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myakkoh · 4 years

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midnight cloud (sunlight shines through)

(Read on Ao3)

Once again, please allow me to credit @vandrell and her terrible challenge to me to write YP!characters.

Side notes: Slightly graphic violence, character death, blood, mentions/implications of Fierce Corpses eating a human, please read at your own risk!

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It’s startling to see dead bodies of his fellow clansmen on the ground.

Wen Ruohan swallows and dips his sword down to hurry to the ground, his robes billowing in the wind. Behind him, Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji follow silently, and—maybe it’s good that the Twin Jades of Gusu is there with him this time around. They can calm the souls of his dead clansmen, and purify the resentful energy in the air, make sure there’s no lingering spirits.

As much as he hates those who still live and preach under Wen Chao’s rule, his father’s rule, Wen Ruohan doesn’t lie with the fact he wishes his clansmen didn’t die such a brutal death. They don’t deserve such death like this. But—upon seeing one of the clansmen who sided with his father, he can see why they deserve death like this. Licks chapped lips before turning towards the entrance to the insides of the tower.

Most surveillance towers for the past couple of months have been attacked; dead corpses scattered, heads rolling, and lingering resentful energy. The Sunshot Campaign hasn’t figured out who has been behind those attacks, but it’s the same person every time. It’s easy to tell, since the same talismans show up every time, the same result happens.

No one in the cultivating world can cause this much slaughter within one night.

“More corpses,” Lan Xichen murmurs, gently stepping off his sword. His xiao hangs on his side, and Wen Ruohan has to look away, the memory of soft music and warm smiles curling across his mind. “Do you think the perpetrator is still here?”

“Perhaps they’re inside?” Wen Ruohan suggests softly, steps off his own sword and sheathes it. His boots touch the puddle of blood, and when he lifts it up, it’s dripping dark red under the sliver of moonlight.

Lan Wangji doesn’t say a word, only sweeping past him as crimson red immediately seeps into white and blue robes. His gupin is secured on his back, and he vanishes into the tower. Wen Ruohan can tell though, Lan Wangji is sick with worry, no matter what the others do to try and cheer him up. He hasn’t been doing nothing, after all, Lan Qiren–

Stops, pauses, lowers his eyes from the remainder of the other he fell in love with a couple of years ago. Lan Qiren is still missing, vanished without a trace, and he—they have no way of finding out where he is. His golden core hums silently within ice, as if soothing him, before it twists into fire, warmth spreading across his body.

“Are you alright?” Lan Xichen softly inquires behind him, makes him turn his head towards his friend. Lan Xichen may be Sect Heir, just like Wen Xu, but he’s more patient than his older brother, more willing to understand. But—Lan Qiren is his and Lan Wangji’s cousin, and they’re mourning, just like him, hopeful to find him.

“I’m fine,” he says shortly afterwards. “We should find xiao-Zhan before he runs into any trouble.”

“Wangji will be fine,” his friend soothes him.

“I hope so.”

The scent of sweet iron hangs in the air as they enter the tower, shadows twisting at every corner, moonlight dancing upon every window and opening there is. It’s how dark that scares Wen Ruohan the most; he lifts a hand, channels his spiritual energy to create a small flame in his palm. Weaker than what he can usually use and do, but it will be sufficient for now.

Corpses are slumped against the wall once he directs the flame towards one direction, blank eyes staring into nothing and faces slacked wide open with horror. Empty screams come from open mouths, ashen grey skin wrinkling, as if someone had taken their spiritual energy. He can hear Lan Xichen softly inhale at the inhumane way they were killed, the whispers of shadows hissing for revenge.

It’s not startling, but—the resentful energy is hanging heavily on his shoulders like boulders, like the burdens and responsibilities he has swore to take upon himself. Licks his lips as Lan Xichen steps up next to him, Liebing already in his friend’s hands. A single note unleashed throws the resentful energy back, honey golden eyes seemingly shining within the flame in the palm of his hand.

“It’s stronger,” the Lan Sect Heir murmurs as he tucks Liebing away.

Wen Ruohan throws him a curious glance. “The resentful energy?”

“Yes.” Lan Xichen tucks his hands into his sleeves, a serious look firmly placed within his eyes. “You remember how easy it was for Wangji and I to cleanse most of the resentful energy by ourselves.” He slowly nods, and Lan Xichen continues, “I believe the perpetrator is currently here with us. It’s slowly gathering somewhere close by as well.”

“I see.” Only a Lan would be able to figure out where the current flow of resentful energy is.

Lan Xichen hums, stepping forward on the blood-drenched floor and Wen Ruohan follows him, the small flame flickering pale blue for a moment. Pauses, feels his chest squeeze from the remainder of what he now has, before he pushes forward.

There’s no point or use in lingering in the past, not when he has other things to do in the present.

Takes another step forward and–

A scream, then a familiar haunting melody floats in the air, gently and full of anger. Fear and shock curls across and under his skin as he meets Lan Xichen’s eyes, doesn’t think twice before he sprints ahead, the small flame vanishing. It’s so, so easy to tell who’s playing the melody, so easy to burst into the room where the song is coming from.

Lan Wangji stands in front of him, his back turned and stiff. Green flames flicker around the room, dancing ever so slowly like leaves in the breeze. There’s Fierce Corpses here, too, for some strange reason, slowly swaying side to side, the scent of rotting flesh hanging heavy in the air. They’re not moving, only crowding around a near-naked woman on the ground and near a dark figure in the shadows.

Wang Lingjiao shivers, shaking in front of them with running tears and ruined makeup, doesn’t look like the proud bitch that she is when she’s around Wen Chao, nor the woman who commanded some of the cultivators of the Qishan Wen Sect’s army. There’s ugly wounds, large gashes on her body, scalding and dark red, blood sluggishly leaking out. She’s shaking so badly, and Wen Ruohan nearly feels pity for her.

Nearly.

Lan Xichen stops beside him, and Wang Lingjiao begins to scream. Her eyes grow wide, wild with fear and horror flashing in them, settled on the dark figure in the shadows. One step they take, and she screams more, louder and louder and louder.

“Stay away from me!” she screeches, a Fierce Corpse lifting its head up at the sudden noise. It nearly lunges at her, but a sharp note forces it still. Wang Lingjiao points towards the dark figure, her mouth twisting into a snarl. “You monster! We killed you! I saw you die!”

I saw you die!

Wen Ruohan’s breath catches in his throat, and moonlight shines accusingly through the windows. Is it you?

A soft chuckle escapes the dark figure, the green flames suddenly roaring into a blazing inferno. They step forward, soft footsteps echoing across the bare room, gentle rustling of robes, a sharp contrast to the tedious tension in the air. Then a hand lifts from the shadows, holding a black dizi, and–

He forgets to breathe.

Lan Qiren hasn’t changed too much, despite looking dangerously thin and a daunting look in his eyes. Grey and blue robes swish against the stone floor, a grey forehead ribbon fluttering around his head, the black dizi being spun in one hand and the other hanging by his side. Intimate dark golden eyes are tinged with crimson red, an unnatural twist of steady contempt tugs at pale lips.

Resentful energy circles around him, hisses, and crackles, and at one lift of a hand, it dives towards Wang Lingjiao with a soundless howl of delight.

One scream, another, and Lan Xichen makes a sound of sheer apprehension as Wang Lingjiao raises her hands to her face, before scratching down. There’s trails of where sharp nails have gone down, skin harshly tearing apart wherever those fingers are led and danced upon. It’s horrifying, the way the resentful energy is directing where she will harm herself next, but he can’t look away.

There’s a look of quiet malice shot towards the woman, before hands cautiously lift the black dizi to pale lips and a quick succession of notes are sounded. The Fierce Corpses’ heads snap up, makes him watch in horror and fascination as they lunge towards Wang Lingjiao and tear.

This time, he looks away, tries to ignore the sounds of flesh being torn apart, the sounds of Wang Lingjiao’s screams and gurgles, the scent of fresh blood entering the air. He can practically taste the sweet iron in the air, before he glances towards the Twin Jades of Gusu.

Both are quiet, Lan Wangji’s eyes grim and his mouth set in a straight line, Lan Xichen quiet and seemingly contemplating something in his mind. It’s easy to see, though, they are disturbed by the violent acts of tonight’s current events. But—Wang Lingjiao deserves it, after everything she has done, especially to him.

To Lan Qiren.

Wen Ruohan turns and heads towards said cultivator, those beautiful golden eyes looking up at him through a slow blink. “Qiren,” he breathes, as Lan Qiren lowers the black dizi from his lips and down to his side. His golden core flickers with icy delight, familiarity, and it sings.

“Ruohan,” Lan Qiren says evenly, after a moment of silence. It takes all of Wen Ruohan’s will to not immediately grab the other man and drag him into a bone-crushing hug, for all his stupidity and sacrifice, for not allowing them to know where he went, for making him feel like this.

“You look well,” he offers.

“Mn.” Lan Qiren tilts his head to the side, before he focuses on Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji. His lips press into a straight line, like he’s wary of them attacking him. The crimson in his eyes doesn’t fade. “Xichen, Wangji.”

“A-Ren,” Lan Xichen says softly in greeting. Pauses like he’s contemplating a thought in his mind, before a soft smile stretches across his face. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

Lan Qiren inclines his head, gives a simple nod while staying silent. There’s a slight furrow of brows, seemingly considering something, and Wen Ruohan wants to make a joke to lighten the situation, but he can’t. He hasn’t seen Lan Qiren in so long, doesn’t know how he’ll react to him anymore. Doesn’t even know if he’s the same anymore.

His golden core flickers in his chest, like it’s missing something, and he places a hand on top of it, feels his chest tighten when Lan Qiren doesn’t meet his eyes. Only focusing on the Twin Jades of Gusu Lan with those familiar dark golden eyes with red.

“Why?” Lan Wangji asks, breaking the silence. The implications of the question is easy to guess, to notice the slight tremble through the younger’s voice.

Dark golden eyes sharpen, the crimson tinge making it seem like he’s enraged. Lan Qiren’s voice is soft, cold, when he speaks. “For?”

“Why–” Lan Wangji gestures to the Fierce Corpses, who seem to have finished feasting. Dark red drips down from their mouth, heads lolling around, blank eyes staring at them. Wen Ruohan suppresses a shiver as he looks down and sees the bloodied and messy pile of flesh and bones. “–would you use them? This is not right.”

Are you going to tell them the truth? Wen Ruohan wonders as he watches Lan Qiren, the man’s grip on his dizi tightening. It would be so easy, to have it out in the open, when Lan Qiren is vulnerable, an easy target... he grits his teeth silently and breathes. It would be easy to protect him, make sure he’ll never be alone after disappearing.

“It’s gone,” Lan Qiren says flatly. The words are enough to make Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji immediately understand. Wen Ruohan only stares at him. Doesn’t he trust the Twin Jades? They’re his cousins, the ones who he grew up with, surely he’d tell them about what really happened. “I will be there for the Song of Cleansing later,” Lan Qiren continues.

“Of course,” Lan Xichen says warmly, with a voice that suggests they will be discussing it later without the audience. Makes Wen Ruohan startle and glance towards Lan Qiren’s indifferent face.

It’s colder, dark golden eyes looking more tired than normal. He seems more pale than usual, and there’s no smile when he looks at him.

How he wants to make the man smile, to be that soft-smiling teenager he’s met at Cloud Recesses, the one who indulges him and talks to him about plans to better the future of cultivators. He wants to see him leaning over the table with several experimental talismans scattered around, eyes half-lidded with concentration again. Wants to see him arguing with Wei Wuxian about the morals of cultivators and different cultivation methods again.

Wants to see how his eyes soften again when Wen Ruohan finds something he adores. Wishes to watch the way he stands under the falling snowflakes from the sky and with wonder on his face. By Heavens, he already knows why he wants to. Wen Ruohan swallows and steadies himself.

“Xichen, xiao-Zhan,” he says and three pairs of different shades of golden eyes look towards him. “Would you mind if I speak with Qiren alone?”

Lan Xichen looks surprised by the sudden question, before he nods slowly and gestures to Lan Wangji. The youngest of them gives Wen Ruohan a subtle glare, mouth pressed more tightly together, and whips around, heads towards the door, with his brother following suit. They all know how close Wen Ruohan and Lan Qiren are, despite everything that has happened.

He hopes they still are.

When the two brothers leave the room, Wen Ruohan breathes in sweet iron once more and turns to face Lan Qiren. Dark golden eyes meet his, narrowed and suspicious, but his shoulders are slowly relaxing. The Fierce Corpses stagger, but they don’t move.

“You didn’t tell them,” he says.

“I told them nothing but the truth,” Lan Qiren says, lips pressing more tightly together. A half-truth, even if Wen Ruohan doesn’t understand why.

“You told them half of it,” Wen Ruohan tells him, closes his eyes when the memory of waking up to Wen Qing crying flickers through his mind. It was painful to watch, still is, always will be. His golden core burns. “Why did you give it to me?”

“Give what to you?” The way Lan Qiren is still denying the truth makes him want to laugh. The Gusu Lan Sect are not righteous for nothing, probably have rules for this, but he remembers the founder, and Lan An was an example of a Lan who fell deep in love. That’s enough to tell him.

How Lan Qiren fell in love with the second son of Wen Chao is beyond him, but he gave a sacrifice, and all Wen Ruohan wants is to curl around him and never let go. Lan Qiren is already hurting so much, is already suffering from whatever backlash there is to losing everything there is to be a cultivator. He just wants to never let go again.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he says softly, and hears Lan Qiren’s breath hitch. “Did you think I wouldn’t be able to tell?”

“I never gave you my golden core,” Lan Qiren says coolly, already lying through his teeth.

Wen Ruohan smiles humourlessly. “I never mentioned your golden core,” he whispers, waits for the next statement of denial, but it never comes. Instead, Lan Qiren is staring at him with wide eyes, the crimson in them slowly fading away, fear and horror etched into it. “So I was right,” he concludes, and Lan Qiren glares at him. “Why? I was fine without my golden core.”

“Does it matter?” Lan Qiren mutters, looks away from him.

“You had a future, Qiren,” Wen Ruohan murmurs and takes Lan Qiren’s free hand into his own. The other doesn’t resist him, allows Wen Ruohan to pull him to his chest and hold him there. “Why would you risk it all to give your golden core to me? When you know that I can feel the difference between mine... and yours?”

Looks down at Lan Qiren, who closes his eyes, and Wen Ruohan tightens his grip on him, slightly afraid the other will disappear from his arms. It was so easy back then to figure it, with the unfamiliar feeling of snow and ice in his chest, instead of the raging inferno he had carefully cultivated by himself. The amount of spiritual energy was significantly less, as well as how weak he left.

Wen Qing is a doctor, and he’s read her theory about transplanting golden cores from one person to another. He knew after waking up to her crying and Wen Ning’s attempts to soothe her. It was cruel, unnecessary, especially when Wen Xu was the Sect Heir and he was just the younger of them.

He doesn’t understand why.

Lan Qiren laughs bitterly against his chest. “I am just a cousin to Xichen and Wangji, Ruohan,” he says, so quietly, barely audible over the roaring of flames. “They do not need me to be a Sect Heir in case they both die. There are more worthy choices than me.” One shaky breath. “But the Wens have no one but you and Wen Xu. If Wen Xu dies, then you will have to lead.

“Who would follow the other sects for peace if both of you die?” Lan Qiren shakes his head, but there’s no regret in his eyes. Just solemn acceptance. “No, it’s better this way. You are more important than me, so no one can take advantage of you if you do need to end up leading.”

It hurts, even if it's true, even if Wen Ruohan wants differently. Lan Qiren is just as important to the Gusu Lan Sect as Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji. He’s brilliant, the one who creates new talismans needed in order to improve night hunting. The only one who rivals him in that area is Wei Wuxian, and that idiot enjoys arguing with Lan Qiren about different possibilities.

He’s important to Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji because they’re family. He’s important to Wei Wuxian and surprisingly Jiang Cheng, because they’re friends. He’s important to Wen Ruohan, because Wen Ruohan knows he’s in love and can never let go.

I love you, Wen Ruohan thinks desperately as he holds Lan Qiren in his arms, and breathes in the dull scent of gentians. “You’re important,” he murmurs and draws back a little to watch the other’s expression. A barely seen furrow of brows in confusion. “More than me. To me.”

“... what?” is whispered with a sliver of disbelief.

“You’re important to me,” Wen Ruohan says quietly, slowly lifts the other’s hand to press his lips to it. Hears Lan Qiren’s breath hitch as he slowly drags them across cold skin, trailing down to the heartbeat in his wrist. Can feel Lan Qiren’s wrist stiffening against his lips, like he doesn’t believe what’s happening.

He lifts his eyes to see Lan Qiren staring back at him, hope and terror dancing across dark golden eyes. He opens his mouth, and hears his voice crack as he speaks again, lowering their hands down, laces them together. “Don’t leave.”

Don’t leave me.

Lan Qiren pauses, as if considering what to say. Then faintly smiles, a concealed twitch of pale lips, before stepping close to him. “I won’t,” the other promises, to both requests.

Wen Ruohan doesn’t do anything, doesn’t say another word, only pressing his forehead to the other’s.

I love you.

#my writing #Ghosts of Hell: YP Challenge #mdzs plunny hell #wenqi #wen ruohan #lan qiren #lan xichen #lan wangji #wang lingjiao

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chilly-territory · 7 years

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K ~ Four Seasons of K: Like flowers in a storm

Thanks to the wonderful blueseraphima who I can never thank enough, I have the texts of GoRa's currently ongoing series of short stories 4 Seasons of K, subtitled ~Seasonal short stories that might have happened~ and published monthly. This is the third story of the series, about Homura's flower viewing experience.

Like Flowers in a Storm [*] by Azano Kouhei

"You kno~w, I ended up wandering as far as the riverbank yesterday after a long while, and I have to say, the sakura there really is beautiful. Right now is the perfect time to watch it bloom."

The one to make this utterance, cheerfully like spring itself, was Totsuka Tatara who sat at the counter, gracefully enjoying his black tea. Unfortunately, the bar's master, Kusanagi Izumo, was out shopping at the moment, but, surprisingly, the tea Totsuka made himself turned out pretty good. Although if Kusanagi saw him making it, he would probably give Totsuka an earful about how wasteful he was using more tea leaves than was necessary, in Kusanagi's view.

It was half past 4 in the afternoon, and bar HOMRA wasn't open for business just yet. Through the wide open windows languid spring air was seeping in, drifting across the bar. The faint sweet smell it brought with it was probably that of the flowers found in the flower beds on the street outside. Mingling with the aroma of the freshly brewed black tea, it tickled one's nostrils pleasantly.

"Ohh, sounds good." It was Yata Misaki, occupying a seat on the couch with a bottle of Cola, who swooped in on Totsuka's suggestion. His eyes sparkled as he jumped up out of his seat, "Actually, I was thinking the same thing. Especially considering that sakura in the city is almost in bloom already. The riverbed is sunny, so I thought that sakura there might've gone into full bloom already." "Ohh." Totsuka's gaze, focused on Yata's eager facem sounded teasing. "Now, that's a surprise." "Eh? What is?" "The fact that you would pay such close attention to how much sakura's blooming advanced. Since it's you we're talking about, I was sure that you would always unfailingly prefer dango over flowers, Yata." [**] "Wha...! Please don't assume things about me like I'm Kamamoto or something, Totsuka-san! And anyway, so what if I'm interested in sakura. It's not a big deal." "It is though, because you really strike everyone as someone who would chose dango over flowers, Yata-san." "...I thought so, too..." "Not you too, Anna! Sure, it's not like I hate dango, but come on!" Yata lamented pitifully, and the bar got filled with familiar laughter on the cue.

Even Anna, sitting by Totsuka's side, snickered, shoulders shaking. In her small hands, too, was grasped a cup of black tea that Totsuka made.

For a while, a frown was scrunching Yata's face, until he finally snorted. "Anyway," he got back on track, "we were talking about the sakura by the riverside, remember? Within this district, that's gotta be the best place worth seeing, right? It has a lot of sakura trees, their shape is good, and you can come there freely all year long. The way it blooms there, all huge and flashy and stuff, gotta feel really nice, too!" "Yeah. I agree. Yata is right. That riverbank has a nice view to begin with. It'd be most enjoyable to come there on a day with good weather like today." Lips on the edge of his cup, Totsuka glanced at the scenery outside the open window.

Even indoors, you could tell how pleasantly the gentle caress of the sunlight must have felt.

"Actually, Totsuka-san. Since we're discussing this seriously and stuff, let's just go proper flower viewing." "Oh, I'd like that! Let's all have a blast while watching sakura bloom! And bring lots of yummy stuff along, too!" "Heh, just listen to yourself, Kamamoto. I knew it, you're the first on the list among those who'd take dango over flowers." "But of course!" "...Hm?" "What, please cut me some slack, Yata-san. Like I'd be on the fence over something like that! Flowers over dango! But I'm not one to complain if I can get both flowers and dango, y'know? To elaborate on the topic, if you ask me, the optimum balance would be dango, flower, dango, dango!" "R-Right... I see." In the face of Kamamoto's impressive vigor, Yata, who started it in the first place, got humbled.

"Sounds nice to me~" came from the side from the always positive Totsuka. "Should we ask Kusanagi-san to make us some bentos then? Something like futomaki and inari-zushi." "In that case, I also want potato salad with fried eggs. And no matter what anyone says, fried chicken is a must!" "That's Kamamoto for you. So very particular about his dango, eh." "That's because for flower viewing, food is crucial. Is it OK for me to arrange for alcohol and drinks? Rest assured and simply leave the lead to me!" "Hey, don't put yourself in charge without asking!" "No, no, this is one thing I won't budge about." Although Kamamoto rapidly heated up all of a sudden, that careful and somewhat meddlesome side was what made him reliable in these situations.

"Decided, then," Totsuka smiled. "We'll refine the details once Kusanagi-san is back. ...No objection, I trust, right, King?" Totsuka turned to the farthest from the counter end of the room - to Suoh Mikoto - to check it with him.

But there was no answer.

"Huh?" All the present shifted their gazes to Suoh. "...King?"

"...Mn," Suoh finally responded halfheartedly after nodding his head back and forth. Then he slowly raised his arms and stretched, taking out a cigarette with a sigh, putting it between his lips and lighting it. Taking a drag with a drowsy look, he blew out the smoke.

"Hey," he voiced again. "'In spring one sleeps a sleep that knows no dawn,' was it," Totsuka commented, suppressing a giggle. "...It's already evening though," Kamamoto remarked in a whisper, but Suoh simply continued smoking his cigarette, showing no sign of caring any about the two's exchange.

Except when he noticed the black tea that Totsuka and Anna sipped, he ceased all movement for a second, raised one eyebrow and, taking one more drag of his cigarette, put out the barely touched stick on the ashtray.

"...So? What's this all about?" Suoh asked. "As I was saying..." With that, Totsuka summed up for Suoh the flower viewing discussion that took place just moments before.

"Do whatever you like," Suoh finally said rather disinterestedly. Though his lack of interest wasn't anything new, if anything, it was his normal state. Only, not outright refusing anything was what was good about Suoh, too.

"King, don't treat it like it someone else's business, you've got to participate as well, okay?" "If I feel like it." "You and your halfheartedness again. Come on, don't be difficult. All you'll need to do is just lie around on the riverbank, is all, anyway." Totsuka was his usual self as well, speaking cheerfully whatever was on his mind.

Still, clansmen be clansmen, and that was enough to get them thoroughly excited now that their king's approval had been secured.

"We gotta let the other guys know, too." "Yeah, let's have fun all together!"

Both Yata and Kamamoto didn't bother to hide how overeager they were. But the most delighted person was...

"...It will be my first time going flower viewing..."

...Anna, putting this muttered confession into words.

"Eh? Really?" Yata asked back.

Kamamoto looked surprised, too.

"Ah, but now that I think about it... Right, a kid wouldn't be interested in something like flower viewing. Sure, they go if their parents bring them along, but... ah no, it's..." Yata got flustered and didn't finish his sentence. "Anna," Totsuka smiled at the girl. "Can you see the color of sakura blossoms?" "...Yes. It's a sakura red, very pale though. Like it's about to vanish any moment... but yes, I can see it. Flecks of it floating in the air is what it looks like to me," Anna said haltingly, her eyes on the cup in her hands. She rocked the red of her black tea and swished it in the cup. "Being under it with everyone... I can't wait," she added delightedly, gazing down at the cup's contents.

All of a sudden Yata sprang up to his feet, pumping his fist excitedly, "Alright then! Count on us, Anna! We'll give you the taste of the best flower viewing experience ever!" "Let's do this, Yata-san! I'll make sausage octopuses! And apple rabbits!" "Hm, then what should I make, I wonder. Anna, what would you like?" "...Tom yum goong." "For flower viewing? That's sure original."

Suoh meanwhile put his elbows on the counter, watching his comrades talk excitedly. Sighing at the sight, he reached for the cigarette, then remembered he had put it out and stopped.

That's when the doorbell came to life, announcing the arrival of Kusanagi with an armful of shopping bags. "I'm back~" Jacket on his arm, he commented with a lopsided smile, "Today's so warm that I should've left the jacket home."

"Kusanagi-san! We got something to tell you!" "What is it, Yata? Got in another fight again?" "Not that! It's about flower viewing! We were talking about how it'd be nice to go flower viewing!" "Huh? It's a problem if you spring it on me on such short notice. I can't close the bar today." "Well, it doesn't have to be today. Besides, the place that we chose doesn't have street lighting, so it'd be really dark after sunset. But the earlier we can go, the better. So how about tomorrow? What do you say, Totsuka-san?"

Totsuka nodded, agreeing with Yata. Needless to say, neither Kamamoto, Anna or even Suoh had any objection, either.

The only one who looked troubled was Kusanagi. Sweeping all the present with a gaze, he finally said, "...Well, guys, hate to break it to you, but tomorrow..."

...it rained.

Or rather, it stormed.

By 10:10 a.m., pitch black clouds that had appeared at dawn, had covered the sky completely, and a strong wind blew in violent gusts, making the window panes of bar HOMRA rattle. The rain proper had yet to start falling, but large drops of it did hit the walls of the bar from time to time. According to the weather forecast, by noon a downpour was expected to hit in full. A real spring storm indeed.

"I told you, didn’t I? Oh well, this is one thing that we can't do anything about." "..." Yata and Kamamoto exchanged awkward looks, Totsuka smiled a strained little smile while tenderly stroking the head of a depressed looking Anna.

Even after hearing the weather forecast, the members assembled in the bar, hoping against hope that maybe it was wrong, but unfortunately for them, it wasn't. What's worse, because of the strong wind and torrential rain, sakura blossoms in full bloom had no chance to hold out through the day without scattering their petals prematurely. It was only reasonable to assume that this weather put a resolute end to sakura's blooming this year.

Kusanagi, standing deep behind the counter, glanced at Anna to check how she was doing. He had already heard why Yata and Kamamoto were so excited when he came back yesterday. It was the best opportunity they had in a long while, and they wanted Anna to enjoy it. That said, as he had remarked earlier, weather was the one thing that nothing could be done about.

"C'mon, Anna. Cheer up," Kusanagi called out, putting a multi-tiered bentou box on the counter. Despite knowing about the bad weather - or rather precisely because he had been aware - Kusanagi poured all of his skills and talent into making a deluxe flower viewing bentou.

With a soft click, another something was put onto the counter - a little vase. In it, lovely pink flowers were arranged. And their petails were...

"...Sakura?" "Or so they look like. Actually, it's primrose. Let's make do with these for today's flower viewing." Kusanagi winked playfully at the thoroughly surprised Anna.

Totsuka bowed his hear to Kusanagi in admiration. "Nothing less from you, Kusanagi-san. That consideration you show towards girls is why you're so popular with them, I guess." "As someone who calls himself the bar's master, I have the duty to soothe ladies' grieving hearts." "You're so cool, Kusanagi-san! Please soothe my grieving stomach next!" "Hey, no devouring this, Kamamoto. Lunchtime is still ways off. You're not supposed to be in a hurry when eating this," Kusanagi mildly admonished, and the mood in the bar brightened somewhat.

Anna seemed to bounce back, too, answering Kusanagi's consideration with a smile.

Only, immediately after...

A boom resounded as a loud clap of thunder exploded in the atmosphere somewhere very high above. Belatedly, torrent-like rain started rapping against the windows with almost enough force to break them.

Anna shrank with a start, while Yata and Kamamoto yelped.

It was dark outside like it was night. The storm had finally arrived in all its glory.

The cheerfulness that had finally returned to Anna's features earlier disappeared and her expression got clouded again. Kusanagi and Totsuka, faces tight, exchanged glances.

And then...

"...Well then." Suoh, who was sitting silently at the counter until then, got up slowly. "I'm going out. Make sure to leave me some alcohol," he threw curtly Kusanagi's way. "Huh? Out? What for?" "A walk." "Huh?" "To the riverbank. Sakura'll fall off, right?" "No, no, no, no." Kusanagi shook his head like he had no idea what country's language he should speak to get through to Suoh.

All the others watched Suoh in shocked silence.

"It's a storm outside, I told you." "Yeah, looks like it, but that’s not a good enough reason for me not to go out." "Maybe, but with a strong wind like that...!" "I'll just get blown away, is all." "There's also rain. And with how things are looking, soon it will turn into a s---" "...So I'll get soaked, so what? Is that a problem or something?" Suoh replied calmly. And then flashed a tiny grin.

Kusanagi found himself lost for words.

Anna, who watched the exchange with wide open eyes, shook slightly. "...I'm going, too!" "Wait, Anna?!" Kusanagi cried out, but she only had eyes for Suoh. Suoh snorted. "...An umbrella won't do. Go put on a rain coat. And don't let go of me under any circumstances, got it?" he said.

Anna nodded energetically and rushed with small steps to get the rain coat.

"I-I'm going, too!" Yata shouted once he came to his senses. "Me, too," Kamamoto hurried to back him up.

Totsuka, unable to keep a straight face any longer, burst into laughter, while Kusanagi rolled his eyes at the ceiling, still dumbfounded. "I'm just no match, honestly." "No sweat. It's going to be very Homura-like flower viewing, no? How about coming along, Kusanagi-san?" Totsuka smiled a carefree smile at the grieving Kusanagi. So it appeared he intended to come along, too.

Before long, Anna returned with the rain coat. Her cheeks were colored with a faint blush and her eyes were sparkling just like they did yesterday when the group was making plans to go flower viewing.

At the sight of that face, all power got drained from Kusanagi, and he smiled the same smile as Totsuka. "Can't be helped. How can I not." "Okay." "...Let's go, then." "Yeah!" Yata and Kamamoto yelled, following their leaders.

Anna nodded energetically.

And so, Homura departed for the riverbank in the storm mounting from every direction. Having experienced the drumming downpour of the torrential rain and the blizzard of falling sakura blossoms with every inch of their bodies, all of them to the last one got themselves dripping wet. Despite being soaked, they laughed in loud voices, thoroughly appreciating the sakura trees in full bloom as they got illuminated with flashes of lighting.

It was 3 hours later that they made it back to the bar. While Anna was off taking a hot shower, the rest, dripping on the floor, started the banquet. The merrymaking had lasted late into the night.

As a result, though. at least two participants came down with a cold...

But to Anna, it became a flower viewing experience, as beautiful and intense as blazing flames, that she would never forget.

T/N:

[*] The title itself 花に嵐の ("hana ni arashi no") is the beginning of a Japanese toast, originating in Chinese poetry and sounding like 花に嵐のたとえもあるぞさよならだけが人生だ ("hana ni arashi no tatoe mo aruzo, sayonara dake ga jinsei da" - Like flowers scatter in a storm, life is filled with farewells). The common interpretation of it goes as follows: it's not unusual for transient flowers to get scattered by a sudden storm, so you've got to appreciate the people you meet and the time you spend with them while you still have the chance.

[**] 花より団子 ("hana yori dango" - Dango over flowers) is another famous set phrase, a proverb meaning that people are more interested in the practical over the aesthetic/ in material things over the soul.

#k project #project k #short story #k translation

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