the edge of the faded sticker slapped below the switch, tearing a little piece of it off. You flick it on for a second. Just enough to let Abe know you’re there.

It’s not your normal greeting, and Abe’s window stays dark for a long, long moment.

Mad at me? she finally flashes, little pulses of starlight in the dark.

You are. Soulmates are different for the two of you. You’ve grown up hearing all of the jargon for your mother’s study, and you know that she has too. You know the low rate of soulmates meeting, and you know the distant look in your father’s eyes as he wraps tender fingers around his blackened mark.

It’s different, and you thought she knew that.

Sorry, her flashlight blinks out. I am.

You think of how she complained about the kanji of your mark despite being the most proficient in your classroom.

Mad at me?

You wonder how you would have told your parents that you’d received your mark when you can barely acknowledge it yourself.

You raise your flashlight.

No, you send off. Not anymore.

Good, she immediately sends.

You talk until your eyelids are drooping and your jaw is cracking with non-stop yawning. It’s easy to say goodnight, knowing you’ll see each other in the morning. You pull down your shade and climb into bed.

You fall asleep with your hand cupped over your soulmark.

***

It takes you three days to finally ask what your mark says.

Evening is coming to life, the sky darkening into plum, the faintest hint of cotton-candy pink lingering on the horizon. As your father sets the table, you’re unable to resist the quiet call of what fate has scraped into your skin.

He blinks, trading a look with your mother, but then he smiles softly.

“After dinner,” he tells you. “Okay?”

You nod.

It’s your mother who reads it to you later, the two of you whispering together on the engawa surrounded by the flicker of the summer fireflies. You curl tight into her side, a rib returned.

“There you are,” she reads softly, stroking a thumb gently over the kanji. “I’ve been waiting.”

Her voice is a honeyed drip, sweet and steady, and though she is smiling, you think she sounds sad. She shifts to press a hand tight over her stomach as if it’s the only thing holding her together, as if she’s suddenly too big for her body. You know her mark is there. The kanji has gone sour and black, an eclipsed moon.

“I don’t know if I want them to wait for me,” you whisper to her.

She presses a kiss to your hairline. “You don’t have to know, tadpole.”

You bite the inside of your cheek.

She shifts beside you. “You don’t have to wait for them, you know,” she tells you.

“Really?”

“Really,” she says.

“Do you think I’ll meet them?” you ask, kicking your feet and looking out into the night. A firefly flares bright, and you consider running to catch it. You’ve always been quick enough. The fireflies have always been trusting enough.

She nudges a knuckle against your cheek. “The chances are low,” she admits, because she has never lied to you about soulmates. “And that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

“Why?”

She sighs. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

She still has her hand pressed hard against her ribcage.

You bite your lip and don’t ask anything else.

The two of you stay curled together under the stars, watching the trucks trundle down the road as the late-working farmers return from the paddies. Eventually, she ushers you inside, and when she thinks you aren’t looking she knots her fingers in your father’s shirt. The fabric winds tight around her fingers, cutting into the softness of her skin. Her shoulders are trembling. Your father cups the back of her head and brushes a kiss to her hairline.

You go up to your bedroom without a word because even this young, you know there are things you aren’t meant to see.

Not long after that night your mother and Abe’s mother publish the study. It’s a culmination of years of grueling research on soulmates, of half-written notes on napkins when you go out to restaurants, of simmering arguments between her and Abe’s mother, of death threats and poisonous words.

It covers the concept of soulmates like kudzu, winding over the romance of it and smothering it beneath statistics and a dissection of societal impact alike.

It gets a nickname soon after publication, and your mother’s smile is a melon rind curve, bitter at the edges.

They call it the Heartbreak Study.

***

Summer comes to an end.

You leave Toyooka on a rainy afternoon, the light drizzle sending water droplets racing down the train window. The storks huddle together in the paddies, their wet feathers gleaming like the moon. Abe is warm at your side curled into you, already half-asleep from the underlying hum of the train. It picks up speed and the rolling green of the countryside blurs like a watercolor, smearing across the horizon as you head back to the city.

It feels like you’re leaving more than the countryside behind.

Still, the city is a comfort, the bustle of it a familiar song, and you’d missed the neon lights that dot the streets like little flowers. With the return of school just around the corner it’s nice to settle back into the rhythm of city life, so different from the steady, unyielding heartbeat of Toyooka.

You unpack your clothes and yourself too, slotting everything back into your city life, trying to fit back into it like a well-worn pair of shoes.

“Oh,” Yoshikawa says lazily the next day, when you and Abe find her sprawled out on a bench by the conbini, sucking on a popsicle. She peers up at you, her long hair flowing around her shoulders like weeds in the current, softly swaying with each little movement. “You’re back.”

“She got her soulmark!” Abe says, dragging you forward by your wrist to display your mark.

“Natsu,” you groan, ignoring the way she tugs at your wrist to pull you even more into Yoshikawa’s space. “Really?”

“What, you weren’t going to tell her?”

“Yeah,” Yoshikawa drawls, her dark eyes sly. “Were you not gonna tell me?”

“Shut up, Yocchan,” you say. “You know I was going to tell you.”

“You sure?” she asks, propping herself up on her elbows. “Doesn’t quite sound like it.”

“Yocchan.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop teasing. Can I see?”

You hesitate for a breath.

“You don’t gotta,” Yoshikawa says, biting into her popsicle with a loud crunch. Her lips are blue with it, the same color as the mid-morning sky. It drips down her elegant fingers, catches on the small scars littered across them. She licks at them absently, but her gaze is keen.

“It’s fine,” you say. “I’m just…still getting used to it.”

She hums.

“Great,” Abe says, using her grip on your wrist to tug you forward again. “Look, look, look!”

Yoshikawa pushes herself the rest of the way up slowly, tucking her popsicle between her teeth as she reaches for your arm. Her fingers are sticky against your skin. She’s quiet as she reads your mark, her brow slightly furrowed.

She lets you go after a minute, and you try not to fidget.

“Romantic,” she says. She lays back down on the bench.

Abe makes a strangled noise. “That’s all?”

Yoshikawa blinks slowly, but there’s a smug curve to her lips. “Is there something else to say?”

Abe stamps her foot. “There’s so much to say! She got her mark! The first of us! The first in our year!”

“Nah, Sasaki got his right before the break.”

“He did?”

“He did?” you echo. Relief blooms in you, rooting in the cracks of you, and you let out a tight breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Yeah,” Yoshikawa says. She closes her eyes and raises her face to the sun. It bathes her, turns her golden, an offering at the ending summer’s altar. “Our moms are friends. Heard them talking about it.”

“Oh,” Abe says, pursing her lips. She glances at you, and you don’t know what she sees in your face, but her eyes go soft. “I guess it’s better that way. It won’t be as big of a deal. It’ll be fine.”

“You think so?” you ask. It comes out smaller than you meant it to.

She nudges you with her hip. “Yeah,” she says, her voice gentle. There’s a promise in it. “I do.”

Yoshikawa hums her agreement as she bites off the last of her popsicle, ignoring Abe’s wince. She sucks the stick clean and glances at it. “Oh,” she says mildly. “I won.”

“What?” Abe cries out, practically clambering on top of her to grab the stick. “How do you always win?”

Yoshikawa grunts under her sudden burden, stretching out one long arm to keep Abe from grabbing the stick. “S’not my fault you have bad luck.”

“C’mon, you already had a popsicle today!”

You watch them struggle, Abe doing her best to blanket Yoshikawa’s lanky frame with her tiny one. The laughter bubbles out of you, spills from you like an overflowing urn, loud and unrestrained.

They turn to you in unison, brows raised.

“Let’s go to the park,” you say, laughter still sweet on your tongue. “Don’t want to waste the day.”

They eye you for a moment. They look at each other and shrug.

“Conbini first,” Abe says. “I want something.”

“You can’t have my popsicle,” Yoshikawa says.

“I don’t want your stupid free popsicle!”

“You were just trying to grab it!”

“Well I don’t want it anymore! I want mochi instead!”

This time you swallow down your laugh, let it spread warm through you like bottled sunshine. You follow the bickering pair into the conbini. They wait for you at the door, and you link pinkies with them both so they can drag you down the snack aisle.

For the first time since getting your mark, it feels like everything is going to be okay.

***

School starts up again.

It’s still warm, the last dregs of summer lingering in the air as you walk languidly to school with your friends. Abe flits ahead, her dark hair shimmering under the morning sun, and you think of a little darting fish on a reef, a quicksilver flash of scales. She greets other classmates easily. They always have a smile for her, and she falls into step beside them for a moment, chattering away.

But in the end she always turns around and waits for you and Yoshikawa.

She’s off in the distance when Yoshikawa glances down at the silver peeking out of the crook of your elbow, exposed by the summer uniform’s short sleeves.

“No wrap?” she asks.

“No wrap,” you say.

You’d thought about it, but wearing a wrap screams that you’ve gotten your mark. With yours tucked tender into the crook of your elbow, you might be able to get away with it. At least you hope so. You know how many eyes will be on you when people realize, and you shift on the balls of your feet, pressing closer to Yoshikawa.

She hums. “Alright.”

You know that tone.

“Do not cause any problems,” you warn her.

She blinks slowly, like a smug cat with a patch of sunshine all to itself. “I would never. Do you want some toast?”

“Do I what—”

She pulls a handkerchief filled with toast out from her bag, little oily spots of butter bleeding through the hand-embroidered cloth. “Toast,” she says, holding it out.

“Don’t try to distract me,” you say irritably, but when she nudges the toast in your direction you slip a piece free of the handkerchief. You’ve eaten breakfast but no one makes bread like Yoshikawa’s mother, a hobby she’d picked up in her year abroad as a teen. Any of her loaves crackle perfectly under the bread knife, each slice thick and hearty, woven through with herbs and spices.

“I would never.”

“Liar,” you mutter, sinking your teeth into the toast.

“So mean,” she says, but she’s smiling.

“Hurry up!” Abe shouts back to you both, her hands cupped over her mouth to unnecessarily amplify herself.

Yoshikawa ignores her, sauntering along as your fellow students pour past you both. She moves like a river current, languid and flowing, and immoveable from her path.

“You’re the worst,” Abe tells her a few minutes later, when you’ve finally caught up to her.

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t ignore me, Yocchan!”

“I’m not,” Yoshikawa says, holding out the toast again. She always brings enough for all three of you. “You just say it so much that it’s lost all meaning.”

Abe grumbles, but she snags a piece of toast. It crunches beneath her teeth, a crackling symphony. “This is bribery, you know,” she says through her mouthful, scrunching up her nose.

Yoshikawa shrugs.

“C’mon,” you say, poking at them both. “We’re gonna be late.”

Abe links arms with you. Your mark flashes bright with the movement, glimmering like snow in the moonlight, all prismatic ice.

She hums, shifting her arm just enough that your elbows are interlocked, hiding your mark as she tugs you towards the school gates. “Let’s go then,” she says.

Yoshikawa falls into step on your other side. She leans over and softly bonks her head against yours, her long hair a veil for you both. You press together for a breath, then she pulls back and links her arm through your other arm as you enter the school grounds.

You make it two whole periods before someone notices.

It’s Hasegawa, of course, her deep brown eyes going wide as you reach into your bag for your textbook. She says something to her seatmate, and Honda’s eyes snap to you.

You keep arranging your supplies. You set your pencil down next to your notebook and line them up as precisely as you can, nudging it back and forth until it’s perfectly aligned as they whisper to each other. They keep glancing at you until Yoshikawa leans back in her seat and flashes them a razor-edged smile. Honda squeaks, and they both go quiet after that.

But there’s no escaping it. You can feel eyes on you all day, and murmurs follow you everywhere. You barely eat at lunch, pushing the pieces of your bento around as Abe and Yoshikawa crowd you on either side.

You almost make it to the end of the school day, but then Ueda and Nakajima stop you in the hallway. You bow to your seniors as they look you up and down.

“We heard you got your soulmark,” Nakajima says, swaying in place just slightly, like kelp caught in a current. “Is it true?”

“Yes,” you say, trying not to fidget with your sleeve.

“When?” Ueda asks, frowning.

“Over the break.”

“Early to be getting your mark,” she muses. She doesn’t have hers yet, you think. Only a handful of people in her year do.

“They say the earlier the mark manifests, the stronger the soul bond,” Nakajima says.

It’s a common belief, one of the oldest wives tales there is, but you’ve spent too long listening to your mother. You know better. Still, your stomach twists.

“What does yours say?” Ueda asks.

You bite your tongue; the pain flashes through you like lightning, bright and sharp and bitter. The bitterness lingers, fills your mouth until you have to swallow it down. It stings the whole way.

Ueda waits.

When you tell her, it feels like each word is being torn from you, as if they’d rooted into your very flesh.

(You suppose they have.)

For a breath, Ueda’s face twists. You think of the first hint of rot in ripe fruit, when the scent goes too sweet, a promise of decay. It isn’t the first time you’ve seen jealousy over a mark, but it’s odd to have it directed at you.

I didn’t ask for this, you want to tell her. I don’t know if I even want this.

“Oh, how lovely,” Nakajima murmurs, moon-eyed. “You’re lucky to have such a devoted soulmate.”

You smile, but you think it’s a poor imitation of one, soured at the edges as it is. “Yeah,” you say, because she’s looking at you expectantly. “I am.”

“Well, congratulations. Right, Machi?”

“Yeah,” Ueda says, flashing you a tight smile. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you say, the words ash on your tongue.

Nakajima tilts her head, bird-like, but Yoshikawa comes to your rescue, calling out your name from down the hall. You bid your seniors a quiet goodbye before hurrying to her.

She slings an arm around your shoulders, squeezing lightly.

“Okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m fine.”

She hums her disbelief but leaves you be.

With her by your side, smiling pleasantly and radiating danger, the day passes without anyone else approaching you. Abe joins you again, looking proud of herself in a way that means she caused a problem, and you wonder what you did to deserve both of them.

They come home with you when school ends, waving to your parents as you head up to your room. You collapse face-down on your bed and Yoshikawa laughs, low and deep and a little bit sad.

She and Abe curl up around you like cats. They talk about everything and nothing, filling up your room with their presence until you start to go lax against them. They shuffle closer as you do and they’re warm against you, like sunbaked stone. You sink into that warmth and breathe out deeply.

The next few weeks will be filled with questions, with murmurs behind your back, with everything that comes with getting your mark so early. You know that, but there’s one other thing that you know, too.

With them, you know you’ll make it through.

***

The school year blurs past in a watercolor of seasons. Fall gives way to winter, curling up under the biting cold; spring chases away winter in a riot of color, the sakura buds unfurling as your upperclassmen graduate, each bloom inset into the branches like a little jewel. As summer beckons, the days warming as the promise of rain hangs heavy in the humid air, Kimura gets her mark.

She’s only the third person in your year to get hers and she’s coy about it, wrapping it in a ribbon, the burgundy silk luscious against her skin. It’s as eye-catching as she meant it to be.

It’s elegant in its own way, though the ribbon wilts slightly as the day goes on, mostly from the way she keeps touching it. She strokes along the ribbon as she talks with her friends. You’re not sure she realizes it.

A few people glance your way, their eyes flickering to your elbow, but their attention is as fleeting as the first snow. Their gazes return to Kimura, to the bruised burgundy of her ribbon.

Something loosens in you, unravels from where it’s been knit tight around your ribs.

Honda gets hers next, and then Watanabe gets his.

Slowly, mark after mark comes into being, words unfurling across skin. As more of your classmates receive their marks, yours fades into the background. It becomes common and you sink into that commonality, having long waited for the spotlight on you to cease.

Your mark fades into the background, like a star just after dawn—known only to those who know where to look. You try not to think of it. Sometimes you even succeed.

In your second year of high school, there’s Takao.

He’s a quiet boy. Stoic, even, his face almost stony as he introduces himself as the new transfer student. But he has a dandelion tuft smile, downy soft and fleeting, carried off by the wind not long after it blooms across his lips.

You like it, his smile.

You watch Kimura—your class rep, a position she’s held since middle school—get to her feet. Takao is setting up his desk when she approaches, methodically laying out his supplies. He keeps them in neat rows and you can’t help but smile when you see that his eraser is a battered little Keroppi, its round eyes almost flattened into a straight line on one side.

The class’s chatter softens, a few people glancing towards Kimura and Takao. You can’t see her face, but her fingers are trembling, just a bit. He looks unbothered. There’s not a trace of nerves in him, until you realize that the tips of his ears have gone faintly pink.

Kimura’s voice doesn’t carry when she greets him so you don’t hear what she says, but you see the tension bleed from her after Takao speaks.

Not soulmates, then.

She relaxes, and from the way her hands are moving she’s starting to outline the classroom expectations. You shift in your seat, starting to turn away, when a flash of movement from Takao catches your eye.

He looks at you from beneath the fan of his eyelashes from across the classroom. He has a small spray of fading freckles, you realize, speckled over the bridge of his nose like a cluster of stars. He gives you that smile again. It takes a moment to realize you’re staring, and you look away, your cheeks hot.

“You’ve got a crush,” Abe sing-songs at lunch a few days later, jabbing her chopsticks into your bento and stealing a piece of pickled daikon.

“I don’t,” you say, moving your bento away as she tries to steal another piece.

Yoshikawa snorts. She’s sprawled out on the grass next to you and Abe, her long skirt caught up around her calves. There’s grass caught in her black hair, the verdant blades swaying as she moves, as if floating in the whirling eddies of the darkened sea.

“If you’re gonna lie,” she says, turning over onto her stomach, “at least do it well.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Liar.”

“Such a liar,” Abe agrees. “You stare at him all the time.”

“No I don’t!”

Abe’s grin goes sly. “I didn’t say who,” she tells you.

“I—it doesn’t matter who, I don’t stare at anyone!”

Yoshikawa raises an eyebrow. “So you don’t stare at Takao.”

You scowl down at the ground, ripping up a small chunk of grass. You rub the blades between your fingers until they’re a fine pulp, and the scent of a freshly mowed lawn permeates the air.

“See?” Abe says. “Told you.”

“Are you going to talk to him?” Yoshikawa asks, peering up at you. She’s sly-eyed, her gaze keen despite the way she yawns.

“Not yet,” you say. It takes you a moment to realize that you’re cupping a hand over your mark, rubbing your thumb over the thin skin just above it.

Yoshikawa smiles, warm and soft and knowing, and doesn’t say anything else. Instead she moves closer to you, curling around you like a crescent moon, her head padded on her discarded blazer. You settle into the cradle of her.

Abe is grinning wildly. “I knew that you had a crush,” she says, popping another bite of your rice into her mouth.

“Oh, like we haven’t seen the way you moon over Takeda!” you say.

She shrugs. “She’s cute.”

You huff and reach over to steal some of her tamagoyaki. She yelps, scrambling to pull her bento away as you snatch at the last piece. “Mean!” she says, watching as you eat it, the fluffy egg practically melting on your tongue. “I want the rest of your daikon!”

“Get your own!”

She reaches for your bento and you swat at her. The two of you bicker for the rest of lunch, only ceasing when you return to the classroom and take your seats.

Out of the corner of your eye, there’s a flicker of movement. When you glance over, Takao is already watching you. There’s a smile tucked sweet into the corner of his mouth, a sliver of a thing.

It’s you who looks away first.

You’ll talk to him eventually, you think, cupping a hand over your soulmark once again.

Just not yet.

***

Not yet lasts longer than you thought.

You and Takao trade glances across the classroom for one week, then another, and then another still. Each look is a fleeting thing, like a shooting star streaking across the sky.

But you don’t speak to each other.

You learn the sound of his voice through others when he speaks to your classmates and teachers. It’s quiet, steady, with a warm rasp to it that makes you think of billowing smoke. He blushes to the tips of his ears when it cracks. It’s cute in a way that makes you ache.

You learn the sound of him, but never for yourself.

Still, you gravitate towards each other. He offers you a tangerine one morning, his smile small, soft, and earnest. When you nod he uses his fingernail to split open the peel, unfurling it in a smooth motion. The peel curls bright around his hand. He separates out a segment and gives it to you, his fingertips damp with sticky juice. They leave shy little imprints across your palm.

The fruit bursts across your tongue like sunshine, golden and warm. Takao is watching you with hopeful eyes. You grin, and hold your hand out for another.

He sits down next to you to share it. The classroom is full of chatter, but the two of you are quiet, wrapped up in your own world. Suddenly, it’s not so much that you’re scared of speaking, but that maybe you don’t quite need it. Not yet.

It would be nice, you suppose, but as time passes, you and Takao find ways to fit together without speaking. Instead, you learn the tilt of his mouth and the crinkle of his nose and the way his fingers run through his hair.

It works. It’s not quite enough, but it works.

And so not yet lasts just a little bit longer, the two of you steering away from the cliff’s edge looming in the distance.

Another month goes by.

You spend hours with Takao, the sight of you together a common thing to the point where your classmates ask you where he is when they’re looking for him. You can usually tell them. You’re incredibly aware of each other, caught in each other’s gravitational pull.

Sometimes it feels like you’re destined to only orbit each other, to never truly touch.

But sometimes you almost speak.

It’s a golden afternoon, the wind rustling through the leaves like a lullaby, filling the space between you both. You’re tucked together on one of the benches in the school’s yard watching the flow of students as they head to their clubs.

Takao is sunstruck, haloed in gold, and it makes his dark eyes even deeper, an obsidian sheen. You’ve seen it before, but there’s still something about it that makes your stomach flip.

He shakes his head, trying to get his hair out of his eyes. It doesn’t work, and he does it again. You think of a wet dog and try to stifle your laugh.

When he does it for a third time, you reach out and brush your fingers through his hair, sweeping it back from his face. He turns into the touch, just slightly.

Someone shrieks out a laugh, and you look up to see one of the girls in the other classes batting lightly at her boyfriend. He murmurs something to her, and her smile grows wider.

Your stomach twists, coiling tight as you watch them banter with each other. The gaps between your ribs seem to grow, until the empty space is what you’re made of.

You want, you want, you want.

You wonder if you’ll ever have.

Takao senses your change in mood but you say nothing, and the two of you separate not long after.

Your father is watering the plants when you come home. They fill the windows of your home, the sun streaming through the verdant leaves, leaving emerald patches of light on the floor, nature’s stained glass.

He’s quietly humming to himself, each note off-key, but he stops as soon as he sees you. He eyes you for a moment.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say.

“You were better at lying when you were little,” he tells you.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now what’s wrong?”

You tell him. It spills out of you like an oil slick, coating everything it touches. You tell him about Takao, about the silence, about it all. You hadn’t realized how much the quiet was eating away at your bones.

“So what is it, exactly, that you’re worrying about?” your father asks when you’ve finished. It’s a sharp question, razor-edged, but his eyes are soft.

“What if he’s not my soulmate?” you ask him.

He blinks. “Does that change how you feel about him?”

You take a moment to consider. You think of Takao’s smile, and the way his fingers linger against the palm of your hand when he hands you the erasers to clap; the way he lets you take pieces of his bento, all without a word.

“No,” you say. “I don’t think so.”

“There you go, then.”

“But if he’s not my soulmate—”

“You know the statistics as well as I do,” he says. “If Takao isn’t your soulmate, that doesn’t mean you can’t be with him.”

“They’re waiting,” you whisper.

“That doesn’t mean you have to,” he says gently. “You’re allowed to make your own choice.”

You’re not sure that you are.

“What if he is my soulmate?”

Your father puts down the watering can. You see a flash of his soulmark. It’s blackened, a charred smudge against his skin, and when you glance up at his face, there’s something old in his expression. For a breath, you don’t know him at all.

It’s gone as soon as it came, like a shadow beneath the summer sun. He smiles at you. “Then your mom and I will have to meet him, won’t we?”

You balk.

He laughs, a sound that shimmers in the air. “I’m joking, tadpole,” he says. “And if he is—you’ll figure it out. There’s no point in guessing before you even know.”

You fidget with your sleeve, rubbing your thumb over the fraying hem of it.

There are worse things than losing something you never had, you think.

“Okay,” you say. “Okay.”

But things are easier said than done.

It’s not easy, not with Takao. It’s hard to find the words when you’ve spent so much time living in the space between them.

You find yourself on the rooftop with him during lunch. It’s unseasonably warm, thick puffy clouds sitting high in a robin’s egg blue sky, and you’re sitting side-by-side, close enough to touch. Close enough, but not quite.

Takao hands you some anpan; you give him one of your onigiri, peeling the packaging open for him. He nudges against you, a silent thank you, and something in you breaks.

“This is stupid,” you blurt out, loud enough that a few heads turn your way.

You clap your hand over your mouth immediately.

He blinks, staring at you with his lips parted, and your cheeks start to heat. And then he laughs, the sound like woodfire smoke, billowing out of him in low, slow tones. It sweeps over you, settles on your skin, and though your cheeks heat more the sight of him sparks something in you.

He laughs freely and warmly, his eyes crinkling at the edges. It doesn’t stop; if anything, it flows more strongly, like a river to the ocean. You find yourself swept up in it, laughter bubbling up inside you.

When it spills out of you and joins his, it sounds like a song.

“I cannot believe that’s what you said,” he says, and oh, you’ve ached to hear his voice when it was meant for you. You drink it in, swallow it down, something for you alone. “Of all the things.”

He laughs again, short and sharp with delight, but your smile is wilting, going brittle at the edges.

You finally have Takao, only to lose him a moment later.

You’re not soulmates.

***

It changes things.

You don’t mean for it to happen, but it does. Suddenly, the language between the two of you is different. Too used to speaking without words, neither of you are prepared for actual speech. You stumble over conversation, the words caught in your mouths like pebbles in a wave, spinning over and over until they’re worn down to nothing.

“You’ll figure it out,” Abe says, lounging upside down on your bed, tapping away at her controller, her brow furrowed as she smashes at the buttons. “You just gotta adjust, that’s all.”

You sigh. It’s not something you can explain, really. How one space was filled and another emptied. It leaves something in you aching.

Yoshikawa hums from where she’s sprawled on your floor, barely paying attention to the tv as she hits combo after combo, much to Abe’s annoyance. “Soulmate stuff is weird,” she says. “But it’s up to you.”

“It’s up to him, too,” you remind her. “Not everyone wants to date someone who isn’t their soulmate.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Abe says. “He likes you. It’s kinda gross how much.”

Your cheeks heat. “Shut up.”

She sticks her tongue out at you. “Make me.”

You throw a pillow at her face, relishing her little yelp as she tries to scramble out of the way and almost falls off your bed.

“Brat,” she says, tossing the pillow back. “He does, though. Like you.”

“I know,” you say, something vast filling you.

“Is this about the waiting thing?” Yoshikawa asks, putting down her controller and turning to face you. She hooks her chin over your knee, looking up at you with knowing eyes.

You bite at your bottom lip.

You know the rates better than anyone; you’ve spent your whole childhood hearing a language all its own. Percentages, probabilities, and all manners of complicated academic jargon, all focused on stripping away the whimsy of soulmates.

Your mother has only ever wanted to understand. But in that coveting, that hunger, she pressed understanding upon you as well, until you’re caught up in yourself, a tangled skein, so knotted that the beginning can barely be found.

“What if I do meet them?” you ask. “And they really have been waiting?”

Yoshikawa hums; it reverberates through you. “Dunno,” she says. “But what if you don’t meet them?”

You glare. “Thanks, that’s helpful.”

“Yeah, Yocchan,” Abe pipes up. “Super helpful.”

Yoshikawa tosses another pillow at her. “I don’t see you offering anything!”

“I already said it’ll be fine!”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did!”

You laugh, the sound light but loud. Your friends pause, looking incredibly pleased with themselves.

“Oh good,” Abe says. “You’re back.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Nothing,” she says, but you think there’s a bit of sadness to her, in the waning moon of her smile. “Are you gonna play with us now?”

She shoves a controller at you and you take it with a huff. “Get ready to lose,” you tell her.

“What else is new?” Yoshikawa asks, moving away from you to grab her own controller again.

“Shut up, Yocchan,” Abe says, scowling. “You’re the worst.”

“Love you too.”

You ignore them both to pick your character, but you can’t help the smile that plays across your lips as they continue to argue with each other. Abe curls herself around you, sticking her tongue out at Yoshikawa. You shift to give her room and your mark catches the light, reflects it back like morning dew.

For a moment you stare down at the words that have already changed your life so much. Sometimes you wonder how much more they can take from you.

“It’s my choice,” you say. You freeze, not having meant to say it out loud, but Yoshikawa just hums, settling warm on your other side

“Yeah,” she says with a little hum. “It is.”

But it isn’t just your choice.

You can’t quite understand Takao’s smile anymore. The nuances are lost in the space between the two of you, a language half-forgotten. The structure is there, but you’ve lost some of the words.

You can’t quite understand his choice, either.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, a scant few weeks after you realize you aren’t soulmates. The tips of his ears are pink, the color of the early dawn, and his eyes are glassy. “It’s just that—”

“We’re not soulmates,” you finish for him. Your heart is thrumming behind your ribs, a hummingbird battering against its cage. “Right?”

He winces. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t think it would matter.”

Maybe you should have known that it would.

He winces again; his hands tighten on the strap of his school bag. He stares at you, looking helpless, and you hate that you want to cradle his face in your hands. That you want to make it better for him.

“It—”

He cuts himself off. His lip trembles, wobbling like a spinning top, and it comes to you all at once. It’s written in the space between you, in a language you’ve both been speaking for months, one that’s all your own.

Takao’s lying.

“Tell me the truth,” you demand, clenching your fists.

He looks away. “We’re not soulmates,” he says. “That’s all there is to it.”

“Liar.”

“Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he says. “Please.”

“Then tell me the truth.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“Fine,” you say. “Fine.”

When you walk away, he doesn’t come after you.

***

You hide yourself away among the hydrangea bushes that line the library, settling yourself in a sea of powder-blue petals. You curl up, pulling your knees up against your chest, and cry quietly until your uniform skirt is damp.

“Well, that’s not good,” Abe says.

You glance up to see her and Yoshikawa leaning over the hydrangea bushes, looking down at you with tender expressions. You immediately cry harder, starting to sob aloud.

“Oh shit,” Abe says, pushing through the puffball clusters of flowers and dropping to her knees beside you. “Don’t cry, don’t cry, it’s okay.”

“Takao?” Yoshikawa asks.

You nod.

She smiles, sharp and mean. “Abe, stay with her. I’ll be back.”

You shoot to your feet, grabbing her by her uniform sleeve before she can take off. “No!” you yelp. “No, Asako, don’t do anything!”

“Why not? He made you cry.”

“He just—it’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“He doesn’t want to be with someone who isn’t his soulmate,” you say softly. “That’s…he’s allowed to make that choice.”

She clicks her tongue. “He didn’t strike me as the type.”

“Me either,” you mumble. “I think he’s lying.”

“Why would he lie?” Abe asks, tilting her head.

“Don’t know,” you say. “But it just…it just seemed like he was. Please leave him alone.”

You don’t know how to explain it. You’re not sure you can. It’s a strange little language, the language that forms between two people who haven’t spoken to each other, and you’re not sure anyone who hasn’t created that language between themselves and another could even begin to understand the alphabet of it.

Yoshikawa hums; her sly eyes are narrowed, the deep brown of them darkened to almost black. “Fine. But if he makes you cry again, all bets are off.”

“Yeah,” Abe says, nudging you up to your feet. “And we know where you hide, so no point in trying to keep it from us!”

Your laugh is watery, but it’s light as it leaves your lips.

Abe loops her arm through yours. “Let’s go,” she says. “It’s lunchtime and Yoshikawa has a good bento today.”

“And it’s not for you,” Yoshikawa says lazily, stuffing her hands in her pocket as the three of you start to walk. “So don’t even try it.”

You laugh again and they bicker all the way to the classroom. You’re in the middle of grabbing your own bento when you feel eyes on you and when you look up, Takao startles, looking away quickly. You bite your lip as the tips of his ears go pink once more.

He glances at you again, and his eyes linger on your face. When his lips curl down into a small frown, you realize he knows you’ve been crying. He looks away as the twist of his lips goes pained.

Yoshikawa steps in front of you, blocking your view of him. “C’mon,” she says softly, chivving you towards her desk where Abe is already sitting. “Let’s go.”

You follow her after one last glance in Takao’s direction.

It develops into a routine over the next few weeks. You get used to the feeling of eyes on you all over again. Takao’s gaze feels silken against your skin, and though you shouldn’t, you bask in it. Maybe you’re too used to it; it reminds you of the beginning, when all you had was fleeting looks and quiet gazes.

But now he looks away every time you look up, though his ears always give him away.

Still, there’s a comfort to it. It doesn’t go away, even as you simply circle around each other, caught in each other’s orbit once more. This time, at least, you know that you’ll stay this way.

Except two months after you go your separate ways, you’re assigned to work on a project together.

Your hurt has waned; it’s a healing bruise, now, only flaring to life when you press on it. The hopeful look on Takao’s face barely even causes an ache. You stay in your seat, but he gets to his feet and comes to you as the teacher leaves.

“Hi,” Takao says, fidgeting with the strap of his school bag. “I’m—if you want to switch partners to someone else, I understand.”

“Do you want to switch partners?” you ask.

“Not really,” he blurts out, and this time, his blush is bright, the apples of his cheeks dusted in heated red. “I mean, no. I don’t.”

“Okay,” you say slowly. It feels nice, somehow, looking at him, at his small, timid smile and the way the sun catches golden on his skin. “I guess I’m fine with it.”

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, I’m—I’m glad.”

“Let’s talk after clubs,” you say. “We can figure out our topic then.”

He nods. He stands there for a moment; it’s only when you raise an eyebrow that he jolts and heads back to his desk. When you look over, he’s got his hands pressed against his face. You think you see him mutter “idiot” to himself.

The smile tugs on your lips without you even realizing it.

***

“I miss you,” Takao says, fifteen minutes into your third project session. “I miss you so much.”

You go stiff.

The project has gone well so far. You’ve found yourself falling into easy communication with Takao, but you’ve kept it strictly to the project, rarely going into your lives outside of school. Still, it’s easy in a way it hasn’t been in a while. You find yourself smiling, and sometimes he even makes you laugh.

“Okay,” you say, sounding wooden even to yourself. “I—I don’t know what you want me to say to that.”

He winces. “You don’t have to say anything,” he says.

You mean to say okay, but what you say instead is—

“I miss you too.”

Takao blinks. And then a smile is spreading across his lips, slow like the dawn and just as warm. “Really?” he asks.

Your cheeks heat, but you nod.

“Do you think we can be friends?” he asks, almost shy.

You bite your lip. “I think…I think we can try.”

“I’d like that,” he says softly. “I’d really like that.”

You smile at him, slow and sure. “Me too.”

He smiles back, and the two of you turn back to your project.

You find that it takes time to learn how to be friends with Takao. It’s not like Abe and Yoshikawa with the fluid ease of childhood friends, forged by years and years at each other’s sides, memory after memory built into a firm foundation. Nor is it like your other friends.

Takao seems to inhabit a space all his own. Maybe he always will. It seems right that he would; it doesn’t surprise you that he carved himself a place in your world without even trying.

It takes time. Eventually, even Abe and Yoshikawa warm up to him, until the four of you are spending summer nights together, popsicles melting down your fingers in the heat. You laugh through sticky lips and sit side-by-side despite the heat.

It feels good to have him back in your life, and high school goes by in a whirlwind of seasons, the years melting together until you graduate. He’s by your side when you do ,along with Yoshikawa and Abe, the four of you taking pictures on the school lawn surrounded by your peers.

The four of you spend as much time as you can together before you head off to college, just a few scant weeks after graduating.

It’s easy with Yoshikawa and Abe; the three of you are woven together, a tapestry of home. College is just another stitch, with the three of you attending the same one. You find a cute apartment just off campus, in a slightly worn building with wisteria dripping down the sides like honey. Yoshikawa and Abe like to hang laundry from the balcony; they says it comes back with a floral scent. The dishwasher is broken more often than not, the rooms are tiny, and you love it. So do they, and the three of you build a home together.

With Takao, it’s harder. You drift away from each other in college, pressed in on all sides by classes, studying, and local friends. It feels hard to find the time to breathe, let alone text Takao anything other than a fleeting check-in or a picture of something that reminded you of him.

Unlike before, it feels natural. It isn’t without its edges but they’re dulled, so that they press against your skin instead of cut. He simply fades from your everyday life until the ding of his text message is a surprise instead of a given.

When he walks back into your life in your third year of college, it’s like getting hit by a lightning bolt.

***

The izakaya is tucked away at the edge of the city, sandwiched between two small apartment buildings that have ivy spidering up the side of them. You watch as a sheet billows on a clothesline, rippling like water, the clothespins holding firm despite the strong breeze.

The fat tabby lazing on the edge of the izakaya steps doesn’t even lift its head to look at you. It’s sheltered under a verdant fern frond, part of the little forest of plants clustered around the entrance. Some of the plants are spilling out of their pots, sprawling out in great clusters of leaves, the tiny flowers dotted in them barely visible in the light of the nearby vending machine.

You crouch down by the cat unable to resist, and it blinks itself awake slowly, turning slate gray eyes your way. It sniffs at your knuckles when you reach out to it. It rubs its cheek against your hand once, and then gets to its feet, stretching mightily as your friends laugh from just inside the entrance. You try to pet it again but it pointedly turns away and curls up again under the frond, further in than before, a little forest deity hidden amid lush scenery.

You stare at it for a moment longer, looking at how its cheeks squish up against its paws.

“Pouting doesn’t affect Momo,” someone behind you says.

You look up, and then go still.

“Hi,” Takao says, warm like the early morning sun. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” you say, as if he hasn’t knocked the breath from you. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good. You?”

“Are we really going to do this?” you ask, standing up from your awkward crouch.

He smiles, and you think he might be swallowing down a laugh. “Do what?”

You scowl at him. “You know what,” you say. “The small talk.”

“It’s polite.”

“Is that your main concern? Politeness?”

This time, he does laugh, low and sweet. “No,” he says, his eyes glittering. “You are.”

Your cheeks heat. “You can’t just say that.”

“Just did,” he says. “Are—are you here by yourself?”

“With friends.”

“Do you think I could steal you away for a drink?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I think you can.”

He smiles at you. “Good.”

He ushers you into the izakaya. It’s warm inside despite the open windows, and the scent of fried food lingers in the air. People’s chatter fills the room up to the rafters, little laughs peppered in like champagne sounds, little pops of joy. There’s another cat curled up on a barstool tucked away in a corner, a ball of white fluff that makes you think of dandelions.

Yoshikawa sees you first; when she sees Takao behind you, she raises a single elegant brow before turning back to your group of friends. She says something with a lazy roll of her shoulders, and suddenly, all of your friends are trying very hard to not look at the entrance.

“Oh my god,” you mutter.

Takao laughs, the huff of air stirring against your nape. “They’re pretty obvious,” he says. “Should we go say hi?”

“Later,” you say.

He follows you to the bar. He’s close, and under the scent of fried food you can make out the faintest hint of his woodsy cologne.

You sit side by side, close enough to feel each other’s warmth but without touching. The bartender brings you your beers, and you look to Takao as he taps the neck of his bottle against yours.

“It’s so good to see you,” he breathes, his dark eyes soft.

“Yeah,” you say. “It is.”

One drink turns into two until you’re both sliding closer to each other in your seat, pressing into each other’s sides. You barely keep yourself from curling into him. He leans in close when you’re speaking, so that his voice is rumbling low in your ear.

You share some takoyaki and then one of the biggest okonomiyaki you’ve ever seen, the pancake stuffed to the brim with filling and heavily topped. When the food arrives, so does the white cat, meowing quietly at your feet as it winds its way around the rungs of your barstool. Takao holds you steady when you lean down to pet it, his hand firm on your lower back.

By your third beer, Yoshikawa and the rest of your friend group leaves. She gives you a little wave on her way out the door.

“Sorry,” Takao says. “I didn’t mean to take up your whole night.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “It’s been…really nice.”

“Just nice?”

“Great,” you admit. “It’s been great.”

He smiles, and it’s that same dandelion fluff smile you remember, sweet and fleeting.

“Good,” he says, taking a sip from his beer. You watch the way his forearm flexes. “Listen, do you want to meet up again?”

“Yeah, I would.”

His eyes crinkle. “Great,” he says.

You bite down on your smile.

The two of you finish your beers between lazy chatter. It’s comfortable, as if you never fell out of touch.

When you leave, Takao waits as you pet the white cat once more, delicately bumping your knuckles against its cheek as it rumbles out a purr. It meows pitifully when you stop, opening its blue, blue eyes with a disgruntled look on its face, and you laugh to yourself, kneeling to give it a few more pets.

You look for the tabby as you exit the izakaya but it’s gone, likely curled up amid some of the planters further back. You and Takao both stop at the sidewalk, carefully making sure you’re out of the way of any pedestrians, and for a moment, you just look at each other.

“See you soon?” Takao asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “See you soon.”

“Good,” he breathes, with his eyes so soft that it makes your cheeks warm.

You say goodbye, and each of you heads home. When you glance back Takao is already looking back at you from the street corner. You give him a little wave, and he jolts before hurrying off.

You smile your whole way home.

***

“It’s so hot,” you complain, flopping down next to Takao on the park bench. “Can we go to the conbini?”

“Popsicles?” he asks.

“No, I want onigiri.”

He raises a brow. “How does that help with the heat?”

“It doesn’t,” you tell him. “The aircon does.”

He laughs. “Oh, of course.”

You head to the closest conbini, practically swimming through the humid summer air. The air is so thick that you could cut it; there’s rain on the horizon, promised in the encroaching gray-blue clouds hanging low in the sky.

Inside it’s blessedly cool, the aircon hard at work. The two of you scour the aisles, picking out varying snacks and pointing out new flavors to each other—you try to make him buy a cream stew Gari Gari Kun popsicle, but he refuses—before you head to the cashier.

You settle in at one of the tables, opening your drink as Takao unwraps one of your onigiri, handing it to you before he busies himself with his own food. He gives you a little swat when you reach out for his snacks, making you retract your hand with a laugh. As you pull back, you wonder when the two of you fell back into rhythm.

It’s close to the one you had in high school, but not the same. There’s something new twining through the rhythm, a swirl of notes that resonates through you. It’s an easy flow, a soft ebb and tide, like the calmest of seas.

“Hey,” Takao says gently.

“Hmm?”

“Where did you go, just then?”

You blink and take a sip of your peach tea. It lingers sweet on your tongue as you meet his stoic gaze. His mouth tilts, just slightly, something tucked up secret in the corner of his soft lips.

For a moment, you just look at him. He meets your gaze easily; he lets you look your fill, as patient as ever.

“Sorry,” you say. “Nowhere important.”

“Okay.”

You shake your head. “You’re so—” you break off.

“I’m so?”

You bite at your lip. “You,” you say. “You’re so you.”

His smile is small, but it grows, as steady and sure as the sun’s rise.

“I hope so,” he says, almost flippant, but there’s something soft in his gaze; it brushes over you like silk.

“Shut up,” you tell him.

He just laughs, quiet and low.

The two of you chat as you eat, talking about Yoshikawa’s upcoming art show at a trendy new gallery. You’ve been waiting patiently ever since the curator first picked her up as a featured artist. It’ll be nice to go with Takao, for the four of you to be side-by-side again, something that’s becoming as constant as it was in your high school days.

When you’re finished Takao takes all the wrappers and folds them up neatly, creasing them until they’re practically origami. You bite down on your smile.

The summer air rolls over you as you step back into it, licking across your skin as only wet heat can. You shudder with it.

Still you meander through the nearby park, ducking beneath low-hanging branches hanging heavy with fruit, the citrus of them permeating the air. It’s quiet, with just the distant shouts of the playground and the whisper of the leaves in the stirring breeze to accompany you both.

You find yourself at the koi pond without meaning to and Takao wordlessly heads to the food meter as you settle yourself on the rock wall that edges the pond. The surface ripples, orange and gold scales muted in the murky water like a sunset covered by clouds. You trail your fingertips over the surface, and giggle as they mouth at them.

Takao presses some feed into your palm when he comes back; the heat of him lingers there. Your mark glimmers in the light as you toss in the feed, a needlepoint flash of silver. You can feel Takao’s eyes on it. But then the koi come up in great, arcing splashes, the quiet pond roiling like the angry sea in their fervor, and you laugh as you dodge the worst of it.

Takao chuckles, and he settles down next to you to hand you the last of the feed.

You curl into him despite the heat, skin against skin, a slick slide of a touch before you fall still. The koi are still churning up the water, their gaping mouths breaking through the surface, and you give them what they want. Scales flicker by, a mesmerizing firework show caught beneath the surface, and so it catches you off guard when Takao suddenly says—

“I’m sorry.”

You go still.

“For what?”

He shifts beside you; when you glance at him, he’s staring into the distance, his dark eyes caught on something that only he can see.

“For high school.”

You breathe out through your nose. “So you’ve said.”

“I was scared.”

“So you’ve said,” you repeat.

He glances at you, then, and his eyes remind you of the vastness of the unending night sky, dark and glittering.

“I’m not scared anymore.”

You suck in a sharp breath. He waits, ever patient.

“Me neither,” you say, curling your pinky around his, twining around him like thread.

He cups your cheek, his touch almost reverent, and presses his forehead to yours. “Okay?” he asks.

“Okay,” you breathe.

He leans in and kisses you. It’s careful and sweet.

It feels like coming home.

He breaks the kiss when you’ve stolen each other’s breath away.

“Our soulmates—” he starts.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say breathlessly, kissing him again. He’s smiling against your lips. Warmth floods you. You love him, you love him, you love him. That’s all there is. That’s all you need.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say again.

He presses his forehead against yours. “You’re right,” he says. “It doesn’t.”

Until suddenly, it does.

***

You and your soulmate—Shinsuke, you think, still tasting the honey of it on your tongue, Shinsuke Shinsuke Shinsuke—watch each other.

The only sound is the steady fall of the rain.

It’s picked up again, sending the hydrangeas eddying, spinning in a lazy current as their puffball blossoms catch the droplets. More petals flutter to the ground. The blue of them is stark against the dirt, and you think of what a storm leaves in its wake.

Shinsuke lets out a deep, slow breath, and you wince. His amber eyes have dimmed and the last of his smile has washed away, leaving just the dregs of emotion behind, too faint for you to read.

You feel too small for your skin; your heart is fluttering, a hummingbird thing, trying to press through the gaps in your ribcage. You take in a shallow breath. It tastes of the earth, of drenched soil and summer heat. You choke on it.

Shinsuke’s brow furrows as you take in another breath, even shallower than the last, and your heart is thrumming, and his eyes are so sharp, so knowing, so kind. You’re caught in the amber of them, the resin of his gaze pouring over you.

Even the rain seems quiet now.

His lips part.

Your ribs start to crack; your heart thumps harder against them. Too strong, too fast, too loud.

His lips part, and you do the only thing you can.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp.

You run.

#kita x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #bee writes hq!!#.kita #.lbgtm #q

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ninapi · 9 months

Text

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┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ Kita Version ╝

Word Count: 3102

Note: I highly suggest you read chapter 0 first (link here) 😊

Chapter 1: A Princess

The fox village somehow reminded you of your own human village.

They would normally stick to themselves, to their own family, yet they would always greet the neighbors, know everyone around and function like normal society back home.

You heard the very much feared old lady who ruled this place for thousands of years had a human as her husband, and you could easily see his influence live on, to this day.

Unlike the fancy cottages you’ve experienced among the other clans, the housing arrangements here were standard Japanese town houses, tatami matted rooms, same daily usage tools like ceramic cups and lacquered bowls. They used chopsticks the same way you did, ate the same types of food you did back home. It felt like a very welcoming place, to you at least. The fantastic aspect of the other clans was pretty impressive on its own, but the familiarity of the environment made you feel more comfortable.

You knew how to eat properly, how to dress like them, what was expected of you, it was a comforting feeling not being so out of place. Of course, the lack of fuzzy ears on your head made it very obvious to everyone that you weren’t one of them.

To some it was fascinating, most of them had never seen an actual human besides the former leader, but to others you were the pest, a constant threat, you had blood of the killers running through your veins, a danger to have around.

The Suna clan, who was entrusted with your care, was a lovely household.

Rintarou himself wasn’t half bad, even if at first he terrorized your nightmares with his scary looking grin. He takes care of the handling of the customers in their family-owned inn and as such, has wonderful people skills.

His parents were a very warm-hearted older couple, you could still feel in the air around them how much they loved each other and how much love they had for their children. They took you in almost instantly without questioning your origins, his mother was excited as this was the first girl her son ever brought home and her husband was just as excited to have an extra pair of hands to help around the inn. Overall, they made it very pleasant to transition into this new area of the forest. Made you feel welcomed, loved even.

As for their second child, she was younger than Rin, by a lot. When you heard she was already ‘sold’ as the leader’s mate you thought she’d be closer to his age, but that was further from the truth. With foxes it’s complicated to know their actual age, but to your standards, she looked like a ten-year-old in human age.

She quickly got closer to you, happy to have an older sister figure of some sort, her brother had already passed the age of playing with her, so she was feeling very lonely, and you came with perfect timing. Though, the more time you spent together, the more uneasy it made you feel thinking she would marry soon and would have to bring babies to the community. She was still very much a child, and you felt the need to protect her from such an ill fated destiny, you wanted to protect her innocence and for her to have a choice in who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, even if the leader was indeed one of the best options around, it still didn’t feel right.

So, you decided to touch on the subject the day the leader himself came to visit you, no longer than a few days after your arrival.

“How have you been liking your stay with us, (Y/N)? I think having you with the Suna clan was a fantastic idea.” he walked beside you aimlessly towards a nice river nearby.

“I have, yes. They’re very kind to me.” you still didn’t trust this man, people feared him, to you he looked anything but kind, but an extra layer of cautiousness was added when he mentioned they would have to kill you if you tried to leave the village.

He nodded gladly, taking a detour to a flower field hoping to rise your spirits, “I’m glad, they do work in the field, it was expected of them. The Miya’s are fine too, but they can be a bit possessive… a neutral home seemed the most fitting. Apologies for taking this long to visit, I’ve been holding counseling meetings with the elders on the matter. The majority disagreed, they didn’t want another human in our home ground and some even suggested to keep you as prisoner, so it took some convincing to get their approval.” he could see you swallow hard, being able to physically feel your discomfort yet causing a little smile to creep on his face.

“Nothing to worry about though, I managed to convince them by telling them I would bring you to the castle and keep an eye on you. So that’s why I’m here today, I’m bringing you with me.”

This certainly took you by surprise, you found a home with the Suna’s, this was so sudden you didn’t even know how to feel about it, yet you were thankful to the leader for fighting his way through the elders to get you to stay with them. “With all due respect, Kita-sama, aren’t you marrying lady Suna? Wouldn’t it be inappropriate for me to share your residence? That’s what Rin said when the Miya house was offered for me to stay in.” for some reason he didn’t like how matter-of-fact your statement was, as if you knew for sure you would end up with one of the twins, Osamu most likely.

“The matter of our marriage is beyond the definition of love, it’s just an agreement to ensure the prosperity of our village, with that out of the way, it’s not like we will be sharing a bed, I arranged an entire area of the castle for it to be your quarters, which is another reason why it took me this long to come, the preparations were endless.” you could feel the sourness in his tone, confusing you just a bit.

“I appreciate it, Kita-sama, thank you. Should we go back then? I don’t have much to pack, all the clothing I have was provided to me kindly by Rintarou.”

Another pang of an unknown feeling hit him hard, making his guts turn in disgust, “You won’t be needing any of that, anything he’s given you I can triple it and in the finest there is.” he’s never been a boasting man, he’s usually very reserved but he was being hunted by an evil spirit of some sort eating his insides at the thought of you being chummy with the others, a new emotion developed by the leader apparently.

“You don’t have to, I’m sure he will lend me a couple if I ask him. He’s a bit exaggerated you see, he got me about twenty different kimonos and all the accessories to go along with them, yet I mostly just wear the inn’s uniform.” your soft chuckles seemed to snap him out of his crazy fit of jealousy, it was somewhat refreshing seeing someone not interested in riches, majority would jump at the mention of high-end couture.

“I already took the liberty of choosing a couple of things I thought you might like, so there’s no need to bother the Suna’s, you will be my responsibility going forward, it’s only fair I take care of all your needs.” his tone was softer now, making you smile, just the thought of having such an important and busy figure going out of his way to look for things you might like made your chest grow warm.

“I appreciate your kindness. Shall we go then?” offering you his arm, you looped yours around his as you walked back to the inn.

He didn’t seem so harsh anymore.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The castle was a marvelous place.

A multi-story traditional Japanese castle, full of intricate carvings of fox deities and beautiful flowers, full to the brim with servants and guards of all kinds, artifacts dating thousands of years decorating the space.

True to his word, you got an entire area just for yourself.

It was a secluded room on the back of the property separated from the main keep by a pond and luscious zen garden, the room was used in the past to hold tea ceremonies for his grandma and hadn’t been used at all since her passing.

He made sure to have it decorated to what he thought could be to your liking. A permanent futon was laid on the back side of the room mounted on a wooden platform, the covers embroidered with beautiful cherry blossoms, matching pillows, and a canopy net to shield you from the bugs hanging from the ceiling.

There was also a low table at the front of the room with a few cushions for you to sit on, a tea set with all sorts of flavors, some you’ve never tried before, books and even some yarn in case you liked to knit something and keep yourself busy.

It was a lovely room, had a 360 view of the garden, you could smell nature, hear the birds sing, feed the koi fish in the pond. Not like you had any complaints about your small room at the Suna inn, but this was by all means an improvement.

Kita-sama had been overly attentive during the past few days after your arrival, coming to check on you multiple times a day, bringing you sweets or things he picked up along the way that made him think of you, some of them rather questionable like the pretty hairpin you were wearing right now.

“I knew purple would look good on you.” he was staring dreamily at your face, a common practice of him nowadays.

“You speak too highly of me, I never thought something this pretty would look good on me.”

“You’re the one selling yourself short. Your beauty is recognizable miles away and you live now in castle grounds, a princess, some would call you.” there was a slight tinge of pink dusting his cheeks, nobody would be able to notice but you did, he was way too close for you to miss it.

“I was thinking, would you like to go on a walk with me? One of my duties is to patrol the village, make sure nobody needs anything, it could get you familiarized with the places and people a like, maybe even stop by for some of those dangos you seemed to enjoy the other day.” was he asking you out like on date? Or was he just fulfilling his duties as the leader? It was hard to tell with him.

Either way there was just one answer.

“It would be my pleasure.”

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

He wasn’t kidding when he said he had prepared the finest silks for you, the kimono you were wearing for the outing was beyond words, beautify decorated with golden flowers embroidered throughout, the light purple tone of the fabric matching the hairpin he had gifted you.

You were a sight to behold. These were the words of many, not just the leader’s. Though, his arm was the one holding your figure through your lovely walk on the streets of the old town district.

To some it felt like a parade, people stopping to watch you both walk, laugh together, try the sweets being sold by the merchants in the streets. It was a beautiful sight, one they felt lucky to witness.

“Kita-sama…” you whispered near his ear, “…why is everyone staring at us…?”

Your question made him chuckle, he had noticed this hours ago, it was cute how you noticed it until now, made him feel proud of his hosting skills. “They’ve never seen someone as beautiful, I’m sure.” he whispered back, his hot breath tickling your ear.

“Oh my! How a beautiful couple! Finally, our leader is tying the knot I see! And with the finest bride at that! I’m sure your grandma would be proud of you, seeing you followed her steps to the very end.” the old ladies from the market were making a fuzz as soon as you arrived at the premise. Their words causing you discomfort.

Is this what it was all about? He wanted you close just because he wanted to be like his grandma and have a human by his side?

Kita could see the aggravated look on your face, cutting the visit to the market short. “My dear, is something the matter? You look unwell.”

“I just…thought…never mind.” you tried your best to fake a sweet smile, yet you couldn’t fool a man like him.

“What is it? Are you tired? Did I make you walk too much?” you just shook your head, walking over to a stone bench on the side of the road, wishing to rest for just a bit, overwhelmed by your own feelings.

“C’mon, you can tell me anything.” sitting beside you, he reached for one of your hands, which you retrieved back not wanting his touch at the moment, still feeling hurt. Your actions startled the leader, who now sported an equally hurt expression.

“You…you’re being this nice to me just because your grandma married a human, aren’t you?” he didn’t expect to hear those words leaving your pretty rosy lips, it split his heart in two thinking you had such a low concept of him.

“I would never.” his words didn’t have the expected effect on you, he knew he had to be honest if he wanted to get out of this situation.

“Ok, maybe at the beginning…” he got your attention, finally. You waited quietly for him to continue, wanting to give him a chance to redeem himself.

“It is true, my grandfather was human, thanks to their union is that we have such an established community here unlike the other fox clans scattered across the country, thanks to him it is said we are the closest to our goddess Inari as she gave her blessing and turn him into a fox.

Our village is at risk, the lack of pups in the last decades are making our numbers go down rapidly. The majority of the villagers are getting close to the last stretch in their lifespan and soon we would be having less than half of habitants that we currently have. The record breaking low in breeding is causing the village to be in the brink of extinction, and I’m the one in charge of fixing this, to save our people.”

“So you thought…”

“Yeah, I thought the union with a human could bring Inari’s favor upon us once more…” he let out a defeated sigh, ashamed of his own thoughts.

“I was right then, you were trying to court me…” the small smile on your face was bittersweet, it only caused his heart to break even further.

“I don’t think that way anymore, (Y/N)…I need you to believe me…” the desperate look on his face made you reconsider your actions, this time you were the one reaching for his hand. “And what is it that you think now, leader?”

“As a leader, I think I am in the right path, not because of Inari, but because pups is what we need…” his words made you chuckle shyly, his confident posture quickly returning back to normal.

“As a man, I don’t see you as just a human anymore. I see you as the beautiful, smart, kind woman you are, and think of how much I would like for you to choose me, even if I’m aware of how high up in your list Miya is…”

“Hmmm…both sound to me like the same person though, the leader and the man think basically about the same thing.” he hadn’t seen it that way but it was true, at the end both had the same answer, and that was, he wanting you for himself, to breed you and create a big loving family who would bring prosperity to his village, to spend the rest of his reign with someone equally worthy of his time and care.

“You’re right as usual.” his shoulder was now brushing yours, his warmth sipping through the layers of garments you were wearing.

A thought kept hunting you though, one that became even more aggravating as days went by, “But what about lady Suna? Isn’t she the one…?”

He had totally forgotten about the arrangement, in all truth his grandma had been the one sealing the deal once the Suna’s had welcomed a daughter to this world, he was still a young pup by then and didn’t think anything of it. Breaking a deal made by the former leader sounded like an impossible task, especially being you the one on the other side of the bargain, and the Suna family being the most prominent family in the village, after his own. There was no way the elders would easily agree to this matter, that was certain.

“I told you…there’s no promise of love in that marriage. I see her as a younger sister, don’t have any sort of interest in…well you know…”

“Breading her?” the mocking tone of your voice made him flush; you had this weird effect on him, he’s never felt so many things at once by just hearing a couple of words.

“Yeah…that…” you laughed at his expression, making him laugh as well.

He somehow knew everything would be just fine now that you were by his side even if there were still a lot of unknowns to figure out along the way.

Your disease was still a problem and fighting the elders on a matter this important could get your head on a spike.

A lot of work had to be put into this for things to work out between the two of you.

But you were worth the hassle.

And he would do his best to get you the life you deserve, to get you all to himself, to discover what true love actually means.

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minarixx · 10 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟏 ✯ 𝐒.𝐊𝐢𝐭𝐚

"𝙄 𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙'𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙙"

PAIRING. Kita Shinsuke x f!Reader

CONTENT. Angst, unrequited love, childhood friends to NOT lovers el oh el

Two childhood friends, Kita and Y/N and their complexities of unspoken feelings and missed opportunities.

WC. 3.1k

A/N. My new longest one shot. This one is alright they are getting a bit repetitive sorry guys but I'm still not making part 2s. I feel like making Y/N end up with the love interest's friend is kind of cliche and boring and I don't like happy endings my b.

Masterlink - Songs Unwritten

In the picturesque prefecture of Hyogo, two grandmothers, Mrs. L/N and Mrs. Kita were close friends on neighboring farms. They had shared countless memories together, and now, they were excitedly awaiting the arrival of their first grandchildren.

On a blissful summer afternoon, the sun beamed down from the azure sky, casting a warm and golden glow over the world below. The gentle breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass, and the distant chirping of birds provided a delightful background symphony.

Mrs. L/N and Mrs. Kita settled on the swings, the sturdy ropes creaking on the wood softly as they rocked back and forth. The swings seemed to dance in the sunlight, casting playful shadows on the ground below. Their laughter echoed through the air as they pushed off the ground, swinging higher and higher with each stroke of their legs.

"Oh, Margaret," Mrs. Kita said with a twinkle in her eye, "I can't believe we're going to be grandmothers! I just know our little ones are going to be the best of friends, just like us."

Mrs. L/N nodded with a warm smile. "Absolutely, Yumie. I couldn't agree more. It warms my heart to think about the adventures they'll have together."

As fate would have it, Kita and Y/N were born just days apart, and their grandmothers couldn't have been happier. From their hospital beds, Mrs. Kita and Mrs. L/N exchanged joyful phone calls, sharing the exciting news of the arrival of their grandchildren.

As the years passed, the two grandmothers lived up to their prediction. Kita and Y/N grew up side by side, their grandmothers often arranging playdates for them.

“They're like two peas in a pod, aren't they?"

Mrs. L/N nodded, a knowing smile on her face. "Indeed, they are, Margaret. I believe they share a special bond that will last a lifetime."

The grandmothers exchanged a glance, and Mrs. Kita decided to broach the subject delicately. "You know, I can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, they'll grow up to be more than just friends."

Mrs. L/N's eyes widened with surprise, and a soft chuckle escaped her lips. "Oh, Yumie, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

They both shared a laugh, realizing they were on the same page. With a twinkle in her eye, Mrs. Kita said, "Perhaps we should encourage their friendship, and who knows, one day, they might discover something more."

From the earliest years, they were inseparable, their laughter echoing through the streets as they explored the world together. During warm summer nights, they chased fireflies, their hearts brimming with dreams of thrilling adventures.

Time flew by, and Kita and Y/N's friendship blossomed. They shared secrets, laughed, and supported each other through ups and downs, just like their grandmothers had hoped.

Little did they know that the innocent bond they forged in their early years would lay the foundation for something deeper and more profound—a love that would one day become the heart of their story.

Their connection deepened, transcending the boundaries of friendship. Unbeknownst to each other, both Kita and Y/N began to harbor feelings that went far beyond mere companionship. Yet, they were afraid to speak their hearts' desires, fearing that such revelations might jeopardize the cherished friendship they held dear.

Years rolled on, and although they remained as close as ever, a shift occurred when Kita started seeing someone else and Y/N got a job offer in the city, reaching adulthood was what had happened. It was as if an invisible thread linked their hearts, but neither dared to tug at it, lest everything unravel.

One sunny afternoon, Y/N and Atsumu strolled through the park, their laughter filling the air as they enjoyed the warmth of the day.

"So, have you heard from Kita lately?" Atsumu asked, casually.

Y/N's face lit up with a soft smile. "Yeah, we texted yesterday. He was telling me about his plans for the weekend."

Atsumu hesitated for a moment before speaking cautiously, "You know, there's something I heard from someone... I don't know if I should say it."

Curiosity tinged with worry sparked in Y/N's eyes. "What is it, Tsumu? You can tell me."

Taking a deep breath, Atsumu gently revealed, "I heard from Aran that Kita's going to announce got engaged last weekend."

Y/N's heart sank, her smile fading away. "Engagement? But he didn't mention anything to me..." Her voice trailed off, disappointment and hurt evident in her eyes.

Atsumu placed a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, it's okay," Y/N replied, trying to regain her composure. "I just... I always thought we were so close that we shared everything with each other."

Atsumu nodded empathetically. "I know, and maybe he just hasn't found the right moment to tell you yet."

But the seed of doubt had already been planted in Y/N's mind. She couldn't help but wonder why Kita hadn't shared this significant event in his life with her. Did he not trust her enough to confide in her? Or had he intentionally kept her in the dark?

Y/N sat on her favorite cozy spot on the couch, nervously tapping her phone on her thigh. Her heart raced with anticipation as she waited for that one text she had been hoping for all day.

The sun was slowly setting, casting a warm glow through the window and painting the room in hues of orange and gold. Y/N glanced at her phone every few seconds, checking for any new notifications. Finally, the familiar chime of a text message broke the silence.

Her heart skipped a beat as she unlocked her phone and read the message from Kita

Kita >"Hey Y/N, let's meet up for coffee."

As Kita and Y/N sat in the old coffee shop by the tranquil lake, the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the comforting scent of aged wood filled the atmosphere.

“You know, Y/N," he said, breaking the comfortable silence, "I remember the first time we came here together. We were just kids, barely able to drink coffee."

Y/N chuckled, her eyes sparkling with nostalgia. "Yeah, I remember that day too. I ended up spilling so much coffee on the table but you helped me clean it up."

"It's what friends do, right?" Kita replied, smiling warmly at her.

"Right," Y/N said, her gaze turning thoughtful. "Kita, you've always been there for me, through thick and thin. I don't know what I would do without you."

Kita's heart swelled with affection, and he reached out to gently squeeze her hand. "And you've always been there for me, too, Y/N. You're like the missing piece in my life puzzle."

Y/N blushed, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "That's so cheesy, Kita."

"I mean it," he said, looking into her eyes. "You've been my rock, my confidante, my partner in crime. I feel like I can be myself completely when I'm with you."

"You can, Kita," Y/N assured him, her voice soft and reassuring. "You've always been yourself with me, and that's one of the things I love most about our friendship."

Kita's heart skipped a beat at her words, but he quickly brushed the thought aside, not wanting to ruin the moment by revealing his hidden feelings.

They continued talking, reminiscing about their countless adventures, sharing dreams and aspirations, and laughing at inside jokes that only they understood. The depth of their bond was evident in every word they exchanged, in the way they leaned on each other for support and found comfort in one another's presence.

"Life is going to change a lot soon," Y/N said, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "You're getting engaged." Kita’s eyes widened not realizing she had found out so soon.

"I wanted to explain," Kita began, his eyes filled with sincerity. "I know it must have hurt to find out about my engagement like that, and I'm truly sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Y/N's defenses were still up, but she listened, her heart yearning for answers. "Why didn't you tell me, Kita? We've always been so honest with each other."

Kita sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I’m not sure, there were a lot of things on my mind with preparations and wedding planning, you understand right?"

Y/N felt a mix of emotions wash over her – hurt, understanding, and regret. "I wish you had trusted me enough and remembered to share this with me."

"I do. Things won't be the same, but I know we'll always have this, right here."

Y/N turned to him. "Right here," she echoed, her voice cracking with emotion.

They sat there in silence, the weight of their unspoken feelings hanging in the air. Little did they know that this night, under the starlit sky, would be etched into their memories forever.

As the evening wore on, Y/N grappled with her feelings, unsure of what to do next. She longed to confess her own hidden emotions to Kita, but the fear of being a home wrecker was large but losing him as a friend was larger.

Days passed, the buzz of excitement spread throughout the town as the news of Kita's engagement became official. Invitations to the engagement party were sent out, leaving everyone eagerly anticipating the celebration.

Y/N stood in front of her mailbox, her heart pounding with anticipation, as she anxiously waited for her mail to arrive. Her mind was filled with a mix of emotions, unsure of how to feel about attending the party celebrating Kita's engagement. Part of her was happy for him, wanting to support him in this new chapter of his life, but another part of her couldn't shake the lingering sadness and regret.

Finally, the mail arrived, and Y/N found herself holding the coveted invitation in her hands. She took a deep breath and opened it, revealing the elegant card adorned with intricate designs. The words "Kita and Runa’s Engagement Celebration" were written in beautiful calligraphy.

Her heart sank a little as she read Runa's name, realizing that the woman who held Kita's heart was someone she barely knew. Y/N heard Kita mention her multiple times, and the realization stung, making her feel like a distant observer in his life.

She remembered the day where he introduced Runa to her. As they sat in the fields of Kita’s grandma's farm.

As weeks went by after the introduction, Y/N observed Kita and Runa's relationship blossom. They seemed genuinely happy together, and Y/N couldn't deny the undeniable chemistry they shared. Still, she told herself it was just one of those puppy love flings, convinced that their relationship wouldn't last.

But as months turned into years, Kita and Runa's bond remained steadfast. Y/N watched from the sidelines as Kita and Runa's love deepened. She remained a loyal friend, cheering them on and supporting their relationship, even though it pained her to do so.

Soon, Y/N was going to witness Kita and Runa's love taking a new form at the engagement party. Her heart ached with a mixture of emotions.

As the engagement party date drew closer, Y/N wrestled with her emotions. She knew she couldn't let her feelings dictate her actions, but attending the celebration felt bittersweet. She wanted to be there for childhood friend, but she also feared the pain it might bring to witness him committing to someone else.

Arriving at the venue, Y/N was greeted with warmth and excitement from other guests. She smiled and engaged in conversations, trying to push her personal feelings aside.

The occasion was joyous, yet both Kita and Y/N felt an underlying melancholy. Amidst the laughter and congratulatory toasts, Kita found solace in the bottom of a glass, the bitter taste of whiskey easing his nerves.

In the midst of the celebration, Kita and Y/N found themselves alone in a quiet corner. The dim lights cast soft shadows upon their faces, and the familiarity of each other's presence comforted them. As the night wore on, the alcohol loosened Kita's tongue, and the words he had suppressed for so long came tumbling out.

As she made her way into the bar section of the venue, her eyes found Kita, looking dapper in his suit and a nervous smile playing on his lips. He saw her too, and for a brief moment, their eyes met, conveying a depth of unspoken emotions.

"Y/N, there you are."

She turned to find Kita standing before her, looking both nervous and apologetic. His engagement ring was clearly visible on his finger, a symbol of the new chapter in his life.

"I've been looking for you," Kita said softly.

"Kita, you rarely drink and you reek of alcohol."

"Y/N," he said, his voice a little shaky, "I need to tell you som'shin."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, noticing the uncharacteristic vulnerability in Kita's eyes. "What is it?" she asked, concern lacing her words.

Kita took a deep breath, the alcohol making the task of expressing his feelings even more challenging. "I've lo'ed you for so long, Y/N," he confessed, stumbling slightly over his words. "But I never said anythin' 'cause I was afraid of losin' you. I thought it was betta to keep my feelin's hidden and cher-ish our friendship. I needed to say tis before I got married."

A tear escaped Y/N's eye as she listened intently, realizing the weight of Kita's slurred confession. "Oh, Kita," she whispered, her own emotions starting to surface. "I never knew… I never realized…"

"It's alrigh'," Kita interrupted, offering a bittersweet smile. "I've moved on, and I'm genuinely happy for you if you find someone else. I jus' wanted you to know how much you mean to me."

As the words lingered in the air, the full weight of Kita's unspoken love settled upon them. Y/N's heart filled with both sadness and regret, wishing she could have recognized his feelings sooner.

"I'm sorry, Kita," she said softly, her voice quivering. "I wish I had said something sooner.."

As the night continued, they stood there, two childhood friends, each holding onto their unspoken desires. The alcohol might have emboldened Kita to share his feelings, but it couldn't erase the years of silence that had passed between them.

The morning after the engagement party, Y/N woke up with a heavy heart. The weight of Kita's drunken confession still lingered in her mind, the memory etched into her soul. However, as she contemplated the events of the previous night, she couldn't help but notice something unsettling.

Kita, in his intoxicated state, had poured his heart out to her, confessing his long-standing love for her. Yet, when she met up with him at the cafe, it was as if that vulnerable confession had never happened. He was his usual cheerful self, talking about the wedding plans and how excited he was for this new chapter in his life.

Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of confusion and sadness. Had he forgotten what he had said? Did he truly not remember his own confession of love?

As the days went by, Y/N found herself in a state of emotional turmoil. On one hand, she cherished the memories of their close friendship and the unspoken love between them. On the other hand, she carried the burden of knowing his true feelings while he seemed to be moving forward without a care in the world.

Unable to bear the weight of her emotions any longer, Y/N sought comfort in a late-night conversation with Atsumu.

"I just don't understand, Tsumu," Y/N confided, her voice shaking with emotion. "He confessed his love for me that night, and now, it's like he's completely forgotten about it."

Atsumu listened attentively, offering a sympathetic smile. "Sometimes, people say things they don't fully remember when they're drunk. Maybe Kita wasn't ready to face his feelings, and his mind chose to forget."

"But how can he forget something like that?" Y/N exclaimed, tears glistening in her eyes. "It was such a vulnerable moment for him, and now it's like it never happened."

Atsumu hugged his friend tightly, understanding the pain she was going through. "I know it's hard, Y/N, but sometimes we can't control how others feel or what they remember. All you can do now is find a way to heal and move forward."

The days turned into weeks, and Y/N did her best to keep her composure while the wedding preparations were in full swing. She attended bridal showers, smiled through fitting sessions, and participated in the joyous festivities. But each step towards Kita's marriage was a reminder of the unspoken love that still lived in her heart.

On the day of the wedding, Y/N stood amongst the guests, her eyes fixated on the altar where Kita and Runa exchanged their vows. She felt a mix of conflicting emotions – happiness for Kita and the life he was building with someone he loved, but also an overwhelming sadness at the thought of what could have been.

The burden of carrying the secret of Kita's confession weighed heavily on Y/N's shoulders. She knew she had to be strong for her friend, even though it meant sacrificing her own feelings. And as she watched them exchange rings and declare their love she couldn’t help but let out a few tears.

The celebration continued and Y/N knew that she would forever hold a special place in her heart for Kita, a place reserved for the boy who had been her confidante, her partner in crime, and her unspoken love. And as she watched Kita and Runa share their first dance as an engaged couple, Y/N made a silent vow to cherish their friendship and find her own happiness in the world.

She knew that their paths were now diverging, but the memories of their cherished friendship would forever be a part of her, reminding her of the unspoken love that once filled her heart during her life.

The unspoken love that would forever remain a part of her story, even as she embraced a future that led her to find her own happiness and fulfillment.

#haikyuu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu x reader #hq oneshot #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x self insert #kita shinsuke #kita x reader #kita x y/n #kita x you #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke x y/n #kita shinsuke x you #Kita angst #Kita shinsuke angst #inarizaki

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